Timmy and the Travellers – Chapter 5
At the end of the last chapter Timmy, Michael and Christy had agreed on a plan to try to entrap the two school bullies. Will it work? Today we're going to find out – but first it's off to the woods again for another round of the hunting game...
On Monday evening they met at the garage at four o'clock. Tom was not there: he had been collared by his mother and told to baby-sit his little sister, and he had told Danny that if he thought he could get away with it he'd lock his sister in the cupboard and leave her there while he went to the garage with the others. But of course he couldn't really do that, so he was stuck in the caravan.
Timmy had nothing new to tell them as far as the plan for Wednesday was concerned: he just said that if one of them could meet him off the bus in the morning he would give them the camera and tape recorder then.
They went round to the wood to play hunters: Danny was determined to get his reward tonight.
"What about a proper challenge?" suggested Christy. "Let's play in teams: two hunters, two runners."
"You and Mikey, I suppose," said Danny. "I don't think so. That wouldn't give me much of a chance, would it?"
"Okay, then," Christy offered, "I'll go with Timmy. I reckon we can beat you two any time."
"You're on," said Danny, quickly. "Losers get whipped - except if you lot lose Timmy has to suck me and Mikey too."
Christy looked at Timmy, who nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "Let's make it so the runners have to stay together - it'll be harder to hide like that. Fifteen minute time limit. What do you want to do first?"
"We'll hunt," said Danny. "Strip off, you two."
So Christy and Timmy stripped to their shoes and ran off into the woods.
"Got any ideas?" asked Christy.
"Follow me, then."
Christy led him in a wide circle until they were approaching the hedge around the abandoned house. Just short of the hedge was a big tree.
"If you get down on your hands and knees and I get on your back I reckon I can reach the bottom branch," said Christy. "Let's try."
It worked: Christy was able to reach the branch and pull himself onto it, and then he reached down, took Timmy's wrist and more or less pulled him up onto the branch next to him. From there he helped him further and further up the tree until they had reached the highest point they could get to. Timmy made the mistake of looking down and swayed for a moment.
"Okay?" asked Christy.
"Lean against the trunk and I'll hold you there, then."
Timmy did that and Christy put his arms round him, holding him upright. Timmy slipped his own arms round Christy's waist.
"I knew that was just a sneaky way of getting me to cuddle you," said Christy.
"It worked, though, didn't it?"
"You don't need to do it the sneaky way. Just saying something like 'Can we cuddle?' ought to do the trick."
"Can we cuddle?" asked Timmy, grinning up at him.
"Anytime you like."
"Good... shh, they're coming."
The hunters passed under the tree but didn't look up, and shortly afterwards they moved away again. Fifteen minutes came and went, and Christy helped Timmy back to the bottom branch, dropped to the ground and then caught Timmy when he followed. They headed back to the lane and jeered at the failed hunters.
They changed places: Christy and Timmy got dressed while Michael and Danny stripped and headed off into the woods. The new hunters counted to a hundred and then set out after them, staying together until they reached the fence at the far side of the wood.
"Now you go that way," said Christy, pointing off to the right, "and I'll go the other way. If you find them, shout - and don't forget to look up into the trees."
So they separated and searched, but twenty minutes elapsed and they still hadn't found their quarry. Christy called for them to come out and they all in due course reconvened at the starting point.
"Okay," said Christy, "you can't find us and we can't find you. Now what? Shall we try again or call it a draw?"
"Neither," said Danny. "I can't be bothered to hide again - besides, we could both use the same places and then nobody would get found. But I'm not missing out on my suck. Let's go back to the garage and play cards for it."
Once back in the garage they set the chairs up round the table and got the cards out.
"What are we going to play?" asked Christy.
"Poker," said Danny, firmly.
"Can you play poker?" Christy asked Timmy.
"No... is it hard to learn?"
"Not really. Look, I'll show you the sort of hands you need..."
For five minutes or so Christy explained the idea of the game, showing Timmy examples of each sort of hand. Timmy seemed to get the idea quite quickly.
"Right, let's play, or we won't get finished before Tiny Cock has to go home," said Danny. "Let's play strip - that way we'll be ready to start as soon as he loses."
