Simon leant back in his chair after taking a drink of water and said, "I'm going to tell you the start of my story, because I think from your actions towards the ten year old you will understand why my dad was so eager to get involved and help. It might also help you recognise a similar problem in others, and I think you two have that caring character that is so needed amongst the kids of today who are not in with the crowd. I want you to stop me if you find it too hard to hear, and please don't worry about me. I'm healing now, and this is medicine for me." Simon paused.
"Please go on. We would really like to hear your story," I said.
"Okay. I knew all my school life that I was different from the others. I didn't seem to fit in with the jocks or the nerds and had no friends. I didn't know why. I didn't feel that I could talk to my parents about it, so most nights I went to sleep a sad boy. Then I moved up to high school at that tender age of twelve, and suddenly it was worse. Not only did I still not fit in, but there were guys and girls who teased me and mocked me for what I was. We're not talking about my sexuality here. I walked differently to the other boys. I talked differently and thought differently. I was clever and did well with my lessons. That only made it worse, because I wasn't even the same as the other clever guys, who were more like nerds. Then we had phys. Ed. We all had to shower at the end of class, and I was the only one whose balls hadn't yet dropped. I was a late bloomer; I was nearly fourteen before I got my first pube. So there I was in a much bigger crowd of boys and girls, and before the end of the first week of school my whole year group knew I was the least developed of everybody. At that stage I hadn't started to think about sex, let alone gay sex. Then the bullying started. At first it was rather mild. I would get pushed out of the way in a line up at the tuck shop, or somebody would trip me up as we went from one class to another. The teasing about having no balls or pubes got heavier, and I started to get pantsed a lot. Then they started to hold me and strip off both my pants and underwear and display my genitals to all who were passing. I was so glad when that first term in high school came to an end. But the next term was worse. They started to put out rumours that I was gay. They would grab me before school started and take my underwear off and make me go the whole day commando. Of course I would get pantsed several more times during the day. When the novelty of that wore off, they made me do things like carry two or three of their bags along with my own. They would take my lunch and eat it themselves so I had to go the whole day with no food. One day about half way through the term I got grabbed at the start of break time and dragged off to an enclosed area that was fairly private, and this group of seven or eight guys and girls stripped me completely naked and then held me down while they took it in turns to wank me and keep my cock hard. I had not started to masturbate at that point, and while I knew I liked the feelings, the embarrassment was too much and I started to cry." Simon stopped to get better control of himself.
"If it's too hard for you, don't continue," Mike said.
"No! I need to," Simon said. "Of course then it went around the school that I was a gay cry baby and needed some toughening up. This resulted in older boys getting involved in bullying me. In those days it was compulsory for the school to support the first team at home rugby matches and also, if they were playing against another local school, at that other school. One Saturday I arrived at this other school and made my way to the benches where I could see others in our school uniform. Part way through the first half I needed to piss and made my way to the ablution block. I had just started to pee when I got shoved from behind and pushed against the urinal. Of course this caused me to get piss on my trousers. Before I knew what was happening this group of four boys from my school who were two years ahead of me had pushed me into a cubicle. They started to say things like the gay boy can't control his cock when there are men around and so he's pissed his pants. Let's help him wash them. Two of them held me while the other two pulled out their cocks and peed on me. Then they swapped and the last two peed all over me, soaking my trousers and my shirt. Then they forced me to kneel on the floor and kiss their cocks like a good gay boy should. And that is how they left me. I cried again and once they were gone I had to risk stripping off and washing my clothes in the basin and then using my underwear like a face cloth to wash my body. I put my wet clothes on and left my underwear behind and just walked home. It took me a long time to walk home and I was nearly dry by the time I got home, but I missed the roll call at half time and got a detention for not attending the match. The rest of that year was just as bad. I had a lot of that sort of thing done to me, and I would cry myself to sleep at night. I couldn't talk to my parents about it and didn't know anywhere to go to get help.
