It gets better - the High School Fence

by Harry Rod

I woke up to multiple hands all over me, and a piece of duct tape being applied to my mouth. I tried to struggle, but there were too many hands on me, and they were too strong for me.

They easily carried me through my grandparents' house and out to a van in front of the house. I was lifted into the van and my hands and feet secured to the floor. A hood was placed over my head, and the overhead lights came on.

Someone said, "Drive to that empty lot. Then we can take care of this faggot there!"

I didn't recognize the voice, but I didn't really know a great deal of guys at my school, and they seemed to be younger guys. I figured it was a bunch of guys from school, because they were the ones that were constantly bullying me.

My senior year in high school started today, and I had been eager to begin. My grandparents had gotten me the required items for school, after several notes from me. I loved my grandparents, but they were awfully forgetful, and didn't seem to keep track of me very well.

My parents had died in a car crash when I was 5, so it was my grandparents that raised me. They were in their late 80's now, and were getting more forgetful all the time. Sometimes I thought I could be gone for days and they wouldn't realize it.

School had always been a trial for me. I was the quiet nerd in the back of the room, that always had lunch by myself in the cafeteria, and it was usually something I brought to school.

For some reason, the jocks in the school loved picking on me. I was forever being stuck into lockers, or harassed in the hall. And their favorite term for me was 'faggot.'

I did nothing to give them that opinion; it was true that I liked guys, but that was a deeply buried secret. I never did anything to give anyone that opinion. I dressed like everyone else . . . in jeans and t-shirts. I had a normal haircut. I was a skinny kid, but not effeminate at all.

So why were these guys pinning me down in the van and securing my wrists and ankles using plastic ties.

The van stopped, and I heard them all laughing. I felt my t-shirt and boxers being cut off of me. I was now naked in the van. I knew I was blushing from head to toe. I felt my ears burning.

"Look at the faggot's little dick!" someone said, and pulled on my dick. It wasn't that small. I had seen enough dicks in the showers to know that mine was about average. Of course, I hadn't seen any of those hard. I had seen plenty on the internet, and while there was a focus on the huge ones, there were plenty of ones that were average size when hard.

"And those little balls!" And someone pulled down on my balls. I admit I didn't have a great deal of hair around them, but more than others I had seen last year.

I cried out as they squeezed my balls and laughed, not that I could make much noise with the tape over my mouth.

"Skinny, too!" and someone pinched my nipples very hard. Again, I tried to thrash around to no avail.

"Okay, hold him still. I want to write some stuff on him." I felt more hands applied to me. The hood was pulled off, but a hand was immediately placed over my eyes.

I felt pressure on my forehead, and something was written, and then along my jaws; and then along my body, chest, legs, arms and feet. It seemed to take them hours to get it done, but I had no way to judge time; and there was a great deal of laughter and discussion about what should be written, although 'faggot' and 'cock sucker' were used frequently in their discussions. I was sure, too, that it was permanent marker.

Then they cut the plastic holding my arms and feet, and I tried to struggle to get out, and that provoked a great deal of laughter as they flipped me over. The hood was replaced. Someone spread my ass apart, as the another tied me down. I felt the marker in there and on my ass.

Then they went back to writing all over me on the backside. They found that the ticklish spots were on my sides, and told me to hold still or the words would come out funny.

When they finished, I heard one of the guys say, "Let's rape him!"

"Really?" Another guy said.

"Yeah, it's what faggots like, and it would be funny having the cum running out of his ass!'

"I don't know," someone else added.

"Fuck it. If you don't want to, that's fine. I am going to."

I felt my ass pulled apart, and a cold gob of grease applied to my hole, and a finger forced inside. I screamed into the tape, and that brought an evil laugh.

Then I heard a zipper and someone said, "You are going to rip him up with that!" someone exclaimed.

"Yeah, and he'll love it!" At that point, I felt something large pushing at my hole. I had no idea how to handle the intrusion; I hadn't read any details of how to go about this. I closed up my hole, and tightened down as much as I could.

"Fucker is tight!" the guy said, as he pushed harder on my ass. "Push out! Like you're taking a dump!" he yelled into my ear. I did what he said, and wondered how he could know anything about it.

It did make it easier for him to enter me, but he was huge and it hurt like hell! I was screaming, crying, begging, and trying to get out of this.

He just kept laughing in my ear and saying, "You love it, bitch!" His breath stank of cigarettes.

Then he did a huge thrust and buried his dick in my ass. I felt his pubic hair on my ass and his balls on the back of my legs. I wanted him to just be still and let me get used to it, not that I really thought I would get used to it.

Then he started long slow thrusts in and out of my ass. "The guy's ass is so fucking tight!" he panted into my ear, and then said, "You guys are going to love this!"

He sped up and was soon gasping in my ear, and pulling the hood back, raising my head back as far it would go. "Take it, bitch!" he said, and I felt him shooting into my ass. He would ram into me and shoot, and then do it again, until he finished.

He got off of me and said, "Your turn!" as if it was a command. "I don't know, Brad, really fucking a guy!" someone said.

Then I heard a slap and "No fucking names, fuck head!"

"Sorry," I heard.

"Now get up here and fuck his ass," Brad commanded.

I felt someone else climb on top of me and force his cock inside my hole. He was smaller than "Brad" and didn't last very long.

There was a weak, "Take it, bitch," as he thrust into me and came. His breath smelled of peppermint, and he was lighter than Brad.

"Who's next?

Someone said, "Me, I guess." The guy unzipped his pants, and climbed up on top of me. He was very rough when he got his dick up to my hole. He didn't even try to push the head in first, he just went in, all in one thrust, and I screamed and cried into the tape.

There was that evil laughter again, that had to be Brad. "See, he loves it!"

This guy was somewhere between Brad and the other guy in weight. He whispered into my ear very softly, "I'm sorry," and then yelled. Take it, bitch!"

He pumped into me for about a minute, before blasting his seed into my ass. Two more guys raped me, but one guy wouldn't. Brad called him a fucking fag, and everything else under the sun.

