Timmy and the Travellers – Chapter 11
In this chapter the travellers finish opening Carlington's eyes to the things you can do to a slave, and it's fair to say that this is another chapter that calls for a reminder from me similar to the one issued at the start of chapters three and six: here too the travellers maybe go too far, and so does Carlington. I suppose we have to remember that it's easy to get carried away when you're a kid with a grievance...
Next morning Truscott came to school in shorts, and things couldn't have gone better if they had been planned: the whole class got to find out why all at the same time, because the form teacher asked the question at registration. If he had dared Truscott would have given the same answer he had given his mother when she had asked why on earth he wanted to go back to wearing shorts: that the weather was nice and that shorts were more comfortable. But Wood and Collier were listening eagerly, and he knew that if he didn't obey Carlington's instructions it would get back to him straight away. So he took a deep breath.
"Well, Sir... it's a bit embarrassing... you see, I've had a couple of... accidents lately..."
"Accidents?" The teacher knew what Truscott meant, but he didn't like the kid much: there was something sort of sneaky and sly about him, nothing that he could put his finger on, but he suspected that Truscott liked picking on smaller boys - he'd never actually been caught in the act, but he'd been seen in the vicinity of crying juniors on a couple of occasions. This seemed like a chance to put Master Truscott on the receiving end for once.
"You know... I... I sort of... well... I've ... I wet myself once or twice..."
"Or three times," said Wood in an audible undertone which the teacher heard and completely ignored.
"So... well... my mum said... she said I have to wear shorts until I stop, because it's easier to wash them than it is with long trousers."
"I see," said the teacher, trying to suppress a grin. "Thank you, Truscott, you can sit down now."
Of course, as soon as registration was over the whole class fell upon him, subjecting him to hugely personal and embarrassing questions, queries as to the cost of nappies, offers to supply him with some dummies to suck, offers to baby-sit, and so on and so forth, until he was saved by the arrival of the teacher for their first lesson.
Over the next day or so various derogatory nicknames were tried and discarded, but eventually the class found one that stuck, and Truscott was referred to and addressed as "Leaky" for the rest of the school year. He seemed to spend the whole day blushing.
At the start of break Carlington made sure that all six juniors were there to greet him and comment on how pretty he looked in his little short trousers, but then he left the Wednesday team of Williams and Gwyn-Thomas to get on with it. They took him to the pavilion and made him undress.
"Funny, he looks the same as he did before," commented Williams as Truscott removed his pants. "I thought maybe it might have shrunk down to our size to go with his nice new clothes."
"I wonder if we could find some way to make it shrink?" mused Gwyn-Thomas.
"We could cut half of it off," suggested Williams. "That would do the trick."
"Too messy. There's be blood everywhere."
"Perhaps we could crush it, then. Maybe we should take him to the woodwork room and squeeze it in a vice."
"Now that would be fun," agreed Gwyn-Thomas. "Or we could try the chemistry lab - there must be some stuff there that makes things shrink."
"We could drip acid on it," said Williams, his eyes lighting up. "It wouldn't make it shrink as such, just burn away, but it'd be fun!"
"Yeah! Okay, Ugly, which would you prefer - the vice or the acid?"
"Neither!" cried Truscott, not sure if they were serious or not.
"Maybe we should try both, then," said Williams. "Do you need a pee?"
Truscott knew he would probably be able to go unsupervised at lunchtime, but he wasn't certain he could last that long, so he said, "Yes, please."
"How should we make him do it today?" asked Gwyn-Thomas.
"Lying on his back is sort of fun... or... did you remember your towel today?"
Truscott confirmed that it was in his bag.
"Okay, then let's do it this way. Go into the shower and lie on your back with your feet up the wall..."
Truscott did so, and the two juniors came and stood one on either side of him. They helped him to position himself so that his shoulders were in the angle of floor and wall with his body in a sort of headstand position. The large penis dangled down towards his belly-button. They held his legs to help him maintain position and then Williams told him to pee.
The result was everything they had wished for: a torrent of yellow piss poured from the penis and ran down over his stomach and chest to hit his neck. After a couple of seconds Williams moved the penis slightly away from Truscott's body, with the result that the stream then hit him full in the face. He spluttered as some of it went up his nose.
Once the stream ran dry they let him go, and he rolled over and climbed to his feet, dripping extensively. They positioned him under the shower and turned the cold water on, throwing him a piece of soap and telling him to clean himself up, which he did gratefully.
