Date: Tue, 6 Jul 2004 19:53:19 -0300
From: Ruthless <ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca>
Subject: "The Girl on Clayburn Street (1/2)"

THE GIRL ON CLAYBURN STREET    Part 1 of 2

M/M trans, oral, anal, cons   By Ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca

Disclaimer: This story is a work of gay erotic fiction. If you are
underage, or if stories of this nature offend you, please do not read
it. As always, your comments, criticism, questions, complaints, flames and
requests for stories are welcomed by the author at Ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca


	Clayburn is a street in a rough neighbourhood. It was a Friday
night between eleven and midnight and I was walking alone down Clayburn,
when something I heard made me look down the little lane that ran alongside
of a Chinese take out. There were three guys in there beating hell out of a
girl.

	The sons of bitches had her up against the brick wall swinging
their fists. She was a short girl compared to the three guys. She was
wearing a pink dress. Her head was flung back. They were punching so hard
they hadn't left her the breath to moan with. It was their grunts of effort
and soft spitting curses that I had heard.

	It wasn't even a dark alleyway, because there was a sidelight
against the take out's back door. The alleyway was a dead end fifteen feet
in. It led no farther than the restaurant dumpster. But they had that girl
trapped out of the sight of anyone who wasn't standing in the alley mouth.

	I didn't think about the fact that I was going up one against
three. Instant anger screamed one word in my head, "Assholes!" but I didn't
make a sound. I ran lightly five steps forward. I lunged out. My first blow
was a kick. It caught the nearest guy under the arm in the gut. He crashed
backwards into the guy beside him. I didn't stop moving. I kept charging
forward, one, two, stabbing my punches into them, hard as I could. One of
the three guys yelled angrily and loudly. I locked with the third man and
he punched back.

	As soon as I could I broke up the clinch. With three guys I needed
room to hit. I couldn't stay grappling because it left my back
defenceless. And the first guy I'd kicked was on his feet again. He was
weaving, with a drool of barf down his chin, but facing me with glaring
eyes. I hadn't kicked him nearly hard enough.

	Any one of these guys pulls a knife or a gun and I'm dead, I
thought. I hope to Christ that girl is in good enough shape to crawl away
behind us. She wasn't. I saw her slide down the wall, pink skirts scraping
up around her thighs as she slumped down. And I didn't have time to
register more, because I was hitting again, fist to a chin, knee up, my
other arm blocking, arm back, punching hard as I could. I butted one guy in
the face and punched him in the throat at the same time. He reeled
sideways. I registered damage. I couldn't draw a breath. I'd taken a body
kick. Sparks in my vision. I stayed on my feet.

	"You fucking cocksuckin' fag!" One of the guys screamed at me. The
other one I'd butted in the face was bent over, fingers fanned across his
features, whimpering. I staggered forward, swinging again. The guy backed
up.

	When he backed up I realised it. These guys didn't want to fight
me. The creeps were just as fucking cowardly as they appeared. They were
big guys too, but all they had wanted was to hit a defenceless girl. And
now all they wanted was out of the alley way and away from me.

	The girl was actually on her feet, holding onto the bricks, one
little fist doubled up and she was swaying. I backed towards her. That gave
room for the three guys. They sidled against the wall in a quick rush. One
of them was holding the girl's purse. It was a silver sequined thing on a
thin strap. Yelling foully, they dashed around me.

	"You shit!"

	"Fuckin" homo!"

	Two of them took off running fast. The third one followed but he
wasn't running.  He was lurching frantically. I let him go. I still
couldn't breath right. I took a quick glance around at the girl.

	She was standing right under my arm now. A mixture of blood and
lipstick covered the lower half of her face. Her breath was coming in big
noisy gasps. I was puffing like a freight train trying to pick up speed. We
were both breathing in deep difficult gasps, out of cadence. I started to
groan with pain between each breath. My gut was hurting real bad from the
body blow I'd gotten. My face was stinging too. I'd taken a hit there as
well.

	She's probably a hooker and those were her pimps, I thought. The
three assholes were definitely gone so I turned around to her again.

	"You... you okay, Miss?" I struggled the words out.

