Scott's Story
Note: Scott's Story is a sequel to Mark's Revenge. It should be read first. The first
four chapters of this story take place in California. It is Scott's account of events that
happened there.


All right. Enough already. Everyone’s mad at me for the way I treated Mark and
Bobby. I know you applauded when they got revenge on me. Right? Maybe I did treat
them like shit. But they deserved it, didn’t they? They tried to have sex with me.
They really weren’t anything but fags, and the world is supposed to hate fags. Right?

That’s what has been drummed into my head ever since I was small. Even when I
thought that I actually might be gay, I tried to deny it. Maybe some guys can just
say, ‘Hey, I’m gay,’ and not be bothered by it. But what do you do when your own
father hates the sight of you because you are a fag? Huh? Then tell me what am I to
do?

“You little fag.” My father grabbed me around the collar and lifted me off my feet.
“Can’t you do anything but cry when I talk to you?”

“I’m not going to have a sissy for a son!” he yelled angrily.

I was only eight and he was mad at me because I’d spilled some milk on the kitchen
floor. When I saw the anger in his eyes, I knew he was going to spank me again. He
was always spanking me. He didn’t beat me, but my butt was constantly sore from
his large hands hitting my soft bottom. If he was really mad, he’d use his belt.

And I didn’t know what a fag was, but he was always calling me one. I knew it had to
be something bad.

He pushed me to the floor and threw a towel at me.

“Clean up your fucking mess!” he screamed. My mother walked into the kitchen and  
didn’t say anything. She never said anything. When I had cleaned the milk off the
floor,   I walked over to the sink and laid the towel down. My mother smacked me
upside the head.

“Damn it, Scottie,” she said angrily. “You just wiped that on the floor, and now you’re
putting it up on my clean counter.”

“I told you he was nothing but a fag,” my father remarked as he looked over his
newspaper at me. “Must be from your side of the family,” he mumbled.

“Go to your room.” Mother pointed towards the stairs. “I don’t want to see you
anymore today.”

That was my life. It had been like that since I could remember. I could never do
anything right for them. And God knows I tried.

“Here, Mommy,” I said proudly as I handed her a Valentine card I had made in the
second grade. I had spent all day pasting and putting pretty sprinkles on it. She
opened up the envelope and jumped off the couch.

“What the hell is this!” she screamed as she brushed her dress off. “You’ve made a
mess of my dress and I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.” Colored sprinkles were all
over the black dress she was wearing. I had waited all day to surprise her with the
card, and now I stood crying in front of her because she didn’t like it.

“Now I’ve got to go change my clothes.” She looked at me scornfully. “I’m going to be
late to my meeting.” She dashed off to her bedroom and returned several minutes
later with a new dress on.

“Go to your room,” she ordered. “I’m calling your father and telling him what you did.”

I went to my room and threw myself down on the bed and cried. I knew when my
father got home I’d be spanked. I was. That time he used his belt.

My only comfort was that they were hardly ever home. My father was president of
some big company. He was always bragging to his friends about all the money he
had. We lived in a huge house in Phoenix, Arizona. It had a big swimming pool in the
back yard. We also had a lower level that had a pool table, bar and exercise
equipment. I was never allowed to go down there.

My mother worked for some department store. She ordered things around the
country, so that they could sell the latest fashion wear. I can remember her always
wearing some really pretty clothes.

The only time my parents wanted me around was when they were entertaining
friends. They threw a lot of pool parties. Most of the people were old, like my parents.
It seemed like the men were always much older than the women.

My mother would parade me around and show me off to her friends. She was always
calling me her ‘pretty little boy.’ I had long blond hair that flowed down my face. She
would make me wear bangs that covered my eyes because she said it made me cuter.
I also had deep blue eyes. Occasionally, she’d put lip gloss on my lips to make them
shiny. I hated it when she did that. Women were always grabbing me and saying,
“Isn’t he just the cutest thing you ever saw?”   

I would be the center of attention while the party was going on. My parents would
brag about how nice a son they had. But once the last guests would leave, I would
again become the bad son. They would order me to clean up the mess. Sometimes it
would take me hours and I wouldn’t get in bed until late. If they got up in the
morning and I hadn’t done a good job, my father would spank me.

I grew up hating my parents. Sometimes before I’d go to sleep, I’d imagine them
getting in a bad car wreck and getting killed. Some of the gruesome scenes I
imagined in my head would sometimes scare me. Most of the time I’d go to sleep
smiling.

