The Boy Wonder Part Three: Juvenile Delinquent

Part One: Captain Karate 

Part Two: The Origin Story 

 

Martin thought that he was trained and prepared to make a good, positive impact in the world, to act like his favorite heroes would. Strong enough to change his city for the better. 

But, he was outmatched. The reality he was in, weeping helplessly sore and assured that he was brutally abused and certain that he would never be the same. Everything Martin thought before, meant absolutely nothing as he lied, wretched and agonized on the floor. He thought he was smarter, quicker and better trained than that Villain he stood up to. 

But, all it took the Villain was one moment to take over the fight and overwhelm Martin. One moment, and then one strike to ruin all chances Martin to stay alive in the fairy tale childhood he was living in, where heroes were real and he could stand up for people, where he could stand up for himself. 

But so sickeningly sudden, Martin couldn't even stand up himself. 

He couldn't even push a thought through the unimaginable pain that Villain created by striking Martin between his legs, smashing his innocent boyhood like a bell that rung until it shattered, multiplying in waves of broken dreams and deep, burning misery. It was filling and flooding Martin on the floor, oozing out of his skin and chestnut's in his shorts and eyes, wetting soft, freckled cheeks. Red in color and alarm, barely aware enough to peek occasionally past his downed, thirteen-year old frame of pure, unbelievable pain to check no one was about to take advantage of his disgraced and incapable body. It didn't matter that he knew thousand's of different ways to defend himself, or that his young, muscle-bound body was more than equipped to stand up most threats. 

All it took was one pair of weakness that Martin was ignorant of, to reduce the young man to a whimpering, broken mess. 

As Martin's young hands were buried deep in his pants, pressed firmly against his bruised manhood, body curled up and in, helpless. He boiled and couldn't believe this was possible. He stuck in a state of shock as the pain dissipated. Slowly, Martin was able to lean up the brick wall and grow feeling back in his legs. He weakly trudged on, taking frequent breaks as each movement he made made it feel like a sledgehammer smashed into some deep, rippling force in between his legs, in the two developing orbs attached to his body, rooted in his stomach and ego. 

The walk home was long, slower than a crawl, his face low and hidden. When he reached his door and limped inside, all he could manage was make it to his bed and continue his agony under his blanket. He tried to cry quietly, and not draw any attention to himself as he writhed and rocked when he wasn't still in worried torment.

Unwrapping this was disturbing for Martin. Humiliating was a start. He felt like an absolute idiot, considering he could be a hero and fight that Villain. He felt like an even bigger idiot for thinking that there were rules in fights, that there would be a code, a handbook that everyone follows. 

He even believed his old man, when he said that no one would ever do this to him. He winced, cringing at those comments as he lied curled up, cupping his broken balls. Sweating profusely, and desperately trying not to vomit. 

Martin knows that he can’t ever make this mistake again. He’ll never make this mistake again.

 

 

It took Martin some time to physically recover from this trauma, but he was never able to move past it. It jumped into him like a fever, and Martin was fixated on the symptoms. How could he think about anything else? 

He stopped loving the things he once did. Martin stopped making videos and reading the comments on his YouTube channel. What was the point of updating it? Not only has Martin been proven that all his technique's are worthless, but what if bad people watches these videos too? What if that Villain finds them, and learns these tricks? 

Martin knows that he’s still far from being able to handle people and the world as well as he thought he did.

 

This realization even made Martin want to stop working out and practicing. What would the point of learning how to fight, when all it would take is one low blow to take him out? Even more, why would he fight at all? That pain was wordless. How can he ever put himself in a situation where feeling like that is ever a potential outcome?

 

Martin had trouble walking for weeks and any sudden hip jolts would make him want to kneel over. It was terrifying to be out in the world. Not to mention how bruised his testicles were, and how he wasn’t sure if they even work anymore.

 

Martin also found no reason to continue reading his comics. When the young man looked about them with his sad brown eyes, he couldn't help but remember all his dumb dreams. Those comics that once inspired him, suddenly seemed to clearly be nothing but a series of lies that upheld a stupid dream that he never should've had. At best, they felt childish. At worst, they felt cruel and filthy. 