But the guy said, "It's not right! And look, asshole, he's bleeding!"

That quieted everyone down, until Brad said, "He's used to it!"

They closed up the van after that, and we drove off. After driving around over bumpy roads and a railroad crossing, they stopped.

They opened the van and released me from the floor, and dragged me out of the van. I felt myself being pressed against a chain link fence. Once again, my arms and wrists were restrained to the fence with plastic ties.

The last thing one of the guys did was pull the hood off of me, and jump into the van and take off. I looked around and saw that I was on the fence at the student parking lot. I began to struggle then, trying to get out of the ties. I knew the students would be arriving soon, by the height of the sun on the horizon.

My left wrist was cut, and blood was dripping from it. I yelled "Help!" as loud as I could, but then realized what the person would find, if they came to assist me, and I couldn't tolerate being found this way.

So I shut my mouth and went back to twisting my arms and legs, trying to break lose. In my struggles, I saw some of the words and drawings on me. There were drawings of cocks, and "faggot" was written across my chest, and "little baby maker" written with an arrow pointing down to my dick. Lots of arrows pointed to my crotch. Words like "loves to suck cock" and "deliveries in the rear" also covered me. I figured that what was on my face would be as bad, if not more so.

I tried moving my legs so I could at least cover my crotch with an upper thigh, but no, I didn't have that leeway. I began crying then. I knew my life was over as soon as the students began arriving.

Sure enough a dozen cars came in then and, seemingly drawn to me, they all parked in front of where I was tied. They got out of their cars and came over and started laughing and pointing. The girls covered their mouths and laughed. I couldn't look at them; I looked down to the ground and knew I was blushing.

"What an asswipe!"

"Look at the faggot!"

"Always knew that he was a fag!"

"What's that dripping down his leg?"

"Cum!" someone yelled.

Then "Ewww!" and "Fucking gross!"

And someone said, "And is that blood?" I didn't know if they meant from my ass or my wrist.

"Fucking cock sucker!"

More and more students were gathering around me. I was now crying and begging someone to get me down.

"Fucking faggot wants me to touch him!"

I heard comments about the size of my dick and balls and how little hair I had. This seemed to go on and on. And I just slumped down and cried.

Finally, I heard a very strong masculine voice saying, "What is going on here?"

Then, "Go on, get to your classes," he said. He used something to cut the ties on my hands and feet. He lifted me up in his arms and started carrying me. I looked up and saw that it was Mr. Reynolds, my math teacher.

"Hold on, we are going to get you all taken care of," he assured me, as he took me to his car. He put me in the passenger seat, and buckled the seat belt around me. Then he got a blanket from someplace and spread it over me.

He started the car. I heard him make a call to the hospital, explaining what had happened, and that he was bringing me in. Then he called the school and told them to get someone to cover his class, that he had an emergency to take care of.

"Hang in there, kiddo," he said, "we'll be there soon." He placed his arm around me and tried to pull me to him.

"You doing okay?" he asked me, and then added, “Hang in there!” I could only shake my head and cry. I couldn't get the things out of my head that the kids had called me, and how I had been taken by Brad and his gang. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. My life was over. I could never go back to school there. In fact, I couldn't imagine being seen around town. Yes, a deep dark hole, and dying, would be just fine.

We must have arrived at the hospital, because Mr. Reynolds ran around to my side, unbuckled me, wrapped me up in the blanket, and carried me, running into the emergency room.

Things became a blur at that point, as my name and such were given and the nurses took me off to a room. All I kept saying over and over, begging them, was, "Please don't call my grandparents! Please don't!"

At that point I saw Mr. Reynolds come in and say, "I'm his uncle. I can handle any of the insurance and custody questions; and he is 18 and can make his own decisions."

The nurse looked at him skeptically, then looked to me and said, "Is this man your Uncle?"

And without looking at him, I said, "Yes."

Again the nurse asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" I said, and then laid back on the bed.

"Okay, you can stay," the nurse said, and he went back to checking me out. Nothing was said about the words and images on me. They were looking at my wrists and ankles.

Mr. Reynolds leaned in and whispered in the nurse's ear. He looked at Mr. Reynolds, and Mr. Reynolds just nodded.

The nurse then had them roll me over, and I felt them gently spread my cheeks apart. Now my embarrassment was magnified, as someone knew what had been done to me. I started bawling again.

Mr. Reynolds came over and took my hand in his and ran his other hand over my head. "It's going to be okay. They have to know, so they can take care of you." That was so wonderful of him to say, but it didn't lessen my shame. I buried my head in the pillow, and continued to cry as they gently probed and touched around my hole.

They hooked up an IV, and I was soon off someplace else. Somewhere in there, I relived the whole morning again, and screamed and thrashed. I felt my arms and hands restrained, and became more violent.

Then everything went black, and I don't know how long I was like that, but I came around and everything was blurry at first, and then I was finally able to focus. I saw Mr. Reynolds sitting next to me. He was smiling, but I saw the look of concern on his face.

"Hey, buddy, how are you doing?" he said, and moved his hand. That's when I realized he had been holding my hand. He patted my shoulder.

"K," was all I could manage. My mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. "Water?" I asked.

He brought a plastic cup over, that had a straw, and held it in place, until I had it in my lips, and then I took a long drink. It felt so good!

"They have taken care of everything, and you are going to be fine." I realized my hands were restrained, and I panicked. "It's okay," he said. "The nurse will come by and let you out, but you were getting quite violent while you were out, so they had to restrain you." He was rubbing his hand through my hair, and had leaned in closer to me.

"I've called your grandparents," and I started to protest, but he continued, "I told them you were on a school outing, and would be back in a week. I gave them my phone number if they needed to get in touch with you."

He smiled and said, "They didn't seem to be too concerned."

"Yeah, they were great in raising me, but recently they seem to be losing it." I said, glad that he had understood my concern.