"I'm not going to lose, Spotty-face," said Timmy.
Danny made a rude noise and started to deal, but Michael stopped him before anyone could look at their cards.
"Hang on," he said. "The three of us are all wearing about the same, but Pretty Boy's probably wearing a lot more than us."
"Yeah, a bra, for starters," suggested his brother. When they had stopped laughing they insisted that Timmy remove his shoes and socks to put everyone on an equal footing. Then they got on with the game.
Timmy did fairly well, or was lucky, if you prefer. In any event, he wasn't the first to lose: that was Christy. Danny lost a couple of hands later, and when he removed his trousers they saw that as usual he had an erection.
"Come on, Mikey," he said. "Beat the little one: I want my suck."
"Come on, Timmy," responded Christy. "I want to whip these two till they bleed."
Timmy lost once more, and now was only wearing his pants. Danny pulled the elastic waistband forward and looked down.
"Nothing there," he reported.
Timmy moved and looked into Danny's left ear.
"Nothing there, either," he said.
Christy and Michael both laughed, and after a moment Danny joined in.
Michael lost the next hand, and now he only had his trousers on.
"This hand decides it, then," he said, dealing once more.
Timmy started with a pair of tens, but three changes failed to improve on it, and Michael's pairs of fours and eights were quite sufficient.
"Brilliant, Mikey!" cried Danny. "I'll let you whip Christy while I get my suck, and then we'll swap."
"Suits me," agreed his brother. "Bend over the back of the chair, then, Baldy."
Christy took up position while Timmy knelt in front of Danny and started to suck him. Christy watched for a moment, but then Michael picked up his brother's belt and after that he had to concentrate on not disgracing himself by crying out.
In fact Michael hit him a lot less hard than he could have done: they were best friends, after all. It stung a bit, but not enough to make Christy shout out, and nothing like hard enough to make him cry. Michael delivered six blows and then put the belt down, and the two of them sat down to watch Timmy working on Danny. Timmy was clearly getting the hang of this now, because Danny was reduced to squealing ecstasy very quickly.
"Your turn," said Danny, getting up and reaching for his clothes.
Michael took his place and Timmy started working on him. Once Danny was fully dressed he put Christy back against the chair and gave him six that were a great deal harder than his brother's efforts had been, and Christy was obliged to cry out a couple of times and to wriggle about between blows. Danny was obviously enjoying himself, taking plenty of time between blows to get the maximum entertainment out of it, but eventually he delivered number six and Christy was able to stand up and rub his sore bum.
"You wait till it's your turn," he threatened.
Danny just stuck his tongue out at him and turned to watch his brother, who by now was also wriggling about and gasping, though for a very different reason. Soon he gave a louder cry and thrust up against Timmy's head. Timmy let him finish and then spat out what was in his mouth.
"I managed to taste it that time," he said.
"I've been saving it up for you," Michael told him.
"And now we can whip the slave," said Danny.
"No, you can't," said Christy. "That wouldn't be fair: I got whipped, he had to suck. You can't give him two punishments."
"Why not? He's a slave. And he's got a tiny cock."
"You have to treat slaves fairly. And, as he pointed out, you've got a tiny brain, but we won't punish you for it."
"Then I should whip him for being cheeky."
"I suppose you could argue that, but you're still not going to. All right?"
"Good. Get dressed, Timmy."
So Timmy got dressed and they all walked up to the bus stop with him and waited for his bus to arrive. Christy couldn't talk to him openly with the other two there, but as the bus arrived Timmy managed to whisper "half past three tomorrow, here" in his ear without the others hearing.
So the following evening Christy was ready and waiting at the bus stop when Timmy got out of school. They travelled back to Timmy's house, took their clothes off in the bedroom and went through to the bathroom, where Timmy ran a bath.
"Can we try sharing it tonight?" he asked. "That might be fun."
"As long as I get to soak for a while I don't care."
Timmy took the end with the taps so that Christy could lie back at the other end. There wasn't really enough room, but they somehow arranged their legs so that they could both get most of their body submerged. They soaked for a while, then they washed each other, and finally they washed each other's hair.
