index


Message-ID: <36256asstr$1019643002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: billyboiiiiiii@yahoo.com (bill johnson)
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: 24 Apr 2002 08:29:59 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Jeff's Story, Part 6 (m/b forced,boylove)
Date: Wed, 24 Apr 2002 06:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Part 6

Keith stealthily got up from the couch and slipped into his bedroom.
He left the door open so he could hear if Jeff had any more
difficulties. As he lay there he thought about what he could do to
help the boy's damaged mental health. Going to a counselor was not an
option, because it would blow the cover off of his "less than legal"
guardianship. He realized that he was going to have to be the boy's
counselor.

Keith went through extensive psychotherapy when he was 20. He was a
victim of molestation himself, repeatedly from age 11 to 13 by the
same man. It took four years of regular sessions for him to learn to
deal with the pain, and he came out pretty good.

He got out a box of books from his closet floor. He found three books
on the topic of dealing with sexual abuse. Inside the front cover of
one of them were several leaflets from various mental health
organizations on dealing with the aftermath of a child's molestation.
He carefully read one of them from start to finish, and perused
through the rest. He whispered a short prayer for wisdom, strength,
and help in this time of need. Then he went off to sleep.

He woke up at 7:30. The first thing he did was call his work. There
was no way he would have left Jeff alone that day. He had some
personal time coming, and Saturday was actually one of the slower days
during the lunch shift (due to weekday business lunches), so they were
able to cover for him with no problem. That gave him three days off to
be with Jeff.

At about 8:15 Jeff began to wake on the couch. He sat up and rubbed
his eyes. Then he continued to just sit there and stare at the floor.
The look on his face was a combination of sadness, anger, and fear. He
didn't say anything.

Keith went over and sat next to him, putting his arm on the boy's
shoulder. Jeff just sat stiffly, like he was refusing to accept
Keith's warm gesture. He continued his silent stare.

The leaflet said, "If the child is quiet and sad (from dealing with
the pain of the abuse) , do not attempt to force him to talk. Just
allow him to be quiet and try to maintain his normal routine as much
as possible."

Keith spoke quietly and calmly. "It's OK to stay quiet for a while,
Jeff. I'll be here by you all day to listen if you want to say
anything. If you want some time to yourself, you can go into my room
and shut the door, or you can stay out here and I'll go in there. You
really should try to eat, though. I have you some cereal already in a
bowl for you."

Jeff just quietly got up and went into the bathroom to pee. His head
hung down as he walked. When he came out Keith had some milk poured in
the cereal, some toast and a glass of juice ready for him. Jeff just
walked slowly to the kitchen, continuing to stare down at the floor
the whole time. He took a small sip on his juice, and just poked at
the cereal with his spoon. He did not take a bite.

"It's OK, Jeff. You don't have to eat it if you aren't hungry." The
boy got up from the table and went back to the couch and sat back
down, continuing his sad stare. Keith just quietly gave him his
distance, and stayed at the kitchen table, acting like he was reading
the paper, but keeping a watch on Jeff through the corner of his eye
and listening carefully.

Tears began to form in his eyes, and he began to sniff them back. It
became progressively more loud and noticeable, and be began to audibly
cry. Then he began loudly sobbing and saying, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I
whined, I'm sorry I whined!"

Keith immediately came over and sat next to him. Jeff threw his arms
around Keith, squeezing hard. He spoke through his tears, "I'll be
good. I'm sorry I whined, I'm sorry I whined. It was my fault, all of
it. Ohhhh, if I just didn't whine! I am so stupid!"

Keith didn't say anything at first, he just held the child
reassuringly and gently stroked the back of the boy's head. He let
Jeff cry until he calmed down. Then Keith let go of him and lifted
Jeff's chin so he could look in his sad eyes.

"When did you whine? You've never complained about anything since
you've been living here. You have been very good."