He looked at me with concern and said, "I haven't called the school yet, but I have to. This happened on school grounds. The principal needs to take action against whoever did this to you."

"NO!" I said adamantly. I didn't want anyone at school knowing any more about this. I was embarrassed enough. "Please don't!"

"Okay, let's set that aside for a moment. I want to talk to you." He paused, and then went on. "They will have doctors that can tell you this much better than I can, but I want you to know that it will get better and you will get through this." He saw the doubt on my face. "Yes, you will."

He sighed, and swallowed audibly, and I saw emotion flow across his face. "Look, I can say that, because ..." he paused again, and tried to get his emotions in check.

"It happened to me when I was in high school." His eyes brimmed, and he gave me a wan smile, and nodded when my eyes grew round.

"So, I know that, right now, you want to crawl into a hole and never come out." I was crying now, because he was expressing exactly how I felt. "But you have so much to do, and to live for, and it will get better."

He wiped his eyes and said, "But we need to make the people that did this to you receive the punishment they deserve. That involves the school and the police."

I shook my head and mumbled "No," through my tears.

Again, he proceeded, and he took my hand and squeezed it. "Believe me, I know how difficult that may seem at this point. But do you want them doing this to someone else?"

I shook my head, but couldn't bring myself to say anything.

"Okay, let's let that go for a bit. Are you hungry?" Before he asked that, I would have thought that I would never want to eat again, but once he asked that, I realized I was starving.

I nodded, and managed a "Yes."

He pressed a button on the bed, and a nurse came in within minutes. "He's awake and hungry," Mr. Reynolds said.

The nurse smiled at me, and with a warm smile on his face, came over and undid the restraints on my wrists and legs. I saw bandages then on my wrists. "As long as you promise not to try and punch someone's lights out again, I'll leave these off." He was smiling, as he said it.

"Let's get some readings and check you over, and then see about getting you some food." He listened to my heart, checked the monitors, and wrote some stuff in the chart that hung at the end of my bed. He pulled the curtain around my bed and said, "Okay, I have to roll you over and check how everything is doing on your backside." He smiled, as he looked at me before proceeding.

I felt my ears heat up, and he rolled me over and lifted up the hospital 'thing.' He gently poked around and looked at the area. "Yeah, I think we aren't going be able to give you solid food yet." He laughed, and tried to make light of it when he said, "Unless you like getting enemas!" I blushed a deeper shade of red, and he laughed and said, "Just kidding!"

"So no burgers and fries or pizza?" Mr. Reynolds said, smiling.

"Yep, that's right. Soup, jello, and pudding are about it for a couple of days," the nurse said.

I was not looking forward to that, but Mr. Reynolds said, "As soon as they say it is okay, I'll bring you whatever you want!" I smiled.

The nurse left, and I said, "Mr. Reynolds, what you said before," I started, but he interrupted.

"Please; call me Mark, or Uncle Mark," he smiled, as he said that.

"You know, the nurse in the emergency room thought I was some kind of pedophile that was trying to not let you out of my sight, until you confirmed that I was your uncle."

"Well, Uncle Mark," I said with a grin, "it was either you, or calling my grandparents. So thank you for that."

I thought for a moment and said, "How long have you been here? Don't you have to go to your classes, and stuff? What time is it?" I said, looking around for a clock.

"It's 6:35 in the evening, on the day you were admitted. You were kind of wired and emotional, so they had to sedate you while they worked on you." He smiled. "And no, I don't have anything to do. I have told the school that I have an emergency to take care of."

He frowned. "However, some students have reported that I was seen carrying you off, and from the murmurs and rumblings around the school, they are aware of something having happened."

After pausing again, he said, "So, as difficult as it is going to be, you are going to have to let me tell the principal what happened, and that you have asked me to stay with you."

He looked at me very seriously, and leaned in when he asked, "Do you know who did this to you?"

I shook my head, because I didn't want to tell anyone, or else they would do something worse to me.

"Do you know and don't want to tell, or do you not really know?" He was being very serious now.

"I don't want to tell, because they will then do something worse to me," and I couldn't imagine, or maybe I could, what would be worse. I was getting emotional again.

"Remember, I have been through this, and I know how difficult it is to do, but it needs to be done." He patted my leg and said, "Let's let that go for now. I need to tell the principal something. How about I tell him there has been an incident between you and some other boys . . . it was boys, right?" I nodded. "and that right now you can't remember who they are?"

He looked at me again. "Is that okay?"

I nodded slowly, thinking about it. It made me blush to think of all those kids seeing me like that. That was almost worst than what they had done to me in the van.

"Okay, and I'll tell him that because your grandparents are not really competent, that you asked me to be with you while things get sorted out." He pulled my chin up, until I was looking into his eyes. "Is that okay?"

"Yes," I said, and started crying again. "Thank you, Uncle Mark!" I said, and reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed. I hadn't done that to anyone in forever, and it felt really good. The crying intensified, until I was bawling. It was like I was dumping all the accumulated emotions of the day at that moment.

Mark wrapped his arms around me and held me. He let me go on crying, and kept comforting me, as I went on and on, until I ran down. When I was done, he handed me a box of tissues. I started cleaning up, and saw that I had gotten snot all over the shoulder of his shirt.

He felt so strong and warm under his shirt. He held me at arms length while I blew my nose and got cleaned up. "Better?" he said.

"Yes," I said, and nodded. He smiled and said, "It helps to just let go." I nodded again.

The nurse brought in a tray for me, and it looked pretty unappetizing. I had a container of jello, a container of pudding, some soup that seemed to be just broth, and some milk.

"Not much, I know, but that's all you can have right now."

Just then I realized something. "I need to use the bathroom," I said, in a quiet voice, like I was 5 or something.

The nurse said, "Well, fortunately, you don't have a catheter in, so let me help you, and you can go to the bathroom." He smiled. I was embarrassed, and really didn't want someone going with me.

"You are going to be weak at first. I am just going to make sure that you get there, then you can do what you need to, and I will help you get back." He seemed to know what I was thinking without saying it.