 

Martin could not shake these thoughts in the coming weeks, and his friends, specifically Kyle and Mark, could tell something was up. Martin's never so removed and somber. They know that Martin's the kind of friend to go out of his way to help his own friends, so they invited him out with them to hang out at the local strip-mall after school. After some begging, Martin reluctantly agreed. 

 

Martin actually had a pretty good time with Kyle and Mark. He always enjoys his friend’s rambunctiousness company, especially since he’s always on the more reserved side. They offered his life a bit of spice he was never really able to give himself, since Martin always had more strict principles and figures to look up to. And although Martin himself wouldn’t act as childish as his friends did so often, he appreciates it because it really does help loosen him up and remind him it’s okay to have fun sometimes. And after undergoing an experience like the one Martin did, Martin really needs what his friends can give him.

 

“Why didn’t you ask your sister to come with us!?” Kyle asked.

 

“Dude, shut up.”

 

“But she’s so hot!”

 

“I said shut up!” Mark commanded.

 

“Come on, she’s smoking… right Martin, ain’t she hot?”

 

Martin laughed and shook his head, smiling as he turned to his friends. 

 

“I am not going to say that!”

 

“Come on! Bro, you cannot deny the size of-”

 

“Disgusting bro, that’s my sister!” Mark sounded repulsed.

 

“But she’s hot!”

 

“Come on.” Martin said, trying to hide his amusement, knowing that this bothers Mark. “Let’s talk about something else.”

 

“Fine, fine… yo, is your mom picking us up? Because she has a great pair of tits, OWW!”

 

Kyle's shoulder bore the punishment for his mouth's inconsideration. Martin laughed and backed away, as his friend, whose family was getting objectified by a teenage boy, playfully but firmly began chasing him around the strip mall. Martin felt embarrassed at first, but felt more comfortable when he noticed the adults nearby laughing at the boys.

 

“Yo, don’t kill him!” Martin cheered, trying to catch up with his friends.

 

 

The day was unnaturally warm for a deep Autumn day, and Martin and his friends were having a good time at the strip mall. Going into stores to spark imagination and conversation. They bought a couple of games, and Martin bought some clothes he thought would look good on him. He was looking forward to wearing them to school later that week.

 

The boys decided to take a short break in their adventures to go and get some food. They were seated by a window, and were still in the same spirits, but knew they had to reign it in a little, in such a confined place.

 

“Martin, you gonna get a pizzaburger?” Mark asked.

 

“Uh, maybe, I don’t know. Why a pizzaburger?”

 

“Because it’s a pizza. And a burger. Literally, the two best dinner foods, combined into one. Why wouldn’t you get a pizza burger?” Mark reasoned.

 

“Ah, well I don’t know. Maybe I want a steak!”

 

“Maybe… you’re wrong! Get a pizzaburger!”

 

“What if I don’t want a pizzaburger!?” Martin asked with a sleek smile.

 

“Then don’t get it, I’m just trying to help you bro. I don’t want you to regret anything, ya know?” Mark jested in good spirits.

 

Martin laughed and shook his head. The nice waitress came soon, and Martin decided to get a pizzaburger. He really did want a steak, but he felt it more kind and friendly to get a pizzaburger.

 

Martin sat there with his friends, smiling and laughing with their ridiculous, but good-natured antics. It was a good time, and Martin had no thoughts outside of wondering how he’d respond and keep to good times going for the moment.

 

However, Martin saw something in the corner of his eye when he was smiling at his friend’s silly comment. Looking out the window, Martin saw a man in a hoodie and a pair of jeans. Martin’s acorn eyes rooted investigation as he looked at the man walking by. There was just something about him Martin simply could not take his eyes off for. The man was strutting with a prideful disdain for the world around him.

 

Martin saw the man turn towards the window, and he could finally look at the man’s eyes. The man slowed down as he saw Martin, and fixed his eyes on thirteen-year old boy. 

