Fall Little Star,
SummaryA story about a 12-year old gay boy, his gay father and his friend; two of them start a crusade against boy abuse.
Publ. 2004 (Nifty); this site Jan 2012
15,000 words (30 pages)
CharactersRobin (12yo); his 'dad'; Greg, dad's friend.
Category & Story codesReal-Life Story
Mb – nosex
DisclaimerIf you are under the legal age of majority in your area or have objections to this type of expression, please stop reading now.
If you don't like reading stories about men having sex with boys, why are you here in the first place?
This story is the complete and total product of the author's imagination and a work of fantasy, thus it is completely fictitious, i.e. it never happened and it doesn't mean to condone or endorse any of the acts that take place in it. The author certainly wouldn't want the things in this story happening to his character(s) to happen to anyone in real life.
It is just a story, ok?
Orphan storyThis is an orphan story, that means that the author's e-mail address is no longer active and there is no other way to contact the author:
<[email protected]>: host mx4.hotmail.com[xx.xx.xx.120] said: 550 Requested action not taken: mailbox unavailable (in reply to RCPT TO command)Are you the author, please contact me (feedback form).
Slowly, as I unbuttoned my father's shirt I watched him smile. His smile would have thawed the polar icecaps. He was a handsome man and surprisingly fit when all things were considered. As he lay now, naked, he still smiled at me. The love I felt for him was stronger than it had ever been.
We had lost my mother, his wife, a while ago. It was true to say that I was all he had left in the world, and he was all that I had. I suppose that some people will find this strange, especially when they know that although I call this man my father, we are not blood relations, we don't even carry the same name, nor indeed was his wife my real mother.
I think I should explain what happened. Six years after I was born, my real mother became ill with cancer, it was so sad to see her getting so much worse, and it was on the week before my seventh birthday that she went to that much better place.
The nurse who had helped dad through those last two terrible months had in that time become more than just the local nurse, she was a dear friend. Eighteen months after my mother's funeral, she became my father's second wife, and although the circumstances that had led to the wedding were tragic, we were all happy.
A man might be expected to wonder if he had the right to such joy, but my dad didn't have to wonder long. An articulated lorry on an icy motorway travelling too fast crashed into his car removing both his joy and his head when he was driving to pick up my new mother from work. I had been half asleep lying on the back seat of the car.
The ambulance men and the fire crew were wonderful people as they cut me out of the wreckage only to find that I had spent the last one hour thirty minutes cradling my father's severed head in my arms. Dad and mum had only been married for five months. I was nearly nine years old.
Mum remarried just before I was ten and I had not even reached eleven when she too was the victim of a fatal road accident. My newest dad hugged me to him and promised me that he would love me like I had never been loved before. I would stay with him for ever and I would be fine.
On my eleventh birthday I heard him say to a friend he had invited in for a drink that I had already been to three funerals and experienced the deaths of three parents yet still I could smile. The nearest I came to having another mother was when dad became friendly to a woman but some other guy game along and took her off to Wales somewhere.
So that's where you find us now. Just Dad and me. Me and dad. The two of us. It is my twelfth birthday today and I had a good day at school. I don't have too many friends come here to the house as well dad doesn't like that sort of thing.
I look into dad's eyes, I see his smile and I get into bed with him, feeling his naked body against mine. He mutters something, "You are a wonderful boy Robin, a wonderful boy. Have I ever told you that?"
"Yes dad, you always tell me that. Every night you tell me that I am wonderful and that you love me, now go to sleep!"
"yehmmm yhmm yes you are you know, you're you're yoummmm."
He's snoring now, I can smell the acrid smell of old beer and whiskey. Still lets look on the bright side, he wasn't sick and he didn't hit me. I hate it when he hits me. I know that its not him, it's the drink. He loves me loads but when he gets drunk he argues with me and falls out with me. Sometimes he hits me, but I'm not complaining, I know he loves me.
"Oh my fucking God! Robin, Did you put me to bed again last night? Oh Son, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be out so long last night, I just got chatting to some friends and kind of lost track of time."
"Its ok dad, honest it is. I don't mind, really I don't."
"Oh Robs, you really are a little hero well not so little now eh? I mean it's Holy Shit!! It was your birthday yesterday. Awww Robs, I will make it up to you this weekend, you see if I don't. What ever you want to do, we will do it. No questions no problems. This will be your weekend. The entire two days devoted to you. Now you go off to school and work out what you want to do."
I sat at school and for a few moments wondered what I would like to do with the weekend. I knew it couldn't be much, money was not exactly flowing. Dad didn't earn very much with his van driving job and he had his drink to pay for. I decided I would like to go to the cinema with him and watch a film, I didn't really care what film, just as long as he was with me.
I knew that dad had another problem, one he either didn't know about or one he was pretending didn't exist and it was frightening me. I didn't know who I could ask for help, I didn't know where to turn. I did know one thing, I knew this problem and I knew it wouldn't go away. I knew I was gay.
Each day I would wonder if "today was the right day". would it be the best time to tell him? How would he react? Would he still love me? I was terrified it would make him cross enough to make him start hitting me again. I had never heard him say anything nice about gay people, but I had heard him say plenty against them.
So far, on the days I had decided to tell him, he had come back from the pub and had been a bit too far gone for me to tell him. Whilst that sort of let me off the hook, it wouldn't solve the problem. I decided to tell him after the film, when we got home.
My school day done, I was back home making some supper for us both. I ate mine and left his under a lid thing, next to the microwave, just in case he stopped off at the pub on his way home. Upstairs doing my homework I noticed it was nearly ten o'clock. I had guessed right, he must have dropped in to see his friends.
It was a quarter to midnight when I heard the front door open and dad come in. I was already in bed as he came into our bedroom. We shared the same bedroom because the windows in mine were broken back in the summer when he and I were playing basket ball in the garden. He broke them but always said that I did. He was saving up for double glazing anyway so meantime we shared the double bed in his room.
He was asleep before he landed on the bed. I got out and undressed him again, once again marvelling at his naked form. It felt nice cuddling up to his warm body, once I had got it into the bed. There wasn't much heating in the house since the central heating broke down last month. We still had hot water but that was about all.
When I woke up this morning, dad was already awake. He was looking at me, straight into my face.
"You had to put me to bed yet again last night, didn't you?"
"No," I lied, "You put your self to bed, but you did seem to have had a good night at the pub."
"Don't lie to me Robin, Please do not start lying to me. I don't think I could handle that. I always know when you have put me to bed, I wake up naked. When I put myself to bed I wear pyjama bottoms. Now be honest with me. Did you or did you not put me to bed last night?"
"Yes dad, sorry, I did get you ready for bed."
"That's better. I know you meant well when you lied, but please don't do that, it doesn't help me, and it doesn't help you. Have you decided about what you want to do over the weekend?"
I told him about the film I wanted to watch and that it was showing at the local cinema. He looked in the local paper and saw that it was showing Saturday but not Sunday. Saturday was the last chance, so it was agreed. It was also agreed that we would watch the four o'clock performance, and have a pizza blow out afterwards. I was delighted, so delighted I gave him a hug to remember.
All day at school I was thinking about the following day. Dad hadn't taken me out ever before, we had certainly not been to the cinema together. I thought of how he reacted when I hugged him. It was odd. He hugged me towards him but when I looked up at him, I was certain I saw a tear. His eyes looked really watery.
Saturday could not come soon enough for me. It was just as well it was Friday. I busied myself making dad a really nice dinner for when he came home but as it was Friday, I knew he would probably meet his friends in the pub. It was minced beef with onions in gravy and some new potatoes. I knew it was one of his favourites. There wasn't quite enough for both of us but it was ok because I didn't want much to eat. Dad would be able to eat plenty. I ate the food I made for him last night, it was a bit dry but ok.