He uncovered me, and helped me swing my legs out. I stood up, and almost fell over. I grabbed for his arm, and he was there like a solid rock. After I was moving, I felt a breeze over my butt. I reached back, but he was holding it closed for me. The IV bag was on a rolling stand, that rolled along with me.

"Yeah, probably the most embarrassing thing they could give you to wear. Definitely not designer jeans and a Sean Combs hoodie!" That made me smile.

He got me to the bathroom and said, as I was closing the door, "Leave it open just a bit, so in case you fall, I can hear you. Hold onto the rails on the side, and I know you are going to look in the mirror; we got as much of the ink off of you as we could. I have something I will use in the morning to get the rest off."

I blushed, thinking of what was written there. I went in and pushed the door closed a bit. I had to pee badly, so I held onto the side rails. I raised the gown (I hated that word!), and got a stream going, while I held onto the railing with the hand that held the gown.

When I was finished, I managed to move around with the IV stand, and get to the sink. I was shocked, as I looked in the mirror. Faggot was across my forehead, and a dick was drawn on each side of my face, with the head pointing towards my mouth. They were dripping cum, and on my chin was "make deposits here" and an arrow to my mouth.

"Don't worry," the nurse said, opening the door. "I think it will all be gone by tomorrow."

I felt terrible again. To have that on my face, and have everyone see it, made me sad again.

Mark was right there when I came out of the bathroom. "I know it looks terrible, but we know that someone did this to you, and that it has nothing to do with who you are." He made the end sound almost like a command, that I should believe it.

The nurse, whose name was Roger, I finally saw on his name tag, helped me get back into bed, and rolled the tray up in front of me, and raised the head of my bed until I was almost sitting up.

I opened the Jello and tasted it, and I was soon devouring everything at breakneck speed. Mark said, "I guess you were hungry!" when I put down my spoon.

"I guess so,” I said shyly.

When Roger took away the tray, he said that visiting hours would be over in an hour, but if Mark wanted to stay longer, he could. He smiled and said, "He hasn't left your side, yet, you know."

"Oh, Shit!" I said, and then immediately, "I mean, I am sorry; I didn't know I was taking all of your time! I am so sorry!"

"It's okay," he said, reassuring me. "I want to be here."

He asked me if I wanted anything while I was in the hospital, such as books, music, movies, games, etc. "I have an iPod touch in my backpack," and then couldn't figure out how he was going to get that out of my grandparents' house without causing too many questions.

"But I guess that is not an option," I said dejectedly. "I guess a magazine. Something about computers," I said, half-heartedly.

After that, Mark asked me about what I liked to do, about the music I liked, the games I played, what my favorite things were, and books and movies.

He asked about sports, and I shrugged my shoulders. "Not much into team sports?" he asked.

"No, the jocks don't ..." and I let it just run out.

"Was it jocks that did this to you?" but I still couldn't talk about it.

He was so nice to me, listening to me, and commenting on things I said, so I knew he was listening, not like my grandparents had been doing recently. If I asked them something, they usually responded, but they didn't ask me many questions. I couldn't remember the last time they had asked me what I wanted to eat.

Someplace in there, I drifted off to sleep. I woke, sometime during the night, with a start, and felt a hand on my chest, patting me, and hearing a soft voice say, "Shhhh, it's okay; I'm here; go back to sleep." That reassurance put me at ease, and I drifted back into sleep.

The next morning, when I woke up, Mark was still there in the same clothes he had worn the day before. His beard was coming in, and his hair was going every which way. He smiled, when he saw me awake.

"Good, you are awake!" He tousled my hair. "Bathroom break?" he asked.

"Yes, please," I said. He helped me get up, and held the stupid thing closed behind me, and made sure I made it to the bathroom.

"Holler, if you need something," he said, and pulled the door almost closed behind me.

I took a leak, washed my hands, and looked in the mirror. The marks were nearly gone. I pushed the door all the way closed, and pulled down the hospital thing, and looked my body over. I tried to look over my shoulder to see my ass, but all I could see was some tape coming out of my crack.

Fading on my ass was "deliveries here" and "enter here" and "make deposits here.” I pulled it back up and opened the door. "Pretty disgusting stuff, isn't it?" Mark said.

Nodding, as he helped me back to the bed, I really didn't want to talk about it.

"All of it should be gone by tonight," he smiled.

A different nurse came in to "check my vitals" and then to bring me breakfast. His name was Charles. He was a thinner man than Roger, but seemed to be just as strong.

After breakfast, the doctor came in and looked over my chart, then at my wrists and ankles, gently taking off the bandages.

Then he rolled me over and said, "Sorry, I know this is probably not your favorite position to be in, but I have to take a look." He gently moved the bandages, or whatever was back there.

Then he rolled me back over onto my back. "Are you okay with me discussing your prognosis in front of your uncle?" The way he said, 'uncle' made it sound like he didn't believe that for a minute.

"Yes," I said, as if that would confirm that he was my uncle.

"Okay, so you have minor lacerations on your wrists and ankles, with one that was more serious than the others, but those are all doing well, and should be fine in a day or so." He closed the chart and looked at me.

"Your rectum and anus suffered a tear, but are healing up nicely, and you should be back on solid foods in a day or so. When you have a bowel movement today, it will probably hurt, but since you haven't had any solid foods, you should be okay."

"I know that this is difficult to discuss, but," he paused, and made sure I was looking at him, "we did collect samples for the rape kit. So we have the DNA of the men that did this to you." That made me tear up again.

Mark reached over and squeezed my hand. The doctor went on. "I had to report it to the police, so they will be by to talk to you." He must have seen the panic on my face, because he said, "But before they can talk to you, I want to make sure you have had a chance to speak with Dr. Murphy."

He smiled at me, as if to further reassure me. "He is a psychologist that specializes in these kinds of cases. He will help you deal with everything, and help you through the whole process."