A knowing smirk grew, and that was when Martin understood that he’s looking at The Villain from earlier. 

 

The thug growled and pulled his hands up to his hoodie and pulled it down, snugging tighter around his round, short and weathered head. But before he left Martin’s vision, he turned his front body to the young man, and grabbed his crotch, in vicarious intentions, digging into his own manhood and Martin's ego.

 

Martin instantly felt a sharp pain in his crotch, and he let out a soft grunt as he doubled over slightly. The pain felt to be growing inside Martin’s young and developing body. The pain was eerily reminiscent of that traumatic experience he had with that thug, and Martin couldn’t focus on anything else. His mind warped uncomfortably as a very real pain began emerging from his loins. He began to sweat and shift in place, having trouble breathing as he lowered his hands from the table to cradle the pain in his shorts, wheezing with worry.

 

“Martin, man, are you okay?” A friend asked. It sounded like Mark.

 

Martin moaned and shook his head. “Yeah… I…” Martin let out, drifting towards the end, as the pain got worse and worse. 

 

“You look sick, are you okay-“

 

Martin pushed away from the table and stammered out as he stumbled towards the bathroom. The pain got worse and worse as Martin tried his best to look for a bathroom through his hazy vision.

 

Martin painstakingly staggered, with a tightened fist right above his crotch as he barely stumbled into the bathroom. Martin had to lean against the wall as he felt himself weak in the knees, barely above crippled.

 

Martin managed to pull himself to the stall and throw himself face first towards the toilet, dry heaving and gasping as he desperately tried to find air to put back inside him. Martin whined out in agonized breaths, the pressure build up inside his taut body. Helplessly, he gagged and hacked out the appetizers he just had out into the toilet. Martin looked down at the puke, and felt even sicker. He had to close his eyes.

 

He sat with his head hanging over the toilet, his messy brown hair hanging low, but not low enough to be in any danger, and Martin tried his best to just get through this.

 

“Martin, you in there?”

 

Martin heard behind him. It sounded like Mark. He heard a knock on the door, then Mark’s voice come back.

 

“Martin, the fo-“

 

“Go away!” Martin yelled out as harshly as his weakened body could let out. He groaned, his neck straining as he bent back over the toilet bowl. He was left alone, in his own thoughts, only hearing the occasional man walk in and do his business.

 

The pain slowly seemed to of plateaued for young Martin as he regained his ability to breath regularly. He was still holding onto the toilet bowl tightly, and he still felt a terrible pulsating sickness stemming from his tender nuggets, but it wasn’t getting any worse. Martin’s mind began to swim as he was able to think about something other than the terrible pain in his balls.

 

He knows that he saw that man walking by outside. He knows that was The Villain. That man’s still walking around the town, unpunished and unchecked. What’s stopping that thug from walking in here right now and finishing off what’s left of his manhood? Hell, what’s stopping anyone from walking in right now and finishing him off. He’s so weak and vulnerable, there’s nothing he could do about it.

 

Martin found himself unable to move past this anxiety. He moved his hands from the toilet bowl when he felt safe that he wasn’t going to vomit anymore, and moved them to cup and protect his delicate balls. There was nothing he could do to curb this pain, nothing he can do to move on from it.

 

It was here, that Martin realized that he had to protect himself. He can’t stop working out, he can’t stop perfecting his martial arts. He needs to be able to deal with any foe no matter the situation. He knows that his Father can’t help him anymore, he’s unreliable. His Father lied to him, and he would never let him do what it really takes to protect himself. Martin knows he can’t do the right thing, and be honorable like his dad always talks about. Like those stupid superheroes always talk about. He knows he has to do whatever it takes to make it out on top, and there can’t be anything that gets in his way. Because that’s the only way he can be safe.

 

 

Martin left the restaurant without saying goodbye to his friends, leaving his purchased clothes and untouched meal with them at the table and walked home in painful understanding. He entered his bathroom, locked the door and sat down. He knows that right here, right now, needs to be a new beginning for him.