"My second year was worse. My balls had at last descended, but I was still the only one without pubes. I would get bared to all and sundry at least once a week to show that I was hairless. I was still labelled as the gay boy, even though I didn't know myself then that I was gay. In the second term of that year this all got to the ears of the first rugby team. After one match I found myself being picked up by a couple of the team members and taken into the change rooms. I was hidden in a corner while the coach came in and congratulated the team on winning the match. Once the coach had left and the team were supposed to start their showers, I was pulled out and stripped. They also stripped off and then I was forced to suck each member of the team off. It was the first time I had ever had a cock actually inside my mouth, and now I had eighteen of them one after the other, all shooting their loads and forcing me to swallow them. They ignored my tears and said they would make a man out of me yet. They took me into the showers with them and scrubbed me from head to toe with a scrubbing brush. Then they wrote the word 'fag' across my abdomen in permanent marker and let me go, but without my underwear. After that at least once a week I would be grabbed by one of the team members at a break time and taken to one of the ablution blocks and made to suck him off. They were bigger and stronger than me, so I just gave in, which gave them more reason to believe that I was gay. By the end of the second term, though, I was finding that I was beginning to enjoy sucking cocks and that I liked the taste of cum. I also found that I was starting to get an erection when I had a cock in my mouth. This was a bit two sided for me. It made the guys think that I really was gay even though I hadn't yet come to that realisation myself. Another home team match got me caught up back in the locker room with the team and stripped naked, but this time while I was sucking on a cock they started to finger my butt. The next thing I knew I was in agony as one of them pushed his cock into me. That time I only got fucked by one guy, but the next time I got fucked by five guys and ended up with a tear in my butt that took weeks to heal." Simon stopped for a drink.
"Are you guys still okay with all this? It's not too hard for you to hear?" he asked.
"Well, it's not easy, but we can handle it so far. If it's helping you then it's something we can do for you, seeing as you have helped us too," Mike answered for both of us.
"Thank you. Word got out that I was getting fucked and sucking cocks, and after that hardly a day went by when I wasn't getting grabbed by someone and made to suck a cock or get fucked. They were keeping so many pairs of my underwear that I got worried mum would want to know where they all were, so I started to go commando. That just added fuel to the fire for my tormentors. I often had to try and scrub words off my body that had been written in permanent marker or painted on with some sort of indelible paint. Then they started to get tired of finding their words gone. One day I was grabbed by a group about two years my senior, and after they had fucked me they held me down and used a razor blade to cut the words 'cocksucker' onto my belly and 'boy cunt' onto my butt. I can tell you that it was extremely uncomfortable to sit down for several days while that healed. Even with that I still couldn't find the courage to talk to my parents or anyone else about it. I still had no friends. Some of the others who were having me suck them or were fucking me saw the scars and either laughed about it or they got a bit upset because their fuck toy was marked; those would punch me or slap me as a punishment. Not one of them showed any sympathy towards me and what was happening to me. That really hurt me deeply.
"The crunch came when one of the ones who had carved the word into my belly went a step further. He got me tied to a bench in the change room one break and made me suck him, then he pulled my foreskin as far forward as he could and tied a bit of string around it so that it was closed over my cock head. He filled the bit that was outside the string with superglue and wrapped the string around it to make it all hold tight against the glue. He kept me like that until the end of break. Then he untied my hands but not my legs and left me with the string holding my foreskin tight over the now dried superglue. It was very painful and I spent a bit of time untying the string but of course could not get the superglue unstuck. I had to get dressed and go like that the rest of the day. I got a detention for being late into my next class. I got into trouble with my parents that night for spending too long in the bath; I was trying without success to soak it soft. I managed to last until the following evening. I had not been able to piss and what had leaked out had filled the bit of foreskin behind the glued bit and made it like a balloon. I was in such a bad way I was left with no choice but to go and talk to my father. He of course wanted to see what rubbish I was talking about. When I showed him, he also saw the scars of the letters on my stomach. While he drove me to the Accident and Emergency he got me to tell him what had happened. I didn't tell him the whole story like I have just told you, but as I talked I could see the knuckles on his hands get whiter and whiter as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter.