I finished my homework. I always did my homework to a very high standard because Dad was usually out and we had no television. It was broken a month or two back. Dad threw a can of beer at it a bit too hard and it went with a massive bang. He has promised to get a new one as soon as some spare cash comes in.
I must have dozed off in bed because dad really made me jump when he came in. It was nearly midnight and he had a new friend with him. They had a bottle of whiskey, a big one, and they were laughing as to who could drink more of it. I went downstairs to see if they needed anything.
I had a towel wrapped around me as my pyjamas were in the washing machine. I only had one pair but dad promised me that he would take me out to buy some more as soon as he was paid. For now I slept naked when the pair I had was in the wash.
I got two glasses out of the cupboard, and gave one each to dad and his friend. Dad had me sit on his lap as we only had the two chairs and I could see his friend sitting opposite was looking up my legs, the towel was too short to hide anything from the angle he was sitting and I had no choice but to sit still. For ten minutes I knew he was looking at everything I had to offer.
Luckily he drained his glass and I got up from dad's lap to refill it. I was able to adjust my towel. I refilled dad's glass too and decided to sit on the floor.
"Bloody hell Harvey, you have that lad of yours well trained. What's your name lad?"
"I'm Robin, I'm pleased to meet you sir."
As I stood up to shake the offered hand I found that he had accidentally rested his foot on the edge of the towel I had been wearing. It fell to the floor leaving me with one hand out ready to shake his, while the other tried to preserve what dignity that I had left.
Dad burst out laughing. He could see the funny side of just about anything. As embarrassed as I was, I loved that laugh, well, I loved my dad!
"Come on Robs old son, we're all boys together, no need for the red face. I'm sure Greg here has seen his fair share of lads through the years. You haven't got anything that they haven't got."
Even though some of what dad said was slurred, there was no way I was going to humiliate him. After all, this guy Greg had seen everything I had got, he had been given an excellent view when I was sitting on dad's lap.
I took the towel up from the floor and after folding it up, I carefully placed it on the arm of the chair. Then, I continued to pour out the whiskey naked as the day I was born. I even tried a little bit but thought it was terrible stuff.
"This is particularly Roman like, Harvey, The two gladiators being served by their naked boy slave after mortal combat."
"Yeah," dad laughed, "If you call half a dozen games of pool 'mortal combat' then I suppose it is."
Dad laughed again but I could see his eyes were closing as the drink was taking its toll. It was now gone half past twelve and the pair of then had drunk nearly a half a litre of whiskey between them. I was topping up both their glasses as fast as they drank. The inevitable happened, dad went into a deep sleep.
It became apparent that whilst dad was now really drunk, for some reason this guy Greg was getting more and more sober. He was helpful enough getting dad up the stairs and he went back down while I put dad to bed. On his way to the stairs I noticed him look into my old bedroom, its lack of furniture was obvious. There was a strange expression on his face as he looked back at me, before returning to his glass of whiskey.
I had always been taught to be a good host and polite to visitors at all times, so, as soon as I had dad sleeping soundly in his bed, I returned to his friend Greg.
I took the opportunity while I was in the bedroom to put on a few clothes and have to say that on my return to the living room, the disappointment on Greg's face was obvious.
"Oh that's a pity, I was rather enjoying having a naked boy servant. It gives one a strange sense of power. A sense of domination, still all good things come to an end eh lad."
"Have you known dad long? Do you drink in the same pub often?"
We chatted a while and it sort of seemed that Dad had met Greg that night for the first time and that Greg was only staying in the area a few days. I also confirmed his suspicions that I slept with my father. I explained that it was the only room upstairs in the house that anyone could sleep in, the others either having no furniture in or having broken windows, or as in the case of my room, both.
I have no idea why, but when he started talking about my school and asking how many girlfriends I had, I admitted to him that I was gay. His response took me completely by surprise.
"That's handy, both you and your father being homosexual. I knew he was but thought he was joking when he told me that you were. It was only when you allowed yourself the pleasure of showing off your body to my was I certain. That's why I asked you about girl friends. It's brought you out to me."
"Dad is gay? Are you sure? I didn't know, he never said, I thought he would hate me if he knew."
"Oh dear! I've said something I shouldn't have said. It's the bloody whiskey, it's loosened my tongue too much. I've just remembered what your dad said to me. He said 'Please don't say anything to Robin, I want to be the one to tell him.' Look Robin I must ask you a very big favour."
He seemed genuine enough to me. As we sat in opposite chairs he almost begged me not to say anything to dad, and not to 'come out' to him either. He seemed really upset at having told me, upset at doing the one thing my dad had asked him not to do. I promised him that I would do or say nothing that would make dad think we had talked about sex and gay stuff. I told him I would keep everything secret.
He tried to come over to my chair, but he seemed to stumble a bit and sat back heavily where he was. I figured that the whiskey was working for him now. He beckoned me over to him and patted the arm of his chair. He spoke quietly and I couldn't really hear him so I went to him.
Although I had tried to sit on the arm of the chair, he must have put his arm round me tighter than he meant and before I realised it I was sitting on his lap. I tried to get up but he held me saying, "No Robin, Please no. You are fine sitting like that. Please stay there. Please stay like you are, I like it."
Although I was rather embarrassed at the closeness of the man, I stopped trying to get up. As I relaxed I felt Greg relax too.
"Please let me do this, Please Robin, I promise I won't hurt you."
I felt his hands wandering over my clothes, shaking slightly as he undid them as he went. In a very short while I was naked again, and Greg was drinking up the sight, along with more whiskey. There was no way I was going to let him have sex with me, though I did let him do pretty much as he wanted by hand and orally.
At last the whiskey took full hold and he passed out. I looked at the bottle, there was almost nothing left. I studied the comatose figure before me, he was not a pretty sight. I went to bed.
It was dad stirring that woke me the following morning. He groaned as he realised that he was, once again, lying naked in bed. He knew that it meant that I had put him there again. He kissed the top of my head, something he almost never did.
"I am sooo sorry Robin, I suppose I wasn't in a very good state when I got back last night. I met a guy in the pub, we played a few games of pool and I lost track of time. God knows how I got home, or when!"
I was about to answer him when he turned over in bed, taking most of the duvet with him. It was very cold, much colder than it should have been. This worried me and started me thinking. I threw some clothes on and went downstairs.
The front door swung gently on its hinges. I went into the sitting room, it was empty. No I don't just mean our guest had gone, so had our stereo and the video. The broken telly was still there but the Persian rug and silver framed picture of my real mother were not.
That hurt. It was the only picture I had of her, it was the only picture I had of any family I had ever had. There was nothing of any value left in the room, or, in fact, the house. He had been in our bedroom and taken dad's wallet as well, but there was worse to come.
As I surveyed the few remaining items left in the room, dad walked in. He was remembering some of the things that had happened. Seeing the towel folded on the chair arm reminded him of the state of dress they had encouraged me into. He held me to him as he muttered something about the guy being an unspeakable shit.
The man had taken virtually everything we had. On the fireplace shelf there was a message on the back of an envelope, advising against calling the law. Inside it there was a Polaroid photo of dad and me, I was snuggled into dad and although I knew that we were asleep when the picture was taken, there was no proof of that, and the picture showed dad smiling.
I felt uncomfortable walking round as Greg had been none too gentle with where he had pushed his fingers. His teeth too had left their mark. Dad saw my discomfort and memories of the previous night slowly seeped back into that scull of his. He now remembered more than just the state he had almost encouraged me to be in, he was recalling the lecherous smile the guy had
As each detail re-entered his conscious thought, he winced in pain. Pain at the treatment he had indirectly inflicted on me. He hugged me to him desperately telling me how sorry he was, promising he would make it up to me somehow. He eventually managed to raise enough courage to ask if the bastard had raped me. The only relief he was to get was the knowledge that I had not actually had anal intercourse with the man.