 

He stood up and looked into the mirror. Staring back at him, he saw a weak, delicate boy who isn’t ready for the world. His hair was uneven and too long, and his face was puffy from the pain that’s still present below and around the belt. Martin saw a kid, not someone who can protect himself or was ready to do what was necessary. 

 

Martin went into the cupboard to get what he needed, then looked back at the mirror. Slowly, he ran the electric razor and shaved the messy hair off his head, ready to be born again.

 

 

Martin spent the next week working hard and looking up techniques in which he felt he could improve his combat skills. He searched up all variations of Judo, Krav Maga, Jiu Jitsu, anything he could find that he thinks could make him stronger and more formidable. 

He trained by himself in the basement, honing each kick, each hold, each strike, and each submission as best he could. He felt like he was maybe making progress. He still knows that he isn’t ready for the world yet, but he knows that he has to keep it up. He has to keep training, keep on working at making himself the best he can be. He can never be taken advantage of again.

 

Next week at school, Martin was at his locker, getting ready for the next few classes he had before the day ended. He was tired, and ready to go home so he could rest before he continued his practice regimen. He was paying no mind to anyone around him, which has been a pattern for Martin recently. He hasn’t been very sociable, instead opting to stay to himself and observe quietly.

 

Just about a month ago, Martin was fun-loving, playful and always sporting a playful smile and full, messy and young hair. Now, he looked cold and removed. His hair was buzz cut, highlighting his strong bone structure and firm expression to those around him. 

It was such a stark contrast, seemingly out of nowhere. Mark and Kyle wondered what happened, but they could get no response out of Martin. So they gave him space, missing him silently.

 

As Martin was at his locker, Kyle and a few of his fun-loving guys were messing around. They all had their hands cupping their crotches, as the sack-tapping game was in full effect in these lockers at this time. They were all giggling to themselves, waiting for an opportunity to present itself and get one of their buddies before class started.

 

Kyle saw his buddy Martin a few feet away out of the corner of his eye. Kyle knows Martin’s a decent guy even if he’s been somewhat unreceptive lately. He’s looked especially tired recently too, it’s been weird. Kyle thought maybe it was time he tried to engage Martin again. And what better way than to personally and intimately grab Martin’s attention. In a friendly, high school type of way.

 

“Hey, Martin.” Kyle said, walking up to Martin.

 

Martin jumped a bit, but was put at ease when he saw it was just Kyle.

 

“Hey.”

 

“What’s up, bro?” Kyle said with a nice smile, trying to gauge the situation.

 

Martin hasn’t slept well recently, even though his body has been so exhausted from working out more than usual. He just having trouble getting comfortable, generally. He’s tried not to think of all the reasons why, and it’s exhausting.

 

Martin just wanted to move forward. He barely even noticed there were other people in the hallway.

 

“Getting ready to go home.”

 

“Oh, cool. Mind if I show you something?”

 

“Real quick.” Martin said, closing his locker and locking it.

 

Kyle’s right was to Martin, his hand down at his side, body facing the lockers with his tired friend. He was smirking and looking down at the flimsy grey joggers that Martin’s been wearing for a couple days straight now. He was waiting for the moment Martin turned to face him, and when he did Kyle knew it was time to strike. 

"Cup check!" 

As he said that, the black haired boy swung his hand out at the hill on Martin's joggers. Kyle’s quick backhand sunk in deep and flattened the bump, with his fingers snapping as Martin left himself unprotected.  

 

Martin felt tenders flatten under pressure and instantly felt himself under attack. His eyes went wide, and the newly shaven thirteen-year old boy pulled back, lowering himself to the floor and yanking his hands down to protect the curse he’s destined to protect for the rest of his life.

 

Meanwhile, Kyle and friends laughed over him as he tried to prepare for the terrifying pain to run over him once again. And then the sharp, instant pain began to dull and explode inside him, causing Martin to groan and shake in fear.

 

Martin was fretting, overwhelmed by this worst fear coming over him at school, where he felt foolishly safe around his friends. And it was one of his best friends, at that.  

 

“Come on, Martin! Never got cup checked, before!?” Kyle laughed, carefully leaning towards Martin, wondering if he’ll be okay.