Once they were finished they dried off, ran through to the bedroom and got into bed, with Timmy lying on top of Christy.
"I've been looking forward to this," he said.
"Me, too," said Christy.
For about ten minutes they just lay quietly in each other's arms. Then Timmy rolled off to the side.
"I found something out," he said. "About Wood and Truscott, I mean - well, about Truscott, mainly. See, at break this morning I was walking around the side of the cricket pitch near the pavilion when I saw Truscott coming out of one of the rhododendron bushes. I wondered what he'd been doing - I knew Wood wasn't round there because I'd seen him on the other side of the field five minutes earlier - so as soon as he was out of sight I headed that way to see if I could find anything. And I heard someone crying.
"I managed to find a way into the bush and found Jenner, the kid with the big ears. He was only half dressed: he was trying to button his shirt when I arrived.
"'What's happened?' I asked.
"As soon as he saw me he sort of shrank away, as if he wanted to run but couldn't because he didn't have his shoes on: they were lying on the ground next to his blazer and tie. I realised that I had been with Wood when he had been threatened and photographed, so he probably thought I was like them.
"'It's okay, I'm nothing to do with Truscott and Wood, I swear,' I said. 'Tell me what happened.'
"He looked at me a bit distrustfully, but I suppose I don't really look very threatening..."
"Don't you think so?" asked Christy. Timmy jabbed him in the ribs.
"Anyway, he seemed to decide to trust me, and he told me what had happened. Apparently Truscott had come and found him and ordered him to go with him, telling him that the photo would do the rounds if he refused. He brought him to the bush, dragged him inside and ordered him to get undressed - completely undressed this time. Again, he threatened to pass the photo round Jenner's class if he refused. So Jenner took all his clothes off, and then Truscott made him stand with his hands on his head and his legs apart. For about five minutes Truscott stared at him, especially at... you know. Jenner was shivering - it wasn't very warm this morning - and he was scared, and he started to cry, but Truscott just told him to shut up.
"Then Truscott made him do a wee. Jenner said he tried to refuse, but Truscott grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the edge of the bush: 'Do what you're told or I'll march you all across the cricket pitch,' Truscott told him. So Jenner managed to do his business, and Truscott stared at him all the time. Jenner said it made him feel really dirty, because nobody had ever seen him do that before, except his mother when he was very young. But Truscott seemed to really enjoy it.
"When he had finished Truscott told him that if anyone heard about it he'd make sure the photo went up all over the school, and that if he got into trouble for it, Wood would cut Jenner's big flappy ears off. Then he shoved Jenner over and went back outside. Jenner was still getting his clothes back on when I found him.
"'I'm going to sort this out for you,' I promised him. 'I've got some friends, and we're going to put a stop to this bullying.'
"' How?' he asked. "They're big and strong and they've got a knife, but you and me are small and... well, useless.'
"'My friends aren't,' I told him. 'They've got knives, too.'
"I asked if Wood had done anything to him, but he said no, the only time he had seen Wood was when he went to give him his twenty pence on Monday morning. So I helped him to get dressed - his hands were still trembling and he was having problems getting his buttons done up - and then we went back to the field.
"I thought about it during the next couple of lessons. I didn't think anyone other than Wood and Truscott was involved: I'd never seen anyone looking like he was plotting with them, and I didn't think Truscott would trust anyone else with the photos, so at lunch time I told the teacher I had a tummy ache and didn't want any lunch, and then while the rest of my class was in the dining hall I went back to our classroom and had a look in Truscott's bag.
"I was right: there was a zipped pocket inside the bag, and inside that were five photographs and a small notebook. He had written a name and class on the bottom of each photo, so I copied them into my diary, and during break tomorrow I'm going to find all those boys and talk to them. I'm hoping that Truscott and Wood will be busy recruiting a new victim - and that you'll be filming it, of course - which should leave me free to talk to the existing ones."
"What was in the notebook?" asked Christy.
"Oh, there was a page for each of the kids in the photos showing how much they had paid each week. A couple of them seemed to have been paying up almost since the beginning of the school year, even though Truscott didn't have his Polaroid camera back then - I suppose their photos got taken later."
