Date: Tue, 27 Jul 1999 22:30:40 -0400 From: Sidney Gittler Subject: Arkansas Vacation: Kenny's Story This story is a work of fiction. It contains scenes of gay teen consensual sex as well as violence, implied and real. So, if that turns you off please leave. All the usual disclaimers apply. Both David and I would appreciate hearing from you. And I even respond to flames. Kenny's Story By David (DAG1064@aol.com) Edited by Sid G (sidg@compuserve.com) Copyright by Sid G (c) 1999 Author's note: This story is based on a recurring nightmare I suffered from when I was growing up as a gay teenager. Thank God it never happened, and I hope this never happens to a gay young person. Editor's Note: This story includes scenes of violence and gunfights. Neither David nor I believe that physical violence is the way to solve problems except in self-defense. While this story is a work of fiction attitudes and actions in it are still around and still do happen. That's why the real life counterparts to the character in this series need our moral, physical and spiritual support. Sid G I stand on the porch of my little cabin close to the water's edge of Peckerwood Lake. I've been here ten months now, and I finally feel at peace with myself. This place has done me some good, and the people here have been kind to me. My lover Sergei has helped me so much by just being there for me. He tells me there are times that he just doesn't know the right words to say, so he hugs me close to him and that does me more good than words could. I sit on the edge of the porch and watch the sun rise. The simple beauty of the sunrise moves me, and I pray silently. "Thanks God, for giving me another day of living, the strength to get through it, and the wisdom to do and say the right thing." Sergei sits next to me and hands me a cup of tea. We hold hands and watch the sun rise. It's going to be another beautiful day. I turn to him and we kiss, a simple kiss filled with love. I sigh, and he holds me close. This is what I have always wanted. To be loved by one of my choosing, not by whom society dictates that I must. I ask myself time and time again why people hate gay people. Makes no sense at all. He leads me inside and we sit at the table where breakfast waits. After breakfast, I go and start my stretches for my daily workouts. Together we run at least three miles a day, workout on the weight pile I built next to the cabin (a slab of cement 20 x 20 with a bench, a few bars, and a ton of plates), and practice our martial arts. I am getting better and stronger day by day, my recovery slow but progressing. I've been clean and sober seven months, and I feel good about myself. Sergei is a great source of support, he loves me unconditionally. Life Has Turned Into A Good Thing. Life wasn't always good for me. To understand why I say that, perhaps I should start at the beginning. My name is Kenny Anderson. I am now fourteen years old, living in Peckertown, Arkansas. I came here ten months ago from Wyoming. I was born in a small town in Wyoming. I forget the name now. I lived there with my parents and a brother. Life was okay until I turned eleven. I started growing quickly, growing faster physically than emotionally. The changes in my body scared me, and I wasn't sure what was going on. To make things worse, I have a hearing disability. I'm deaf in my left ear, severe loss in my right. I wear a hearing aid to help my hearing. Even with my new model I miss things. The kids in my school knew it and if someone said something to me, I'd give them a funny look or say something completely different. They all made fun of me because of it. To top things off, I started having funny feelings every time another boy was next to me. The other boys were more appealing to me than girls. That really scared me. I developed this fantasy world where I was the hero and everyone adored me. I got so deep into it my parents started to worry. They took me to a psychiatrist, Dr. James Grayson. The guy seemed nice at first, helping me with my feelings of loneliness. As he got to know me, he started to change a little at a time. When I told him about being attracted to other boys, he told me I was having gay tendencies, and that it was wrong. That confused me even more. I told him about jacking off to the thoughts of being with a naked boy. I don't know what he told my parents, but they took me to a place they said I would stay for a time to get lots of help. Something about that two story white building scared me. I jumped out of the car when it stopped and ran like hell. The security men chased me all the way to the wire fence. I started climbing a tree to try to get over the fence. One of them grabbed my foot and pulled me out of the tree. I fell on the grass and they jumped on me. Last thing I recall was the smell of the grass. I woke sometime later to find myself strapped down in a bed with just my green briefs on. Grayson sat next to the bed. "Well, you're finally awake. Good, we can begin. You are in a hospital now. Your parents decided that they don't want you living with them anymore, so they gave you up to us. We are going to cure you of being gay. Rules to follow are that you obey everything we say. You will never take a shower alone; you will be watched as you do. Any attempt to masturbate will be met with immediate punishment," Grayson smiled at me. "Please let me go. I promise to be good!" I pleaded, really scared. His laughter scared me even more. "You will never leave here." I shivered in fear. Why was this happening? I heard a door open and looked to see a man enter. Something about him terrified me. I started struggling, trying to break free of the straps. "This is going to be your new friend, his name is Bob Moulson. Bob, our friend needs to be corrected here. He's not paying attention," Grayson said. Moulson stepped up next to the bed, a smile on his face. It wasn't a friendly one. "I'm going to enjoy playing with you," he said. Then he slapped