 

Not so slowly, the pain inside Martin transformed into a blinding rage of anxieties. Martin felt all of the emotions he’s boiling in, swirl up and heat the young man with a frothing animosity that he could only let out. 

Martin looked up and just saw the laugh his black-haired "friend" had on while protecting his own nuts, knowing full well what he just did to him, what he intentionally just put him through. Martin couldn’t hold himself back.

 

Martin sprang up at Kyle, who let out an “Oh shit!” as he saw Martin bolt at him. Kyle was laughing as he turned around and tried to squirm away playfully. But Martin was not playing, and instantly pulled on Kyle’s arm and pulled it behind his back, twisting it and forcing Kyle to wince as his arm moved in a way it shouldn't.. 

 

“Ah, my arm, dude that’s really AHHH!” Kyle hollered out as he felt Martin twist his arm out of its socket, and push him face first into the cold lockers.

 

“You think that’s funny, huh!?” Martin bellowed out in heavy breath as Kyle whined out in the pain emanating from his arm.

 

“No, no! I’m sorry, let go of my arm!” Kyle cried out with his eyes watering with a pain and fear he didn’t expect.

 

“Why!? So you can punch me in the balls again!?”

 

“No! I won’t ever do that again, I swear! Please, you’re breaking my armAHH!” Kyle cried out again, as Martin pulled on his arm, causing Kyle even further torment.

 

Martin pulled back on Kyle’s arm, and threw the 13 year old to the floor, damaged arm first. Kyle quickly curled around and held onto his arm, with his teary eyes facing the floor. Martin saw and heard Kyle whine on the floor, but also saw the scene that he caused. Everyone was watching, and Martin felt like an animal in a cage. Martin looked at Kyle, and realized that they were on stage and this was his opportunity to make a statement.

 

Martin bent over and picked up Kyle’s leg, flipping him over onto his back. He lifted it up off the floor, as Kyle was still holding onto his pained arm.

 

“Martin, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to piss you off, we’re friends!” Kyle begged the all of a sudden frightening monster that is Martin.

 

But before he could say anything else, he felt Martin pull on his leg at the same time as Martin’s shoe stomped viciously down onto the unprotected bulge in his jeans. 

Martin felt Kyle's package squirm under his shoe, and the feeling made Martin sick. His spine throbbed and stomach churned, as Kyle cried out an airless scream. Martin threw Kyle's leg was thrown down on the floor and watched his eyes and mouth open in pain that Martin recognized inside him at the moment. In Kyle's face, he saw the worst of what he was afraid of. 

Kyle let out a dry wail and curled up on the floor, beginning to shake and weep, the pain in his shoulder was now totally overtaken by the pain in this nuts. Kyle was oblivious to everything else. 

 

Martin looked around and saw everyone staring at him like he just committed a terrible crime. People were talking, and it boiled up the air he was breathing, and he started to heat up even hotter.

 

“You see that!” Martin let out, pointing at the writhing, curled up Kyle.

 

“That’s what happens when you fuck with me!” Martin let out, cursing for the first time in his 13 year life. “Got it!?”

 

Martin looked around, and the crowd was now deafeningly quiet, terrified of what they saw in front of them. Martin didn’t know how to feel or what to do. He just pushed through the crowd, who easily let him through without any struggle, and he headed to the bathroom with increasing speed and intensity.

 

He ran inside, got to a sink and splashed his face with water. He tried to gather his thoughts, but not before he had to kneel down from the pain he was feeling in his balls. His balls were still bruised from his last fight, and Kyle’s sack tap did him no favors.

 

Martin told himself that Kyle had to coming, nut shots are no joke. He always screwed around with Mark, and tapped a bunch of other kids too. How he ever found it funny was beyond him, as the sheer thought of it engulfed him with this sick throb that didn't go away.

 

Martin began to think about how everyone was looking at him, the scene he caused. It bothered Martin at first, seeing himself on the other end of the stories he used to read, but Martin told himself that he should be proud. He made an example of Kyle, and now every student knows what happens when you mess with Martin. He made an important statement.