"Don't forget to wash your bum," Gwyn-Thomas told him. "You're lucky we didn't remember to check it first. This time if you scrub it hard you might get away with it."
They watched the humiliated boy washing his bottom and then turned the water off and threw him his towel. He stood at the entrance to the shower and dried himself off.
"Cold water - that's another way of shrinking it, look," said Gwyn-Thomas, pointing at Truscott's shrivelled balls and reduced penis.
"Pity we can't keep it like that... hang on..." said Williams. He went to his bag. "Make sure it's completely dry," he said to Truscott, "and tell me when it is."
Truscott complied, and then Williams showed him what he had taken from his bag: a large roll of Sellotape and a pair of scissors. He knelt down in front of Truscott and started winding the tape round the older boy's genitals, keeping it as tight as possible and adding layer after layer, binding the penis tightly against the testicles. By the time he was satisfied he had transformed Truscott's genitals into a sort of transparent mummy, a small, hard, shapeless package hanging from his groin.
"That should keep it pretty small," he said. "Now, you're not to interfere with it at all - you have to leave it exactly as it is now, and at the start of the lunch break you're to come and find us here... yes, I know you're supposed to get the lunch break off, but we're letting you go early now, and we won't keep you more than ten minutes at lunchtime. Okay, you can get dressed and go."
At lunchtime they took him up to the back room and made him undress. The shiny mass at his groin appeared untouched.
"What does it feel like?" Williams asked him.
"Okay. A bit uncomfortable some of the time, and I got an itch that I couldn't scratch..."
"Perhaps we should leave it on for a week or so. Maybe it really would help it to shrink if we did."
"Don't, please! I mean... sometimes when I'm in bed it goes hard, and obviously it can't while I'm like this... and I couldn't pee like it, either."
"I wonder what would happen if you did? I suppose it would leak out slowly... Go on, then, get in the shower and show us!"
"I can't... I mean, I don't need to go."
"Try. If you can't go, I'm going to make you keep it on overnight."
"No, please! It'd drive me mad in bed - I'd never be able to sleep!"
"So you'd better manage to pee, then, hadn't you?"
Truscott went and stood in the shower, put his hands on his head in the approved manner and tried to pee, but he couldn't - in any case, he could feel that his penis was squashed up so much that he didn't think anything would have been able to get out even if he hadn't had an empty bladder.
"I'm sorry," he said, after a minute or so. "I really can't go."
"Okay, I believe you tried, so maybe we'll take it off anyway," said Williams, surprising him. "Come here."
Williams knelt down and found the end of the Sellotape, managed to pull it free and then took hold of the end and pulled hard. The tape came unravelled, making the package of Truscott's genitals jerk from side to side as it did so, and then as the last section was reached Truscott let out a yell of pain: the tape ripped free from his skin, and the last three or four inches, which had been at the base of his penis, ripped out some of his pubic hair as well. The freed genitals slowly resumed their normal shape, his balls slowly dropping to their usual position, the left one markedly lower than the right, and the penis wobbled away from his body.
"That's a good torture," said Gwyn-Thomas. "Stick some more tape over his hairs, Matt, and then rip it off."
Williams did so, drawing another yell from his victim, but then he told him to get dressed.
"Okay, you can go," he said. "But we'll definitely have to try taping you up again - and I bet you'd prefer that to the vice or the acid."
Truscott pulled his clothes back on and left before they could change their minds.
After school he met Carlington and walked with him to the garage, where they found not only the four travellers but also Timmy and Wood waiting for them. Truscott's shorts were commented on, making him blush some more, and then he was ordered to strip, though Timmy and Wood were allowed to remain clothed. There weren't enough chairs for everyone, so Carlington, Timmy and Wood perched on the table, the travellers used the chairs and Truscott was made to remain standing.
"Yesterday our slave learned how to suck," said Michael. "Today he's going to find out that there are worse things that can happen to a boy than being made to suck on another boy's knob. Danny's our sex education expert: explain it to him, Danny."
"What do you know about sex?" Danny asked Truscott.
"Well... not much, I suppose," admitted Truscott, looking embarrassed. In fact he did know about masturbation: he had discovered it for himself more or less by accident, and once he had discovered the technique did it quite a lot. He was mature enough to be able to ejaculate, though he didn't know exactly what the whitish liquid that shot from his penis when he got excited was. He wasn't sure that what he did to himself counted as 'sex' at all, but he certainly wasn't going to mention it in front of the travellers.