Dad followed my gaze to the small cheap cabinet where the photograph had stood. Only then did he realize that it had gone with the rest of the valuables. He knew what that picture meant to me. The only thing he could do was to cover my eyes with his hand to stop me staring at the empty space.
We spent the morning tidying up the house, trying to cover any trace of our unwelcome visitor. There was too much misleading evidence to risk involving the police, but dad was developing a plan to exact revenge on this unspeakable bastard.
With the house as good as it was likely to get, the clock said just gone midday. Dad handed me my fleece, and the pair of us walked to his local pub. He had in his pocket thirty seven pence, the sum total of all our cash.
He had lost his credit cards as well as his driving license. It was Saturday and there was no way for him to get any cash. I worked out that he was going to try to borrow some, but I also guessed that the pub was about the only place I was going to go to today.
Dad had obviously told his tale of woe to his friends as before many minutes passed, people were coming out of the pub laden with crisps and cola. We were there from half past midday to three thirty. As dad came out from the bar, I could see he had drunk a fair amount, he was slurring quite a lot.
One of his friends swung round out of the car park, and beckoned us both in the car. He drove us both to the cinema and as I got out I saw him slip a twenty pound note in dad's shirt pocket. Dad thanked him and winked, promising to make it up to the man one day.
I felt six feet high, standing next to my dad as he bought the tickets to see the film, and nearly burst out laughing as he playfully flirted with the woman who was directing us to our seats. This was my dad, my wonderful dad. I loved him so much it hurt.
We were only five minutes into the film when the effects of drinking so much cola started to make themselves felt. I excused myself and went to the lavatory. I had only been back a minute or two when dad also had to go. I sat watching the film and suddenly realised that dad had been gone for nearly half an hour. I walked to the toilets and looked in. He was not there. Looking about I saw a bar, and dad was propping it up.
OK so the film wasn't dad's kind of film. I thought the best thing I could do was go back and watch the rest of it. I knew where he was and he was still taking me out, just not so close. I watched the rest of the film. It was rubbish!
I was out of the cinema and into the bar in less time than the titles took to go up the screen. Dad was sitting on a bar stool and was none too stable. The barman was a friendly looking sort.
"You going to help the old boy home are you young man?"
I nodded and helped dad walk to the door. I looked back at the bar where the steward's smile was wearing thin. I heard him say to nobody in particular that no child should even see his father in that state, let alone have to help him home.
Halfway to our house dad was violently sick. I had no idea what he had been eating in that bar, but what ever it was it hadn't agreed with him. As we went in our front door, I could feel dad starting to lose consciousness again so I took him straight upstairs and put him to bed. I went back down stairs and ate the only thing I could find, the minced beef I had cooked for dad the previous day. I had to eat it cold as our glorious friend had taken the microwave.
We always look forwards to our Sunday morning lay in. As was often the case, dad woke before I did. Also as was now days often the case, dad realised he was naked and knew what that meant.
"Oh Robin, I really am sorry about yesterday. When I went to the loo, I thought I would ask in the bar if anyone knew about that bastard Greg. I must have let the time slip by rather, you were with me in no time. Still, It was lovely walking home with you afterwards. We did walk home, didn't we?"
I smiled at him, he was just lying there smiling too, he was just being lovely, he was being my dad. I snuggled up to him. I could have spent all day there and I think he could have too.
"Robin, I need to go to the Lion again lunch time, do you want to come too or will you be ok here. You know I love having you with me at the pub, especially on Sunday lunch time, but we are just a mite short of cash at the moment."
I didn't know just why he needed to go to the pub but as we had just been wiped out by that 'Greg' man I knew we hadn't too much cash. I told dad that I would stay behind. I would do my homework and get ready for school for Monday.
Dad said he was meeting someone at twelve o'clock sharp at the Lion, and sure enough at five to twelve he wandered out of the front door, ruffling my hair as he went. I looked in the freezer to see what I could cook for tonight's dinner but all I could find was a pair of bargain basement steak and kidney pies. Oh well, they would have to do.
I went to the spare room upstairs to do my homework. That's where the computer lives. Nope, wrong again. That's where the computer lived. It was gone. Yet another victim of 'Greg's night out'!
I had to use our encyclopaedia downstairs, I suppose it did me good having to use real books but it was a pain. It was two o'clock by the time I finished my assignments. I went into my bedroom and got my books ready for the following week. I opened my wardrobe to set my clothes out in readiness too. Half of them were missing.
I could not fathom out why somebody would want to steal some of my clothes but was soon resigned to the fact that I had to do the laundry today rather than on Tuesday. I carried the dirty clothes basket down to the utility area. I quick check showed me that Greg had not stolen our washing powder, nor the fabric conditioner. However, on opening the clothes basket I discovered that he had stolen most of my dirty clothes. Five shirts, two pairs of trousers and all my underpants had gone. All he had left me with was eleven socks. I wondered what he wanted with just one sock but I was so confused that little or nothing seemed to make any sense.
It dawned on me then that I had very few clothes left. I ran a check. It was too few clothes. I would have to chat to dad when he got back. I sat in the middle of our living room, and took stock. What did we have left? A few clothes, a few sticks of furniture and dad's car, a rather elderly Ford. Nothing else. The whine of the washing machine reminded me that we still had that, then I remembered my mountain bike, It was kept in the back garden.
It had been kept in the back garden, it wasn't being kept there now. It was being kept in somebody else's back garden now. For the first time I was feeling dejected. Everything I had ever owned had gone, well nearly everything. My total current possessions were as follows.
Socks 23, Shoes 4 plus two trainers. Trousers, two pairs plus one pair of jeans. Collared shirts 2, T shirts 1, sweat shirts 1 and woollen sweaters 1. My fleece completed the tally of my clothes, and my clothes were the total of my possessions.
I never did have much, I never wanted much. My computer, my bike and my playstation were all the riches I had ever had. I sat and for the first time since my second mummy died, I started to cry. My play station had been a present from my second mother in those happier days. I wondered who was playing with it now.
I had set the oven on timer. I reckoned dad would be back at sometime around three in the afternoon, four at the latest. The oven was set so the pies would be ready at four.
Dad came back at five in the evening. He ate his pie in silence. They were awful pies even on a good day, but today was not good. The dry mush that pretended to be gravy was bland and the meat was almost non existent.
"Robin, I have borrowed a bob or two from some friends. Lets go and get that pizza I promised you yesterday, we will have it now."
We got into the car and drove to the pizza café that was just outside town. It was the cheapest pizza place around and was next door to the Kings Oak pub. I waited in the café for the pizzas to cook while dad went in next door to use their toilet. He was only in there forty five minutes, and the man in the café kept the pizzas warm for us.
I don't think we were more than a hundred yards from home when I heard dad suddenly swear out loud. I could see the reflections of flashing blue lights as dad pulled over to the side of the road and slumped over the steering wheel.
He passed the pizzas to me and told me to walk the rest of the way home, he would be back a bit later. I started for home and as I looked back dad was being helped into the police car.
It was nearly midnight when dad came home, he was very very drunk. I reheated his pizza and handed it to him. He took a few bites then seemed to lose his temper. The plate and the pizza hit the wall. Before he had a chance to turn on me I ran upstairs. I was sure he was going to hit me. I cried out for him not too. I ran into my bedroom and locked the door.
I heard the front door shut and going to my window, saw dad walking down the road. It was far too late for the pubs so I wondered where he was going. My curiosity was cured a few minutes later when dad drove back to the house. He had gone to collect the car.
He was driving it into the garage as I left my bedroom and went to his. I would be alright sleeping there now, dad's temper never stayed for long, he would be much calmer now. Getting into our bed I heard the garage door close. Dad would be up soon, I knew he would be really sorry for frightening me, he always was.