	"Uhhhh..." She moaned. I could see her blood stained teeth. They
were pretty teeth and all there. I took her by the arm and led her gently
out onto the sidewalk. The more people could see us, the less likely there
was to be violence. When we reached the sidewalk the three guys were
completely out of sight.

	She wasn't crying. She just couldn't talk for pain. Her pink dress
had a big full skirt with some kind of net on it, and the net was torn. It
had some dirty grey marks on it where she'd slid on the ground. It was
wrecked, for sure. She was barefoot, toes in transparent silvery nylons. I
got to look at her closely. I couldn't tell too much about her features,
because of the mess the assholes had made of her face, but she had a lot of
dark hair, almost black, that didn't quite touch her shoulders. I guessed
she was about twenty- one or twenty-three.

	"You okay, Miss?" I asked again. "Nod your head if you can't talk."

	She didn't nod. She was staring at me, bloody mouth opening and
closing as she sucked in air. She didn't shake her head either. Her eyes
fixed on me, big and gleaming, wide with fright.

	Poor kid. I thought. Poor kid.

	"Don't you understand me?" I said.

	This time she nodded her head. I guessed she wasn't telling me if
she was okay or not, because she didn't know. She wrapped her arms around
her middle. One arm was around her belly and the other the fingertips went
as far down her skirt as her groin. Now she worked her panting mouth
briefly into a semblance of a smile.

	"Okay," I said. "We better go in here and get them to call the
cops." I gestured at the Chinese take out.

	"No..." She got out a faint voice and shook her head.

	"C'mon." I said. "Come down here then." She let me lead her down
the sidewalk.  My car was parked in that block. What I wanted was tissue. I
knew I had something like that in the car. I didn't have a handkerchief. I
let go of her arm to unlock the car and rummage. What I found was paper
towel. I got a couple of sheets of that and blotted her bloody face.

	"Uh...Thanks." She was whispering. Her breathing hadn't evened out
yet.

	"There. That'll help. You wanna sit down? Okay." For a bit I stood
beside her while she sat just inside my passenger door.

	"Jesus, those fuckers." I said. "I can't believe it. Those fucking
bastards! You're okay now, anyway." I smiled for her. She looked
stunned. She looked worried and couldn't smile back.

	"How bad you hurt? Your face... Anywhere else?" I asked.

	"It's my face mostly."

	"Want me to take you to the hospital?"

	She shook her head. "Thanks. I'm..." She just trailed it off.

	She was a slender girl. She didn't have any figure to speak of, for
all that she was real pretty. Looking at her, the way she carried her
shoulders, and her flat chest, I thought, She looks like a dancer. I didn't
ask her. She maybe didn't want me being nosy.

	"You want me to take you home?" I offered. "What do you want me to
do? I'm not just going to leave you here. What happened to your shoes? Are
they in that alley?"

	She shook her head. "Left them. I ran."

	"They chased you into that alley?" I scowled.

	She wasn't made up like a hooker. Oh, there was a lot of makeup and
that, but she was made up too fancy. Her dress had been too frilly. She was
dressed like she had been going to a prom. She had on that kind of a short
ball gown that girls wear to their grads, not a hooker's strutting out
clothes. But I couldn't quite figure her out. There was something funny
about her. It didn't matter. She was a girl in trouble. I was going to see
her out of her trouble, the same like I'd run into the alley when it was
three against one. I couldn't leave her without seeing her okay. I'd have
done that even if I had thought she was a hooker.

	"You want me to take you home?" I asked again.

	She shook her head again.

	"Look." I said. "My name's Brian. Brian Hawkins. What's yours?"

	"Anthea."

	"Just let me know what you want to do. You don't want to accept a
lift from me?  If that's it, I'll put you in a taxi, pay for the taxi to
see you get home. How about that?"

	"I can't go home like this." Her voice was husky. It was like she
was scared to talk to me at first. But slowly she started to talk more. She
had a warm voice, although it was creased from the shock that she had
had. She kept rubbing her eyes, although she wasn't crying at all. I didn't
see a single tear. Her eyes had mascara and stuff; I don't know the kind of
stuff. They were big, very dark, very pretty eyes, except one of them was
puffing up, lopsided and very pink.