me hard on both sides of my face, four times. That hurt right then, and that was just the beginning. They laughed as I cried. They walked out of the room, slamming the heavy metal door. The boom of the door being slammed shut on me echoed through the room. As far as I was concerned, it was the door to hell, and I was on the wrong side. I was twelve years old. I won't go into a whole lot of detail, what they did to me was gruesome, terrible, painful, and depraved. I lost all track of time in there. I remember so little of what they did. I recall their faces above me, laughing the whole time. I remember begging and pleading to be let go. The next thing I recall was waking up in a field. It was raining, the ground muddy. I was in so much pain, I could barely move. I got to my hands and knees, tried to stand, failed. I chose a direction and started to crawl in it. I was so out of it, I didn't know if this was reality or not. When I reached a building in the center of a field, I got into it and collapsed on the floor. I woke again to sounds in there. I managed to sit up and looked around. The pain in my head refused to go away. I realized the sounds were the animals in the building. "I'm in a barn," I said out loud. The animals stared at me like they had never seen a naked human before. I felt self-conscious about sitting there. I managed to get to my feet. Holding on to the wood rails, I moved around the barn until I found the bathroom. That's where I got my first look at myself, and my first shock at what they had done to me. I found a rag in the bathroom and washed myself off after relieving myself. I turned to the mirror and saw a big tattoo of a Chinese dragon on the right side of my chest. I saw at least four other tattoos on me. I stumbled back in horror. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!" I screamed. I fell against the wall with my back and collapsed. I felt shock, horror, anger, hate, and revulsion. Revulsion about how I looked. All I could do then was cry. Tears rolled down my face. I felt so violated. I sat there for a long time. Finally, I realized I was thirsty. I got a drink of water from the sink's tap. I stumbled out of the bathroom, felt a chill on me and realized I needed clothes. I looked around the barn and finally came up with some boy's clothes that fit me. I felt a bit better having put on the shorts and shirt. I still needed some more clothes. I left the barn and walked up the slight incline to the top. Off in the distance, I saw a house. I walked toward it, hoping there wouldn't be any dog there. So far, so good. I got closer and noticed there wasn't any cars parked in the driveway. Maybe they went away for a day or two, I thought. I got up next to the house and very quietly sneaked around the corner. There were newspapers stacked on the porch. "Shit! The place is empty!" I realized. I checked the entire lower floor for an open window or an unlocked door. I found one small window open and crawled in. I very carefully sneaked around the house. Sure enough, nobody was home. "What do I do now?" I wondered aloud. The loud growl from my stomach answered that one. I opened a soup can and had that first, knowing I hadn't had a decent meal in ages. Last good meal was the breakfast before Mom and Dad took me to that place. All the hospital fed me was oatmeal and corn meal. I hate that shit now. Even smelling it makes me want to puke. After the soup went down, I went and found the boy's room on the top floor. I hated doing it, but I had no choice. I took some of the boy's clothes I found. Before I put them on, I went and had my first real shower in who knows how long. Sure felt good. The mirrors in that bathroom were set up in a way that I could see myself from every angle. In addition to the dragon on my chest, there was an eagle on the back of my left shoulder, a snarling Woody the woodpecker on my left biceps, a smaller blue and black dragon on my left forearm, and a simple chain link around my upper right arm. There were countless scars as well. I couldn't even imagine how they got there. I walked out of the bathroom feeling numb. Why? Why did they hurt me like that? I had no idea why. I stayed there for the rest of the day. I went and got the papers off the porch and read them. What I read shocked me. Grayson was claiming I had killed a nurse in order to escape. The cops were saying that I killed my family in revenge for locking me up. That sent me over the edge. I broke down and cried. There was no way I could ever do that. I loved my family too much to do that. I noted the date on the paper. Next shock of the day, I had lost six months. Six months! I remembered being taken to the hospital on a Friday in June, right after the last day of school. It was early December, according to the paper. Deep down in my heart, I knew that Moulson and Grayson had much to answer for. I knew they were the ones who did the killings and were framing me for it. Anything I said against them would be dismissed as an attempt to save my ass. I decided the only way to stay alive and try to prove my innocence was to run to Canada. Easier said than done, right? I started searching the house again, this time from top to bottom. I found a hiker's backpack, a 9mm Ruger, blankets, a compass, and took them. I loaded the pack with canned food, a can opener, and silverware, more of the boy's clothes, a map, and extra boxes of ammo for the Ruger. I didn't know how to shoot it or how it worked, but I was going to find out. Dad never got around to teaching me how to shoot his. I left a note on the wall where the family could see it when I left the house the next night. I had tried to sleep, but couldn't. No dreams, just terrifying nightmares. I heard a loud boom, then a face, heard laughter. I was having flashbacks as well. Things I really don't want to describe. Most of the time I was being raped and/or beaten, that I do remember. Maybe that's where I got my scars. It was dark when I