Now everything had settled down I must have relaxed and dozed off to sleep because I woke with a start. I had slept for well over three hours, I could tell because it was nearly four o'clock. It was very quiet in the room all I could hear was the car engine running. I couldn't imagine where dad was thinking of driving too at this time of night.
The alarm clock went off at seven thirty, pulling me unwillingly from my sleep. There was still no sign of dad so I listened very carefully. There was no sound from the garage so I reckoned that dad had gone out. He would tell me where when I next saw him. He would tell me everything then, and he would make everything alright, he always did, that's why I loved him so.
It was Monday morning and I got ready for school. My breakfast was the rest of dad's pizza, no point in letting that go to waste, even if it was cold. I have to say it was a boring day at school, I couldn't concentrate on my work, I kept being upset at dad not sleeping with me last night. He never let his angry times go on that long before, he always had a kiss for me when I went to school.
Finally my day was done, it was time for home. It was not a very long walk home, less than five minutes and it was as I got nearer our house I saw police cars and an ambulance. They seemed near our house and as I got closer I could see that it was our house they were outside.
I heard our next door neighbour say to a policeman, "Look, there he is, that's the slob's poor little boy. Don't let him see this!"
It was too late. A stretcher was wheeled out of our garage, on it was a long black plastic bag. I had seen those on television, I knew what was in it, but some strange mental block was stopping me work out just who.
Then the penny dropped. The realisation dawned. And the significance of the car engine running in the garage with the door shut, told me everything. My bag fell to the floor. I was rooted to the spot. With my mouth open and my eyes shut I knew I was about to go to the funeral of another daddy. The tarmac road came swiftly up to meet my unconscious head.
Lights flashed. Voices were raised. People were talking to a lump on the ground. I peered down from some sort of vantage point about fifteen feet above the scene. I recognised my neighbour, Victor, even though I hardly knew him. Dad wasn't good with socialising with neighbours. The man in uniform was saying my name but for some reason I couldn't answer.
There was an ambulance there, as well as police cars. That man in uniform was still calling my name. He seemed to be looking at the lump on the ground. I could see it now, it was a child about my own size, a boy. I couldn't see his face. Now I heard a new voice, one very different from any I had ever heard before. It was strange, very strange yet somehow calming.
"No Robin, not today, you're not coming here yet. I'm not ready for you now. You are at the nadir of your short life and you are there for a reason. There is much for you to do and much for you to understand. When you understand it, you will know everything, and you will know me. When you have completed your destiny you will be ready for me and I for you. Go back and do your duty."
I looked at the face of the boy who was stirring below, I knew that face, if only he would open his eyes. He did, he opened his eyes and I could see who he was. I knew who he was. I lost sight of everything as blinding lights flashed in my face. I was looking up into the face of my neighbour, and into the face of the policeman who was looking down at me, calling my name.
I slipped in and out of consciousness but was vaguely aware of my neighbour telling the uniformed man my name, only he got it wrong, he said I was the son of the man I had always called Dad. It was a reasonable assumption that 'Dad' was my father but it wasn't so. His name was Harvey Ranworth, mine was Robin Mitchell.
The ambulance man had taken down my name as Robin Ranworth, well, it was close enough, and the name served its purpose while I spent a few days in hospital being treated for shock. Shock? Ha! They didn't know the half of it. I stayed in hospital until Victor, our neighbour, came and collected me. He and his wife had been keeping a close eye on me, visiting me often. They had offered me a temporary home until my mother was traced.
They had no idea that I was so completely alone, nor had the Social Services. So complex had my history been that no one had really followed it. I had fallen out of the net of care.
It had never occurred to me that Dad might have written a will, but indeed he had. It must have been in one of his moments of sobriety. It was a simple document. With the exception of the house, all assets were to be liquefied. Any money needed to be spent on the house would be released and such work done. The house was then to be let using an agent who dad had known from his pub.
The rent, after any tax and agents fees, was to go into a special account, less ten percent which would be paid directly into my own building society account. Running fees and expenses for the house would come from this special account. On my eighteenth birthday, I would be given control of the whole lot to do with as I saw fit.
All this was explained to me the day of my father's funeral. The executors of the will were, the pub landlord, and an old retired gentleman who was a regular customer of the pub. The old gentleman, Phil, or Uncle Phil as he preferred me to call him was the one prepared to do all the work, the landlord was just going to see fair play.
To start with I stayed with my next door neighbour. This lasted only a very few days. Then I moved in with Uncle Phil but that was always going to be a temporary arrangement. It was while I was looking round the house to make sure there was nothing in the loft worth me trying to salvage that I saw someone in the garden. I couldn't believe the nerve of the man, bold a brass there he was looking up at the house from the garden. It was Uncle Phil who spoke first, he was looking out of the window at the man too.
"Isn't that the bastard who turned over your house when you were all asleep?"
"Yeah that's him. Greg's his name. I wonder what he's looking for now."
I turned to Uncle Phil but he was already gone. As I looked out of the window I saw him storming up to Greg and start shouting. I rushed down the stairs. Greg might not be very handy with his fists, I didn't know, but Uncle Phil was no youngster and I reckon even I could have flattened him. I went to give Uncle what ever help I could.
By the time I got to them, the shouting had stopped, the conversation sounded almost congenial.
"I know you find it hard to believe, but that's the truth. That man owed me money from bets he made with me and that was the way he and I agreed it could be paid off. Now he's dead I feel like a grade one shit for doing it. I knew he was an alchy and I new it was the only chance I had of getting anything off him. I'm not rich, far from it. I needed the money as much as he did. The only difference is that I ain't got no kid."
He carried on talking to Uncle Phil and the more I listened the more I knew he was telling it straight. He used a lot of my dad's expressions when he was saying what my dad had said. He repeated so many of dad's excuses and reasons, I knew. I could tell that if this man Greg was lying he could never have known half of what he did know.
He knew dad and had been let down by him. To paraphrase Sir Winston Churchill as dad so often did, It was a situation up with which I would not put.
By now Greg had noticed my presence and was visibly shaken and uncomfortable. I was not quite ready to let him off the hook. I knew exactly what was going through his mind. I was on home ground and with friends reasonably close by. He was wondering just how many people knew that he had enjoyed a number of highly illegal activities with a young boy. Ok, he never actually had anal sex with me but he had done pretty much everything else he fancied, certainly enough to give him a long and uncomfortable stay in one of 'Her Majesties Prisons'.
I was still trying to figure out how much mileage I could make from this when he started speaking to me.
"Well, are you still speaking to me? I wouldn't blame you if you don't want to, I behaved like a real shit I know. I don't suppose there's anything I can do to set things straight is there."
His last question was more of a statement but I was getting an idea.
"Where do you live Greg?"
"I've got a flat in Raythorpe, about six miles away, why?"
"I don't know yet, but is it a big flat?"
Greg looked at me for a moment. I could tell he was sizing me up. After a few moments he gave me an answer.
"It's a two bedroom flat in quite a nice part of town. I own it free and clear. Its about all I have to my name. Now tell me, just what is going on in that head of yours?"
"Are you married? Do you live with anyone?"
"No, I'm a free agent, no ties I can do much as I want, within the confines of my job that is. I am a freelance journalist, and if I may say so, quite a good one. Now please tell me what you're thinking, I rather need to know.
"If you have blackmail in mind then I can tell you I have no assets I can easily call on. Not only that, I will adopt the attitude 'publish and be damned' I may no will, go down for what I did to you but you would get damaged too. I would see to that. You would be known as a blackmailer and as a result it would always be wondered how willing you were to participate. I hate playing rough but I will if you corner me. Please don't make me have to behave like that, I promise I really don't want to."