"Did you destroy the photos?"
"No. I thought about it, but I realised that if I did they'd get nervous and then we wouldn't have a chance to film them in the act later this week. But now that I know where they are I can get rid of them any time I like."
"It would be a good idea to do that before we hit them with the evidence - if we manage to get any, that is."
"I think so, too - Thursday lunchtime, perhaps, and then we can confront them on Thursday evening."
They fell silent again for a bit, until Timmy said, "Shall I go and get the Vaseline from the bathroom?"
"Good idea," said Christy, throwing the covers back.
This time Christy
hadn't had an orgasm beforehand, and consequently he had to take
it very slowly and stop several times in order to make sure that
he did not reach his climax before Timmy did. But in some ways
it felt almost as good just lying quietly, simply holding Timmy
and occasionally kissing his shoulders, neck and – when he
turned his head to the side – cheek. As for Timmy, he felt
wonderful even before he reached orgasm: he loved being joined to
Christy in this way, feeling warm and full, and he would have
been quite happy to lie still with Christy's arms round him for
the next ten years or so. In the end, however, Christy allowed
himself to finish, though not until he was sure that Timmy had
experienced a climax as well. They cleaned up and went back to
bed, spending the next hour cuddling and occasionally kissing,
only getting up when Christy said that he ought to go and catch
his bus before Timmy's parents came home.
Christy and Michael met Timmy's bus the following morning. Timmy handed them a bag with the camera and recorder in and told them that he'd meet them in the garage after school. They watched him walk away down the lane.
"I wonder how much we'd get for these if we took them into town?" mused Michael.
"Mikey, we can't!"
"We certainly could - if some townie is stupid enough to give us a load of expensive gear he should expect us to nick it. We've got a reputation to uphold, after all."
"This isn't 'some townie', this is Timmy."
"He's still a townie...still, let's stick to the plan. That way we can get two more townies to dance to our tune, and if we can nick stuff off them I don't suppose it'll bother you as much, will it?"
"Not in the slightest."
"Thought not. You're obviously soft on Timmy-baby, though."
Christy decided not to answer that.
They made their way to the pavilion about twenty minutes before break was due to start. They had no problems: they managed to wriggle under the fence, and the door responded to Michael's knife as it had previously. They moved the table over to the window and got the camera and tape recorder ready.
"We might have to swap places, depending where they stand," said Michael. "I need to be able to get their faces in if I possibly can."
They waited. They heard a distant bell ring, and shortly after that some equally distant playground noises, but nothing any closer. At first they thought the bullies weren't going to come, in which case they would have to repeat the entire performance the next day... but then there was a rustling noise as someone made their way through the bushes. Michael started the camera and Christy turned on the recorder and held the microphone by the open window.
The noise-maker turned out to be a tall boy with light brown hair - Wood, according to Timmy's class photo. He sat down under the window, so close to the wall that Michael couldn't film him, though he had successfully tracked him from the edge of the clearing.
Another five minutes went by, and then two more boys emerged from the bushes, a small, dark-skinned boy wearing metal-framed glasses, who was being frog-marched along by a slightly taller boy was long dark hair and a thin pinched face. Truscott, undoubtedly.
"Who's this?" asked Wood, standing up.
"This is Shabbir," Truscott told him.
"Didn't know they'd started letting Pakis into the school," commented Wood, moving nicely into shot and twiddling his knife.
"This is the only one," Truscott told him. "Must have slipped in when nobody was looking."
Wood grunted. "Well, Shabbir," he said, lifting the frightened boy's chin with the point of his knife, "this school can be quite a dangerous place, especially for little four-eyed Pakis. Accidents happen here a lot. Me and Truscott, we don't like that: I mean, you little kids have got enough to worry about getting your homework done and that without having to keep looking over your shoulders all the time. So we got a scheme to help you: we pick out all the kids who look most likely to have an accident, and the ones we like we look after. You're almost certain to have an accident otherwise, but if we look after you we can guarantee it won't happen - if anyone gives you a hard time, or calls you names, or anything, you just come and see us and we'll sort them out for you. Okay?"