"Do you know what fucking is?"
"Well... yes, it's when you put your... you know, your thing... into a girl."
"Where into a girl?"
"In front?" said Truscott, hopefully.
"That's right - so you do know a bit about sex. What you need to know is that you can't only fuck girls: you can fuck boys, too, but because boys haven't got a cunt you fuck them up the arse. Some boys are queer and like being fucked, but no normal boy would let it happen if he could do anything to stop it, because being fucked is the most shameful, disgusting thing that can possibly happen to a boy. A boy who's been fucked isn't really a proper boy ever again - once he's been fucked he's a sort of half girl, because normally it's only girls who get fucked. And the boy who fucked him can boss him about for the rest of his life: any time he wants another fuck, the boy who got fucked has to let him do it again, as often as he wants.
"The only thing worse than being fucked is being fucked in front of other people, because then the word will go around, and soon everyone will know about it: everyone will know you're not a proper boy any longer, and that you're a filthy, disgusting little pervert who lets boys put their cocks up his arse. You'd die of shame. Which is a pity, 'cos guess what's going to happen to you now?"
Truscott stared at him.
"No," he said, shaking his head slowly, "no, you can't..."
"Yes, we can," said Danny. "And we're going to. Grab him!"
Michael and Christy tried to grab hold of Truscott, but he was going absolutely mad, flailing his arms about and trying to kick, even though he had bare feet. Only when Wood joined in did they manage to subdue him, dragging him kicking and struggling to the table and holding him down over the edge, his feet on the floor and his chest on the table. It took four of them to hold him down: Tom had to come and grab an ankle, while Christy took the other one and Wood and Michael held his body and arms against the table. All the time Truscott was shouting and swearing at them, until finally Danny got fed up with it and came and stuffed Truscott's underpants into his mouth, tying them in place with his tie.
"Now, normally it would be kinder to ease him into it slowly by putting a finger into his bum, and then letting the boy with the smallest cock take him first," said Danny. "But I don't think kindness is a word he understood when he was making life hell for you and your friends, Colin, so would you like to go first?"
"Huh? No, I don't think I want to put it... no, thanks."
"Go on, it feels absolutely brilliant - even better than when you put it in his mouth."
"Really. Plus, yours is nice and big, which will make it a hell of a lot more painful for him."
"Well... won't I get... you know, mess all over me?"
"Not really, and even if you do it'll wash off. But we put some stuff on you first, to help it slide in - 'cos it won't otherwise, you're too big - and that'll absorb anything nasty. Mostly. Go on, try it."
"Well... okay, then."
Carlington got undressed, and part of him at least was eager to try the experiment, because he emerged from his underpants with a nice hard erection.
"Flipping heck, that's big!" exclaimed Wood.
"It is, isn't it?" agreed Timmy. "I bet that's going to hurt..."
He remembered how Michael's had hurt him, and this was definitely bigger than Michael's.
Danny produced a little jar of lubricant, scooped some out and applied it to the tip of Carlington's erection.
"Rub that into yourself," he advised, getting another smaller blob on his finger and rubbing it against Truscott's anus. Truscott squealed and shouted into his gag.
Carlington smoothed it onto his penis. "Is that okay?" he asked, displaying it to Danny's admiring eye.
"That ought to do," agreed Danny. "Now come here and stand between his legs - pull them a bit wider, you two, or he won't be able to reach."
Tom and Christy forced Truscott's legs further apart, which both made it easier to get into his anus and lowered it a little: now Carlington's groin was at the correct height. Danny knelt down so that he could see what went where and he guided Carlington into position so that the tip of his foreskin was just touching Truscott's anus. Truscott uttered another muffled scream and tried to break free, but they held him down firmly.
"Now push," Danny told Carlington, and he leaned forward. Despite the lubricant, at first nothing happened: his knob really was quite big, and Truscott's entrance was quite small.
"Push harder," Danny told him.
And now the lubricant did its job: the tip of Carlington's penis penetrated Truscott's hole, and once the way had been even slightly opened it was easier to go further. Another push and the whole of the knob slipped inside, accompanied by a shriek from Truscott.
"That's it!" encouraged Danny. "Keep going - shove it all in!"
He shoved it all in, and Truscott screamed and screamed again: it felt to him as if he was being split in two. Carlington, however, found it an amazing sensation, and let out a cry of his own.
"Nice, isn't it?" said Danny.
