Date: Fri, 9 Oct 2020 21:02:14 -0500
From: Keith Yates <keith.96@att.net>
Subject: Brent's Struggle 17

This is a fictional story that might involve sexual acts between two or
more men.

If this offends you, then please do not read any further. If you are under
the legal age to read sexually explicit material then do not read any
further.  This story in no way represents any person living or dead.  Any
resemblance to any real person is purely coincidental. This story is the
property of the author and no copying or posting to any other website is
permitted without the author's written consent.

Please help keep Nifty going by donating to the awesome service.
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

"It is the duty of every man, as far as his ability extends, to detect and
expose delusion and error."  Thomas Paine

Brent's Struggle
Chapter 17

"I think you are holding back," Dr. wilson said studying Brent. "I'm not
sure you are being honest about your memories. By now, you should be able
to recall some of the details."

"I honestly don't remember," Brent said. "I wish I did."

Brent had been in the clinic for a couple of months now and his memory had
not improved. He had tried everything to try and remember but the memories
always seem just out of reach.

"What about your dreams?" she asked looking him in his blue eyes. "Do you
still not remember them?"

Brent was sitting in the soft leather chair across from Dr. Wilson. She had
tried to get him to sit on the sofa next to her but Brent was not going to
make that mistake again. He had done that in his early sessions with
her. She always sat to close to him and Brent felt uncomfortable with the
physical contact. She would often touch his arm, hand, or knee. It had
gotten worse with each session so Brent had started sitting in the chair
across from her rather than next to her. Even then she would often lean
forward to touch his knee and the first time Brent had found his eyes
looking right down her loose blouse.

"No," he said. He could only remember the guy with brown hair and eyes. The
face always seemed to allude him. Another one of his early mistakes had
been confiding in Dr. Wilson about the mystery boy appearing in his
dreams. that had been when his sessions had gotten worse.

"You are fighting your treatment," Dr. Wilson said. "I think you have been
spending too much time with Steven. He is a bad influence on you. He is
going to require the most invasive of our treatments."

Brent knew he did not like the sound of that. Steven still had not talked
to him about what happened during his private sessions with
Dr. Wilson. Brent only knew that Steven was looking more drained each time
he had one of his "treatments".

# # #

"I just feel like if I could remember, then I could give her what she
wants," Brent was telling Ned and Steven.

"She's a sadistic bitch," Steven said. Glancing around to make sure no one
can hear them he lowers his voice. "She likes what she does. She gets off
on torturing us."

"If you would just give in to the treatment you would get better," Ned
said.

"There isn't anything fucking wrong with me!" Steven said his voice loud in
the quiet room.

"Calm down," the attendant said, looking at Steven.

"In our last session," Brent said, his voice soft, "She had me watching
some videos."

"That isn't good," Ned said.

"You won't like what is coming next," Steven said.

Brent wanted to get Steven to explain but their free period was over. They
had to go to their daily group session. "What is coming next?" Brent asked
as they were walking slowly towards the door.

"Just prepare yourself for hell," Steven said.

# # #

Brent drops down on his bed. He feels dirty after his private session with
Dr. Wilson. She forced him to sit on the sofa and was sitting right next to
him while he was looking at the magazines and watching the videos. It was
gross sitting there looking at porn while she is sitting next to him.

Brent tries to block out the memories of her hand on his as he was holding
the magazine. He tries to block out her voice asking him if he finds the
naked women attractive. Her hand had moved from his to his knee and then up
his leg.

"Try to block it out," he tells himself as he gets up off the bed and
begins pacing in the small room.

Brent runs his fingers through his blonde hair. He moves to the window and
looks down at the small garden. He looks at the fence that surrounds the
facility. "It isn't a clinic," he thinks, "it's a fucking prison. If only I
could remember something. If only I could remember what happened to me."

Turning from the window, he walks to the desk. He looks at the stacks of
books. The only think he has opened are his textbooks. He never bothered to
look thru the other stuff his Mom brought him weeks ago.

He picks up one of the paperback books she brought from his room. He does
not remember reading it. He wonders if he has read it and just does not
remember or if he has never read it. He puts it down and picks up another
one. He picks up the next book. He does not remember any of them. In
frustration he flings the book across the room. He then grabs the next book
and throws it. Book after book fly across the room and sale against the
wall.