	"Yeah... You need to get cleaned up first? Your family gonna be
upset..?"

	"Yeah." she agreed. "My Mom. I can't go home like this. I'm
sorry. I don't know what I want to do."

	"You got a girlfriend you could go to, Anthea?"

	She thought about that and then shook her head again.

	I couldn't think what to do with her. She didn't want to go home,
didn't have a girlfriend, didn't want to go to the hospital. She wasn't
really hurt as bad as all that. She was just badly messed up. She needed to
go some place where she could go clean up. She needed a woman, I thought. I
couldn't take her to the women's public bathroom in the park. She could
clean up there, but I couldn't go in there with her and the place was full
of junkies. What I needed to do was take her to one of my girlfriends if
she didn't have a girlfriend of her own to help her out. But I didn't have
any girlfriends either.

	"I'm sorry I didn't get your purse for you." I said. That was
stupid of me, apologizing that I hadn't been able to save her purse, like
as if I was superman and should have been able to.

	By and by I went around and sat in the driver's seat beside her. I
did what I could with the paper towel. I got all the blood off of her and
the smeared make up. Only her dress was such a mess.

	"How about we go back and look for your shoes?" I suggested.

	"Okay, Brian." she said. She was still keeping her voice down,
soft. It was kind of sweet, I thought, the way she kept it low and little
like that. "If I can find my shoes again, I'll be alright. I can walk."

	That didn't seem right to me. It wasn't shoes she needed. It was a
dress. But I set out driving, back the way she had run when the three guys
started hassling her and we looked at the sidewalk.

	"Where did they see you first?"

	"I don't know. They were following me."

	"Well, where did you see them first?"

	We drove around the block a couple of times. She pointed out where
she had seen them, and where they had started trying to talk to her and
where she had started running.  We didn't see any sign of her shoes. They
were silver high-heeled pumps she told me.  Wherever she had stepped out of
them, and she couldn't be sure where, they were gone.

	"Maybe if you call home, first, tell your Mom that you're okay, I
can take you home?" I suggested.

	"I can't go home looking like this." She said again. She was firm
on that point.

	"Wish I had a sister." I said.

	"It's awfully good of you to help me." Anthea said. "I don't know
how bad they would have beat me, if you hadn't stopped them. I think you
saved my life." She laughed tremulously. "I didn't even say thank you yet."

	I kind of glanced over. "I think they might have raped you. I don't
know. Even out just off the street like that. I guess you were lucky. You
know that? A few minutes more, you would have been much more bad hurt."

	"I know."

	"What part of town is your home anyway?"

	"Rothsmuir."

	Rothsmuir is the pricey part of town. It's the farthest out
suburb. There didn't seem to be any point hanging about Clayburn Street, so
I drove out that way.

	"Look." I said. "Your folks are going to have to know that you got
beat up.  Sooner or later. You can't hide it. They'll see it when you come
down for breakfast tomorrow. So you may as well just face it and go home."

	"No. I can't let my Mom see me like this. I gotta change first. I'm
sorry, Brian. I really gotta."

	I thought more. "You think you could sneak in?"

	"No. They'll be sitting in the living room watching TV. Both the
doors, I'd have to walk past the living room."

	"How late do they expect you in?" I suggested. "How about you sneak
in, after they've gone to bed. You think you could do that?"

	"Yes." Just for a moment Anthea liked that idea. Then her voice
went deeper suddenly. "No! I don't have my key. It was in my purse. I can't
get in."

	"Sorry, sister." I said. I don't know what to do."

	But when we were in Rothsmuir, I thought of something. I knew I
couldn't get Anthea into her house like that. She just wouldn't go. What
she told me she needed was a chance to get cleaned up properly and some new
clothes. I didn't have a girlfriend or a sister that could lend Anthea a
dress, but I had a friend that lived in Rothsmuir, Merrick, and I knew
Merrick had a sister.

	"I got it." I said. I explained my plan to Anthea. Her voice was
quiet again.

	"Do you think she would lend me some jeans?" Anthea said softly.