"No, honestly, I am not thinking blackmail. But I'm not sure what I am thinking. I want to talk to Uncle Phil, but before I do, What would you say to living in this house with me, so I don't have to go in a home? Could that happen?"
I left Greg thinking about that while I went to see Uncle Phil. Well! Talk about stir up a wasp's nest! I had people rushing about all over the place all working out the logistics and all trying to find out what would be best for me. It took a while and I stayed with the pub landlord while it was all sorted out.
Eventually Greg, Uncle Phil and the pub landlord, Vince, all got together with me and discussed the 'master plan' that they had come up with. It seemed that all three of them were saying that my security was paramount and that there could be no risks taken with my inheritance.
The plan was in reality Win Win all round. Greg's flat had been valued. That was easy, one on the same floor was up for sale. My house was valued at near enough twice the value of his flat. Greg was to get a mortgage and buy my house. He would sell his flat to me and I would buy (through the trustees of the will) the other flat on the same floor. Both flats would be rented out, the proceeds to be treated in the same way that had been planned for the house. I was a boy of means. I agreed. It was a good arrangement.
On the very first day back in my house, Greg and I set out some ground rules. As regards his behaviour with me. My bum was out of bounds for all but sight, I had no qualms about showing myself to him but what he could touch was strictly limited. In return I would treat him like I would my father. After all, that was what he was going to be for me. He described to me, what was meant by a 'boy lover' and I had to accept his being one. The arrangement was smooth and worked well for many months. It would have gone on even longer if I hadn't let my curiosity get the better of me.
I could always tell when Greg had been watching porn sites, he always had to go to his room and 'relieve' himself. This had been such a day. It was a Saturday and it was raining. I had been on my computer doing my school assignments but had gone down to the living room to ask Greg something. I realised he had gone to his room and I guessed why. I went to his computer, it was still turned on and still displaying pictures of boys. I started looking through them then it happened. I came across the picture of a boy so beautiful, so attractive I instantly fell in love with him.
I looked into his eyes, they were blue, and perfect of course but the more I looked the sadder the eyes became, I was swimming in the vista of those eyes, I could read the story behind them, and the story was sad, the story was tragic, the story was real.
"Well, if you are going to start looking at what I get up to on the internet, I will have to remember to log off."
"Greg? Who's this boy? Have you got many pictures of him? He's lovely."
Greg came and took a closer look.
"Oh yes that one, isn't he gorgeous, I could just eat him."
"Are there many photo's of him?"
"Oh yes, loads. He is a regular on these sites. He's from Russia, a lot of them are. Since the Cold War ended an awful lot of these types of photo's have been coming through from there. I think it's a way of earning a living for a lot of the boys. They probably get enough money for doing this to feed their entire family."
I studied the pictures in more detail. There was something wrong. Greg's explanation sounded right but there was still something wrong. I had no doubt that Greg believed what he was saying, but something told me he was wrong, very wrong indeed.
I started to put myself in the boy's position but somehow, I was unable to do this, nothing really worked. Something was missing from my scenario, something vital. Eventually I asked Greg the question that was to bring about changes in both our lives, changes from which there would be no way back.
"Greg, can I watch when you surf the net? Can I join in? I want to know more."
"Of course you can my little treasure, why don't you sit on my lap and we can look at some more."
I sat on his lap and tolerated his gentle fondling as we looked at the various pictures from the many sites he belonged to. Greg's hand had slipped inside my underpants as he continued to run through picture after picture of boys, some erect some not. I was taking in all he had to show me till eventually I lost concentration as he worked me up to a climax.
Greg was so happy at the progress he had thought he had made with me, but his elation was both premature and short lived. In very few words I reminded him that although I was gay, I was attracted to boys my own age, not older guys who should know better. He resumed his surfing, me still on his lap but both of his hands were occupied on the keyboard and mouse. I have to admit, I did feel just a little bit sorry for him. At the end of the session Greg looked at me.
"Well sweetheart, did that do anything for you?"
"Yes and no. I don't know what I am looking for, but I am looking for something. Were all those boys Russian?"
"Yes, I showed you all the Russian sites I belong to. Is where they come from important to you then?"
"I don't know, I think it might be. There's something I don't understand though, and I can't explain what it is I don't understand. That doesn't make a lot of sense does it!"
I think Greg could tell I was getting agitated because he sort of changed towards me. Now he was cuddling me, but it was a different sort of cuddle, it was warm and dare I say 'loving'. There was another difference in this cuddle, it wasn't accompanied with the expanding bulge between his legs I had become so accustomed to. He held his head against mine as he spoke softly to me.
"Don't be frightened by things that make no sense. Tell me your thoughts and I will try to make things clear to you. We both know I love you in a way I shouldn't, but believe me, I think I love you in many other ways too. This is a difficult time for both of us. Try to give me time and I will try to overcome those things that I feel that I shouldn't feel."
He kissed me and in my mind I went back to when I was nearly nine years old and my real dad kissed me. That was the last time I had felt such tenderness. I cuddled up to Greg and started to cry.
I have cried a few times in my life but never like this. I let Greg have 'Both barrels', it all came out. I drained out my feelings for all the mummies and daddies I had lost. I cried for Harvey and the way he killed himself. I cried for my real father and the crash that took him from me. I sobbed for my real mother, lost to Cancer and my second mummy, also killed in a crash. Then I looked at Greg. How long was I to have with Greg? When was he to be taken from me. How long before he too went on that 'role of honour' Deceased parent of Robin.
I must have cried for nearly two hours, and in all that time Greg never let me go. He held me, squeezed me and cuddled me. Kisses rained down on me along with whisperings and more hugs. He held me to him as a shield of love and not once, not once at all, did he try to do anything inappropriate.
I slept in his bed that night, each dressed in our nightwear and it was right, it was as it should be. A boy and his guardian. I had not loved Greg till that moment. I had not allowed myself to, I was determined not to feel close to this man but I failed. I failed and I felt so much safer for it.
Nothing was said about my breaking down for a couple of days but I could see that it played on Greg's mind and it seemed to be a heavy burden for him. Eventually he summoned the courage needed and asked,
"Do you feel strong enough to talk about things? I didn't think you were quite ready from the other day, are you now?"
I reckoned that this was going to be an emotional thing so I snuggled up to him before answering.
"Please, I don't want you to be cross with me but I don't want to love you, and you said you loved me and I get frightened."
"I'm sorry Robin. First, let me tell you this. I will only ever be cross with you if you are naughty and I need to be, but second, I will try not to 'love' you, I know you don't like it and we both know it's wrong."
"No, I didn't mean like that! I don't like that much either but it wasn't what I meant. I meant I get frightened when you are really nice to me and cuddle me and things. I get scared 'cos everyone who likes me and looks after me gets dead and I don't want you to die 'cos I like you and I don't want to like you and I get frightened what will happen to you if I like you too much."
Although all my fears came out in one lump he seemed to understand them and pulled me closer to him. He stroked my hair as he answered.
"Hey little one, calm down. There's no easy way of saying this so here it is straight, you have had a crock of shit for a life and it's not your fault. Now! There is no reason to say that because things were shit before they will be shit in the future. Even though you know the sort of guy I am, I am going to do my damned best to prove to you that you are ok with me.
"I don't believe in fate, so I don't believe that you loving me, or me looking after and loving you, will mean that I die early. If I had thought that, I would have left you ages ago. Like it or not you have me for keeps and if ever you think you can ever love me in the same way you loved Harvey, then I will be the luckiest man in the world."
I couldn't help myself, I kissed him. He kissed me back. We went into some strange sort of embrace each kissing and hugging the other and once again I noticed that even with this overt show of affection, there was no tell tale swelling in his loins. The love we were demonstrating for each other was pure. It was good.