"Dad didn't say much as we drove. When we got to the hospital he stayed quiet until he got me inside, then he made sure that the staff knew he believed my predicament to be a real emergency. I had to see a triage nurse, and that was really embarrassing, but when she heard that I had not been able to pee for nearly thirty hours she put me near the front of the queue, and they called for a specialist doctor to come and see me."
"Sorry, but my curiosity is overwhelming me. This might seem tasteless and out of place, but how did they sort it out?" I asked.
"Don't worry, everyone wants to know that. The short answer is that first they made a whole through my foreskin and drained the balloon and then put a catheter tube in and drained my bladder which made me feel a lot more comfortable. But they were unable to get it unstuck and so I had to have a partial circumcision."
"What happened after that?" Mike asked.
"I had to spend a couple of days in hospital. My dad made sure I got put in a private ward so I wouldn't have to face others asking embarrassing questions. He spent several hours talking to me, apologising so much that I began to get a bit sick of hearing him say he was so sorry. I told him it wasn't his fault there are bullies in the school. He knew nothing about it, so why should he be sorry? He wouldn't have it and said both he and Mum had failed me by not seeing the torment I was in. I felt at times I just wanted to scream and tell them to shut up, because it was getting nearly as bad as the teasing and taunting I got at school. And then I had to put up with an interview by the police, because Dad was bringing charges against the guy who did it and the school. That was as embarrassing as the triage nurse, especially when the policeman asked me why I hadn't said anything earlier. I could just tell by his tone and expression that he thought I was hardly worth his effort at taking a statement and it all was my fault, Somehow the newspapers got wind of it, and I had to have a guard outside the door to stop reporters coming in and questioning me. Once I got home I had another week off school to get better, but after that I insisted on going back to school to show the guys that I wasn't going to run away. We had police outside our house to keep the paparazzi away. They had to stay there until after the court cases had been heard. It was only when I got back to school that I found out that guys who had been named were very quick to name others, because they had no intention of taking the rap alone. As each person got named the school suspended them until the issue was resolved. There were a lot of rumours going round too. Some of them were so fanciful they were hilarious, and yet so sad at the same time. And it was hearing the rumours and how much the truth had been blown out of proportion and yet people believed such implausible exaggerations that really got to me. That is what made me agree to go to counselling.
"The counselling helped me to realise that I really was gay. Up to then I had not allowed myself to even consider it. And I can tell you that counselling really does help. I've been having it for nearly seven years now. I'm not through it all yet, but between the loving support of my parents and the counsellors I am now here helping others and having the pleasure of meeting guys like you two. You are possibly the reason one little boy is not going to need counselling, and that makes me very happy indeed."
"You say you are not through yet after seven years of therapy. Do all people take that sort of time to get sorted out after something similar?" Mike asked the question I had been about to ask.
"Different people take different lengths of time to come to terms with what has happened and begin the healing process. I had several things to come to terms with. You see, it wasn't only the bullying; it was also my self-image. I felt a lot of guilt because I hadn't been brave enough to talk to my parents about it long before it got out of hand. I also felt that it happened to me because that was me and I was in a way asking for it. Added to that was the bit that I found I liked. I liked sucking cocks and tasting cum. I even liked getting fucked, but not raped, and there was a difference between some of the guys that way. And of course there are the mental and physical scars. A cosmetic surgeon has managed to repair most of the wording scars so that you cannot read any of it or even make out that there were letters there, but they are still a bit visible. I have been told they will still fade a bit more, but the surgeon can't take them away altogether. And of course every time I go for a pee or have a wank I see where my missing foreskin should be. That's a constant reminder. And the silliest part of it is that I feel guilt for the guys who did these things to me. If I had gone to my parents earlier on only a few of them would have got into trouble. Even one of the teachers told me off about that, although he got made to apologise and keep his mouth shut. I think that was after the whole of the rugby team got expelled and the coach got fired. I mean there were nearly fifty guys who got expelled, and the ones who had cut me got sent to juvenile detention centres. The one who glued me up is still inside and will be for a couple more years yet. He had turned sixteen before he started doing stuff to me, and he ended up getting tried as an adult. Another thing I had to deal with in my counselling was having to face all of it over again as I gave testimony in the trials. At least they were already doing that sort of thing by video link, so I didn't have to actually look at the guys across the courtroom."