"It wasn't here, it was back when I was with Mom. I was like in the
2nd grade. It was right when she started to be sick all the time.
There was always milk in the fridge for my cereal, but that day there
wasn't any. Mom came out of her room, it was morning. I told her that
we needed some milk." He sniffed as he tried to calmly relate the
story to Keith.

"What happened?"

"She started yelling at me for whining. She picked up my bowl and
threw it across the room, and it broke and went everywhere. Then she
picked up one of the chairs at the table and threw it against the
wall. Then she pushed me off of my chair and I fell on the floor. She
kicked me and started yelling at me again."

"Think, Jeff, tell me exactly what she said."

"She used real bad words."

"It's OK this time. You need to tell me exactly what she said."

"She said, `You fuckin little shit. You're the reason I'm sick, and
all you can do is..." He began to cry again. Keith put his hand on the
boy's head and gently patted it.

"Try to tell me, it's OK. What did she say? `All you can do is...',
what?"

"She said, `All you can do is whine like a little baby. Fuck you, all
I have done for you and you have the nerve to treat me like shit. Now
clean up this fucking mess, and I don't want to hear another shit ass
word out of you today!' Then she went to her room and slammed the
door." The words were indelibly engrained in the boy's mind.

Keith was even more shocked by the actions of Jeff's mother. The boy
was only 7 or 8 when this happened. "What did you do?"

"I went to her door and told her I was sorry and that I wouldn't whine
anymore. She told me to go fuck off and leave her alone. I was too
scared to cry, and I got a broom and cleaned up the mess."

"Did you ever complain again?"

"No, that was the only time. I shouldn't have done it."

Keith knew from his own experience that just telling the boy that this
was not his fault would not get through to him. This feeling of guilt
Jeff had was deeply engrained in his psyche.

"Don't be too quick to think that, Jeff." Keith thought for a minute.
"I want to give you a scenario, and you tell me what you think is
right or wrong about it, OK?"

"Scenario?"

"Like a make believe thing that could happen, and you have to imagine
it. I need your help with the story.  Name a boy in your class from
last year that was always in trouble with the teacher. Every class has
at least one."

Jeff nodded, "Jimmy Dewier. He was always in trouble."

"OK. Here is the scenario. During class one day Jimmy pulled out a
knife and began flailing it around, cutting and hurting the kids. So,
in order to protect yourself, you got out of your seat and ran into
the hall."

Jeff sat and thought. It was a horrible scenario, but it was not
unreal in this day and age. He nodded for Keith to continue.

"The principal and the teacher were able to get the knife away from
Jimmy. The assistant principal stopped you for running in the hall. 
Jimmy and you were both taken to the principal's office. You were both
in trouble. He for stabbing children and cutting them with a knife,
and you for leaving your seat and room without permission and running
in the hall."

Jeff interrupted, "But I was running because of what was happening in
the room."

"But is it against the rules to leave your seat and room without
permission or a pass, and to run in the hall?"

Jeff nodded.

"Ok, so technically you broke school rules, right?"

Jeff nodded. Keith continued, "They dealt with Jimmy first. They told
him that knives are not allowed in the school, and that he would have
to go to his class and apologize for what he did. That was his
punishment. The office kept his knife until the end of the day. So
Jimmy accepted his punishment and apologized to the class. Thankfully
there was only one child killed."

Jeff looked amazed, and had a huge questioning look on his face, like
that was a ridiculous scenario. Of course it was, but Keith was making
a point. "Is that all, they didn't even call the cops? He just had to
say he was sorry? And he got his knife back?"

"This is just make believe, and certainly not the way it would happen,
but I want you to think like it did. Now it's your turn to be
punished. You did break a rule, after all."

"OK." He just listened curiously as Keith continued.

"The principal got right up in your face and said, "This is the LAST
TIME you will EVER run through the halls again." He tied you to his
desk and beat you with a chain. He broke several of your bones, and
you were severely bleeding. He cussed you and screamed at you, and
after he was through beating you he loosed you and threw you on the
floor. He kicked you along the side of the head. Thankfully you
recovered in the hospital several months later, but your feet were too
crooked afterwards and you never were able to run again."