"O... okay," agreed Shabbir, distrustfully.
"No, I'm serious: nobody will touch you if we're looking after you. So now you're going to be fine. All you have to do is to come and find me every Monday morning and give me twenty pee, and then all your worries will be over."
"Of course, you have to realise that this is a private arrangement: we can't look after everyone, so we don't want you telling anyone about it. If you did, there would almost certainly be a nasty accident," and he apparently lost his grip on his knife, which landed point first between Shabbir's feet. "See what I mean?"
The boy nodded dully.
"Now, my friend here has a way of helping you to remember to keep things quiet - don't you, Truscott?"
"I certainly do," agreed the ratty boy, and they swapped places, and Michael was delighted to see that Wood's face was now clear in his viewfinder, just as Truscott's had been while he was looking out over Shabbir's shoulder.
Wood took hold of Shabbir's elbows while Truscott undid the boy's shirt and then undid his belt. At that point Shabbir started to yell, but only for a couple of seconds, until the pain in his elbows, which Wood was crushing, kicked in. Then he stopped shouting and just gasped and writhed uselessly.
Truscott undid the boy's shorts and pulled them and his little white briefs down to his ankles, pushing the shirt open to expose the boy's small genitals. Then he took his camera from his bag.
"Don't move, or you'll really be in the shit," said Wood, stepping out of shot.
Truscott took two photos - the boy flinched away the first time and had to be reprimanded - and waited for them to develop before allowing the boy to get dressed once more. Then he showed him the second photo, which obviously met his requirements.
"Now, if you should make the mistake of telling anyone about this, a copy of this photo will go up on every notice board in the school," Truscott told him. "And it's no point trying to find them - we've got a friend who looks after them for us, so if anything happens - like us getting taken to the head, or anything - there'll be someone else to make sure the whole school gets to see that you're the same colour all the way down. Get it?"
Shabbir nodded to indicate that he got it, and was dismissed. He stumbled off, crying, while Wood and Truscott picked up their bags and followed him out of the clearing.
"Got it, indeed," said Michael, turning the camera off. "God, I hope this comes out okay, 'cos if it does we've got those two right where we want them."
They waited until everything was quiet outside and then crept carefully out of the pavilion, through the bushes and back under the fence. They went back to the garage and played the tape, which had picked up everything quite satisfactorily. They left everything on the shelf in the bag Timmy had brought them in and went back to the site for lunch, returning to the garage at four o’clock.
“Well?” asked Timmy, as soon as he arrived.
“Tape’s fine, and the film should be okay as well,” reported Michael, handing him his bag.
“Brilliant! I’ll check it as soon as I get home. If it’s okay I’ll copy it in the school video room at break tomorrow - there are two machines there, and you can use them to copy a tape onto another one. I can copy the cassette tape at home. Then... can you help me to explain it to Wood tomorrow evening?”
“Of course. Aren’t we going to do both of them, though?”
“Yes, but one at a time should prevent them getting out of hand. Besides, I’ve been finding some stuff out today...”
Christy almost said something that would betray the fact that he had met Timmy the previous evening but managed to bite it back at the last moment. Instead he just said, “What?”
“Well... I spoke to all the kids that they’ve recruited so far, except for whoever they got today, of course... who was it, by the way?”
“Little Paki kid,” said Michael. “Shabby, or something.”
“Shabbir,” Timmy corrected. “He’s the only Asian kid in the school, so it must have been him. Anyway, I spoke to all the others, one at a time, and they pretty much all told me the same thing: Wood leaves them alone completely, provided they pay up on time, which they all have, pretty much; but Truscott... Truscott is a complete bastard to them.”
"How?" asked Michael.
"Well... I spoke to Carlington first, because he's the one they've had paying them longest, since the middle of last term. He said that Truscott grabs him every now and again, pretty much once a week, and drags him into the rhododendrons. Then he makes him take all his clothes off. Carlington says Truscott likes to keep him completely bare for as long as possible. Sometimes he just looks at him, but sometimes he pretends to be a doctor and examines him all over. And usually he makes him go to the toilet in front of him. Carlington said he hates it, and that it makes him feel really ashamed, but he's scared to tell anyone in case he gets beaten up or stabbed, or something. All the others said pretty much the same thing: Truscott undresses them all the time.