Brent hears a knocking on the door. "you alright dude?" It is Steven's
voice. Brent realizes that the books he had been throwing had been slamming
against the wall that separated his and Steven's rooms.

"Sorry," Brent says moving and pulling the door open.

Steven can see the books on the floor. "You didn't like them?" he asks, his
lips twitching in amusement.

"No," Brent said. "I don't know. That is the problem. I don't remember if I
have read them or not!"

"So, um just read them again," Steven said.

"it was more fun to throw them," Brent said.

"It sounded like it," Steven said and tentatively gave Brent's arm a
squeeze. He quickly checked the hall to make sure they were still alone.

"Sorry if I woke you," Brent said. "I was just pissed off at still not
remembering shit."

"No big deal," Steven said. "I wasn't asleep. "

Brent studied his friends attractive face. He could see the dark circles
under the boy's eyes. He could see the pale skin and the drawn cheeks. "You
alright?" he asked looking into Steven's green eyes.

"Steven shrugs. "I'm fine," he said. "Um, if you aren't going to read them,
mind if I borrow a couple?"

"Sure, as many as you want," Brent said moving to the books and picking
them up. He then moved to the door and let Steven pick out a couple.

"I'll just take three for now," Steven said.

Brent looked up and down the hallway and saw that for the first time they
were alone. He did not see an attendant in sight. "Steven," Brent said,
"What happens in your treatment sessions?"

Steven looked up and down the hall and then back at Brent. Steven's tongue
licks nervously across his lips. "It is perverted and humiliating," Steven
said. "Get your parents to get you out of here first." Turning Steven goes
to his room.


# # #

On his next phone call with his parents, Brent took Steven's advice and
tried to convince them to just let him come home. "I think it would help my
memory and me deal with everything to come home at least for a while," he
said.

Dr. Wilson was sitting across from him. He could tell she did not look
happy at his conversation. "I think it would set back your treatment," she
said.

"I think a few days might be good for him," Linda said thru the phone. "I
could drive up and get him for the weekend

"it could set him back months," Dr. wilson said. "He's making progress on
his disorder."

Brent stared at her. She kept telling him he was making no progress. Now
she was either lying to his folks or to him. "I think being home would be
good for me," Brent said. He considered calling her out but his Dad's voice
came through the phone.

"I think we need to do what Dr. Wilson says," Richard said thru the
phone. "We want you cured and leaving there to soon only means that you
won't be back to normal."

"We can revisit this in a couple of weeks," Dr. Wilson said. "We only want
Brent to get better."

The call ended with his Mom telling him she loved him. He did not remember
the last time he heard his dad tell him that.

"You should discuss your treatment with me before springing it on everyone
like that," Dr. Wilson said her eyes flashing with her annoyance.

"So, which is it," Brent asked his own annoyance showing. "Am I making
progress or not? You tell me one thing and them another."

"Do not take that tone with me young man," she said.

"Why not?" Brent asked. "It is my treatment. I should deserve to know the
truth. Which is it? Am I getting better or not?"

"I think your tone says it all," She said her red lips pursed into a thin
line.

"I think this is bullshit," Brent said

"I think you need some time alone," she said. "Skip your free period and go
to your room."

"Great!" Brent said. He got up and stomped from the room. He slams her
office door behind him as he strides out and down the hall.

# # #

Brent startles awake. He was having a dream about the boy again. He was so
close to remembering. He could feel the memory there just at the tip of his
mental fingertips. He knows if he could just stretch a little more, he
would be able to grab the memory and pull it into his mind. Brent hears the
soft tapping again. That was the sound that had woken him up. He waits and
hears it a third time.

"Brent," Steven says his voice barely a whisper.

Getting from bed, Brent moves barefoot to the door. He does not turn on a
light. He does not want the light to shine into the hallway when he opens
the door.  Pulling the door open he finds Steven crouched down in the
shadow between the rooms. Brent pulls the door open and lets the boy slip
into his room.

"If we get caught," Brent said softly closing the door behind him, "we are
going to be in trouble."

"Maybe they will throw us out," Steven said.

"Hell could we be that lucky?" Brent said and they both laugh softly.

Steven's eyes slid over Brent's body. He could not stop himself from
looking at the boy standing there in only briefs. Brent's fair skin seemed
to glow in the light coming in from the window.

The two of them moved away from the door and sat on Brent's bed. "Why are
you risking both of us getting into trouble?" Brent asked. They were both
barely whispering.