	"We'll see." I said. "I dunno. But I can get Merrick to give us
something, I know that."

	Anthea was kind of shy to go up to Merrick's house. I could see how
nervous she was. I couldn't blame her. Just because I'd rescued her from
the three creeps didn't mean a lot. She didn't know me. I could have in
mind something just as bad as they did. For all she could tell, I was maybe
going to do a rapo number on her and get Merrick to help me, once I got her
into a house inside. But all the same she followed me up the walk to
Merrick's house.

	He was surprised to see me, and more surprised to see the blotchy
girl in the torn dress behind me, but he was amiable.

	"Tanya's not home, but I'm guess we can find something for her in
her closet.  Come on in." he said. He held the door wide. "Hi, Anthea." he
said politely. "Pleased to meet you."

	Anthea just gave him a worried look and came in. I found myself
standing between Merrick and Anthea, because she was nervous.

	"Tanya's a good bit fatter than you are, I think." Merrick
said. "Her clothes aren't going to fit you very well."

	Anthea smiled awkwardly. She was keeping her arms crossed over her
chest.  Merrick led the way into Tanya's room. I figured he was putting
himself out on a limb for me. I mean, Tanya most likely was not going to
take it well, that he'd let some strange girl rifle through her
things. Women loan each other clothes a lot, I hear, but I still figured
Merrick's sister might not be too comfortable that Merrick had turned her
wardrobe over to a strange buddy of his, for a girl that nobody knew to paw
over.

	Tanya had a big walk in closet. Her style and Anthea's style
weren't alike. Anthea was pink and silver. Tanya went in for browns. Anthea
was moving slowly and almost reluctantly. She took a dress down and held it
against herself. Even I could see that it was going to be an atrocious
fit. Tanya was big and pear shaped. Anthea had no hips. That was why she
was wearing such frothy skirts. Tanya's clothes were going to fit Anthea
like a scarecrow.

	But they would be clean and in one piece, I reminded myself.

	"What would you like, Anthea?" I said. "There's got to be jeans in
a drawer somewhere. You said you wanted jeans?"

	Merrick was staring at Anthea. I was trying to reassure her that
she didn't need to be shy rifling through Tanya's clothes, but I don't
think I was helping. Anthea was moving slower and slower.

	"I guess..." said Anthea faintly.

	"How about with a belt." I turned around. "Merrick has more your
size waist than Tanya does. Would you lend her a belt, Merrick?"

	"Yeah, okay." Merrick said absently. He was really frowning.

	"Look." I told Merrick. "I suppose Tanya might be a little
surprised and all, but you explain to her how it was a real
emergency. Anthea's people will have a heart attack if she shows up home in
this mess. And if you let me know what the clothes cost I'll pay for them,
give Tanya what they're worth."

	I was keeping my voice down but Anthea heard it anyway. "I'll bring
back anything I borrow," she said, "Washed and in good condition."

	Merrick just frowned. He stood and scowled hard. We were standing
in the hall so as to give Anthea some room. He took my arm and pulled me
around the corner. "Listen, you dipshit." he said to me. "She's not a
girl. That's a boy."

	I turned around and looked at Anthea. There was no way he could
have heard the words that Merrick had used, but he knew what had been
said. He met my eyes with an uncomfortable twisted smile. He still had his
arms folded in front of his nonexistent breasts.

	For a long while I didn't say anything. Merrick and Anthea were
both waiting for me to react, but I couldn't say anything. I didn't really
have any thought in my head that could be expressed in words. Finally I
took a couple of steps in towards Anthea. "Would boy's clothes of some sort
do you?" I growled.

	Anthea nodded jerkily. I walked out of the room again.

	Merrick found something for him. I think it was Merrick's own
clothes. I just stood there, not speaking to either of them. I heard water
running briefly. Anthea didn't just change clothes, but took a moment to
put his head under a tap. When he came out his hair was wet and flatter. He
was wearing a sweater and trousers and he didn't look like a girl at
all. He just looked like a quite young, very scared guy in clothes that
didn't fit, who had long messy hair.

	"Brian?" Merrick said.