"They all think they're the only one, by the way: none of them know about the others, and for the moment I didn't tell them. I just told them all that I thought we could stop it from happening in future. Carlington said he'd do anything to make it stop but he didn't see how someone like me could deal with Wood. I'm a good eight inches taller than Carlington, by the way, so you can imagine what he's like: a little tiny kid with bright carrotty red hair and massive glasses. He makes me look like Superman.
"But none of them said too much about Wood - in fact Williams said that one Monday he left his purse at home by mistake, and when he went to explain to Wood - and he fully expected to get beaten up - Truscott was there and wanted to give him a thrashing, but Wood just said it was fine, it could happen to anyone, just don't forget it tomorrow. They're a bit scared of Wood, but Truscott's the one they hate. And that's another reason I think we should deal with them separately."
"Okay," said Michael. "What do you want us to do?"
"I'm going to copy the tape at break and try to show it to Wood in the lunch hour. I'll give him a copy of the sound tape as well. Then I'll tell him to meet me after school if he doesn't want it going to the headmaster. I'm pretty sure he'll turn up. Then I'm going to bring him here, and between us we can tell him what he has to do to save himself from being expelled, or maybe even arrested. He's tough, but I think you two could deal with him between you, even if we didn't have the tape to hold over his head."
"Aren't you afraid he'll beat you up once he knows what you've done?" asked Christy.
"He won't dare if he knows the tape will go public if he does. As long as the film comes out okay, of course..."
"You'd better go home and check it, then. We'll meet your bus again in the morning, then you can tell us if everything's okay."
So Timmy went home and played the tape, and it was even better than he had expected: the camera wobbled a bit here and there, but all three participants were easily identifiable, and in combination with the tape the evidence was absolutely incontrovertible. Timmy made three copies of the audio tape, in addition to the original, which he intended to keep at home: one to give Christy for safe keeping when they met his bus next morning, and one each for Wood and Truscott. He put two blank video tapes into his school bag ready for copying next day.
At break he went to the video room, found it (as was generally the case) unoccupied, and made two copies of the video tape. At lunchtime he got permission to leave school and ran to the garage, leaving the original and one copy on the high shelf behind an old box full of rusty nails, and then he hurried back to school and found Wood.
"I've got something you need to see," he told him.
"Like what?" said Wood, not moving.
"This," said Timmy, opening his blazer to reveal the videotape.
"What is it?"
"Look, you just need to see it - and before a teacher wants to know what we're talking about, too. It's important, Wood."
Wood's curiosity was aroused, so he followed Timmy to the video room. Timmy closed the door, put the tape into a machine and pressed play, followed immediately by pause.
"There's a sound tape that goes with it," he said, putting the audio tape into a cassette player and hitting play. "They won't quite be in sync, but you'll get the idea."
He hit play on the video once more and stepped back to let Wood enjoy the show. Sound and vision were about a second apart, but that didn't seem to matter as far as Wood was concerned: he just stood there open-mouthed.
"What... I mean where... how... How the hell did you get this?" he demanded.
"A boy I know gave it to me and told me to give it to you. It's a copy, he said, and so's the sound tape. He wants to talk to you about it."
"But... Who?" cried Wood.
"Just a boy. He doesn't go to this school."
"Doesn't go.... then how the hell did he get that?"
Timmy shrugged. "He just told me to give you the message. You're to come with me after school if you don't want this tape to end up somewhere else."
Wood tore his eyes away from the screen and grabbed Timmy's lapels. Timmy kept calm and added, "And he said if you hurt me there'll be a copy of the tape on the headmaster's desk tomorrow morning."
Wood hesitated and then let go. Timmy turned the machines off and popped the tapes out, handing them both to Wood.
"These are yours," he said, thus proving, at least in Wood's mind, that these really were only copies. "Meet me after school by the west gate. Oh - and you're not to mention this to Truscott, either. If you do, another copy of the tape gets sent to your parents."