left. Feeling like a complete heel, I had taken money as well. I remember who they were, and paid them back, or tried to. They refused the money and said they understood why, nice folks. Anyway, I left there and started north. I walked until it got light. I was far away from everything, so I took out the gun and really examined it. Within fifteen minutes I understood how it worked. I loaded one round and worked the slide. I fired it, and to my surprise, I could handle it well. After firing that first shot, I thought about how easy it would be just to end it all right there, right then. That thought ran around in my head for awhile. Just put a bullet in the gun, put it against my head, and pull the trigger. I wrote a note and stuck it in my pocket, asking that they lay me down next to my family. I put the magazine back into the gun and raised it to my head, and paused a moment. I closed my eyes, and before I could pull the trigger, the image of Mom's face came up before me. She stood there with tears running down her face, and that scared me. I snapped to, realizing I was still standing in the field. I dropped the gun, then fell to my knees, crying. Mom saved my life that day, and it was then that I realized they had no idea what was done to me. I forgave them. I got back to my feet, picked up the gun. I filled the magazine with 17 rounds, then worked the slide and rapid fired the gun dry. Very manageable, I reloaded it and put it back in the holster on my belt. I hiked most of the day. What I didn't know was Moulson had gone to the town in front of me and was talking to the cops there about catching me. I walked in to the town late afternoon and decided to stop at a store and get some things. I went inside and started looking around. I got down to the end of a row, turned the corner, and walked straight into him. I stumbled backwards. "He's here," Moulson yelled, jumping back and reaching for a gun. I beat him to the draw and fired first, my anger and hate so hot. I missed him and hit a stuffed bunny instead. The customers in the store panicked and ran like hell. "I'm gonna get you!" he had yelled. "Fuck you," I shouted. We fired at each other, missing each time. I did get him to back off though. I ran to the front of the store, and stopped. Somebody had called the cops. Glass shattered as Moulson fired at me. I ducked and rolled, avoiding the bullets. I moved fast, staying low and under cover. Once I got into a row, I ran down it to the back. I ran through the back door, and out of the store. I heard footsteps behind me and risked a look. It was Moulson, hot on my tail. I double tapped fired at him, making him fall into a mud puddle. I laughed at his face when he came out of it. He wasn't happy. He fired back at me. I kept running, trying to avoid him. I managed to shake him in a shopping mall. I moved very carefully for the rest of the day. There were so many cops out I wondered how I didn't get spotted. I learned later that Moulson was accusing the cops of not doing their jobs. The cops were just as angry. I had to be more careful. In the four months I was on the run, Moulson and I had countless shootouts. Between us we destroyed three shopping malls, eight department stores, six markets, countless police cars, and one mini mart. Pure luck nobody else ever got hurt or killed. We sure wounded each other plenty of times. I was getting tired of running, the nightmares, the flashbacks, the fights, and hurting all the time. I never fired at a cop because I didn't hate them. They didn't do anything to me at all. They were victims as much as I was. Moulson constantly fooling and lying to them. That's the other reason why I didn't sue them. I was getting good at handling guns; I had graduated to shooting a .454 Casull. That is a mean gun. You have to really hang onto that one or it will knock your lights out, guaranteed. By that time I'd gained the measurable amount of arm strength needed to handle that gun. First time I fired it at Moulson, he literally jumped out of his socks. "Where did you get the cannon, kid?" he asked. "That's for me to know and you to find out," I yelled. I had gotten it from some big shot rancher who was forcing people to harvest his produce by holding their kids hostage. He was abusing the kids too. I freed the kids, blew his safe, stole the money out of it and gave it to all the people there in the fields. I even protected the union reps that came down after I called them. Those folks voted in the union. When the guy and his army showed up, the fight got started. We won that fight, thanks to some very well placed traps and unusual weapons. After we raided the guy's house for food and anything else we could find, I collected a few more guns for my own defense. The Casull was one of them. I had to hide when the cops came in to find out what had happened. I guess that's how the Young Dragon tag got started. It was a hot day, and I had pulled off my shirt to try and keep cool. Everyone saw the tattoos and scars. Once they heard the story, they were sympathetic. Sure freaked out the rich dude and his goons. He wasn't the only bad guy I fought besides Moulson. There were plenty more of them. Things got to the point to where I was fighting virtually non-stop. But I did have my peaceful moments. There was one morning I had spent the night by the side of a small lake. I had gotten there way after dark and had wrapped myself up in blankets almost immediately. I woke up only when I felt something on my face. It was a fawn, checking me out. I held perfectly still, not wanting to scare it. It was just breaking daylight. I could see the outline of a larger deer at the water's edge. The fawn trotted down to the water's edge and I sat up. It was just beautiful. The early morning mist was lying on the water, the sun just barely peeking over the distant mountain range, animals getting their morning drink at the water's edge; flowers and tall grass as far as I could see. In that moment, I