Steven had pulled on shorts and a t-shirt before sneaking over to Brent's
room. He was now almost wishing he had risked coming over in only his
underwear. He could not help but wonder if they were both almost naked if
more might happen than just talking. Steven adjusted his position so that
his bare leg rubbed against Brent's. The physical contact sending surges
into his stomach. "Fuck you Dr. Wilson," he thought. "This is just as
normal as the shit you are trying to force on me. No, this is more normal."

Brent felt a tingle as Steven's bare skin brushed his. He liked Steven well
enough. He even thought the guy was cute but his feelings did not go passed
being friends. "Steven," Brent prompted.

Steven pushed down his feelings to focus on why he had risked coming to
Brent's room. "I was reading the books you gave me," Steven said. "I found
this inside one of them." Steven hands the picture to Brent.

Brent looks at it. The face looking back at him is familiar. The soft brown
eyes like pools of dark chocolate, the brown hair, and the way it falls
over the boy's eyes. Brent cannot see the golden flecks in the picture but
he knows that those golden flecks are there in the chocolate eyes.

"He's really cute," Steven said. "Do you remember him."

I, I," Brent stammers. He can feel emotions boiling inside him. "the mall
it was taken at the mall." Brent said his voice growing excited as the
memories start to surface. It had been during that Christmas trip to the
mall. He and Devyn were buying presents for their girlfriends. They had run
into Matt and Bryan.  For Brent it was as though the flood gate holding
back his memories opened. The feelings for Devyn, the time they spent
together. He was remembering it all. Tears began to leak from his eyes as
he relived the events. He was remembering that first camping trip when they
had ejaculated together. He could remember the nights of masturbating each
other. He could once again feel Devyn's arms and lips. "How could I have
forgotten?" echoed in his mind.

"You alright?" Steven asked concerned. Leaning closer he places a hand on
Brent's bare leg.  "Is he important to you?"

"I remember him," Brent said his blue eyes shining in the dim light. "I
remember I love him." For Brent it was though he was reliving every moment
of his and Devyn's relationship. He was feeling again each touch, every
caress, and the passion in every one of their kisses. In moments, the
memories of months were flooding his mind. He could not believe he had
forgotten the most important person in his life.

"he's your boyfriend?" Steven asked.

"He was," Brent said. Along with all the good memories of Devyn came the
dreaded memory. He and Devyn being caught by Frank and how Brent had
reacted.

"I knew he was important," Steven said. "I read the back."

Brent turned the picture over and read the familiar handwriting. "Keep me
close to your heart because that is where I'll keep you. Love Devyn". Tears
slid down Brent's face as he held the picture. He could not believe he had
forgotten Devyn. "he was the most important person in my life," Brent said.

"Do you remember everything?" Steven asked.

Brent could remember the important events. He could remember Devyn's smell,
his touch, his kiss and even his taste. "I remember the important stuff,"
he said.

"Do you remember the accident?" Steven asked.

"No," Brent said. "But I remember Devyn. I will not let them take those
memories away again. Not Dr. Wilson and not my parents." Brent voice was
forceful. His mind had at least been made up.

"Are you going to be alright?" Steven asked seeing the tears sliding down
Brent's face.

"I don't know," Brent answered. "Thank you," he said looking at
Steven. "Thank you for finding the key."

"I'm glad I was able to help," Steven said his lips curved up into a half
smile. "I just hope I did not make things worse for you."

"You didn't," Brent said grabbing the other boy. "It makes everything
better. I know who I am again. I know what I am. I'm gay and there is not a
fucking thing wrong with me. Thank you for giving me him back. You have no
idea how it helps. How it completes me to have those memories again."

"This guy must be someone special," Steven said. "I hope I can meet him."

"He is special," Brent said. "He's the best part of me."


# # #

"You are developing quite the attitude," Dr. Wilson said during one of
their afternoon private sessions. "I do not like this new attitude of
yours."

Brent wanted to tell her to fuck off but Steven had warned him about being
too aggressive with Dr. Wilson. The problem was he did not know how much
more of the mind games he could take. The coffee table in her office was
covered with an array of dirty magazines. Brent had been forced to look at
them all. She particularly like him to look at the ones with two women.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" she asked after the long silence.

"just send me home as I am," Brent said. "I'm a lost cause."

"no," she said her smile sending a shiver up Brent's back. "You are just
going to need a more intense course of treatment. I think we will start it
tomorrow."