He looked from me to Mark and back. Mark spoke up, and said, in a tone that showed he was going to get this out because he had to, "Doctor, I went through something similar when I was about his age. So if there is anyway that I can help, please let me know."

The doctor smiled, and his face softened. "You seem to have provided a great deal of comfort already. I think just being here with your nephew, and having him know that you have been through it, and understand the situation, will be tremendously helpful."

I knew that it must have been difficult for Mark to tell the doctor that, but it also showed me that he had gotten through it and could talk about it.

Charles came in after that. He said I couldn't have a shower yet, but that he would be back later to give me a sponge bath. I didn't know what to think about that, other than to be embarrassed at the thought. Then he changed all the bandages, and used something on the writing that he said would help make it fade faster.

When he left, Mark brought out a bag and sat it on the tray in front of me. "Go ahead, open it," he said, with a big smile on his face.

I opened the brown paper bag and looked in, and pulled out an iPhone and headphones. "Fuck!" I said, and then looked at him. "I'm sorry, I mean, wow! Where did this come from?"

Mark laughed and said, "First, of all, I have heard the word 'fuck' before. In fact, I have been known to say it myself, now and then." I laughed, but my ears burned.

"And, second, I made a call after you went to sleep last night. I had my friend get it and get it loaded with what we thought would be 'cool' stuff, based on what you had said last night. You can download anything you want, if it doesn't have the right stuff."

He looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening. "You aren't really supposed to use cell phones in here, but Roger said it would be okay, if you keep it quiet. He also said he would see about getting internet access to use instead of the phone."

Some of the kids in school had iPhones, but it was never something I could explain to G & G about why I needed it, or why they needed to go to the expense of getting one. That made me worry. "Mark, I mean, Uncle Mark, this is great, but my grandparents won't be able to afford the plan."

"No, the plan is on my phone bill, and it isn't much to add another line." He pushed back my hands, which I had extended towards him with the phone. "You keep it. Once you get a job, or out of college, you can decide to take over the plan. You can keep the same number and all."

He took the bag and dumped it upside down, and two black cloth things fell out. "What's that?" I said. I put down the phone and held up one of them. It was a t-shirt, and it said 'Angry Birds' on it, with a picture of the red ones. The other one had purple letters on it, and it said, "Born this way!"

He looked at me and then back to the shirt. "Too much?" I wasn't sure what he was asking. But I shook my head, overwhelmed that he had got this stuff for me.

"Here's the instruction manual, but you are probably like every other kid these days, and intuitively understand how it works and how to set it up." He smiled. "It is also loaded as a PDF, with the iBooks App, or so I am told!"

I picked up the phone and started getting to know it. "While you get acquainted with your new friend, I am going to clean up!"

He picked up a small gym bag and headed into the bathroom. Soon, I heard the shower running, and I tried to picture him naked, but then shook my head. He would never accept me if he knew that I wanted to picture him naked, or that I liked guys.

That got me depressed again, but I turned to the iPhone, and was soon totally engrossed in it. He had loaded a bunch of songs on it; most were great, but a couple were lame. He had also loaded a lot of Glee songs on it. I hadn't watched that at all, so I wasn't up on the type of music. I would have to give it a listen.

It had Facebook and Twitter loaded, but I didn't have anyone that I could follow or tweet with. Also the texting section. But it had iBooks loaded, and a bunch of books of the sort that we had talked about.

And tons of games. In the notes, it was written that the Apple password for the ID loaded on the phone was Hermit09. I would have to ask him about that.

I heard the shower stop, and wondered, again, what he looked like while he was drying off. I imagined a muscular chest with a bit of hair on it, with a trail that led down to his crotch. I closed my eyes and shook my head. I couldn't be thinking those things.

He came out in jeans and a t-shirt, and looked so casual compared to the sports coat, long sleeved shirt, and trousers that he had been in yesterday. Was it really only yesterday?

The t-shirt showed off a wiry body that looked like it was a runners body; tough, but not a body builder. And his legs looked very strong in the jeans that seemed to hug his hips. Enough of that!

He wore some sort of loafers. As he carried out the gym bag, I noticed that a sleeve was sticking out of the opening. His hair was wet, and combed off to the side, and he hadn't shaved, yet.

As if reading my mind, he rubbed his chin and said, "I guess the razor didn't get packed. I'm sure they have them in the gift shop downstairs."

Then I wondered how he had gotten all the stuff. Had he left during the night? Surely, he had, but he hadn't changed until just now.

"How did you get all this stuff?" I asked.

He laughed, "What, you don't think I have a magic lamp, that I just rub, and out pops that funny blue guy?"

I looked at him quizzically. "Before your time?" he said. "Aladdin? Disney?" He saw that it wasn't connecting. "Seriously? That's before your time?"

"I guess so, 'cause I have no idea what you are talking about!" I smiled at his consternation.

"Whatever," he said, sounding like some of the kids at school. "I called my friend and he brought all the stuff up."

Friend? He? Was I making an assumption? "You'll get to meet him tonight; he's going to come by and get introduced." He left it vague, and I didn't ask for more information, because asking the question I wanted to ask was going to give me away.

"The phone is really great!" I said. I smiled, "But I don't have anyone to Facebook with, or Tweet with, or text with."

"That's no problem!" he said. He reached into his hip pocket and said, "Here are some people that you might like to get to know." Some of the names were people on TV, some were pages for games or movies, and some I had no idea.

"Who are these people?" I asked, pointing to the names and phone numbers.

"Those are some friends of mine that said they would like to get to know you." He looked at me and tousled my hair. "And as long as you don't do any sexting to them, you should be fine." He laughed. I did, too, but then I felt deflated. Why would I be sexting anyone? Did he think I had brought that rape onto myself because I was coming on to those guys?

"Wait!" he said. "I wasn't trying to imply anything. I was just trying to be funny, and it failed. I can see that."