felt so at peace with myself. I felt calm, collected, better than I had in ages. I had heard John Denver sing a song about something like this once before. I wondered if he had found something like this that had inspired him to write that song. The words went through my mind, and I felt tears on my face. I stood up, and watched the eagles flying high above me. This was heaven. "Thanks God, for giving me another day of living, the strength to get through it, and the wisdom to do and say the right thing," I whispered. I hoped He heard me. The next time Moulson and I met, he had a Casull too. He managed to get the drop on me and had me lined up in the sights. He was holding it too loose. Yup, he turned off his lights with it. The recoil was so powerful, the barrel whipped right up and temporarily parked it's self between his beady eyes. I couldn't help it. I laughed my ass off. So did the cops. They probably enjoyed the sight as much as I did! Naturally, I escaped again. He got himself on TV, saying that he would catch me someday and make me pay for my crimes. We continued battling each other across the state, right up to the border. It was then that the roof finally fell in for Moulson. We were fighting in a shopping mall. I was running low on ammo, had lost all my guns except for the Casull. I sneaked into a small gun store and "borrowed" some bullets. Moulson was yelling at me to come out and give it up. By this time I was so sick and tired of him, I decided killing him was worth prison. I managed to get the drop on him. "Easy kid," he smiled. "Don't be doing anything stupid." "You've done enough, Moulson. What you did to me was bad enough. Killing those people and my family was really bad. You are going to pay for that right now," I said, raising the gun. "Kenny, this is the FBI. Don't kill him, you'll only make things worse," the voice sounded through the bullhorn. "We know the truth. We have evidence to prove your innocence." Moulson swallowed nervously. My rage went up a few notches. "You fucker. You don't deserve to live," I screamed. Moulson got on his knees and began to beg for his life, seeing the look in my eyes, I guess he knew I was going to kill him. I sure wanted to. "Please, mercy. Don't do this, please! I beg you for mercy," he pleaded. "Mercy? You ask me for mercy, when I begged and pleaded for mercy when you tortured me, raped me, beat me, and caused me all kinds of pain? Fuck you!" I screamed at him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please! Mercy!" he cried. I was so close to pulling the trigger. In that moment, I had a vision of pulling the trigger and putting the bullet in the top of his head. The head came back, and instead of his face, it was mine. That shook me, and scared me. I began to think again. "You ask me for mercy after you hurt me the way you did, when I asked for it, when I asked you to stop, you didn't. You murdered my family. Why should I give you mercy over that? But I will, simply because I am tired of fighting, of running, of hating. I grant you your mercy," I said, uncocking the Casull. Everyone stared at me in amazement. I opened the Casull and dropped the bullets on the ground. "Officer, please accept this as a sign of my surrender," I said, handing the gun to the cop. He nodded at me. "Okay." Cops immediately grabbed Moulson and arrested him. I turned and walked away. I walked out of the mall and stood outside, watching the cops stuff Moulson into the police car. He looked dazed. The FBI agent led me to another car. I shrugged the pack off and put it in the back seat. I got in the front seat of the car. I was tired and exhausted. Next thing I knew I woke up in a cell. I guess I had conked out in the car. They had carried me in and put me to bed in the cell. First real bed I had slept in for a long time. They were real nice, bringing me real food, and even taking me to a doctor for a full physical. None of them asked me any questions, just left me alone for two days. The third day, I was escorted into a room. There were two state's attorneys, two FBI agents and a fifth man there. The guy was an attorney that a judge had ordered to represent me. I got to talk to him first after they said who he was and why he was there. The guy said that I should listen to what they were going to say first. Then I should decide what I was going to do from there. According to the FBI, Grayson had been stopped for speeding and was charged for drunk driving. One of the arresting officers had seen what looked like a picture of a naked boy on the floorboard on the passenger side. Going by the book, he had the car towed, got a search warrant after calling his supervisor and the FBI. The car was searched. What they had found were pictures of me being abused, videos of me being abused and raped. They charged Grayson for having the stuff in his possession. They raided his house, office, and the hospital. They found even more evidence. Then raided Moulson's house and found the murder videos. I stared at the man. "He...videotaped...what he did to me...and my family?" I asked, in shock. "Yes. I'm sorry to have to tell you that. The tapes prove your innocence," the man said quietly. I saw those tapes in court. It was then that I knew what was done to me. The hardest one was the one of my family. I was emotional for days afterwards. Grayson and Moulson were given the death penalty. My fate was to be decided in Juvenile court. I went there three weeks later. It turned into one big fight among the adults. The social worker lady, the judge, my attorney, and the prosecutor all argued as to what should be done to me. I got so disgusted. I knew five-year-olds on my old street that behaved better than that! I got up and quietly walked out. I picked up my pack and left the courthouse. I walked for a few hours, then stopped for lunch at a burger stand. I found a newspaper there and read it. An article about Peckertown, Arkansas caught my eye. I read it completely, and