He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Wood to stew.
At the end of school he waited by the west gate, and obviously the tapes had had the desired effect because Wood turned up less than a minute later.
"Okay, Collier, where are we going?" he asked.
"Follow me." Timmy led him along the footpath and down the lane to the abandoned house. They fought their way past the brambles and into the garage, where they found a reception committee of four.
"Shit, Collier, what are these gippos doing here?" demanded Wood.
"These gippos have got the original of that tape you saw earlier," Michael told him. "So you'd better be a bit more polite, hadn't you?"
"Get lost. I want to know what's going on."
"What's going on is that you're a bully who picks on little kids who can't fight back, and that sort of thing really pisses me off," said Michael. "So we're going to do something about it."
"Oh, yeah? Like what?"
"God, you really are stupid, aren't you? Okay, I'll explain it in nice short words. We're going to give that tape to lots of other people. Where it goes first is up to you."
"Okay," said Wood, "what do you want? Money? I haven't got much of that."
"No, we don't want money," said Michael. "We want you."
"What do you mean?"
"Here's how it goes: you agree to be our slave, or the tape goes to your headmaster."
"What! I'm not grovelling in front of a bunch of bloody gippos! Tell them, Collier, that's stupid!"
"No, you're stupid," said Michael. "Ti... Collier tells us you've all got a really important exam next term to decide which school you go to next. Well, if you don't do what we tell you, you won't be around to take that exam. Think what that would mean."
Wood thought about it briefly. "No bloody way," he said. "I'm not doing what you bastards tell me. You'd never dare try to talk to the head - and they'd never let you into the school anyway, far less as far as his office."
"Never heard of the postal system?" asked Michael.
"Okay, that's it," said Wood, pulling his knife from his pocket. "Give me my bloody tape, now!"
All four travellers pulled their knives out.
"There's four of us, and we learned how to use these when we were about six years old," said Michael. "How good are you, I wonder?"
Wood looked as if he didn't care: he was clearly about to throw himself at Michael regardless. Timmy stepped between them.
"Don't, Wood," he said. "They mean it. You can't fight four of them - you'll be killed."
"I'd sooner be killed than..."
"No, you wouldn't. Look, I know you hate the idea, but you should do what they tell you."
"Because... look, think about it! If the head sees the tape you'll be expelled for sure, and then you'll end up in some grotty secondary modern next year. It'll mess your whole life up."
"And we might decide to send a copy to the police, as well," said Christy. "Maybe it'll be a reform school instead of a secondary modern."
"And I wonder how your parents would react if we sent them a copy?" added Michael. "Bet they wouldn't be pleased. They might even kick you out of the house."
Wood stood for a moment trying to think of a way out of this, but he could only think of one thing, which was using his knife to try to force the travellers to hand the tape back. He knew that he had little chance against four of them, but he couldn't think of anything else to do, so he raised his knife once more.
Timmy grabbed his wrist.
"Please don't, Wood, you'll get badly hurt," he said, though really he was worried in case Christy got hurt instead. "Just listen to them. Please?"
Wood hesitated, then lowered his knife.
"Okay, talk," he said to Michael. "What do I have to do to get the tape back?"
"Put the knife away," said Michael, lowering his own knife.
Wood did so - at least he hadn't been made to hand it over, so he could still use it if there was no other choice.
"Right. Well, first, obviously, you swear never to bully any little kids again."
"Next, you repay all the money you stole from them."
"But... I can't do that! I've spent it!"
"So you'll have to repay them out of your own pocket money, then."
"I can't," muttered Wood, looking at the floor.
"I said I can't. My father... well, he lost his job, and we haven't got much money at the moment. I'm only getting fifty pence a week, because all the other spare money - and there isn't much - is having to be put away for next year's school fees. I'm not sure how much we took, but it'll take for ever to pay it back."
"Tough. You stole it, you give it back, or you won't have to worry about school fees. I expect they'll accept it in instalments, but it's got to be repaid before you leave school in July."
"I'll try," muttered Wood. "Okay?"
"No, you'll do it, even if you have to sell all your toys and games and stuff. And third, you agree to be our slave until... let's say September, when you go back to school."