After a while and our little bonding session had ebbed away to be replaced by normal behaviour, we started talking about the sites on the internet he frequented. I sat on his lap again as he surfed his favourites. The site we looked at this time was an American one, advertising that it was art and not pornography, and that there was no age limit on art. Age limit or not, I was far from convinced.
It was while we were looking at a picture from an American site that I noticed something. Maybe it was just one of life's strange coincidences but the blankets on the bed in this picture were the same as the ones in one of the pictures from a Russian site.
The boy in the photograph was pretty nice anyway so I asked Greg to print the shot off. He looked at me a little oddly and muttered something about not liking having those sorts of pictures laying about but he printed it anyway. It was a good photograph and it printed well.
It couldn't have been an hour later that I asked for another picture to be printed. This was of two boys playing with each other on a bed. The site was a German one. A little after that a Russian site had a picture that I wanted. Greg printed this one off too.
"Getting to be quite the little collector aren't you!"
He was smiling when he said it but the puzzled expression I wore took the smile from his face. I spread out the three pictures. Pictures one and two had the same bed clothes and the same bedside cupboard. On top of the cupboard in the American picture was a magazine, just about recognisable as a batman comic, whereas on the German site the cupboard displayed a German newspaper.
Picture three, the Russian site had nothing on the cupboard but a picture of one of the Russian presidents hung over the bed. All three photo's had a picture hanging over the bed, one of an eagle and one of a mountain scene. All three pictures were exactly the same size, and in the same position.
All three photographs showed a mains electrical socked next to the bed, though each of the sockets were appropriate to the country they purported to be taken in.
Greg and I studied the photographs in great detail. The more we looked the more we saw, and one thing became very plain to see. There was just one room, sometimes it was said to be in Germany sometimes Russia and sometimes it was in America but it was just one room. It had to be in just one place.
"Well so now what Robin? Or should I say 'Sherlock' ? What do we know so far?"
"They all look so sad. I bet they hate doing this, I wonder why they do it. It can't just be for money."
"Well, It might be, as I said to you, it may mean the difference between starving and having food on the table. Things are easier here than in Russia."
"I don't think those boys are in Russia."
"Where do you think that they are then?"
"I don't know but I think they're not in Russia, America or Germany. I think that they are not in any country that the pictures say they're in."
"Good point. So where do we go from here, and why?"
"I don't know. Is there anything we can do for them?"
Greg was just about to give me his answer when the door bell rang. It was Uncle Phil. I was just shutting down the internet connection when Greg came in the living room with him. Greg winked at me a soon as he realised what he had so nearly just done. I had also gathered up the photographs we had printed and took them to my room. I still put them in a safe place, just in case.
Back downstairs, Uncle Phil was waiting for me.
"I have some rather interesting news for you young Robin, things have been going on over the last few years that I have started to take an interest in. I'm afraid however, that as I explain all what's been going on, some aspects may upset you. It important that you are a brave boy, can you be that for me?
I nodded. I had no clue what he was talking about but figured I would know soon enough.
"Firstly, let me tell you that there is a firm of solicitors called Rolland, Fortson, Dibbhams and Sons. They were the acting solicitors for your original mother. She had taken out an insurance policy for her life that would put a sizable sum of money in trust for you in the event of her death before your sixteenth birthday. As you know, that occurred.
"On her death, your father took out a similar policy in the event of his death before your sixteenth birthday. That too occurred. Your father's widow, your step mother also had life insurance as did your step father. The policies were never claimed on. The solicitors mislaid the documents, and have till now denied the existence of any such cover. I have found various references to the policies and have been on to the insurance companies involved. They knew nothing of the deaths but now they do they are investigating.
"When the insurance companies give me the information I need, I shall start legal action against the solicitors. I'll enjoy that. Those solicitors have shown a level of incompetence that I am sure can be regarded as near criminal negligence. The firm of solicitors is a large practice and nowadays specialises in company law. I am confident that they will be trying for an out of court settlement. We shall see what they offer."
"I don't want to sound money grabbing Phil, what's Robin's is Robin's, but what sort of figure overall are you talking about here?"
"Greg, I really wish I knew but the indications are that we are talking about somewhere between half a million to a million pounds here. However much it is, it will be a tidy little sum."
As the following few weeks passed, things happened so quickly, I was barely able to follow it all. The solicitors caved in without a fight, and rather than face charges of criminal negligence offered an out of court settlement of one hundred and twenty five thousand pounds as compensation. We accepted on the condition of their actioning successful claims against the insurance companies on our behalf free of charge. The last concession the solicitors had to make was to allow the trust fund they held to be amalgamated with the trust fund that Harvey had set up in his local pub.
The total of claims they brokered in this manner paid us just over five hundred thousand, giving my trust fund a cash worth of seven hundred thousand and a little loose change, and of course the two flats I already owned. With all the contacts I had in Harvey's old pub two of which were trustees, a formidable team had developed. There was a cross section of skills and businesses, all close friends with each other and all pulling together knowing that there was money to be made for all. I had become a very popular little boy.
The trustees had put a safeguard on the situation for me too. Anyone wishing to do business with the fund had to guarantee that the fund would not lose. Most of those in the group had put their own houses up as security.
The net result of all this activity was that I was not only the owner of two flats, I also owned a building site where three blocks of twelve flats were being built, all would be available for rent by my thirteenth birthday. Almost everybody employed to work on these flats drank at the Lion Inn, dad's old pub. The estimated net income based on the flats I would own, was just below fifteen thousand pounds per calendar month. That was one hell of a lot of lollypops.
It was the day that my future income had been estimated and plans drawn up for the trust funds future, that found Greg and I alone in the house.
"I don't really understand you Robin. Today you have been told that, if you play things carefully, you will never have to work in your life. To look at you I would have thought you had been told that you were a condemned boy, about to be taken out and shot. What does it take to make you happy?"
"If I ask some questions, will you tell me the truth and promise me you will."
"Yes I will tell the truth I promise. Now, what's worrying you?"
"How much did dad owe you when you stole our stuff and did you know I lived there? What happened to my things and is any of it left at your flat?"
"Oh Bugger! I suppose I had thought that side of our meeting was gone and forgotten but I guess it won't be till you know everything. I will tell you the whole lot but remember you won't like it. Some of it will hurt.
"Right, first how much money did your dad owe me? Five thousand pounds. We agreed that I could do the 'thief' act. The photo of him and you in bed was also agreed to stop the law being involved. He knew he would be naked cos he knew that you would be the one to put him to bed. He reckoned you would be naked too 'cos your things were in the wash. Lastly he knew I liked boys so he was pretty sure that I could talk you into playing about a bit. He knew you would be as near naked when we arrived, the rest was up to me.
"I still have your clothes, some may fit and I still have a photo in a silver frame, the picture is of a woman, I took her to be Harvey's wife."
I corrected him on who the photo was of, and he agreed to go into the loft and recover the things that were put up there when he moved in. When he told me the use he had put my clothes to, I rather lost interest in having them back, laundered or not!
It had been an uncomfortable chat but I felt better for having had it. Finally he asked what he or we could do to put that sordid matter well and truly behind us. My answer took him very much by surprise
"I was wondering how we can find the boys, those ones in the photo's. I was thinking what we could do to help them. I was wondering what country they were in."
"Hmm, I knew there was a reason I loved you."
Greg laughed, but I knew he wasn't making fun of me. I was nurturing a plan but I hadn't worked quite how it could work. I also reckoned that if I told Greg about my plan, he would go ballistic. I had to have all the answers ready before I said anything to him. Also I was developing a growing problem so to speak, and it was one that interfered with my plan. It told me that my time for doing what I intended was limited.
"Greg, apart from those pay sites you use, are there any groups you belong to, you know the sort of thing?"
"Yes I know the sort of thing and yes there are some groups I belong to. Now why is it I always get a bad feeling when I hear you ask those sorts of questions?"