realized this was where my future was to be. Perhaps I would find peace there. Getting the map out, I planned my route down there. Just the thought of that place made me feel a bit strange, gave me funny feelings. I felt hope for the first time in ages. I felt happy as I started walking down the street. I walked for the rest of the day, stopping at a roadside rest area five miles out of town. I sat on the grass and watched the stars come out. Could this be the beginning of good things? I hoped so. I rolled myself up in the blankets and went to sleep. I dreamed of my parents, and my brother. I hoped they were happy there in heaven. Mom and Dad both smiled at me, and my brother waved. I woke up with tears running down my face. Some how I think they approved the way I had spared Moulson. I had to. I had been so close to becoming like him. All I wanted now was to find Peckertown. Perhaps there I would find myself. I got going after having a light breakfast. The day was clear and cold. Snow was piled by the roadside, evidence of winter's existence. I was lucky I didn't freeze at all. People in their cars passed me all day long. It would have been nice of them to have given me a ride and a chance to warm up a little. I didn't get mad at them, it wouldn't have accomplished anything. I thought about getting a bus there, so when I got into the next town, I tried to get a bus ticket. Well, that failed, so I just smiled at the lady behind the counter and left. No use getting mad at her. She was just doing her job. I kept on walking, kept on encouraging myself. I managed to hide in a truck stop that night, hiding in a little supply shed. In the shower that night, I had the urge to touch and fondle myself. I couldn't believe how good it felt to stroke my five inches. The feeling got so intense, I actually came for the first time. Was that a thrill! I held it on my fingers, feeling how wet and sticky my cum was. I was so overcome by it all. It's amazing how a little bit of a liquid that comes out of a man's and a boy's balls can actually help to create life. Something to think about. I slept good that night, probably the first real sleep I've had in a long time. I watched some of the big trucks move around in the parking lot while having breakfast the next morning. The cops had searched my pack for weapons, but never took the money from me. It was so cool that I even got it back. When I had counted the money, there was a bit more of it than what I had started out with. Leaving the coffee shop, I stood at a map posted on the wall and studied it for a moment. "Going somewhere?" a voice behind me said. I turned to see who it was. It was a cop. My heart bottomed out. "Peckertown, Arkansas. Heard it was a good place to be," I said. "Well that depends," he said. "Depends on what?" I asked. "Depends on what you would be doing there," he said. "Well, I just want to be left alone in peace," I said. He nodded at that. "Well, I have to take you with me." I nodded. "I figured you would say that." He smiled at that and led me to the patrol car. I put my pack in the back seat and got in the front. He got in behind the wheel and we left the truck stop. The front seat was much more comfortable than the back seat. I relaxed and watched the scenery go by. I guess I must have dozed off, because he woke me up. "What's up?" I asked, sitting up. "We're at my house. Come in and make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in an hour," he said. I went in and he closed the door behind me. I dropped my pack in the living room and wandered around the house. It was a one story, three-bedroom house. Looked real nice. It was obvious he wasn't married. There were dirty dishes in the sink and clothes all over. I figured what the hell! He picked me up, brought me here. I'll return the favor. When he walked in the door two hours later, I had the place cleaned up, a load of laundry done and some dinner on the stove. "What the hell?" He said, standing there in the doorway. "Hi! Figured I owed you one," I said. He smiled. "You just a cool dude, I like you!" After dinner, we traded life stories. His name was Jack, lived here all his life, a cop ever since he got out of school, and enjoyed it. Listening to my story, he got serious. "You poor kid. Took a hell of a lot of soul to spare someone like that," Jack said. "That's what everyone tells me," I said. He nodded. I spent the night there; the bed was so comfortable. He took me down to the train station the next day and got me a ticket to Peckertown. He could have busted me, but he didn't. Considering the prosecutor wanted to jail me on the gun charges. That was the first time I'd ever been on a train. It was a great experience. I arrived in Peckertown, Arkansas three days later. The train station on the edge of town was busy, so many people running around! There were lots of boys there, too. I thought for sure I had died and gone to heaven. One boy recognized me. "There's that Kenny kid!" he exclaimed. "The Young Dragon!" They all crowded around me, shaking my hand and welcoming me. That made me feel good. "What's a good place to eat at?" I asked. "Try the Tasty Buns," one boy said. "Okay, how do I get there?" I asked. After getting directions, I walked over there. Everywhere I looked, there were boys hanging out. I crossed the lawn in a park and watched in disbelief as a guy in his twenties sucking a boy's cock. I kept on going. I was starting to wonder what I had gotten myself into. Finding the restaurant, I was about to walk in. I saw a guy with a gun through the window, pointing it at a kid's head. I felt rage swell up inside me. Dropping the pack, I picked up a round trash can lid from the back of a truck. I went through the window, scattering glass everywhere. People turned to see what it was, and I landed right on top of another guy with a gun. I got hold of the gun as the guy went down. Just my luck, a Casull. I turned in time to see the other guy point his gun at me. I