"It's incredible! It feels like a warm vice, squeezing the whole of it all over."
"Now pull it slowly out, but not all the way - I should stop when you get to the knob - and shove it in again, and then keep doing the same thing," advised Michael, pressing down on Truscott's shoulder.
Carlington did so, and Truscott's shrieked again in pain as the big penis forced its way into him once more. He struggled and squealed in vain.
He was only saved from an insupportable agony because it felt so wonderful to Carlington that he wasn't able to hold back his orgasm for more than a few seconds, but the final thrust as he came felt worse to Truscott than all the ones that had gone before. He flailed about so strongly that Michael actually lost his grip for a moment and had to more or less throw himself on top of the prisoner to keep him from getting free.
Finally Carlington relaxed and withdrew, though even that hurt his victim. Carlington stared at himself: there was a trace of shit mixed in with the lubricant, but when Danny handed him some tissues it wiped away fairly easily. The large organ slowly subsided, and Carlington, feeling a little strange now, pulled his pants and shorts back on.
"Well?" Michael asked him.
"It was... I can't really describe it. But it was flipping amazing."
"So you'll probably do it again?"
"Gosh, yes. Lots of times."
"Good, Okay, who's next? Christy?"
"No, thanks," said Christy, looking at Timmy and flashing him a quick smile. He did quite want to, but he felt that he ought to save it for Timmy.
"You bet," said Danny, flinging his clothes off and reaching for the Vaseline. He wasn't anything like as large as Carlington, of course, and he was following a route that had already been opened for him, but Truscott still howled his displeasure as it went in. Danny had never done this before, either, and like Carlington he found the sensation overwhelming. He didn't come quite as quickly as Carlington had, but it didn't take long before he was experiencing an exquisite orgasm.
"Fuck, that was good," he said, pulling out. "Your turn, Tom."
"No, I think I'll leave it for now," said Tom, surprising them all.
"Scared you're not long enough?" asked Danny.
"Fuck off! No, I just don't feel like it, that's all."
"Must be my turn, then," said Michael. "Danny, you and Tim grab this arm for me... thanks."
Michael went round in front of Truscott and taunted him by performing a slow striptease, flourishing his large erection when it finally appeared and sensuously anointing it with Vaseline right under Truscott's nose. Then he went round to the other side of the table, lined it up and rammed it in, even less subtly than he had done with Timmy. Truscott screamed once more and bucked frantically, but the others held him down and Michael was able to start thrusting unimpeded.
Cruelly, he stopped every now and again, drawing out the punishment, and it was a good ten minutes before he finally allowed himself to ejaculate. By then Truscott was wailing almost continuously through his gag.
Michael finished off and withdrew, taking the handful of tissues Carlington offered him and cleaning himself with them, and then he told the others they could let Truscott go. When they did he didn't even move, except to reach feebly for his bottom with his right hand. Michael untied the tie and pulled the underpants from Truscott's mouth.
"Right, stand up straight and look at me, or we'll have to whip you," he said.
Truscott managed a sorry approximation of standing to attention. They noticed that his penis was still limp - obviously the experience had hurt far too much to allow for any pleasurable stimulation of his prostate.
"Now you know what it's like to be a girl," Michael told him. "And now you'll never know what it's like to be a boy - at least, not a proper one. From now on, any time any of the three of us want to fuck you, you have to strip off and let them, without any argument. As you've co-operated with us all so far we promise not to tell anyone else about it, so nobody else will find out about your shame from us. I'm speaking for the travellers here, of course: I'd expect Colin to tell the other boys you picked on, but - and this goes for Timmy and Stephen, too - nobody else. I know that everyone in your class knows you piss your pants, but it wouldn't be fair to tell them you've been fucked up the arse, too - unless you piss us off in the future, of course. Agreed?"
They all said yes.
"Good. In that case, get dressed and you can go."
With some difficulty - his bottom was really hurting - Truscott managed to put his clothes on. He hobbled to the door, and Timmy followed him.
"I'm just going to walk up the lane with him," he told them. "Just to make sure he doesn't collapse into a ditch, or anything."
He followed Truscott up the drive and walked beside him up the lane to where the footpath started.
"It wears off, you know," he said.
"The pain. It stops hurting after a bit."
"How do you know?"
"Because Michael did that to me just after I became a slave. I thought I was going to die - I could hardly walk. But once I got home it started to feel better. You will, too."
"It doesn't feel like it."
