Ch 1. The Struggle

The halls of Hillcrest College echoed with the laughter and chatter of students, a stark contrast to the heavy burden weighing on Simon's shoulders. Clutching his frayed backpack, he navigated the throng of students, hoping to remain unnoticed amidst the sea of designer clothes and confident smiles.

As he approached his first class of the day, a fellow student, Chad, leaned against the lockers, flanked by a group of his equally obnoxious friends. Chad's eyes immediately fell on Simon, and a cruel smirk spread across his face.

"Well, well, if it isn't our resident charity case," Chad sneered, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "Do you ever wash those rags you call clothes, Turner?"

Simon's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he tried to walk past Chad without acknowledging the insult. But Chad refused to let him off that easily. With a steely glint in his eyes, he squared his shoulders and crossed his arms.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, loser!" Chad called after him, drawing the attention of several passing students.

Simon took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. He turned to face Chad, his eyes locking with the bully's. 

"Look, Chad, I may not have much, but at least I'm not a heartless jerk like you."

The group around Chad burst into laughter, and he stepped closer to Simon, his face contorting with anger. He shoved him against a locker. "Watch your mouth, Turner."

Just then, Ms. Johnson, a stern and no-nonsense teacher, emerged from her nearby classroom, drawn by the commotion. She peered at the scene, her disapproval evident in her expression.

"What's going on here?" Ms. Johnson demanded, her eyes scrutinizing both Simon and Chad.

Before Simon could utter a word, Chad spoke up, a smug grin on his face. "Nothing, Ms. Johnson. Just giving our dear friend Simon some fashion advice. He seems to like wearing the same old rags every day."

Ms. Johnson's gaze shifted to Simon, her expression unreadable. "Is that true, Mr. Turner?"

Simon hesitated for a moment. "I don't have much money, ma'am. I work two jobs just to afford my education. I can't afford a new wardrobe every week."

"Excuses won't get you anywhere in life, Mr. Turner,” she said with no sympathy. “Since you seem to be so concerned about cleanliness, maybe you'd like to put that diligence to good use."

Simon's heart sank as Ms. Johnson handed him a janitorial cart with cleaning supplies. "Take this and clean the restrooms on the third floor. And perhaps you'll learn the value of hard work and humility."

The snickers from Chad and his friends stung like a thousand needles, but Simon held his head high, silently accepting the task he had been assigned even though it meant he’d have to skip class for this. As he walked away, he couldn't help but wonder if his next mistake would be the end of his academic endeavors.

Simon swallowed his pride, pushing the janitorial cart toward the restrooms on the third floor under the glares of his fellow students. The clinking of cleaning supplies echoed through the otherwise quiet hallway as whispers and giggles continued to follow him.

As he entered the restroom, the pungent smell of piss hit his senses, making him wince. Simon meticulously cleaned every surface, scrubbing away the stains and grime left behind by countless students. He worked with intensity, hoping to finish quickly and escape the humiliating task.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Simon stepped out of the restroom, his hands red and raw from the cleaning chemicals since the cart he got had no protection gloves. He had barely taken a few steps before Chad and his friends intercepted him, smirks plastered on their faces.

"Our little janitor boy skipped the first class! Probably he had to wash himself first to not stink up the place!" Chad taunted, his friends joining in with cruel laughter.

Simon clenched his fists and took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of strength to maintain his composure.

"I've got more important things to do than waste my time with you guys," Simon retorted, trying to walk past them.

"Oh, really?" Chad sneered. "Like what? Cleaning toilets for the rest of your life?"

Before Simon could respond, Chad and his friends burst into laughter once more, and to his dismay, they pushed past him, entering the restroom he had just cleaned. The sound of splashing water and childish laughter followed, and Simon knew what they were up to.

"No, please, don't," Simon pleaded, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Inside the restroom, Chad and his friends deliberately made a mess, splashing water and piss everywhere, and smearing soap on the mirrors and walls. Bumping shoulders with Simon and making rude gestures toward him as they passed by, they finally left.

The humiliation was unbearable, but Simon picked up his cleaning supplies again and began restoring the restroom to its former cleanliness.

As he worked, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message from his girlfriend, Mary.

[Meet me in the basketball locker room. Asap]

Putting the phone back into his pocket, Simon let the mop fall from his hands. Mary had an important exam today and she had been worried sick she might not pass it. The urgency of her text message troubled Simon deeply. He left his work undone — the cleaning cart and his ragged backpack on the bathroom floor — and rushed to the basketball locker room. 

As he pushed open the doors, his jaw dropped. 

Bare tits pressed against the cool steel lockers and skirt raised to her waist, Mary moaned with pleasure. Tom McNamara, a popular boy from their class, had his hands on her hips, keeping her steady as he fucked her from behind.

Her eyes widened upon seeing Simon. Tom followed her gaze and smirked, still pounding her like an animal. 

“Do you like being watched, Mary?” he asked. “Your pussy just clamped around my cock. That’s why I texted him to come here from your phone. Let’s give him a better view.”

He pulled up her leg, giving Simon a perfect view of her pink, wet cunt. 

“Tom!” she cried out in a high, strained voice. 

“Mary…” Simon managed to catch his breath. 

“Don’t act so shocked!” she said. “You never took care of my needs.”

“How so?” Tom sneered, thrusting into her again. “Does he have a small weenie?”

“I don’t know,” she answered between two gasps. “I’ve never seen it. In the two months we dated, he’s never tried to fuck me.”

“Oh, that’s why you called me to bang you every day the last month… It makes sense now.” Tom smirked, pulling her hair.

“You fucking bastards!” Simon screamed, finally not able to hold back anymore.

He darted toward them, fist raised to strike Tom. But his opponent had already pulled out and kicked him first right in the balls. 

Simon fell to the ground under Mary’s and Tom’s waves of laughter. Then the pretty boy leaned over him, spit on him, and smacked him in the face. 

The last thought that crossed his mind before he passed out was if he would make it in time to the event he had to be at for work tonight. Or would he lose one of his jobs also?