"We can't even begin to imagine what it was like for you and what it has done to your head and your heart. Can we do anything to help?" I asked.
"You can come and visit me from time to time. But more importantly, you can keep a look out for any young people who seem to be struggling and try to help them. Seeing a young person getting their problems sorted out before it gets as bad as mine was is just so uplifting for me. It makes my work here feel so much more important and productive."
Mike responded, "We will certainly try to visit, but I'm not sure we can recognise when someone is having a problem. I mean, when we saw Jay at Steve's house the other weekend I would never have known he was being treated the way he was without someone telling us, and it wasn't Jay doing the talking at first."
"Before you go I'm going to give you some leaflets that describe things to look out for. They might help you. But you need to remember that knights in shining armour can still cry, and sometimes what you discover might be very hard to cope with. That's when we can help, with people to guide you through by comforting your hurting hearts and helping you build your own strength."
"If you don't want to answer this just say so. You know you're gay, but do you have a boyfriend?" Mike asked.
"Actually, I have never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend for that matter. I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet. I don't want a sympathy friend. I want a friend who loves me for what I am right now, not what has happened to me," Simon told us.
"Yeah, I can understand that. But you must surely have had some guys hit on you. I mean you are so hot to look at and clearly exude gay vibes. I'm surprised no guy has managed to get you without knowing your background first."
"Yes, I have had a few guys hit on me like you say, but then I think that I can't show them my scarred body and turn them away," Simon explained.
"Have any of those that have hit on you been of interest to you too?" I asked.
"A couple of them have. But I still turned them away," Simon replied. "You know how it is: you show interest in the guy, and the next thing you know he wants to get physical. Then he sees the scars and has to be told the story, and it's no longer me but my troubles that he cares about."
"I know I'm inexperienced and all, but what if you say to the next one you also fancy that you're interested but you aren't just in it for the physical side. That you're looking more for the emotional side and you want to spend some weeks without getting intimate first to make sure that what you have is right for the both of you," I suggested.
"Have you been talking to my counsellor? That's exactly what he suggested just yesterday. We're working on that aspect of my life. If it works it'll probably bring an end to my need for counselling. Although I will keep in contact with my counsellor for as long as I live. I love him for what he has done for me and the care and concern he has shown me over these years. And I will tell you this now, I believe that you are going to have people love you for the same thing. For not being selfish and being there to help when someone needs it. I can see it in both of you, and as painful as that might be at times I think you will find great reward in it."
"Well if we can help someone to have a better life, I believe we'll find that a great reward, but I don't know that I want to be a counsellor," Mike said.
"Oh, I didn't mean that exactly. More that you guys are caring and want to share your care with others and help them if you can. But you probably would make great counsellors too, so don't rule that out altogether," Simon clarified. "It's been great to talk you, and I've really enjoyed these last couple of hours, but I'm afraid that I do have to do some work as I am a paid employee here. Let me get you those papers and then wish you à bientôt. Not goodbye, but till I see you again."
Simon led us out via his office to get us the papers he had mentioned. As we said goodbye he leant forward and gave each of us a kiss on the cheek. "Don't be strangers here. In that pack is a little business card with my private mobile number on it. I would love to meet up with you two sometime and maybe go for a coffee or a movie together. Think about it and give me a call if you want to do something like that."
"Thanks, Simon. We might just do that some time. Goodbye," Mike said.
"Goodbye," I echoed, and we left to walk back to the bus stop to get a bus home.
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