"No! You can't expect me to agree to that! I mean, you're a bunch..."
"...of dirty gippos, yes, we know," said Michael. "That's why it'll teach you a lesson to be our slave."
"Yes, but I can't! I... I just can't!"
"Yes, you can," said Timmy. "It's got to be better than being expelled, or arrested, or thrown out of the house, hasn't it? And... they'll treat you fair, Wood."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been their slave for a couple of weeks. If you do what they tell you, they'll treat you fairly. Okay, you'll hate doing it, and you'll feel ashamed and embarrassed, but they won't beat you unless you deserve it - will you?"
"No," said Michael. "Like he said, if you do what we tell you, you'll be fine."
Wood's shoulders slumped. He knew he had no realistic chance of fighting, and there really did seem to be no way out of this mess. He took a deep breath.
"Okay," he said, "I agree. Now can I have the tape?"
"Don't be stupid!" said Michael. "You get the tape back in September, otherwise it's pretty obvious you'd just take it and then stick two fingers up at us. But as long as you do what you've promised, I swear that nobody else will see it, and that you'll get it back at the start of the autumn term. Okay?"
"I suppose so."
"Good. Okay, now we can get you sworn in. Get undressed."
"No!" Wood looked shocked. "I'm not stripping off in front of a load..."
"Don't say that word unless you want to get whipped," Christy warned him. "The word you want is travellers."
"Okay, travellers. I still can't undress in front of you. it wouldn't be right."
"Whereas it's perfectly okay to make all those little kids undress in front of you?" said Michael.
"That was Truscott's idea."
"Yes, but you went along with it, didn't you? So now you get to find out how it feels. Strip, or sod off home and leave us to decide who to send the tape to first."
Slowly Wood began to undress. Timmy took each item as he removed it and hung them on his clothes hanger to save them from falling on the dirty floor. To his credit, Wood made no attempt to keep his pants on, just removing them and giving them to Timmy to put on the hanger.
"And your watch," said Michael. Wood took it off, gave it to Timmy and stood up straight.
He was a good-looking boy, about five feet six tall with the beginnings of good muscle development on his chest and stomach, and his arms and legs looked strong as well. But his genitals were small for his age and showed no signs of the onset of puberty: his penis was thin and pale, with a foreskin long enough to form a small nozzle on the end, and his balls were also small and tight. There was no trace of hair. The travellers looked at it and laughed.
"Well, at least it's not as small as yours, Tiny Cock," Danny commented to Timmy.
"Okay, sit down at the table," Michael told Wood. He put a piece of paper down in front of him and asked him to write down his name, address, phone number, date of birth, age and number of brothers and sisters. Wood picked up the pen he was given and filled in the sheet without objection.
When he was finished Michael picked up the piece of paper and read:
"Stephen Robert Wood, 45 Cedar Avenue Shortham, 76912, 27th November, age 13, one sister aged nine."
"And now the photo for your file," said Michael, taking the once-more-purloined camera from his bag. "Come outside."
Wood followed him out and posed without argument, not even when Michael took the full frontal photo, or the close-up of his genitals.
"Okay, that's your file ready," said Michael, leading him back into the garage. "You can get dressed now."
Wood did so.
"Now, as far as your pocket money is concerned... we'll have to work out how much you owe, but let's say that for now you have to give Timmy... Collier... twenty pence every Monday morning. He'll keep a note of how much you've paid and make sure it gets back to the kids you nicked it from. Okay, you can go now, but we want you here tomorrow after school."
"Okay. What about Truscott? He was the one who chose who we recruited, not me."
"Oh, don't worry about Truscott. He's going to get dealt with a lot more seriously than you, believe me. And remember - you're not to tell him anything about this, or the tape, or anything else. We want it to come as a nice surprise for him tomorrow evening..."
Well, that seems to have worked out fine – at least, as far as Timmy is concerned, though probably Wood doesn't see it that way. And if Truscott knew what was going to happen to him he'd be trying to persuade his parents to emigrate to Antarctica...
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Copyright February/March 2007 – all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part thereof anywhere without my written permission.