	"Thanks for the clothes. I'll pay for them or bring them
back. Whatever." I said.

	We walked out into the dark. "I can take you home now?" I asked
roughly.

	"Yes. Thanks." Anthea wasn't trying to pitch his voice higher than
natural, any more, but it was still a subdued little voice. I opened the
car door for him and he got in.

	I didn't look at Anthea at all. One thing I thought about was how
could Anthea look so pretty in drag and look so plain when he was just
wearing a guy's regular clothes.

	"You're going to have to tell me where you live."

	"2114 Highland Road."

	I drove along that way. Rothsmuir is big and he lived the other end
of it from Merrick. I wondered if Merrick even knew who he was. Maybe he'd
recognized him.

	"How old are you?" I asked.

	"Seventeen."

	He's not particularly swish, I thought. I was kind of thinking
around it all, not thinking directly. I was stunned on it. Anthea really,
really did not look like a guy in drag.  I'd seen guys in drag and you
could tell. They had huge bones and they didn't look right.  They didn't
look pretty. They just looked kind of, well, over dressed and pathetic and
obvious when they went down the street in a woman's outfit.

	Then I thought, but if a guy in drag looked pretty, like Anthea
did, of course, I never would have realised that it was a guy. I only would
have realised with guys who were obvious. I still wasn't thinking about
Anthea directly at all.

	"I want to say sorry it turned out this way." Anthea said. "I
didn't do this to you on purpose, I mean... I'm glad you helped me. I
wasn't trying to fool you. But I just didn't..."

	"Ah, shit!" I said. "Anthea, you didn't... Well, you just didn't. I
don't know.  It's too fucking much."

	"You helped me. I was in real big trouble. And I didn't bring it on
myself, not on purpose. I wasn't trying to screw around with your mind."

	I gave a deep sigh and looked around at him again. "You do it
because it's a turn on? Mincing around in girl's clothes? That's why you do
it?"

	"Yeah." His voice was almost too faint to hear.

	"You're, like, a faggot?"

	"Yes, that's right." His voice was stronger.

	I shrugged.

	"I wasn't doing pick ups you know. I wasn't bothering anyone. I was
just practising. I don't know if that makes any sense." Anthea was trying
to explain. "I was trying it out."

	"How did those guys that went after you figure it out then?" My
voice was heavy.

	"I don't think they did, at first. But then after they were
following me, well, I used a more male voice, I told them to fuck off. I
thought by letting on that I was a guy... It just made things much worse."

	"They probably didn't mean to rape you after all." I said.

	"Sorry, Brian."

	"S'okay." I said stiffly.

	I didn't look at Anthea. It was still too much for me, too hard to
figure out. We drove along in silence for a few more blocks and then I
said. "You wanna be a girl, is that it? You're one of those transsexual
boy-girls, right? You wanna get turned into a girl, have an operation?"

	"No." Anthea was hesitant. "I don't want to be a girl. I just like
to look like a girl.  I like the clothes. I like having a cock and balls
under the skirt. You know?" He laughed, embarrassed, a laugh that would
have been alto if he were a girl for real. "I guess you don't know."

	"That's so fucking weird." I said.

	"Brian," said Anthea. "Is there anything I can do to say thank you?
I didn't want to let you down like that."

	I turned my head and looked at him. The dark suburban road was
deserted. I could look at him safely and drive at the same time.

	"Is there anything you want me to do?" He said quietly.

	Anthea was not particularly a cute guy. I don't suppose he did that
well with girls.  There was probably still hair spray making his hair stick
up. I looked at his face first, and his lips were puffed up. Then my eyes
went down and I checked out his crotch. I couldn't see anything. Merrick's
jeans were too big for him. He had such thin hips that the material was all
bunched above his crotch.

	Anthea sat there frozen waiting for me to respond.

	"Did you just make a pass at me?" I said.

	"Only if that's what you'd like." His voice was almost steady.

	"I thought you were a girl." I said. "I wasn't looking for
anything. Not to get anybody to put out for me." My voice went louder. "I
thought you were a girl in trouble."

	"I was a boy in trouble instead."

	"Okay." I said. I pulled over on the shoulder.