Jeff just sat and shook his head with a confused look on his face.
"That is a sicko scenario, Keith. Sick."

"It would never happen, I know. But... what if it did? Talk to me. What
is wrong with it?"

"I was just trying to save my life, and he got off. He should have
gone to jail, and I..."

"You what?"

He sat quietly. "I was innocent. I shouldn't  `ve even been punished
at all."

"Now let's talk about what really happened to you that morning with
the cereal. Do you REALLY think that you deserved to be treated that
way by your mother? Think, Jeff. Think hard."

Jeff sat there for a minute.

"Compare the two scenarios. All you did was tell your mom that you
were out of milk. Were you polite in your tone, or were you being
hateful?"

"I was neither. I just told her we were out of milk. That's all."

"Then do you think that you deserved what you got afterwards?"

 The boy looked back at the floor and sat in silence.

"Come on, Jeff. Do you think you deserved it?."

Silence.

"Think, Son, think. Do you really think you deserved to be thrown onto
the floor, cussed out and kicked because of  `Mom, we are out of
milk'?"

He threw himself into his bedding and began to kick and punch the
couch violently. "ALL I FUCKING DID WAS SAY WE WERE OUT OF MILK. FUCK
YOU! FUCK YOU!" He continued his fit, sobbing and screaming.

Keith was glad he was letting go of some of the inner rage. He knew
from experience and his counseling that people handle anger in one of
two different ways, they either take it out on others, or they turn it
in on themselves. Jeff had been doing the latter. This was a healthy
thing he was doing. He continued kicking, screaming, and beating for a
few more minutes before he calmed down. Then he sat up.

"I'm sorry, Keith, I'm sorry. I said bad words. Please don't make me
leave."

Keith put the boy on his lap and squeezed him assuredly. "No, I will
never make you leave. You needed to get that out. You have to stop
blaming yourself for what happened. You did not deserve to have your
mom be an addict, and you did not deserve to have that guy do to you
what he did. No child EVER deserves that. NEVER!"

Jeff just sat in silence, thinking. His eyes were red and puffy. 

Keith continued. "Do you REALLY think that that guy did what he did to
you years later because you asked your mom for milk years before?
Think, son, think."

"I can't figure out any other reason. I just can't figure it out. Why
did it happen?"

"Let me tell you as best as I can. Your mom is addicted to drugs.
Crack cocaine. When the feeling the drug gives her wears off she has
to have more. Nothing is more important, not even her own child. The
man is also addicted. When he does those kinds of things with children
it gives him a feeling that he likes, and when that feeling wears off,
he wants more. He doesn't care about the child, just the feeling he
gets. He doesn't get the same feeling when he does it with an adult,
only with a child. It is hard to explain, but you'll understand it
more when you're an adult."

Keith got up and went to get a tablet of paper and a marker.

"Write on the page, `IT WASN'T MY FAULT.'"

Jeff wrote it in small letters in the upper right hand corner of the
page. Keith tore it off and crinkled it up. "Try again, this time
write bigger. Try to fill the page. Use all capital letters."

Jeff wrote, trying to be neat. Keith took the tablet from him before
he could finish and tore off and crinkled up the page. He put it back
in Jeff's hand, turning it so the longer width was to the sides and
the shorter width was the top and bottom. He took his fingers and
showed him how to lay it out, writing in huge block letters on two
lines, "IT WASN'T" on the top part and "MY FAULT" below it.

Jeff did exactly as he said, and filled the page. Then Keith said,
"OK. Very good. That's a start. Now, follow me." Keith got up and went
into the bathroom, and Jeff followed. On the way Keith grabbed a
wooden 3-legged stool. He set it on the bathroom floor in front of the
sink. He lifted Jeff up on it. The boy stood there and stared away
from the mirror.

