Westpoint Tales

by Kiwi

Entangled Tales - 63 - Tony

He woke-up in the morning, still warm and dry and clean. Maybe this was heaven? But, no, it was a hospital wasn't it? Yes, of course it was, here came a nurse.

"Hello, Lovey. How are we today then?"

She checked him over, temperature, blood pressure and stuff. Shone a torch in his eyes.

"But, what am I doing in hospital? I'm not sick am I?"

"I've seen worse, but I've seen better too. Yesterday you were like something the cat had dragged in. Today, well, I think you'll make it. Now, you'll just have to wait there. Your clothes are not back from the laundry yet. That Social Worker will be back for you later. Breakfast will be here soon. See you later, Lovey."

He ate breakfast in bed. Hospital food wasn't that bad. Then he had a long shower. The bruises were fading but there were still some amazing colours over his body. He dressed again in the hospital gown and sat, reading ancient magazines, in his room.

His clothes arrived, wonderfully clean and still warm from the laundry. He put them all on, then took off the jacket and one of the jerseys - it was hot in there.

Eventually, the Social Worker arrived and took over his life! A small, round, curly-haired, bossy woman - she reminded him of Dee Jamieson. Dee might make a good social worker one day.

She checked him out of the hospital and they went back to the Police Station, where he was interviewed, yet again. They made him feel like a criminal, but he had nothing to hide.

They spent an hour at a computer, looking through mug-shots - photos of the low-life - but he didn't recognize anybody. He'd only seen them in the dark, apart from the old drunk at the railway station. He signed another statement, and then they left.

The car pulled in to a large house on a suburban street.

"This is a welfare home - just a temporary measure. You'll be here for a few days until we can find a long-term placement for you. The House Parents are Mr. and Mrs. Gibson. Behave yourself and do what you're told, and you'll be fine."

She went to the back of the car and pulled out a rubbish-bag and an old back-pack that he recognised. "Well. Take these. They're your clothes, I'm not carrying them for you."

"My clothes, from home?"

"Yes, of course. From your old home that is. You won't be going back there - they don't want you back. Come on then, hurry up. I've got more to do today."

As they were going inside, she explained that she'd been out and spoken to his parents. Nothing had changed since he'd left.

"There will be no charges against your father. You say that he threw you down the stairs and he says that he showed you the door and you tripped and fell down the stairs."

"But I didn't."

She shrugged. "Maybe. Who knows? They were going to charge you with breaking and entering in the middle of the night, but that won't be happening either. Come in, through here."

She took him in and introduced him to the house parents. Mrs. Gibson seemed nice enough, but Mr. Gibson gave him the creeps. There was something about the way he looked at him that reminded Tony of the leering faces around the fire in the park.

He was installed in a small, single bedroom. It was just a cubicle really - a single bed, a chest of drawers and a built-in wardrobe. They left him there with a list of house-rules and an agreement that he was supposed to sign.

Nobody mentioned food. He was hungry, he'd had no lunch, but he didn't like to ask.

"Ah well, I was supposed to be on a diet anyway. At this rate, I'll be skin and bones soon."

The bell rang for dinner, he went in and joined the "family". There were 8, 9, 10 kids here - 6 boys and 4 girls. Some, but not all, were much younger than him. There was also an older teenage girl, about 19. She was gross - fat and ugly. Apparently, she was the Gibson's own daughter. She reminded Tony of her father.

After eating, he followed the others, rinsed his dishes and loaded them into the ancient dishwasher. He went into the large living-room and tried to watch TV for a while, but it was some infantile kids' movie on and he couldn't be bothered with that.

So he went back to his small room and sat there taking stock. He was much better off now than he was. He had a safe place to stay in with a proper roof over his head. There was food on the table - basic but plenty of it - and he could go back to school, finish his education and get a job, get a life. He would survive. If he stayed away from the street that is.

There was a knock at the open doorway. ('Why do they even have doors if they have to be left open?') He looked up to see two girls, about 11 or 12, and an older boy grinning at him. One of the girls marched in waving an open magazine.

"Hey, Tony Duncan. Have you seen this?"

She showed him a full-page ad for Jonathan's R&R skin stuff. It featured large before and after, colour photos of him and Daniel! ('Oh, Danny!')

"Looks just like you, doesn't it? That one there. It's not you, is it?"

"No," he sighed. "It's not me. What would I be doing in a place like this if that was me?"

"See, Carrie." The other girl agreed. "I told you. Of course it's not him. Couldn't be. Bloody looks like you though, doesn't it? Maybe a bit fatter, but it looks like you."

Tony stood up and studied the photos while comparing his reflection in the mirror on the wall. He really had lost a lot of weight since these were taken.

"Looks a bit like me, I suppose. But it's not."

The two girls tripped off happily, taking the magazine with them, but the boy stayed to talk. After a while, they went to the games-room and, with a couple of others, they played pool for a couple of hours. None of them were very good at it, but they had fun. Tony felt that he could, maybe, make some friends here. But he was not going to be staying here for long anyway.

