Date: Tue, 20 Nov 2018 22:46:27 +0000 From: nifty.bogan Subject: Former Street Rat 01 For the safety of everyone involved (especially me), everything I am going to say is false, made up, and delusional. Lately, I have been seeing a lot of stories concerning kids who live on the street. Some have got it completely wrong. At least from what I experienced and saw and heard. Some have got the basic framework down, but there's lots of things that smacks me as unrealistic. **************************** I was raped as a pre-teen. I won't go into detail, but I never enjoyed it. It was painful and I bled and I passed out. By 13, I was on the street. If you're lucky, you find a big brother quickly. He teaches you what you need to know. Protects you from the worst. Sometimes fucks you. If you don't find a big brother, I don't think you last very long. Deaths and disappearances weren't uncommon. You always knew who was a fresh runaway. Their clothes were always nice. Maybe torn, but still nice. And they were always barefoot. See, there was always someone to prey on them as soon as they got to the city. Take their rucksack. Take their money from their "ingenious" hiding place. So there I was. 13. Ruffled clothes. Backpack was stolen. Lost the money I had "ingenously" hidden in my shoes. And Caz found me and became my big brother. He gave me my first pair of boots. Boots are important. All the street rats that I knew wore boots. Good in the rain. And necessary in a fight. You never took your boots off unless you felt somewhat safe. I remember when we passed a street rat sleeping alone on the concrete with his boots off. Caz just said, "insane or stupid." I was 13, the first time that I let a guy fuck me. As opposed to being forced. His name was Jeff and he was 16. I still miss him. Sometimes at night, I'll think of his smile and his laugh and I start crying. There are some people who would think that a 16 yo fucking a 13 yo is wrong. But I never felt pushed to do it. I never felt like I had to. He just told me that he wanted to fuck me. But Jeff let me decide if and when. And one night I went to him and asked him to fuck me. I panicked when he pulled his cock out. It was HUGE in my eyes. At least ten feet long... Yeah, I know. He was 16. His cock was probably more like 4 or 5 inches. I told him that thing wouldn't ever fit inside me. But he held me and calmed me down. Said he knew what he was doing. Then he spent a long time getting me ready. And when he slipped his cock into me, it didn't hurt. We fucked for about 2 or 3 months. Sometimes I fucked him. But I preferred being the bottom. Those months were great. I really enjoyed being with him. Then one day he disappeared. I never saw him again. All the groups that I knew of, had different make-ups, different rules, and different morals. And we never called ourselves groups or gangs or tribes. Or "Jets" or "Sharks." We just called each other friend or mate. Except Brian. He made sure that we knew that we weren't his friends. He called us his compatriots. My group was all gay, tho we used the word "queer" instead. We put all our money into a pot. It wasn't a real pot. It was usually Caz's pocket. I guess he was our bank. And everyday we would decide how to use it. How much for food and how much for alcohol. It worked well. Sometimes someone was having a hard time and wasn't making any money. So we shared food and no-one starved. And if anyone wanted to buy something special like a book or peaches, they usually could. I didn't have an education. But I read a lot. We all did. I'd read a book than pass it on. Caz would read it than pass it on. Brian would read it... And after everyone read it, we passed it on to another group. Then we'd fight about it. What it meant. Why this character did this or that. Or if it was nonfiction, than if we believed it and why. Caz was a bully in that respect. His opinions were ALWAYS right. And he'd throw his weight around. Sometimes I'd step in and stop it. I didn't feel afraid of Caz. He only ever got the better of me once. And I think he respected me just a little more than the others. Brian usually suffered the worst of it. He would stand up to Caz but eventually he'd crumble. And I'd have to step in. Brian was my little brother. I hadn't wanted the responsibility. But he was a persistent snot-nosed fucker and he stuck to me like a leech. So he became my little brother. He was younger than me and short and it seemed everyone hated him. I was always getting complaints about him. The stupid fucking shit he would do. I deflected what I could. Sometimes I'd have to punish him. Keep him from eating community food or drinking community alcohol. So he'd starve for a day or two. The worst was when I had to beat him. You had to do it. Those were the rules. You had two choices. Either everyone in the group beat him down and than tossed him out. Or his big brother could beat him. And you had to do it for real. No slaps or anything. So you bruised up his body, but you wouldn't knock any teeth out or break any bones. He'd be sore for a week, but that was better than being on the streets alone. But it hurt having to do it. Your little brother wouldn't fight back. Just sorta lie on the ground and take it. Everyone would watch. And you'd be crying while you were hitting him. And maybe that was the point. Your little brother was being punished for doing something really bad. And you were being punished for not teaching him right. And Brian could be a major CUNT. But the thing was, Brian was scared. He was terrified out of his fucking mind. There were nights, when it was just the two of us. I'd hold him and he'd cry. He'd really cry and sob and get snot all over my clothes. But he didn't want anyone to know how scared he was, so he acted the way he thought a man would act. And then he'd do something bad. I wasn't a little brother for very long. But I knew how to keep my mouth shut And I never stole from another street rat and I never attacked another street rat. There was no ceremony or initiation when you stopped being a little brother. Nothing like that. The others just started treating you differently. You were responsible for yourself. Brian always remained my little brother. Stopping for the night. Tired and wanna lay down. - Bogan You can send an email to nifty.bogan@protonmail.com.