"I know. I was scared in case he'd seriously damaged me - I thought I was bleeding, but I wasn't. Nor are you - I looked. When you get home have a nice hot bath and wash it, gently, and then just rest for the rest of the evening. By the time you go to bed you should feel okay."
"Right. Look, Collier, why are you telling me all this? I thought you hated me."
"I thought I did, too, but now I'm not so sure. I know what it feels like, remember? Look, do you want me to come all the way home with you?"
"No, thanks, I'll manage."
"Okay. See you tomorrow, then."
Timmy walked back towards the garage, but before he got there he met Christy, Wood and Tom, so he turned round and headed for the bus stop instead. When they reached the footpath Tom and Wood stopped, so Timmy said goodnight and walked on with Christy.
"Why didn't you do it to him?" Timmy asked.
"Because... Well, now that you and me do it properly..."
"We do it because we're friends and it makes us both feel good, not because I want to hurt you and make you cry, which it how Michael did it to you. Anyway, I like doing it the way we do, and I didn't want to sort of spoil it by using my knob to try to hurt someone."
"Oh. Christy... what Danny said... is that why you did it to me, so you could make me do it over and over again whenever you want?"
"No! Well... maybe the first time I might have been thinking something like that, I suppose - but now I'd never make you do it if you didn't want to, I swear! See... Danny's only talking about using sex as punishment. There's two sorts of sex: one is using it to hurt and embarrass your enemy - so if he's a boy you fuck him up the arse and force him to suck and things like that, so you make him feel horrible, and then you tell him what a queer he is, and that he'll never be a proper boy... and the other is sharing something nice with someone you love, only doing things that you both really want to do and trying to make each other feel good. That's proper sex - it's what sex should be about. What we do to Truscott is the other thing, and it's totally different to what you and me do - okay?"
Timmy nodded, and Christy put his arm round his shoulders, not caring that Wood and Tom could probably see them.
"I'd never hurt you, Timmy," he said, quietly. "We're friends. I love you."
"I love you, too," said Timmy, and Christy hugged him hard.
Fifty yards behind them a similar conversation was taking place.
"Why didn't you do it to him?" asked Wood.
Tom shrugged. "Because... well, I've never done that to anyone, and..."
"Well... you're going to laugh..."
"No, I won't. What?"
"See... I was hoping the first person I could do it with would be you."
Wood stared at him. "But... I don't understand," he said. "I thought you weren't going to make me do that?"
"I'm not. If you don't want to do it, we won't. But I was hoping that in the end you'd let me, and I'd prefer to save the first time for someone..."
"Someone I really like, okay?"
Wood stared at him again. "Do you... do you really mean that?"
"Yeah. Don't know why, but I do, for some reason."
"I like you, too," said Wood. "I mean, I told you that already, but it's not just because you don't... you know, make me do stuff I don't want to. I just..." He shrugged.
"You fancy me!" accused Tom, grinning.
"No! Look, we already talked about this... I just like you, that's all."
"Okay. So, anyway, I'm not going to fuck Shithead back there, because I want to do it properly with someone I like the first time. And if you don't want me to do it I'll just have to wait until I find someone else I like, won't I?"
Truscott did feel more comfortable by the time he went to bed, but he certainly didn't feel 'better': he'd never felt worse, mentally, than he did now, not even when all six of the juniors were humiliating him at once. He never thought for a moment that Danny might have been lying: he knew he was halfway to being a girl now, and that he'd never be a proper boy, and he was sure it would be immediately obvious to the other boys in his class the moment he stepped into the classroom the following morning - even if Wood and Collier didn't spill the beans first. He lay in bed crying, and it took him a very long time to get to sleep.
Next morning he tried to tell his mother he didn't feel well, but she took his temperature, found nothing wrong and packed him off to school regardless. It took him almost five minutes to force himself to enter his form room when he got there, and if anyone had laughed he'd have bolted for home straight away. But nobody gave him a second glance, even though both Collier and Wood were already there, so it looked as if they had kept their word at least.
But at break time he was marched off to meet the juniors at the pavilion, and he knew it would be different there: Carlington had absolutely no reason to hold back from telling the others everything. He was taken up to the back room, ordered to strip and to kneel in front of them - all six of them, even though this was a Thursday and so it should only have been Lewis and Shabbir.
"Last night I found out some new ways to deal with bullies," Carlington told them. "Better ways, too, because they're permanent: once someone's had this done to them it changes them for life. I'll show you what I mean."