So, changing the subject, he said, "There are a bunch of books and music on there, and music. The Facebook page is a basic page for you to start from; same for Twitter. You can update the profile information as you wish; you can check out the other people's profiles, and decide if you want to be friends with any of them. Friends, as in the Facebook sense. You decide if you like them, etc.

"All the logins are your first initial, last name, and the same password throughout"

"Hermit09?" I asked.

He looked chagrinned. "Yeah, I was pretty much a hermit in college, so I got stuck with that name by my friends. So I use it for my password."

"You'll have to explain that some more," I said, smiling at him.

Charles came into the room, rolling a cart. "Time for your bath, sport."

Mark said, "I'll go down to the gift shop to look for a razor while he does that. You know, give you some privacy, and all," he said, and I swear he was blushing.

"I can get you a razor," Charles said.

"Great, but I think I'll still give you some privacy," he said to me, and waved, as he went out the door.

It was totally embarrassing to have Charles basically strip me down and wash me with a sponge all over. He seemed to be totally professional, and not notice my awkwardness in the process.

When he was cleaning my backside, I clenched my ass tight, and he had to say, "Relax. I am not going to hurt you." He seemed to be extra gentle with me.

He saw the t-shirts and said, "Let's put one of these on, and I have something we can tie around the lower half that won't be quite so revealing." He chuckled as he said it.

I put on the Angry Birds shirt, and Charles brought in this cloth that he wrapped around my waist and tied. So, yeah, it looked sort of like a skirt, but it was so much better than that hospital "gown.”

Mark came back in, when he left. "Hey, you're wearing it! Looks good."

"Thank you for getting it for me. I thought that thing was terrible!" and I laughed at the expression on his face.

He went to sit down, but then someone came in. "Hi, I'm Doctor Murphy," he said. Mark stood and said, "I'll leave you two alone, then." He smiled.

The doctor said, "Come back in about 40 minutes; I want to talk to both of you." A question went across Mark's face, but he didn't say anything.

The doctor talked to me for several minutes, explaining about what I was probably feeling, and how it was natural. He said he wanted me to feel free to talk to him about anything. And he said he knew how difficult that was for a young man, especially one who had been through what I had, but he meant it.

He wasn't going to tell anyone, and he didn't judge anything I said. Then I said I understood.

He began to gently probe, and asked me to tell him what happened from the beginning, and how it made me feel. If I rushed over something, he would go back and gently ask a probing question, to see if I would talk about it.

At one point, I was crying again, and he said it was perfectly natural. "You are probably going to feel like you brought this on yourself; that it is your fault they did that to you. That is normal, but it is NOT true. What they did to you is against the law, and morally wrong, and they should be punished for it."

He put down his notebook and said, "I am going to talk with you and your uncle about this, but it is extremely important that, if you know who did this, you report it to the police, and to the school. There are all kinds of things we can do to protect you from any retaliation, because I know that will be your biggest fear."

He was quiet for a while. "When a man is raped, he feels that if he reports it, people will think less of him for having had that done to him. That he will be letting it out to everyone what was done to him, and that he will only be more humiliated."

He seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. "But, in fact, it is they who should be humiliated and treated as criminals. They were the ones that did this terrible thing. They should be embarrassed to be seen in public, and ashamed that anyone would know they did something like this."

He let that sink in. Mark knocked on the door and peaked in. "Give us about 10 more minutes," the doctor said, and closed the door.

He came back and sat down. He sighed and said, "Well, I am just going to say this, and it may be a difficult pill to swallow, and if I am off base, then just tell me, but hear me out."

He paused, and then looked me in the eyes, "I am going to ask you something that you may be afraid to answer. I want you to know that your answer makes no difference to me, and no one will know how you answer this question except you and me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I said.

"Okay then." He again made sure I was looking at him. "Are you gay? Do you like men?" He watched me and said, "I am not asking if you have ever done anything with a man, but I am wanting to know if men arouse you."

He said it in such a way that it didn't embarrass me.

"I know this is difficult, but I need to know. And it is not meant to embarrass you or put your down or out you or any of those things. This is just between you and me."

I nodded my head then, and tears ran down my face. I had never told anyone that, and it was my greatest fear that someone would find it out.

He handed me some tissues and said, "That is a huge step. Thank you for trusting me with that information. And I know that it is probably difficult to trust anyone after what happened to you."

I just nodded. "In a while, you are going to feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of you, because you have told someone, and someone else can help you bear the burden you think this brings."

He thought for a moment and said, "I bet your uncle would be understanding if you shared it with him. I think that if you shared it with him, you would have someone you could talk to about it."

I swallowed, and said in a whisper, "He's not my real uncle. He is a teacher at my school." Then I told him about my grandparents, and everything. He looked at my chart and then at me.

"Is he doing anything inappropriate with you?"

"NO!" I said.

"Okay, just wanted to make sure. And you can tell me, and I will make sure he doesn't ever do anything again."

"No," I answered a bit more evenly this time.

"Well, he certainly seems to have your best interests in mind. I understand he hasn't left your side since you came in. I also understand, from your doctor, that he said he had gone through something similiar. That's why I want to talk to both of you. I think you can help each other through this."

He checked the chart, and thought some more. "Since you are 18, you can technically live where ever you want to live, but I don't think the school would look at it from that angle, if you were to stay with him. He thought again. "You need to be with someone who can support you, and be there for you, and someone you can trust." He again looked me in the eyes. "And I mean totally trust. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I said. I was thinking about living with Mark. Did the doctor really mean that? What would Mark think? The last thing he probably wanted was some kid living with him.

"And as far as I am concerned, he's your uncle," the doctor said, walking to the door and opening it.

"You can come in now," he said.

He closed the door after Mark came in. Mark sat down in the chair next to the bed, and the doctor took the chair against the wall and moved it closer.

"First, I understand that you are not his uncle," the doctor said, and Mark started to say something.

"He is okay with that, and I told him as far as I am concerned, you are his uncle." Mark sat back in the chair. "He is 18, so he can decide where he wants to live. Now, you just have to get it all squared away with his real family."