On his way back for a shower and bed, he spotted the magazine on a table in the TV room, so he grabbed it and took it to his room. But when he looked, a page had been ripped out and the advert was gone. "Bugger!'

The busy house quietened down and everyone was in bed by "lights-out" time - 10pm. Tony was drifting off to sleep when he was woken by the light flicking back on in his room He looked up to see his door being closed. "Mr. Gibson?"

"Hello Tony. No worries." He smiled what was probably meant to be reassuringly. "I just want to have a quiet word with you."

"Um. Okay, I guess."

Tony shrunk away as the large man sat on his narrow bed.

"I like to say goodnight to everybody. Settling in okay are you? Making some friends with the other kids?"

"Yeah, thanks. I'll be okay, I think."

"That's good, then. I've just been reading your file." He inspected the small cut above Tony's right eye. "That doesn't look too bad."

'He's only doing his job.' Tony tried to relax, but this guy was just creepy.

"Your father says that you fell down the stairs, but you claim that he threw you?"

"That's right, he did. I wouldn't lie about something like that."

"So you say. Well, maybe I can help you, Tony. Let's have a look at your bruises, shall we?"

"No. It's all right - really. The doctors have already seen them."

"Doctors! What would they know?" He pushed him back down again. "I'll just have a look. Relax, Boy. I'm just doing my job; I'm not going to hurt you. I've had medical training - I used to be a nurse."

His big hands were gentle but insistent. Tony gave in and laid back. 'He was a nurse. Let him have a look and get it over with and then he'll leave me alone.'

He tried to convince himself as his pajama-top was gently unbuttoned and peeled back from his body.

"Oh that looks nasty, Tony. That must have hurt."

Fingertips were slowly stroking him now.

"I think I believe you, Boy. You didn't get all this from falling down the stairs, did you?"

"No," Tony sighed with relief. "I didn't. You believe me?"

"I think so. I think I do. Just lie quiet and relax. I need to see how far down these bruises go."

He was sliding the top of his pajama pants down now. Sliding them right down. Tony tried not to be frightened. 'He's not hurting me.'

Then, to his horror, he realised that he was getting hard. He lay back, eyes closed and feeling pissed at himself as his dick sprang to attention. He didn't even like this horrible man, but the soft hands were stroking him and he was hard. How gay was that? What a faggot!

"My!" A soft hand closed around his dick. "You are a big boy aren't you? Relax Tony. Just relax; no-one's going to hurt you."

The left hand continued its gentle stroking - his stomach, his thighs, his balls! Behind his balls! The right hand was jerking him off with long, slow, gentle, squeezing strokes slowly getting faster.

Gibson was horrible and he was creepy, but he was good - at - this! It had been so long since Tony had had any release. Soooo long. Danny! He exploded and he came and came. Thick ropes of pearly-white boy-cum spurted and lashed along his bared torso.

"There you go. You liked that, didn't you, Gayboy?" Gibson stood and went back to the door. "Better get yourself cleaned up. I'll come back and check on you again, tomorrow night. Mrs. Gibson will be out until late tomorrow, she's got a meeting. Sleep well, Big Boy."

Tony cleaned himself up, using his t-shirt. Then he turned off the light and got back into bed and lay there, curled around his stomach, feeling disgusted with himself. "Faggot!"

He'd been raped again - sort of. The horrible old bastard had, sort-of, raped him and he liked it, sort-of. He didn't stop him, did he? Just lay back and let it happen

Did he have a frigging sign on his back or something? A neon sign, flashing, "Free gay sex - help yourself." Seemed like it. Bastard. Faggot. Well, it was not going to happen again.

Next morning at breakfast, Gibson was nowhere around. Mrs. was there but there was no sign of Mister. So he asked the boy he was sitting next to - the boy he'd befriended the night before. His name was Cody - Tony hated that name, but this one seemed okay.

"Oh, you won't see old Dave at breakfast. He works in the mornings - milk round or something. What are you worried about him for? Oh. He came and "inspected" you last night, didn't he? In your room with the door closed and your pants around your ankles. Don't worry, Tony, we've all been there."

"You've all been there? He's done that to you too?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it. Let him have his bit of fun and then he'll leave you alone. He never hurts anyone - just likes to fiddle with the boys. The worst that could happen is when she's not here. Then you'll get a finger up your arse and his dick in your mouth. Just play along; it doesn't take long."

"Dammit! He shouldn't be allowed to get away with it!"

"Don't rock the boat, Kid. No-one's going to believe you anyway. Just roll with the punches."

"I'm not having it. Fuck'im. I should have stopped him last night. He's not doing that again."

"He will if he wants to - and he does. Old Fairy Fred over there gets it worse - he fucks him sometimes. But then, who hasn't?"

Tony was pissed now. He should be safe here - they all should be. And, Fairy Fred, all fat and spotty. Yuck!

After breakfast he tried to have a word to Mrs. Gibson, but she just brushed him off. She was in a hurry to get the little kids to school. He could speak to his Social worker. Mrs. Coakley would be around to see him later.