They were generous when it came to giving me things, though. They didn’t do it for
me. They liked to brag to their friends that I had all the latest toys and gadgets. I
was the first of my friends to have a laptop computer, Ipod, any video game that
came out and a DVD player with a large assortment of movies. You get the idea. I
couldn’t wait until I turned sixteen, because I was going to ask my father for a
Lamborghini.

Things had always been bad, but when I was twelve my world came crashing down. I
had suspected that I might like other boys. Girls didn’t interest me at all. I would try
to avoid them if I could. I thought it might be because I was still young, but I had a
fascination with other boys. I couldn’t wait until we had gym, so I could watch them
undress.

Many times my little dick would get bone hard in the shower. I really   didn’t care.
Almost all the guys at one time or another would get hard. I just stayed hard. I’d be
the first one in and the last one out. I would memorize the naked body of all my
friends. All our bodies were hairless with small dicks. The ones I really liked looking at
were the boys who were beginning to grow some hair down there. I still didn’t have
any.

I never thought of doing anything more, until one night. One of my dad’s friends had
a son my age. Actually, he was a year older. The party went late into the evening and
Jimmy had fallen asleep in one of the lounge chairs. When it was time to go, he put
up a fuss about waking up. His father took him up and put him in my bed.

I watched as his father undressed him, down to his white underwear and then tuck
him in under my covers. He asked me if I minded if Jimmy slept there for the night. I
couldn’t say a word. I just shook my head. I couldn’t believe another boy was
sleeping almost naked there.

I went back downstairs and let my mother tell all her friends how pretty I was.
Around  1:30 everyone had gone and I was left to my cleaning chores. My dick was
hard thinking about Jimmy asleep in my bed. I couldn’t wait to get back upstairs.
After about an hour, I had finally finished cleaning up and went to my room.

Jimmy was still asleep, snuggled deeply under the covers. I undressed and slowly
crawled into bed beside him. He stirred a little as I settled in. My heart was pounding
out of my chest. All I could think about was that he was almost naked beside me. I
was only inches from his cock. I had seen the small bulge when his father undressed
him, and I was dying to see more.

After about fifteen minutes, he still hadn’t moved. I figured he was asleep. Gasping
for air, I let my hand creep under the cover and touch his cock. I could feel its outline
through his underwear. I just rested it there, afraid any movement might awaken him.

Then I felt it begin to grow. Slowly, it went from a curled state and began to stiffen.
My heart was pounding with excitement. I was actually feeling my first dick. It grew
until it was completely hard. It must have been about five inches long.

Suddenly, he moved and grabbed my hand. I could feel piss starting to come out of
my dick. I had been caught! Instead of getting angry, he started rubbing my hand
against his dick. He looked over at me, but he didn’t say a word. He then lifted up and
pulled his underwear down. In the dim light I could see it jutting upwards toward the
ceiling. He had a small amount of brown pubic hair.

“Suck it,” he ordered angrily. “If you want it so bad, then suck it.” I tried to pull my
hand away, but he had a strong grasp on me. He grabbed the back of my head and
pulled me towards his hard cock.

“Suck it, fag,” he said huskily, “or I’m going to tell your dad what you did.”

He had said the magic words. He was going to tell my dad. I knew my father would
probably kill me if he found out I was feeling on the son of one of his friends. This
time he wouldn’t use a belt. He’d probably use a baseball bat.

He pushed roughly on the back of my head, leading me towards his cock. I
whimpered, and then opened my mouth and took in the head of it. It had a musty
smell, and I started to gag slightly.

“Open your mouth wider,” he ordered. He then thrust deeper into my mouth. I
wanted it to end. It was nothing like I thought sex would be. I always thought it
would be with someone who would tell me they loved me. Jimmy was mean. He didn’t
care how I felt.

He continued thrusting harshly into my mouth. With each thrust, he would go
deeper. Several times I gagged. Once I felt I was going to vomit.

“Yeah,” he moaned. “You’re a good little cocksucker.”

I didn’t hear the door open, but I was blinded by the overhead lights. I was on my
knees with Jimmy’s cock down my throat. I pulled back and saw my father standing in
the doorway. His face was red with anger and his fists were clenched. He stormed
over to the bed and grabbed me around the waist and threw me off the bed.

“He made me do it!” Jimmy shouted. “Honest Mr. Olsteen. I was asleep, and I woke
up and he was sucking me.”