fired once, the heavy .454 round hitting the guy in the shoulder, knocking him down. A huge black guy came out of nowhere, and I got the drop on him. "Wait! Wait!" the old man shouted from behind me. I didn't fire, but waited. The old man came up next to me. "He's a friend," he explained. I relaxed. "Okay. I'll take your word for it." "Nice shooting Kenny," the black guy smiled. "How do you know who I am?" I asked. "The news. Seems you walked away from a courtroom in Wyoming," he said. "My name is Zeus." I shook his hand. He pointed to the gun and I cleared it before handing it over. His eyebrows went up. "Kenny, this is a .454 Casull! You managed to fire this?" he said. "Not that hard," I said. "Considering who your target was, I don't blame you. I'm just surprised you let him live," Zeus said. "Had my reasons," I said. "Let's talk later," he said. After the sheriff took the bad guys away, I got a broom and cleaned up the glass. I reached into my pack to get money for the window but the old man refused it. Instead, he fed me one hell of a meal. Sitting in the corner, I had time to think while sipping a drink. At that point, I had few options. I could do what I saw boys doing in the park, try to get a job, or do nothing. Not very many choices here. After sitting there so long, I decided to walk around for a bit. The restaurant people promised to watch my pack. I walked down the street for a bit, looking at everything. I took a bus out to the lake and sat on a bench looking at it. It seemed so peaceful here. Walking into the lake marina, I used the bathroom, then got a soda. I noticed a bulletin board so I looked at it. There were some help wanted ads, and lots of property ads. One in particular caught my eye. After reading it, I asked where it was. I was told it was a fifteen-minute walk. I walked over there, and saw the nicest cabin ever. It wasn't too far from the water's edge. It was a single story, with a porch and fireplace to the cabin. I liked it. Going back to the marina, I asked questions about it. Seems the local bank owned it now because the previous owner abandoned it. I asked for a job and the guy nodded. "Be nice to have some help around here," he said. He introduced himself as Phil. He had been born here and lived here all his life. He had taken over the marina from his Daddy thirty years ago, and been running it ever since. I liked the guy. I returned to the restaurant to get my pack. Zeus saw me and led me into the back area. "Kenny, you have some problems to deal with. Seems this lady from Wyoming is coming here to take you back," Zeus said. "How'd she track me? What can I do?" I asked. "Get an attorney," Zeus said. That's exactly what I did. After talking with Henry Silvers, I decided it was time to sue a few people. The suits were filed in Little Rock, Arkansas a few days later. I was suing the hospital, James Grayson, the Wyoming prosecutor, and the media. Naturally, the media played dumb about the suit, claiming they had nothing to do with my situation. Their mistakes were in airing some of the video tapes when they were told not to, making me look like a crazed killer, and not publicizing my being set free on the murder charges. I was going after the hospital on the fact that they didn't screen their newly hired doctors. Seems Grayson had been sued for malpractice a few times. They failed to screen their help, namely Moulson. He had a history of child abuse. I was suing the prosecutor for falsely prosecuting me on the murder charges. I decided to sue the Wyoming child services for character defamation, which is what this lady had done in a Wyoming courtroom. I was asking for some serious money. The only group of people I didn't sue was the Wyoming police agencies. They actually had taken the time to sit down and explain to me that they hadn't known what had happened to me. I believe they were used by Moulson to do his dirty work, hoping the cops would kill me so he could get away with what he had done. Without going into long details, the suits were settled quickly. Not only did I get money, I got what I had wanted in the first place: apologies. Wyoming child services were first, firing the lady and sending their lawyers with a check for the amount sued for. The state prosecutor denounced me at first, but then quickly changed his mind when he saw a poll conducted by a paper there. He himself apologized and gave me the check. The hospital didn't waste time. The hospital director handed me the check and apologized. Then offered to resign. I told him to keep his job, just do the right thing. The media in Wyoming ran big front-page lead stories about how unfairly I was suing them. They held out for a few days, then gave up when people started not buying newspapers and watching TV. Companies stopped running their ads. Not only did they publicly apologize, they showed the bosses of the news media's handing me the money on prime time TV. I still love watching the video that Daniel recorded for me. Grayson was the remaining hold out. A federal judge ordered all of Grayson's property sold at auction, his stocks and bonds turned over to me as well. I was now a very wealthy kid. Henry totaled it all up. "You have approximately 100 million dollars in cash, stocks, and bonds, all told. What are you gonna do?" he asked. "Let's see what the Peckertown bank can do for me," I said. Those folks were very helpful. I learned a bit about the bank history. Turns out that Daniel's uncle owns the bank, and the Jorgenson Clan had quite a stake in it. I decided to invest some money in Jorgenson Enterprises. Smart move, they needed money to complete their newest acquisition. I bought the cabin by the lake and set it up to my liking. I also offered to buy the marina. Phil accepted the offer. Said he was getting tired of working. I hired a few of the boys to run the place and to be security for the lake. Sure made them happy. But there was still something missing. I wanted to be with someone, someone