He followed the other kids out to the garage where they were preparing to bike to school. He didn't have to go there yet, so he had the whole day to kill. Cody was excited.

"Eagle shits tomorrow! Don't know if you'll be getting any, Tony, but we will, and he owes us for last week too!"

Tony didn't have a clue what he was talking about, and he told him so.

"Allowances - pocket money. He gets paid tonight and she dishes it out from his wallet in the morning. $30 this time because we were short-paid last week. You might get paid, might not. I dunno."

"Hey! What's this over here?"

"What? Oh, that. That's the monster motor-bike. That's the daughters' but she never uses it anymore. Just as well too. Big fat lump like her on a tiny wee Honda bike - she'd look like a blimp on wheels.

Trusting, aren't they?" Cody straddled the small bike, turned on the key and kicked it over. "See. Just use the choke and it starts first time."

He turned it off and continued struggling with his cycle helmet. "I'll take you out for a ride in the weekend. It's really easy - there's no gears, just throttle back and away you go. We'll sneak it out the back on Saturday morning."

"That'd be cool. But I don't know if I'll still be here on Saturday. Mrs. Coakley said that I'll just be here for a few days until they find somewhere."

Cody turned and looked at him. "Green as bloody grass, aren't you, Kid? You'll be here. She says that to everyone. Nobody wants to take in a big lump like you, or me. They only want the little kids. We'll be here for months, if not years.

We'll take the bike out Saturday. Gotta go or I'll be left behind. See you tonight, Tony."

He stood and watched them all cycle away. Mrs. Gibson had already left. He looked back at the bike and a plan started to form. He tried starting it. "Piece of cake!"

Then he went back inside to wait for the social worker and played around by himself, practicing on the pool table. Mrs. Coakley arrived, in a hurry as usual. She told him that he could start school tomorrow as his records would be transferred from Warkworth by then. Mrs. Gibson would see about a uniform in the weekend, he could go in mufti in the meantime.

He tried to tell her about Gibson - that he had interfered with him and that he'd done it to the others as well, but she was having none of that.

"Don't talk bloody nonsense, Boy. We've heard all these stupid stories before. You kids think that you've got power over the adults by making accusations about them. Well you haven't! Dave Gibson is a good man; he's been working with disturbed kids for years and he just wouldn't do something like that."

"But he did", Tony insisted as she hurried away back to her car.

"Grow up, Boy. That's not going to work."

She drove away leaving him standing there - pissed! Now he really started planning seriously. No-one was going to listen? Well he was bloody not going to stay there then. He was going to hit the road, but he was not going anywhere near the bloody city!

He was going to be prepared this time and he was going to . . .to. . . to Westpoint! Yes. He was going to go to Westpoint, that's where he should be.

Danny wouldn't want him - not like that. He'd stuffed that up - Idiot! But if he was around, living there, they might be friends again. Wouldn't they? Couldn't they? Sure they would. Maybe. He was going there anyway.

Mrs. Gibson came home and enlisted his help to carry the groceries inside - there was a lot! Then she left him to his own devices while she unpacked.

He went out to the garage and checked over the bike. It had plenty of oil but it was almost out of petrol. There were several containers of petrol around the garage, so he filled the bike, and then he filled up a smaller container and left it by the door.

There were several sleeping bags up in the rafters, so he took one of them too and put it by the door. Then he went back and got a second one, for a spare. He found several new black-plastic rubbish bags, some stretchy tie-on things and the helmet - it fitted him too.

He found some gloves even. They were gardening gloves, but they'd do. There was also a huge old, black, raincoat hanging by the door. It was obviously big fat Gibson's, so he took that as well. Then he went back inside to sort through his remaining clothes and to repack his backpack.

All the while, he was thinking, planning, dreaming. There'd be no place with Whozzat for him now. They had a singer now and Danny said that he was good. But still, they might still be his friends and if he hung around, they might let him join in sometimes; as a backing singer, maybe. And he could play the keys if Peter was ever sick or something. There might be a place for him. Sometimes. Maybe.

There was Jonathan and Superboy too. They were good guys and they liked helping people. They might help him. That skin repair stuff must be doing all right if they were advertising in a national magazine. They might give him a job there. Maybe. He could ask anyway.

Oh yes. He could do all right in Westpoint. Toddy might take him back too - he hadn't upset him had he?

And, there was Lucas! Lucas was his friend wasn't he? Sure he was - Lucas was great. He hadn't pissed him off, had he? No. Lucas would be all right. Wait up! There was just Lucas and his mother living in that big old house. They might let him stay there too - board with them, if he got a job he could. Maybe. They might.

He could always live on the North Beach anyway. That Cody could do it, well so could he. Summer was nearly here anyway.

His birthday was coming soon as well - January 16^th, he'd be 16 at last. Danny would too. Danny would want him around on their birthday, wouldn't he? Sure he would. Only one way to find out - why hadn't he gone to Westpoint in the first place?

He wouldn't have got into all that shit in the city if he'd gone to Westpoint. He was so stupid! But, not now. Now he was going to Westpoint - going home.

"I'm going out west where I belong.'