"Look at your eyes in the mirror." Jeff took a quick look and quickly
looked back to the side. "No. Stare at your eyes in the mirror. Don't
take your eyes off of your eyes. Keep staring at your eyes until I
tell you to stop."

Jeff tried hard to do what he was told, but couldn't look at himself
in the eyes. This simple exercise in self-affirmation was very
difficult for the boy. He had been torn down badly over the years by
the neglect from his mother, and what happened with the man just 12
days before destroyed what little self-esteem he did have.

"Look at him like he is another boy. Just look in the eyes of a boy
who has had it so tough, but did nothing to bring it on." Jeff looked
at his own eyes. "Tell him that he did nothing wrong. He is your
friend, Tell him he did nothing wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong." He fixed his gaze into his own eye's
reflection.

"Tell him again."

"You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Tell him that it was your mom's and the guy's fault."

Jeff did exactly as told without looking away. It was hard, because he
thought he was ugly, even though he was a very cute little boy.

Afterwards Jeff got in a good nap. He was completely wore out. When he
woke up in the middle of the afternoon, Keith took him right back to
the mirror for some more self-affirmation. Then Keith took Jeff to a
sub sandwich restaurant. Jeff ate well, as he got some of his appetite
back.

Then they went back to the park for another round of catch. The first
throw from Keith smacked accurately into Jeff's glove as the boy made
the catch. As he took the ball out of the glove and threw it back to
Keith, he smiled for the first time all day. They threw the ball for
more than an hour. Then they went into the library for another round
of books, and went back to the bench and read until dark

At home Keith put Jeff in front of the mirror again, and the boy
looked himself in the eye and told himself, just as Keith instructed,
"You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be
loved."

Then it was the usual embrace, and Keith put the boy down for the
night.

Keith went into his room and lay in bed to read, but thoughts began to
race through his mind. His past was coming back to him, and he thought
it healthy to maybe compare some of his situations to Jeff's.
*     *     *
Begin Keith's Story, Part 1

Keith was the youngest of three children, all four years apart. His
sister was the oldest, and he had a brother. Right after Keith was
born his father left, divorced his mother, and ran off across the
country to start a new life with some other woman. In those days the
child support laws were not as good as they became later, and he got
away with basically abandoning his family. His mother was forced to
make it on a waitress's pay and hours to raise three small children.
It was very difficult.

One night when Keith was 3 the restaurant was robbed. A man with a ski
mask came in the back door right after they closed and held all of the
employees at bay. He made off with an easy $400. They all just had to
lay on the floor and wait for the man to leave. No one was hurt, even
though they were all traumatized some. They all had to stay back for
questioning while the police conducted an investigation. The criminal
was never caught.

Afterwards Keith's mom thought about how easy it was for the guy to
get that kind of money. Four hundred dollars was a lot of money back
then. Collection agents were harassing her repeatedly, she had the
children to raise, and the bills continued to mount, her car broke
down, and she was threatened with eviction from their place. The
pressure was mounting, so she "borrowed" a pistol from her girlfriend
next door (without her knowledge) bought a ski mask, and tried it
herself.

It didn't go smoothly at all. She went into a convenience store and
demanded money. The clerk went to open the cash drawer, but,
unbeknownst to her, another employee was in one of the aisles. He
tried to sneak up on her to get the gun from her, but she caught a
glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. She was in a total panic,
and very nervous anyway, and turned and pulled the trigger.
Fortunately he was not hit. When she heard the loud shot it startled
her so much she dropped the gun, and the clerks subdued her and called
the police. To make a long and sad story short, she was arrested,
charged and convicted with armed robbery and attempted murder. She was
sentenced to 35 years in prison. The children were placed into foster
care.

