Tom makes sure he has "properly" packed his Summer vacation project..

I had spent a month of my summer vacation researching and writing my report - a meticulously crafted analysis of the Cold War. Well, technically I had spent one week on this draft. The last three took one week week each. I simply threw the first one into the river. I planned to use the second as a cumrag. I still have it under my bed. When I jerk off, I tear out a page and use it as a tissue paper. It's kinds pointless because I am compelled to lick up my cum from it anyways.

For the third one, I turned it into a collage of all the sexy pictures I had taken of my own mother and other women in public. You know, upskirts, cleavage, etc. I gifted it to Mom on her birthday. She thanked me for putting in so much effort into a thoughtful gift and then grounded me for a month. I'm still grounded except for going to school. She thought the gift was thoughtful because I had taken the effort to show her exactly what a pervert I was so that she never made the mistake of loving me ever again.

Now, to focus on the task at hand, I pulled the fourth redo of my project out of my bag. I needed to make sure I had packed it. Then, feeling a perverse sense of accomplishment mixed with overwhelming sorrow, I needed something more - I needed to make sure it was "properly" packed. I first tried to rip it all at once, but the hard-covers were making it difficult. So I carefully got all the pages out and set them down on the floor.

I tried to fight the urge, I did, but then, without a second thought, my hands began to tear; not neatly - ripping and shredding until the pages were confetti. I then crumpled it into a ball. I opened my mouth, and before I could think, I spat into the paper-mash to make them stick better, then put the sodden mess back into my bag. I knew what I was doing. I knew the effort I had put into making it. Yet, I had to.

I took my bag and set out for school.