"Then I'm free to go," he said standing up.

"I suggest you leave your attitude in your room tomorrow," she said. "I
will fix your disorder one way or another."

Brent spun leaving the room. He could not stand this woman. He had
investigated a way to escape but could not find a way passed security.  He
had softly mentioned security and a possible escape to Steven and Ned. "I
have got to get out of here," he told them both. "I just haven't seen a way
out."

"Security is intense," Steven said.

"it's for our own protection," Ned said.

"Bull shit," Steven said. "Nothing here is for us. Everything is for
them. For them to think they are curing us. It is for them to make big
bucks off our families."

"But" Ned started.

"He's right Ned," Brent said. "This place can't fix us because there is
nothing wrong. It is a fucking prison and Steven is right. We are just
money to them. It is a way for them to milk our families or our insurance
companies because of our mental disorders. We all need out of here."

"We will keep looking," Steven said.

Brent's memories of Devyn were becoming more intense. He still had a big
gap but at least for now he had Devyn back. "I won't let anyone take him
from me again," Brent vowed.

# # #

"How was your first session?" Steven asked. He could see the lines around
Brent's eyes. He had some idea what he had been forced to do.

The three boys are in the game room during their free time. They were
sitting at the card table playing but also trying to talk without being
overheard. The attendant was closely monitoring them for any `inappropriate
activity'.

"It was humiliating," Brent said. "I hate her. I hate this place. I'm going
to go crazy here."

"Keep your voice down," Ned said glancing at the attendant.

"I know," Steven said. He wanted to reach out and touch Brent. He wanted to
reassure his friend that it could be endured, but Steven knew he could not
comfort his friend. They were being watched even more closely.

"You need to just accept the program," Ned said.

"No, he doesn't," Steven countered. "Just because they broke you..."

"They did not," Ned said. "They are fixing me."

"voices gentleman," the attendant said looking at the three of them.

"We can talk later," Steven said, as he was looking into Brent's blue eyes.

# # #

"We are going to have to not be seen together so much," Steven said to
Brent when they were alone. Steven had started sneaking over to Brent's
room. He had figured out the patrol schedule and could slip in and out
without being caught. He knew to keep low enough to not be seen by the
cameras. "We got lucky here," Steven told Brent on his third nighttime
visit. "There is only that one camera and it doesn't have a good angle to
cover our end of the hall."

"Plus, you moved that plant," Brent said. "It blocks the line of sight."

Steven had moved it slowly over weeks. One little bit at a time. He knew a
big move would be noticed but maybe not if it had been done slowly.

"How have you handled this for so long?" Brent asked his friend. Their
voices were barely above a whisper as they sat together on Brent's
bed. They sat their side by side with their bare legs touching. Steven's
hand lightly resting on Brent's upper leg as he tried to comfort his
friend.

"What are they doing to you?" Steven asked, giving Brent's leg what he
hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

"It is so humiliating," Brent said.

"Just don't respond to the pictures of the naked guys," Steven said. "They
can make it painful if you do."

"I try not to respond to any of it," Brent said. "I can't stand it sitting
there watching porn with her sitting next to me on the sofa."

"I know," Steven said. "I wish I could say it won't get worse but it will."

"She's always touching me," Brent said. "It makes my skin crawl."

"I think it is how she gets off," Steven said. "She is the one that is
perverted."

"Yeah," Brent agreed. "She should be in a hospital for HER disorder."

The two giggled softly there in the dark. The only light was that that was
coming thru the window.

# # #

The days passed and Brent's treatment got worse. He was losing his appetite
and not talking as much to Ned or Steven. All he can think about is how
badly he wants out of the place.

The group sessions had even gotten more explicit. Dr. Wilson was
encouraging everyone to discuss masturbation. She wanted them to share with
the group what they were thinking about while masturbating.

"Who talks about this stuff," Brent asked Steven during their free period.

"Well guys do talk sometimes," Steven said.

"Yeah but not like that," Brent said. "Not with her sitting there."

"It probably makes her all wet thinking about all us teenage boys sitting
there masturbating," Steven said.

"Ick," Brent said. "But I think you are right."

Copyright 2020 by Keith yates (keith.96@att.net) all rights reserved.

No copying, reposting, or distributing is permitted without the author's
written consent.

"A body of men holding themselves accountable to nobody ought not to be
trusted by anybody." ~ Thomas Paine