“Get out!” He pointed to the door. Jimmy ran naked from the room. He didn’t even
bother to gather his clothes.

I will not go into detail what he did to me that night. It is too horrible to tell, even
today. I was out of school for two weeks because of the bruises he put on my body
that night. When the school called asking where I was, he told them I was sick with a
fever and the doctor had ordered me to stay home. When I finally returned to school,
he had one of his doctor friends write me a note. He didn’t even examine me.

My life was a living hell for the next two years. He never let me forget for one day that
I was a fag. I think he forgot my name was Scott. Anytime I talked to a boy, he’d ask
if I was letting him fuck me. I didn’t have any friends come to the house because
either he or my mother would say something about my sexuality.

I went so deep into the closet that for a while I even forgot I was gay. I’d get a quick
glimpse in the showers during gym, and occasionally I’d go into a gay website and
masturbate over some cute boy’s picture. But for the most part, I led a sexless life.

My friends talked about masturbating or getting blowjobs from their girlfriends, but
for several years I lost all interest in sex. After the verbal and physical abuse I
received from my father, sex seemed dirty and filthy.

To make matters even worse, things were no better at school than they were at
home. Jimmy quickly spread the word that I was a cocksucker. The torment I received
from my fellow classmates was relentless. I was pushed in the halls, my books were
occasionally stolen, and on two occasions I was stripped of my pants right in front of
the school. I’d have to go in with only my underwear on. I quickly became the target
of any and all gay jokes.

My life took another whirlwind change when I was fourteen. It was turned completely
upside down. My father was arrested by the police for some bad things he was doing
at work. They also arrested my mother. I didn’t quite understand what was going on.
We lost almost everything.

I learned that the government had seized his bank accounts and we had no money. I
went from being the rich man’s son to the son of a criminal. The newspapers carried
his picture for almost two years.

From what I could understand, he’d taken a lot of his friends’ money and kept it for
himself. I think they called it embezzlement. No one came to our house anymore. It
seemed like the only company we had was his and my mom’s attorneys.

It took two years for them to go to trial. In that time my life was agonizing. My father
was always irritable, even more than he had ever been. One thing that happened,
though, he didn’t seem to notice me being around. He also stopped hitting me. I
guess he was too worried about going to jail.

I think he also was afraid that the media would notice if I had bruises on me, since we
were constantly being followed by reporters. Anywhere we went, a camera was being
thrust in front of my father’s face. It was almost like he was a celebrity in town; but I
knew it was because he was a crook.

He was tried first. The trial dragged on for weeks and all the friends my parents had
over for the pool parties testified against him. It appeared he had taken millions of
dollars from them. It’s no wonder we lived so well.

A jury found him guilty, and he was sentenced to twenty years in jail. I never saw him
again. I was too young to visit him in prison. In a way I was glad. I hated him.

My mother fell apart after his sentencing. Her trial would be a month later. She was
being accused of helping him do stuff with the money. I guess she knew he was
stealing it and she was opening bank accounts to hide it. A jury found her guilty. She
was sentenced immediately, and I never saw her again either.

I became like an orphan overnight. It scared me. After all the years I had wished
them dead, they were now gone out of my life and I didn’t know what to do. My
mother had contacted her sister to see if she would take me, but she said she
couldn’t. She was going through a divorce with my uncle and she couldn’t take
on the added burden.

I was going to be put in state custody, which meant I’d have to go to a foster home.
At the last minute, my father called his brother who lived in California and he
reluctantly agreed to take me in. I later found out my father had loaned him the down
payment on his house, and he forced him take me to pay off the debt.

So on June 16, I was placed on a plane, and I flew to my new life. I was going to live
with my Uncle Roger and Aunt Theresa. I had only met them once, and I was very
small then. I remember Roger as being a rather large and mean man. I think he only
spoke to me once when he and my aunt visited us in Arizona.

They had four children, but they were grown and married. They lived in a small house.
It was very different than the home we had in Arizona. They didn’t have a pool or
even a basement. It did have a basketball rim on the garage. I was told one of their
sons had been a big basketball star when he was in high school.

I knew things wouldn’t go well when they didn’t even meet me at the airport. I sat
around for two hours before I finally called them to see where they were. Uncle Roger
got upset when I told him I was here. He thought I wouldn’t be arriving until the
following week. After a few harsh words, he hung up on me. I wasn’t even sure he
would come to get me. After about an hour, Aunt Theresa finally arrived to take me
‘home.’ Yeah, right.