The three of them were fortunate at first. A wonderful couple who were
not able to have children of their own took all three of them in. They
were loving, kind, and firm. Keith loved them very much. They were
basically the only parents he had ever known. The children attended
Sunday School on a regular basis, and were taught all of life's
principles well. Everything was good and carefree for the children
until one day when Keith was 11. The man was laid off from his job, as
the economy of that area went into a very deep recession. The social
services department had to remove the children from the home.

It was very unusual for three children to be kept together in that
fashion, as few foster providers were willing or able to take in
three. The children were split up, and Keith was sent to a farm
family. They had a 13 year old boy named Jack Jr., and two small twin
girls. Keith had to share a room with the boy, and had to work hard on
the farm, to "earn his way", as Jack Sr. put it. He seemed very strict
and mean-spirited, with little warmth radiating from him at all.

There was a small shower stall behind the barn, and every day when
they were through with their chores, before they could come in the
house, they had to shower out there. It was a hog farm and the smell
was nothing that Mrs. Jack, as Keith called her, wanted in the house.

The first day Keith was very embarrassed to have to shower with Jack
Jr., but he was told they had to shower together to save water. There
was a 150 gallon tank elevated above the shower stall, which was
filled each morning from one of those red-handled "IOWA" water
receptacles with a long water hose. The sun warmed the water through
the day, and if they didn't shower together, there wouldn't be enough
warm water for Jack Sr. to take his. Mrs. Jack had clean clothes and
towels awaiting them all each day. The stall was a three-walled,
wooden fence type affair against the back wall of the barn. There was
a wooden plank floor that extended out from the shower to provide an
outside dressing area. There was a door to the side leading out to
this dressing area, basically a wooden fence door with a door spring
with no latch.

On that first day, after working cleaning hog pens all day long, it
was time to get ready to go in. The boys went back to the shower.
Keith turned his back to Jack Jr. as he took off all of his dirty
clothes. He cringed with embarrassment as he went through this. He
turned around and Jack Jr. was standing there grinning, with a full
erection.. He had a bunch of pubic hairs, and the penis size, (though
average in any adult male category), seemed grotesquely large to
Keith.

Keith just had a regular little boy penis with no hair. He had only
been 11 for a couple of months and was nowhere close to puberty.

They went into the shower together and pulled the chain to release the
warm water. They soaped up their bodies, and Jack Jr. began stroking
on his soaped-up cock. "C'mon, Keith. Make yours be a boner like
mine."

Keith was apprehensive, but something in him was enjoying this. He was
getting some attention in this new setting, after all. He toyed with
his soaped up little penis and it began to get hard. It was only about
a 3 inch erection, and very skinny around. It stuck upwards at a
slight angle.

Jack Jr. began to masturbate. "Watch me shoot jiz out."

Keith didn't know what jiz was, but didn't want to look ignorant, so
he watched as he continued to play with his hard little toy. Jack Jr.
began stroking his cock with his fist violently, and several shots of
semen shot out. Keith watched carefully. He had never seen it before,
and watched intently and curiously.

Right when the boy finished masturbating the door to the shower stall
flew open.

"You fucking pervert!" It was Jack Sr., or Mr. Jack, as Keith was to
refer to him. He saw them through the gaps in the boards that made up
the walls. "Get the hell out of here, get dressed, and get in the
house." He was speaking to Jack, Jr. and the boy did as he was told.

Keith was still in the shower, and his erection quickly subsided. 

Mr. Jack backed Keith's wet, naked body into the corner of the stall
and put his hand on his throat. "So this is the thanks I get for
taking you in, boy. You come here to entice my kids. Now listen here,
boy, you better do things MY way around here or you ain't gonna last.
Got it?"

Keith had no idea what he meant, but nodded nevertheless. He was very
scared. He was shocked and amazed by the sudden turn of events. The
man's left hand was on the boy's throat, causing him to look upwards.
He was very frightened. Then a very sick feeling hit Keith, as the
man's right hand began to fondle the boy's penis and testicles.

To be continued in Keith's Story, Part 1, Continued

Direct all comments and questions to billyboiiiiiii@yahoo.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+