"Would you show me those groups as well as the sites you use? I think I've got an idea."
Greg's face said it all. Those six words had struck terror in his heart. 'I think I've got an idea.' Must be the most damning words a boy can say. He looked at me almost in a resigned way.
"You going to tell me what this 'Idea' is them?"
"Are you not telling me because you haven't worked it all out yet, or because I wouldn't approve?"
"A bit of both"
"Is it safe?"
"I think you will think not."
"I don't think I like the sound of this already. So how much are you prepared to tell me? Better still, if you haven't sorted out the finer details, bounce your idea off me, maybe we can cobble something together if we work on it as a pair."
"You won't like it!"
"You'll go Ape."
"Well try me anyway."
"In these groups you get to chat to the other members right?"
"Yes we do sometimes talk to each other, well e-mail each other, same difference."
"Do you get to trade pictures with other members?"
"Some trading goes on yes, I don't do much myself but that's my choice."
I sat quiet for a while, I was trying to build up the courage to take this conversation where it logically had to go. I didn't like where it was going but I couldn't see any alternative.
"It's no good trading pictures you find on the net. If we want to find out where some of these boys come from, we need to trade pictures that only you have, ones not available on the net."
"Hmm, you are right about that, and you are right about something else too."
"I'm about to go Ape at you Robin. What the fuck do you think you're thinking about. We both know that the only 'unique' pictures I could get hold of would be pictures of you. Once there are pictures of your cute little body on the internet they would spread like wild fire. Who knows who would see them but one things for sure. Every damned pervert in the world would have access and would ultimately be tossing themselves off to images of you.
"Now, it may not matter to you that some pedo in Outer Mongolia is whacking his meat looking at pics of you, so what. But what about the guy rubbing himself while he watches you through binoculars, because he lives close and has recognised you. What plans is he busy hatching. Kids get killed for just that sort of thing. Please Robin, I want you to promise that you will NEVER EVER do anything that puts erotic pictures of yourself on the net.
"I am proud of you Robin, very very proud, that you would even think of doing such a thing to help out some poor unfortunate, but don't do it. I won't let you do it. We will think of something else. Anything else."
There were tears falling down his cheeks and he had grabbed me and was shaking me as he made me promise that I wouldn't take that route. I was more than willing to both make and keep that promise. He sat down heavily on the couch, pulling me down on top of him. As he kissed me he was talking to me.
"Robin, You have already acquired a lot of money for a boy of your age, but what you were offering was worth a thousand times a thousand fortunes. You offered yourself and that's a price higher than I will let you pay. I won't forget you offered it though, it's shown me something very important, it's shown me how important helping those boys is to you. We will help those boys, God only knows how, but we will do something."
I hugged him, I couldn't help it. He had realised how I felt, even if he didn't understand why. Greg not understanding why? What was I thinking? Even I didn't understand why I was feeling like I did. I snuggled into his lap and we talked about what we could do.
Although I had promised him that naked pictures of me were no longer an option I still felt that I was the key, I could, no, should be the bait. I had a problem though, and I told Greg I had.
"What problem is that Robin?"
I undressed in front of him, something I hadn't done before. He couldn't help it, I had aroused him, and he was wishing I hadn't. He looked but still didn't see. I moved closer, then closer still. Suddenly the penny dropped. He saw the problem.
"Well Well Well, we are getting older then, I spy the start of a respectable bush. Is that what this rather enjoyable display is all about then?"
"Yes it is but I don't want it. It stops me being attractive. I'm going to cut it off."
"Whoa there, not so fast my little one, not so fast. Now its my turn to have an idea, and with a bit of luck it's one hell of a lot safer than yours. Just a moment, let me think Ok now this is what we put forwards as bait."
"Gentlemen, I have on offer one fast approaching thirteen year old boy. He has now developed his first pubic hairs which are to be shaved off by the best bidder dealing in boy pictures or better, experiences. Live action preferred. Any pictures have to be unavailable on the internet. For our part we will keep them that way. It may be possible for a live webcam link for the second highest bidder. Conditions may apply.""Well Robin, what do you think of that, It's a bluff of course, but what I hope we will get as responses will be pictures of bait for us, but what we are looking for is surroundings we recognise."
"So, who gets to shave me then, some strange old guy who perves after me? I'll do it only if you really think it helps some boys."
"No you sweetest of creatures, Nobody is going to touch you, not for as long as I have breath in my body."
"So how do I get rid of the hair?"
"Well for now, you don't, but don't let that get you down. Your private concerns will sit on the back burner just for now. Is that ok?"
"Do you think it'll work?"
"It can't hurt."
"Ok. Go for it."
I watched as Greg prepared a note giving the details more or less as he had first described to me. He must have worked at it for at least a couple of hours, getting the phrasing jut right. I felt just a little sorry for him too, he had the mother of all boners throughout. I decided that if anyone other than myself was going to shave me, It would be Greg. I just wasn't going to tell him, that's all!
At last Greg had the layout of the invitation to his satisfaction. In the end it was very clever. It not only did NOT ask for erotic pictures of boys, it specifically asked for none to be sent at this stage though pictures of fully clothed boys were welcomed as samples and as such, bids accompanied by such photographs would receive priority attention.
We waited for the early evening when one or two members of the groups were about. Greg's name in these groups was 'Bluebottle' and as soon as he logged on, there was a series of 'Hi Bluebottle' welcoming comments. He asked if anyone present was from the UK and after getting responses, he e-mailed those who said they were. He had sent out just over a dozen invites when we started getting 'notification of mail' notices. We read the mails, almost all of them more or less said 'Name your price' we replied saying that this was worth more than money, it was trading we wanted. In answer to any 'what do you want' enquiries, we replied 'What have you got.'
It looked at first as if the whole idea was a non starter. Some of the offers were very attractive with many of them obviously not genuine but none of them were offering the sort of thing we wanted offered. A lot were showing pictures of boys (and some girls) saying 'This is my son' or 'This is my nephew'. These pics were of stock internet boys, some of them very well known photo's. We were about to give up on the idea when another mail came through.
"Hiya Bluebottle, Ticklebeard here, I have a genuine trade for you, look at the attached zipfile and get back to me ASAP. I have access to all the kids pictured and maybe more. Contact me and we can talk."
We downloaded the zipfile and 'unzipped' it. There were a dozen or so pictures for each of five boys all about ten years old and two girls about the same age. All the children were holding a copy of today's paper but the most important thing was the room, it was the room we had been wondering about. Was it in Russia? No. America? Not at all. The closest we had seen it was Germany, but it wasn't even there, no, it was here in the UK, England. Greg almost froze on the spot.
"Fuck my old boots! He's here in the UK! We'd better be bloody careful here, this guy's for real, on the other hand it could be a ring. If this is a pedo ring, they may not be too fussy who they hurt."
"A pedo ring?"
"A group of paedophiles rather than just one on his own. A single guy doing things to a boy or perhaps two, we could have taken on, but this is different. It may be well organised, and there could be over a hundred members. We might have bitten off more than we can chew here."
"So what now? What do we do and can we help the boys? How many boys are there? Can we help them all? Where are they? What will they want to do with me?"
"For Christ's sake Robin, give me a moment or two. I need to think. I need to buy some time before I decide, sorry, 'We' decide what to do next."
"What makes you so sure it's a them and not a him?"
"I wasn't at first but the more I think this through, the more sure I am. There are certain things like he says 'I have access to all the kids pictured and maybe more' if he was on his own he'd know what he could offer, and it wouldn't be seven kids. One or two at best. No, this guy has a stock available. I am going to tell him I'm interested and that I'd like to know just what he is offering."
Greg carefully wrote a reply to Ticklebeard inviting him to give further details about what was on offer. Ticklebeard replied immediately suggesting they went to one of the instant messaging systems. Greg did.