He started to get undressed.
"It's about sex," he continued, and the magic word made them all even more interested. "Normally sex is something that happens between a boy and a girl, but last night I learned that you can use a boy for sex, too. Of course, if two boys are going to have sex it means that one of them has to be taking the place of the girl, and that's pretty shameful: no proper boy would want to act like a girl. We'll show you. There are two things you can do, and this is the first one. Open wide, Truscott."
Naked, he sat on the bench and Truscott came and took Carlington's erection in his mouth, while the audience made noises of disbelief and disgust.
"What's he doing?" asked Shabbir.
"He's sucking my thing. It feels really, really good - and of course he hates doing it, because it makes him a girl. Now, I want to show you something else in a minute, so I need someone to take my place here. It's Thursday, so... Sim, do you want a try?"
"I think it's my turn, actually," interrupted Shabbir. "Isn't that right, Sim?"
"Oh... Well... yeth, I thpothe tho."
"Good." Shabbir removed his clothing and sat down next to Carlington, who told Truscott to swap partners. Truscott started sucking Shabbir while Carlington stood up, though he made no attempt to get dressed.
"You can all try this next week when it's your team's turn to look after him," Carlington told them. "You'll like it, though: if you make him keep going long enough it gives you a really amazing feeling. What do you reckon, Usman?"
"It's nice," Shabbir confirmed. "Sort of warm."
They watched for a couple of minutes, and then Shabbir said, "I think something's happening to me - it feels strange..."
"Good," said Carlington. "You're going to find out what I was talking about. Try to hold it in as long as you can."
They watched as Truscott sucked away steadily and Shabbir tried to hold it back, fascinated by the way his breathing changed and his muscles clenched, until finally he gave a little cry and bucked up against Truscott's face.
"Okay, you can stop," he said, finally. "Wow! That was...interesting, Colin. What makes it feel like that?"
"It's what sex feels like, apparently. And there's another way to get that feeling, which is even worse for him: now I'm really going to make him act like a girl. I'm going to fuck him."
"Oh, no, please don't," begged Truscott. "It really hurts, Carlington - I still ache from last night."
"Tough. Bend over and hold it open."
Carlington pulled from his pocket the small jar of Vaseline he had been given by Michael the previous evening and applied a small blob to Truscott's bum, and them rubbed some more onto himself.
"What's that stuff for?" asked Shabbir, who was getting dressed once more.
"It's to help it slip in. It won't otherwise, because your bum-hole is really tight - you need to make your thing slippery. Okay, Truscott, get ready."
He lined himself up and pushed. As before it took a couple of tried to get it in, and as before Truscott gave a cry of pain as it did so. Carlington pushed steadily until it was all the way in.
"This is fucking," he told them. "Any boy who lets another boy fuck him isn't really a real boy afterwards, he's sort of a girl in disguise, and once I've done it to him once he has to let me do it again whenever I want to, for the rest of his life. It's a pretty bad punishment - but then some boys deserve punishing that badly. Now watch - I'm going to fuck him properly, and in the end it'll make me feel nice, just like you felt nice just now, Usman."
He began to thrust against Truscott, who tried to relax but couldn't, and as a result it hurt him more with every thrust. He tried to restrain his cries of pain because he wanted to minimise his shame in front of the other juniors, but it hurt so much that by the time Carlington reached orgasm - and once again it didn't take long - he was crying like a little girl. Carlington pulled out and wiped himself off with a couple of tissues he had brought along specially, and then he got dressed.
"Now Truscott's my girl," he told them. "If any of you want to try doing that to him, you can, though to be honest I think one or two of you... well, your things aren't really long enough yet. But you can all make him suck, and that feels almost as nice, plus it feels almost as shameful for him. He liked looking at our things, so now we're going to use them to punish him. I think that's fair enough, don't you?
"Okay, Truscott, you can go now. You don't have to come here at lunchtime, but Michael said to remind you that you have to go to see them after school."
Truscott pulled his clothes on mechanically, still crying, and left.
So now Truscott's a complete mess, and in the next chapter we're going to see that pushing someone too far almost always has unpleasant consequences. Remember me saying back in Chapter 3 that everything sorts itself out by the end of the story? Right now that may be hard to believe...
You know the mail address by now – firstname.lastname@example.org. Feel free to use it – but please don't be too critical until you've read the next chapter!
Copyright April 2007 – all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part thereof anywhere without my written permission.