to be a close friend to. Having my own house and property, money, and business was fine, but what I really wanted was a friend. The black guy, Zeus, was nice. I had found out he was a therapist, helping boys deal with their problems. He knew of my past, having seen the records from Wyoming. The first session with him I was so nervous. He put me completely at ease by telling me he would do anything to help me. In the weeks that went by, I got some of the most intense therapy I ever got. He had a way of asking the right questions. I finally totally opened right up, telling him everything. In between the tears, the agony of reliving it all over again, I finally really let go of the anger and hate I felt for Moulson and Grayson. Zeus knew everything now. He was the only person who had hugged me since I said goodbye to Mom that morning when I went to school there in Wyoming for the last time. He made me feel human again, made me feel that I was somebody, made me feel like I was worth something. As my story got around, people reached out to me and made me feel like I was one of the community. That made me feel ten feet tall. I still felt the need for a close friend, even though I knew lots of people. I heard of a local band called Powersound. They had just opened their own club, so I decided to go and listen to them. They were really good. That kid Yoshi can play! I sat at a table, watching the crowd of dancers and the boys hanging off the stage. One boy in particular kept getting my attention. He had been the one to serve me my drinks. He was about six feet tall, about fourteen, big muscular build, and had the Russian look about him. Our eyes kept connecting. "You having good time?" he asked, his accent heavy. Score one for me, definitely Russian. "Yeah, real nice place here. I like it," I said. "Cool. I be back later?" he asked. I decided to take the chance. "Sure, please." He grinned at me, then disappeared. I felt lightheaded, my blood pressure rising, my heart beating faster. I had a quick sip of my scotch to calm me. I was excited. He did come back later. "Stay around. I arranged to you to be in here after close," he said. "Okay. My name's Kenny," I said. "Sergei," he smiled, shaking my hand. The rest of the show went by in a blur. I sat there and watched Sergei move around while getting things put away and cleaned up at closing. I could feel my cock getting hard. "You liked the show?" he asked as we left. "Yeah! They sure can play!" I said. He led me to his place. It was a tiny little apartment. We sat on his couch and traded life stories. After I had told him mine, he was quiet for a time. "You are here now. This good place to start all over again," he said. He was right. Sergei became my friend after that. We didn't have sex that night, and that was fine. I liked him a lot. We had many good times, and really got to know each other. It was two months later that our friendship turned into a relationship. My shoulder was really bothering me that evening. Sergei offered to give me a massage. Sergei also ran a massage service when he wasn't working the Powersound club, real massages. He told me to soak in the tub first, then come out when he said to. I came out when he called me. He stared at me for a moment or two. I knew what he was looking at. Tears came into his eyes. "Why? Why did they hurt you like that?" he whispered, putting his arms around me. It was then things changed for us. I felt so safe and secure in his arms. He lifted me up on the table there and very gently and tenderly gave me the best massage I'd ever gotten. His touches were so nice. I moaned in pleasure. Slowly he turned it into the most erotic massage I'd ever gotten. Afterwards he carried me to my bed and pleasured me in ways I'd never thought possible. I don't ever recall ever being that hard or coming so much. Sergei didn't fuck me; he didn't want to do it until I was ready for it. But he did everything else. I don't remember falling asleep. I woke up the next morning lying in the huge arms of this boy. Evidently he had stripped down and gotten in bed with me. He was huge. Sergei worked out all the time. The fourteen-year-old Russian teen was a hunk! I looked up into his green eyes. I don't know what happened, but I just broke down and started to cry. He didn't say anything, just sat up and pulled me on his lap and held me in his arms the entire time I cried. Afterwards, he kissed me on the mouth and said he loved me. "I love you Sergei," I said. We kissed, my first real kiss. We spent a half-hour in bed, Sergei teaching me how to kiss and French kiss. Then he got out of bed, and led me to the shower. He tenderly washed me clean, his hands touching me so gently. I can't describe what an experience that was, it has to be tried and experienced. We spent the day relaxing on the porch of my place. He liked the view of the lake. "So beautiful here," he said. I invited him to move in here. He did. Sergei taught me about sex and the lovemaking arts. He taught me how to erotic touch, how to stimulate certain body parts, how to give pleasure, everything. He taught me the art of male intercourse, the act of fucking. I was scared. I didn't want to hurt him, and I was scared to have him do it to me, because of the trauma of being raped. Sergei calmed my fears by having me do it to him first. I can't describe what it was that I felt, saw, and heard the first time I actually put my cock into a person. All I know is that I came like never before, and that I cried like a baby for a half-hour afterwards. When it came time for Sergei to do it to me, he very carefully lubed me up with lots of KY and used his fingers to loosen me up. He very slowly and carefully entered me. He relaxed and held still, allowing me to get used to him being inside me. After the intercourse, he held me close to him. The experience was so beautiful. He really loved me. That's what truly mattered. We lived happily together in the cabin. Sergei liked