Mark looked at him quizzically. "I mean, he needs someone to take care of him, someone he can trust, and someone he can talk to, and from what I understand, that isn't his grandparents. So, yes, I am talking about him living with you." He looked at Mark and asked, "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, I don't," Mark answered quickly, and I was in shock. He was going to let me move in with him. Mark looked at me and smiled.

"Second, I understand that you have been through something similar, so you can help him through this, and explain the need to name names of the guys that did this."

"Third, he has to be in school and graduate. Now that's not a law, but that's my opinion. So you figure out how to get him back in school, and probably not at the high school where you teach. They might frown on you having a student live with you."

"Fourth, as you know, the physical injuries will heal much faster than the emotional ones. You need to help him through that process of healing, so he can eventually have a healthy, fulfilled life, and by that I mean a sexual life," he said, no mincing of words.

I blushed again. He smiled, "I know that for someone your age, it is embarrassing to discuss sex, but you will want and need it, and it is part of every healthy adult's life."

He smiled again. "So you need someone to explain the ins and outs of it, as it were." He looked at us and smiled again. "It probably isn't something that is going to happen today or tomorrow, but it will happen."

"You will have regular appointments with me. At first, they will be three times a week, then twice, then one, and then every two weeks, and then once a month."

He took my iPhone, and did some searching, and then handed it to me, "Watch these videos. It is from a project called, "It gets better.”

He looked at Mark. "Since you have agreed to take the financial responsibility for this, you'll be glad to know they are all covered by your insurance."

Mark was paying my bills? Really?

He looked at Mark and said, "I know you probably already know this, but I'll tell you anyway, so that he hears what I am saying as well."

The doctor pointed to me and said, "He is going to need someone to confide in, someone he can trust with that information, and someone who will accept him, no matter what, and who will care for him in spite of what has happened."

He looked at Mark again. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, doctor," Mark said, and then he turned and smiled at me. "I do care about him, and he CAN tell me anything." He patted my hand then. I didn't want to go to pieces again, so I smiled as I fought to control my emotions visibly. He seemed to be having a similar problem.

"Okay, it's about lunch time, and I know you are looking forward to more soft foods!"

We all laughed at that.

Charles came in with a tray, but said, "Bathroom first."

He looked at me and nodded, "Yep, it's about time to see how you do with a bowel movement."

I went red and Mark patted my hand again. "Hey, did you know that everyone has bowel movements?"

"Asshole!" I said, and laughed. I figured if he had heard 'fuck,' then he most definitely had heard that.

"Feisty, isn't he?" Charles said, as he helped me out of bed.

"Definitely going to have to work on manners!" Mark said.

"Yes, and I bet he's happy that you won't be able to paddle his behind for a while, for using such language." But Charles was laughing away, as he helped me to the bathroom.

He untied the cloth around my waist, and began to close the door. "It will probably hurt a bit, but not as much as if it was solid." Blush!

"And I am right here if you need help, or if you begin to hurt too much." He laughed and added, "And yes, I have seen plenty of assholes, and wiped my share, as well, so it ain't anything I haven't seen before!"

I blushed, and heard Mark laugh. I gingerly sat down and felt movement. I clenched up tight, but then relaxed, because I knew nothing would come out if I was closed up like that.

Yeah, it hurt a bit, but not nearly as much as I thought it would, and nothing like what had caused it. I thought about that while I sat there; about what Doc Murphy had said about nailing the guys that did this. I needed to talk to Mark about that, and how to keep from getting killed for ratting them out. And how to do it so everyone didn't run around dissing me, making rude comments about everything.

That was going to be the most difficult.

I was finished. I looked at the toilet roll and wondered; but I had to ask the question, and I went red as I did. "So do I use the toilet paper, or what?"

Charles laughed and said, "Well, not yet." He opened the door, and I put my hands over my crotch. "I told you it ain't anything I haven't already seen, because I done seen yours when I gave you that bath."

"Oh, yeah," I said, and only slightly relaxed my hands over my crotch.

Charles went to the sink, and filled up a bottle with warm water. "Okay, lean forward," he instructed.

"What?" I said.

"Just do what I said," Charles said, pulling my upper body towards him. He leaned over me, and used the warm water to rinse my crack. How embarrassing!

When he was done, he said, "All done. Now we just have to get out the hair dryer and get you all dried off."

"What the ..." I stopped, and he was roaring with laughter.

"No; here, lean forward again." I did, and he daubed my butt with some tissues, then tossed them in the toilet.

"Okay, all done, and it all looks fine." I blushed as I stood. He flushed the toilet, and then helped me get the cloth wrapped around me again.

Once I was back in bed, he rolled the tray over for me to eat, and it was almost the exact duplicate of what I had already had. "Yeah, different color jello and pudding; that's about it." I would die for a quarter pounder!

I slept after lunch, and when I woke, Mark was playing with the phone. "I bet I can beat your score on Angry Birds!" he said, and laughed, "I think I am addicted. I may have to get a shirt as well!"

"Naw, you'll never beat me!" We played on and on, with each of us trying to better the other on each level and each task.

Mark let me watch the videos that Doc Murphy had told me to watch. They were amazing, and emotional. I used more tissues while watching them.

Roger came in and checked my vitals, and then brought me a tray. I looked at Mark. "When do you get to eat?"

He laughed, "Well, I grabbed something when Doc Murphy was here. And my friend is supposed to bring in something in a little bit."

"You have a friend?" I said, kidding him.

He gave me a crooked smile, acknowledging my slight remark. "Well, I didn't have many of them in high school and the first couple of years at college, but then, yeah, I got a couple of friends." He smiled, as if remembering something. "Some very special friends."

He was being cryptic, and knew it.

After I finished dinner, there was a knock on the door, and Mark said, "Come in."