	There were no sidewalks, only long lawns and great old trees
between the big houses and the road. When I pulled off on the shoulder
under a tree it was dark. It was too dark to see Anthea's face, too dark
for him to see mine.

	I didn't go reaching for Anthea. It was him offering to do
something for me, right?  He hesitated before he moved slowly towards
me. He undid his seat belt and came forward. One of his small long fingered
hands groped cautiously onto my crotch. I sat motionless with my chin
raised, waiting. He undid the zip.

	"You want this?" he whispered.

	I felt the air cool on my dick. Anthea's fingers were warm and
rough skinned. He pulled my dick out. It stood upright. His clothes rustled
as he leaned forward and lowered his head. I smelt that chemical tang of
cosmetics through a drift of flower scent. I could smell his hair
spray. His lips came down on my dick.

	I sighed and spread my thighs a little. Anthea shaped his mouth and
bobbed down.  Hot teasing wetness and tightness pushed my skin back. I
didn't move. The faggot's head went up and down. He moved it carefully and
steadily. He sucked and the sensation was exquisite as it made the blood
throb.

	I didn't know what to do with my hands. They had balled into
fists. There wasn't much room for what we were doing. The zipper teeth
scraped irritatingly. I lifted my balled fists shoulder high and held them
there out of the faggot's way. I couldn't see anything, only that there was
something very dark on my lap against the steering wheel.

	My breath started to come uneven. Up, down, three four inches
down. My dick was sliding from his hard palate to his soft palate. I could
feel the change in pressure as it went from the firm to the sucking
softness. He started to pant around my prick and I felt the air moving hot
with every gasp.

	My hands wandered onto my own face. I realised that I had a smile
on because of the pleasure, under my fingers, even as I gasped and my mouth
drew open. Up, down, his hands had moved to my thigh. They didn't
move. They were just braced, taking some of his weight as he leaned
forward.

	Does he have a hard on, hidden in the dark under that frilly pink
skirt? I wondered. Then I remembered that he wasn't wearing a skirt at all.

	I moved suddenly. There just wasn't room there behind the
wheel. "Hang on... I'm gonna get out of this." He drew back while I
struggled free of the seat belt and the steering wheel. I moved over on the
seat, sideways. I wrestled briefly with my jeans and my briefs. I got them
farther down, not off but so that there weren't layers of material and a
zipper trying to point my dick in the wrong direction.

	When I had it free, Anthea slid his face down onto my prick
again. I just caught a brief glimpse of the paleness of his face, not
enough for an expression. "You do this good." I muttered. The heat of his
lips and tongue engulfed me again. I kept my hands out of his way and
closed my eyes. He rode his head up and down harder and harder. He took it
deeper. One hand was wrapped around the base of my prick. His spit made it
wet. He squeezed tight.

	"Aw fuck, it's good. Yes, it's good." I groaned. He drove
faster. His tongue was moving side to side on the head of my dick, His
swallow caressed me.

	Jesus, I thought. I'm gonna cum in his mouth. I had a swift vague
sense of alarm, remembering somehow that that wasn't supposed to be a good
idea, not without a rubber.  But Anthea had been waiting for it too. His
hand slid up with his lips and at the last second, he was giving me a
furious hand job instead of a mouth job. His tongue came down onto my balls
as his hand jerked urgently against his own cheek.

	The sensation of his tongue slathering over my contracted balls
brought me off.  "Uhhhhh!" I grunted. It shuddered up and released. It came
in three waves and left me sagging back in the seat.

	I must have squeezed my eyes shut around when I came. I opened them
as Anthea moved back into his seat. Open or closed, with the car lights
switched off it didn't make much difference. I couldn't see at all.

	I heard Anthea breathing heavily in his seat. Jesus, I came in his
hair, I thought.  That must have been where it landed, with his head down
on my balls like that. It wasn't on me, only the trickle of after cum that
oozed up and stayed on the head of my dick. I tucked it all back in again,
shifting about on the seat.

	I didn't say anything to Anthea. He didn't say anything to me. I
just put my clothes back together and switched the car's headlights on
again.

        End of Part 1 of 2 By Ruthless