the place because it reminded him of his home back in Russia. I asked him to tell me how he got here. He said that was a story he will sit down and write someday. I had decided to do something to help the kids here in Peckertown. There were a few possibilities. Once Sergei knew what I had in mind, he got excited. Within a few weeks, I had bought out the local newspaper. The crew that was left was delighted with the changes I proposed. Word got around, and before long, there was a complete staff at the paper. The boys that were hired learned the newspaper business, from being a reporter to delivering the paper. Next thing was buying the abandoned twin towers. They were a pair of buildings that stood on the edge of town. They were ten stories each. I discovered that they were supposed to be condos. I went and hired a construction crew to finish off the work. I explained to them what my plan was in regards to the building. That idea went over real well. Before long, boys were lining up to get in. The various crews would teach them the construction trade. The last thing I wanted to do was to buy out the resort on the lake. The owners had closed it up, having lost lots of business. I knew it was perfect for what I had in mind. I brought in some construction people and after a few weeks of work, opened it up. It was to be a place for severely abused kids to come to. The idea was to give them a safe place to heal in. Once word of that got out so many people donated money, furniture, and other things needed. I hired people 18 and older to run things along with some professionals I had Zeus screen. A lot of the ones I hired had been victims themselves. Social services suggested that kids be referred there by them and police agencies. The final thing to be done was to dedicate the place and name it. I decided to call it the Sue and Darrel Anderson Memorial after my parents. It was my way of forgiving them. People were so moved by it. Things were getting better in Peckertown. Having done what I wanted to, it was time to take care of me. Sergei immediately volunteered for that job! We were living together as a couple, being very happy together. God, could he make love to me! It's early evening now. Sergei has come home from the office early on this Friday. I know he's home, because I see smoke coming from the chimney of the fireplace. I decide to quit for the day, so I tell Jack he can close up today. He smiles at me. He knows why. I leave the marina and walk the quarter mile to the house. I open the door, and Sergei sees me walk in. He hugs me, and we kiss. He leads me to the bedroom and undresses me. He then leads me to the bathroom and guides me into the tub. I sink down into the hot, soapy water. It feels so good. I soak there for a time, relaxing. He comes back and kneels by the tub, and tenderly washes me. After drying me off, he leads me out to the dining room. We eat the dinner he's fixed, it's just so good. After putting the dishes in the sink, he leads me into the living room. He's arranged a bunch of pillows on the floor in front of the fire. I lay down on them, and he starts the massage. He works on me for a long time, massaging my whole body. It feels so good. I return the massage, Sergei having taught me how to do it. Afterwards, I lay in his strong arms (I'm developing really good myself, thanks to the weight pile and his coaching me) and I feel safe and secure. I initiate the lovemaking, and he responds. Our kisses start the good pleasing feelings. I feel his hands roam all over my body. His touches do things to me. I feel so good. I feel myself get hard. He reaches down and lightly strokes my hard. It sends tingles up and down my spine, makes me shiver. I moan softly, and he hugs me close to him. I feel his lips on my neck, kissing me. The feelings get too much, I groan with pleasure, hugging him tight. I hear his soft laughter, and I relax. He lay me down on my back and runs his fingertips lightly across my hard nipples. I feel my toes curl up and my body shiver. He takes my hard on in his hand and slowly strokes it. He moves down and then takes it in his mouth, beginning to suck on it. Suddenly I realized his seven inches is tapping on my mouth, so I open up and take him in. We sixty-nine for awhile, each relishing the hard cock in our mouths. I felt myself getting close. Sergei stops and then pulls out of my mouth. He rolls on his back and pulls my hips down in between his legs. I know what he wants. I enter him, slow and deliberate. He closes his eyes and whispers my name. Once I am completely inside, I rest a moment to enjoy this contact. It's more than sex now, it's being a part of him, it's us becoming one. I start to move, thrusting myself into him over and over and over. I say his name; he tells me he loves me. Before I know it, I cum into him. He sighs, and tells me he feels complete. He takes my hips in his hands and guides me upward, to sit on his hips. He raises me up, then slowly sits me down on his seven inches. It feels so good going into me. I cry out his name, telling him I love him. Once he is completely in me, he wraps his arms around me and we kiss passionately. He starts the humping motion, fucking me while holding onto me. Oh God, does he feel so good inside of me! I feel tears on my face. He is crying, and so am I. The emotions of the moment are getting to us again. He keeps on going until I feel his cock swell and deliver to me his cum. We both sigh, and relax. He lays me down, and gently pulls out of me. We rest a moment, then he carries me to the bath. He sets me down in the bubble filled bath. I see all the candles he lit in the bathroom, and I feel moved by it. Sergei likes to be romantic, and so do I. He slips in behind me, and holds me close. We kiss again, enjoying the amazing sensations. I feel his hands roam all over my body. Everything is perfect now. There is just us here. That's how it should be, was meant to be. Life Has Turned Into A Good Thing.