 

“Martin!? Dude, what’s going on?”

Martin turned around and saw his buddy Mark walking up to him. His young face looked concerned as he studied Martin. Martin turned back towards the sink and looked down, hoping he’d get left alone.

 

Mark saw the scene that happened just a few moments ago, and knew he had to follow Martin to the bathroom.

 

“Martin, what’s going on? Are you okay? You brutalized Kyle, bro...”

 

Martin brooded silently, tensing his body, trying to keep himself painfully still.

“I know Kyle can get annoying sometimes, but he didn’t deserve that! He’s a good dude, you should know that!” Mark said, still staring at Martin, as he tensed over the sink. It was painfully obvious something was bothering his friend, and he just couldn’t understand why he won’t let him help.

 

“Martin, stop ignoring me.” Mark let out in frustration. He leaned in and put his hand on Martin’s shoulder, needing to get his attention. “You can t-”

 

Martin jolted and turned around, pushing Mark’s hand off his shoulder and grabbed him by the collar, and throwing Mark into the wall closest to them. Martin could see the panic in Mark’s face, and knew he had to keep it up. He needs to say it.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me! You want me to break you too!?”

 

“Dude, what’s going on with you?! I’m just trying to help-”

 

“I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!” Martin cut Mark off, then pulled a hand down, and grabbed a fist full of Mark’s pants, feeling his friend’s privates in the palm of his hand. Martin could see the panic in Mark’s face grow as he felt Mark’s hands grab at his wrist. He could feel his delicates in his palm, and it made Martin feel gross. But he knew he had to do it, this was the only way to get through to people.

 

“Touch me again, and I swear I’ll crush them! Got it!?” Martin yelled, not yet hurting Mark. But he knew he very easily could’ve made Mark cry, just like Kyle.

 

Mark quickly nodded in fear, not in any position to combat what feels like a deranged Martin right now.

 

Martin let go of Mark and pushed himself off his former friend, and stormed out of the bathroom. Mark stood against the wall, hunched over, both hands cupping his crotch. He was just trying to catch his breath and make sense of the situation. He couldn’t believe the complete twist of personality that Martin has gone through recently. He didn’t know what to do, but Martin made it clear to stay away.

 

 

Martin was quickly called to the office, and was served a suspension. It was later learned that Kyle had a dislocated shoulder, and a bruised testicle, of which Martin tried to take pride in. That told him that his practice is working out, and it showed him that hard work can pay off. He just can’t get complacent. Not everyone is going to be as weak as Kyle, he needs to be able to fight off any foe.

 

Martin also understood that he isn’t safe at school anymore. He felt foolish forever thinking that to begin with. He’s seen all the sack-taps that happened around him, and although he just made an example out of Kyle, he still knows that he’s in constant danger in the halls of a high school.

 

It was from this point on, that Martin began to wear a cup in school, to guarantee that he won’t be caught off guard like that again. He also began to wear jeans, rather than the more comfortable joggers, sweats or shorts. He realized that they’re too baggy and delicate, and they won’t protect him at all from a well-placed low blow. Jeans are far more practical he reasoned, so he began to wear jeans to school. This pattern even carried over to the outside world, when Martin felt anxious going out. You never know when you’ll need to wear a cup, Martin told himself.

 

Through this, Martin did find himself trying to fight against the shame he felt from treating Mark like he did. He knew Mark was his friend, and that he was only trying to help, but Martin reacted in the moment, high on adrenaline from what happened with Kyle. He couldn’t effectively rationalize acting like that to Mark in the moment, but he also couldn’t convince himself to apologize. He didn’t want to appear weak in any sense of the word, but he didn’t want to be held back either. Martin reasoned that friends wouldn’t help him, and would only complicate things for him. For that, he thanked Mark silently. He hopes he’d understand.

 

Martin continued down his path of self-preservation at all costs. He grew detached from his friends and family, and spent less and less time doing his homework and socializing. He knows that neither will protect him from the harsh outside world. Only he can save himself from being weak.