I knew I wasn’t welcomed the moment I walked through the door.

“Thought we got rid of all the damn kids,” grumbled Uncle Roger when he saw me
walk through the door. “I can’t even enjoy my fucking retirement.”  

“Hush, Roger.” Aunt Theresa was trying to come to my rescue. “He’s blood.”

“Yeah,” he spat. “The blood of that no good brother of mine. Good blood  he’s got.
His father is in prison.”

He ranted and raved for about a half hour. I was beginning to think that a foster
home back in Arizona would have been a better option.

“Well, you’re going to earn your way around here,” he said as he drank another beer.
I saw five empty cans sitting on the table in front of him.

“Yes, sir,” I responded meekly.

“Starting tomorrow,” he informed me, “you’re going to help me clean out the garage.
I’ve asked the boy who mows my yard to come by and help you.”

“Yes, sir,” I said again.

This wasn’t going to be any better than the life I’d lived back in Phoenix. My only hope
was that my uncle wouldn’t hit me like my father did. I looked over at him. He was
sitting at the table downing another beer. ‘Yeah,’ I thought. ‘This was going to be
fun.’

Uncle Roger woke me up earlier the next morning. I was still tired from the plane
flight. I would love to have slept late. I can’t remember the last time I saw six in the
morning. I hope he didn’t expect me to get up every morning this friggin’ early.

I walked sleepily into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I had thrown on a
pair of shorts and a white wife beater.

“Bout time you got ur ass up, Boy,” he growled. “You ain’t in Arizona now.”

I sat down and poured a bowl of cereal. The only thing I could find was Bran Flakes.
The stuff tasted awful. I can’t believe people actually eat it. I looked around for
something else, like a banana.

“This ain’t ur house, Boy,” Uncle Roger said angrily. “Ask permission before you start
nosing around.”

I sat at the table and drank some milk. I guess I was permitted to do that much.
When he finished, he let out a disgusting burp and then rubbed his large stomach.

“Well, Boy,” he said. “Let’s get started on that garage. It’s not going to do by itself,”
he laughed. I guess he expected me to find humor in the statement.

I followed him out of the kitchen to the garage. It was a mess! I don’t think it had
been cleaned since they had moved in years ago. There were boxes, old paint cans,
broken furniture and bicycles with flat tires. I couldn’t even identify what some of the
other stuff was.

“All right, Boy.” He sat down in an old patio chair. “Let’s get busy.” Getting busy
meant I’d do the work and he’d sit and drink a beer and order me around. I kept
waiting for the other kid to show up so he could help.

I was having trouble putting a box in the storage area above the garage, so I asked
my uncle to help me.

“I’ll give you a hand,” I heard a boyish voice say. I looked down and saw a boy my
age standing on the first rung looking up at me. From where he was standing, I could
tell he had a good view up my shorts. When I looked down he seemed to be blushing.

“Hand me those boxes over there,” I told him, “and I’ll put them up here.”

We worked for the next two hours together. He said his name was Mark. He was kind
of cute.  It had been a long time since I’d been interested in a guy. He seemed to be
interested in me also. He was always staring at me. I could tell that every time I
climbed the ladder, he’d look up my shorts.

One time I opened my legs wide so he’d get a good view. I even think my left nut was
hanging out. I’m sure he was enjoying the show. We finally finished and Uncle Roger
was actually acting nice. He told us to go clean up and he’d buy us some ice cream.

I headed into the restroom and Mark hung around outside. I told him he could come
in with me. I had attended a boys’ school in Phoenix, so I was used to using the
bathroom with other boys around.

As he washed his hands, I had to take a piss. I didn’t really think anything of it until
he turned and watched as I peed. My cock started to get hard and I rubbed it until it
reached its full length. I could tell he was having trouble breathing. He was getting
excited watching me.

“You wanna suck it?” I asked him. He acted extremely shy and wouldn’t answer me so
I asked him again more harshly. He nodded his head. All of a sudden I had images of
my father taking off his belt. I didn’t want him to beat me again.

“Just what I thought, a fucking fag,” I said angrily. I couldn’t take another beating. If
my father knew I was with a boy again, he’d kill me this time.

A startled look came over his face, and he fled from the bathroom. I knew then that I
had to protect myself. No one here in California was going to know I was gay; even if
I had to out other boys to protect my secret.


Chapter 2                                   Return to TMJ
Chapter 1
Copyright ©2006 by Ronyx
All Rights Reserved