Ticklebeard was keen, he wanted to shave me. He wanted to do a whole lot more as well, the details he gave left nothing whatsoever to the imagination. He was going to arrive here on whatever day we agreed and he would have with him a selection of kids. Greg would be able to choose one or two to play about with while I was being prepared in front of the others. Then I would be shaved and lastly I would be allowed to do as I pleased with a boy and a girl. The whole thing to be filmed and none of it to go on the internet.
There was another guy who came on, his name was RockerBox. He too was asking to be the one to play with me but his offer in exchange was far less attractive. He was on the other hand, very keen that I should enjoy the experience, and talked much about cuddles and affection. I liked him and it was only because of me that Greg kept the conversation going with him.
Although I watched, I sort of lost the plot and started to think Greg was going through with what Ticklebeard was advising. I felt that Greg was giving away far too much personal information about me, I felt like I was being used in a way that was more pleasing to Greg and his friend than likely to help other kids. Eventually Greg said 'bye' to Ticklebeard and logged off. I must have looked really pensive. Greg held me to him, then kissing the top of my head he went up to his room and came back with a thin wad of paper. It was a hard copy of everything that had been said, along with copies of the e-mails and prints of the photo's that Ticklebeard had sent.
Greg sorted it all out then putting the whole lot in an envelope, he addressed it all to the Vice Squad, Scotland Yard.
"There now. That should rattle a cage or two, now we have to sit and wait. If the police act quickly enough, they can tell me what to do next, otherwise I will just have to wing it!"
Greg walked to the post office and sent the documents first class. We chatted for a while, guessing at how long it would be before we heard from the police, Greg reckoned it would be within the week, I thought longer. We calculated that the package would be on an officer's desk by midday tomorrow. There was a knock at the door.
"Mr Beamer? Mr Gregory Beamer?
"Errr yes. Yes I am Greg Beamer."
"May we come in please sir? I am Detective Inspector Sutton, and this is Sergeant Pointer. We could discus this on your door step but it might be better if we came in and talked inside."
Greg let them in but he looked so pale, I felt sick. I wanted to hide. The two men looked around. We couldn't move Greg was trembling. I started to cry, certain that I was about to lose yet another daddy albeit this time to prison. Greg came to me and hugged me. The two men looked as I hugged Greg back. One of the men opened his briefcase and took out a small parcel. Greg's eyes opened wide. It was the one he had posted not an hour before.
"This, my young friend, is your 'Get out of jail free' card. Until you posted this we were going to arrest you for all manner of nasties. Let me explain, The sergeant and I are working for the anti paedophile team. We were homing in on a couple of people when your profile came up on our screen. We were interested in your offer. We have been monitoring your internet activities for a while now and today you moved from a class two suspect to a class eight. We move fast on sevens and above, very fast.
"We had you under close observation within ten minutes of your offering the lad here for a hair cut. You were followed to the post office and this package, as you see, was retrieved. When we read it we thought we may have read you wrong. We know for example that you are both involved. So, is there anything you would like to tell us here before we go onto the next stage?"
"Am I allowed to ask what the next stage is?"
"You may ask, but as 'what the next stage is' is largely up to you, I'll not be giving you an answer. I can say this however, you are probably in no immediate danger of losing your liberty."
That did it for me. As Greg sat down I sat on his lap and made it clear that nothing less than dynamite would loosen the hug I held on him.
"Okay Gentlemen, Firstly and unconditionally I am going to cooperate in any way I can and that you see fit. I do ask that you keep Robin in mind at all times, he has already been through one hell of a lot in his short life, try not to make things worse."
"We are fully aware of Robin's situation and even his orientation. Yes lad, we know you haven't 'come out' but we have been monitoring all internet activities from this house, including yours. We took an interest when Mr Beamer moved in with you. It was only when, in one of your conversations with one of your internet friends, you pointed out that he was 'actively behaving himself', we decided to leave well alone, at least for the time being."
"Hang on a minute, I just want to make sure I've got the story straight so far. Firstly, you know I am sexually attracted to young boys, second you know I live with one and third you know I use pay sites for pictures of boys too."
"Mr Beamer, you can add to that list that we know that you have traded pictures of naked boys and that you have been known to hang around schools looking at the boys there too. However, add to that list that you have never before attempted to meet up with any other 'boylover' and that when you mentioned to someone that you now lived with a boy you threatened to castrate them for what they suggested you could do. Generally speaking we felt Robin was safe, until this latest escapade you embarked on. That's when we thought we might have made a mistake."
"You haven't, you haven't. I am safe with Greg I love him and he loves me but not in the wrong way. We love each other in the right way. He would never hurt me and he wouldn't let anyone else hurt me either. All he did about asking if anyone wanted to shave me was my idea, I wanted to help some boys, I still do."
"Why? Why do you think you want to help? You aren't a sexual abuse victim, what's your interest?"
"I think I can answer that for Robin, and probably clearer than he can. Try to imagine a young boy who has had everything on a plate, wealth love education, the whole works. Then imagine how he would react if he lost it. He would never have realised what he had till it was gone and he would be as sore as hell that he lost it. He would be bitter and he would pour out scorn on whoever he could. Robin is the reverse. He had nothing but now has so much. Now he sees abuse and wants to stop it. He sees want and he tries to fulfil it, he sees pain and he tries to soothe it. In fact it's not just a desire to help, it's a need to help.
"And just how do you think you have helped anybody so far young man?"
"Oh come on, unfair. Its less than a day where we have tried this and we've handed you one group on a plate plus another guy we're looking at, though he seems mostly harmless. The ring is nasty though, and we are hanging it out to dry, well nearly, well, they will be on a plate when we get the rest of the information on them. Don't have a pot at Robin just because we haven't quite finished the job yet."
"Hmmm, I think I want to stop you right where you are. You haven't handed anybody to anybody. Please let me assure you that all you've really done so far is get very slightly in our way. Oh and before you start going on about Ticklebeard, We know more about him than you can ever dream. Though we always like to gather any more info that crops up."
"Then why is he at large abusing boys so terribly? He operates in the United Kingdom, we know that much."
"Rest assured, Ticklebeard's days of abusing children are numbered. We're planning a party for him and a lot of his friends, and yes you were right, he is part of a ring. One we are infiltrating. You nearly got in our way with your latest little wheeze. Oh and yes, this one you describe as 'mainly harmless' an individual and my best guess is that his internet name is 'RockerBox'. Am I right?"
"Yes that's him, I think he's mainly harmless because he really seems to care about the boys. Dare I say it I rather liked the man and so did Robin. I suppose you're going to tell me that's what makes him so dangerous."
"RockerBox operates all over the world, in fact, RockerBox is more than one person. RockerBox is about fifteen people maybe more. He is generally believed to be one of the main ringleaders in the dealing and photographing of young boys and even some girls. Those who know there is more than one RockerBox think of him as one of two things. The most common understanding is that they mastermind the safest and tightest paedophile rings in the world."
"And what's the second understanding?"
"The second understanding is in fact the truth. The second understanding is that anybody using the code name RockerBox is someone who works for or on behalf of Interpol's Paedophile section, and I hope that the UK RockerBox is just about to set up shop."
"Are you saying that you are RockerBox?"
"No, I am saying that I WAS RockerBox, just for a day or so while we set up the UK operation. Now I hope YOU are RockerBox. You and Robin together that is. The pair of you meet the requirements and with just a little training in technique you would become valuable members of a worthwhile and sadly necessary team. Well, Are you up for it?"
Well Well Well! Will Greg and Robin start a crusade against cruelty to young boys? Are they to become linked to the anti Paedophile branch of Interpol? Do you give a damn?
You e-mail me and tell me
[e-mail address no longer active]
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