In walks this movie star. I mean, he looked like he could be a movie star. He had the 10,000 LED smile, the classic jaw, dazzling blue eyes, tan, protruding Adam's Apple, and looked like he had just stepped out of some fashion magazine. And he seemed to have that 'magnetic personality' that people speak of. I felt like I could be his friend without knowing any more about him.

He carried a paper sack, and sat it down on the tray and walked towards me. Mark introduced us by saying, "This is Taylor, my ... friend." I caught the hesitation, and then he introduced me.

Taylor thrust out his hand and I put up mine. He took it, and, with a firm hand, shook it. "Pleased to meet you. I have heard loads of stuff about you!" he said, looking back at Mark.

"And I have heard nothing about you, except for this strange mysterious 'friend' of Uncle Mark's," I said.

"Oh, yes, Uncle Mark," he said, smiling at Mark.

He put his hands on Mark's shoulders and said, "I always thought Mark would make a great uncle."

"Thanks," Mark said.

"What did you bring me?" He reached for the bag.

"You mean for us?" Taylor said.

Taylor laughed and said, "Hungry, much?" He grabbed the bag before Mark could get to it.

He pulled the tray over between them, and pulled out several cartons of Chinese food and two pairs of chopsticks.

Mark looked at me and said, "Is this going to bother you if we eat this in front of you?"

"Not to worry; I checked with Roger before I came in, and he said you could have one of these." He pulled out a cold cup with a straw sticking out of it. "I hope you like chocolate milk shakes?"

"Yes, Sir!" I said, reaching for the shake.

They both laughed. Taylor reached down and picked up a messenger bag that I hadn't noticed before. "I heard you are whooping his ass on Angry Birds." He let me laugh, and watched Mark's face.

"So I just thought this would make it easier for the old man to play." He pulled out an iPad.

"Really?" I said, after a long pull on the shake. "Oh, shit! Brain freeze!" They both laughed.

"You're right; he does need his mouth washed out with soap!" Taylor said.

"I figured this would be better for movies and shit," he smiled, when he said that, looking at me, "while you are here."

He smiled at my reaction and said, "Then we can see if it is good for school, etc., when you get out."

I looked at him with a huge question on my face.

"Yeah, Mark told me about the arrangement, and I am fine with it. It will be great to have some young blood in the house. And I hope you will treat our place as your home." He smiled, "Except, we'll have to set up a swear jar. Every swear word will cost you a quarter?"

He looked at me and said, "Oh, is that too little these days? Do you kids only deal in dollars now?" He looked at Mark and said, "And that goes for you and me, too!"

Did he say, "Our house"?

I was looking back and forth between them, and Taylor picked up on it first. "Yes, we live together. And if the hermit here hasn't told you, we are partners." Did he really say that? There was no smirk in his voice, nor was there any flamboyant "I am throwing this in your face" kind of thing. It was just a statement.

"I, ah, wanted to tell you." He looked at Taylor, "But I was looking for the right time."

"So, wait; you're gay?" I asked, blurting it out.

"Well, it's not like it's a disease," Taylor said. "You say that as if you are saying, 'Wait, are you guys lepers?' It is no big deal."

It was huge to me. I was overwhelmed. This was too much to process. I sank into the bed and wanted to cry, but I didn't know why.

"Hey, give us a minute, Taylor," Mark said, moving up beside me. Taylor politely left the room and gave us privacy.

"I wanted to tell you, but after what you went through, and I didn't know what you thought about gays, and the whole partner, lifestyle thing, etc." He smiled, and I saw the water well in his eyes. "I just didn't want to hurt you."

I was crying then. "Are you mad at me?" he asked, and I shook my head. "Do you hate gay men?" I laughed through my tears, and shook my head.

"Then what is it? You can tell me anything."

I tried to get it together, but it took a bit. There was this huge thing stuck in my throat. Finally, I managed, "Me, too." And I began really crying.

"You mean you are gay, too?" he said, moving in to comfort me and to hold me. I could only nod.

I blubbered for a while. Then Mark handed me some tissues, and I blew my nose and wiped up more snot.

Mark laughed and tried to make light of the situation. "We are either going to have to buy stock in Kleenex, or I am going to have to bring a dozen t-shirts to change into, if we are going to keep this up!"

He blew his nose, and wiped his face as well.

"Look, I don't care if you are gay or straight or bi or whatever. I want you to feel comfortable in our home."

"Yes, WE do," Taylor said, as he came into the room. He embraced both of us, and there were a few more tears shed.

Taylor went on to tell how he and Mark had met at college, and how Mark was this shy hermit that hardly ever left his room. And about how Taylor thought he was the cutest guy, as soon as he saw him.

"He was so naive. He never caught any of my subtle hints that I threw his way."

"Oh, yeah, subtle. Like walking up and down the dorm hallway with a towel over your shoulder, wiggling your junk as you walked by me."

"Oh, so you did notice!" Taylor laughed and clapped Mark on the shoulders.

"Anyway," Taylor continued, "I cornered him in the library one day, and asked him out for drinks, and he finally began to come out of his shell."

"You mean, I succumbed to your seduction," Mark said, with a smile on his face.

"It took him forever to tell me that he liked men, and then I knew I might have a chance with him." Taylor looked at Mark with tenderness on his face.

"And he nearly wore me out the first time he got me into bed," Taylor said, and Mark actually blushed.

"What do you mean, bed? You nearly ripped my clothes off in the parking lot!" Mark said, and it was Taylor's turn to blush.

"Anyway, we ended up being roommates the next year, and we have been together ever since." Taylor wrapped his arm around Mark's shoulder and gave him a squeeze. They were just too amazing to watch.

"See, it does get better!" Mark said, full of emotion.

From then on, they took turns telling stories on each other. Some place in there, I fell asleep.

The next morning, after the usual routine, Mark said, "I know this is probably way too soon to ask this, but in order to get all the stuff done that we need to do for you, I have to." He swallowed and said, "Taylor and I would like to adopt you. That way you can be covered under our insurance, and get benefits, etc."

I was stunned, and didn't know how to answer. "We have a lawyer all set up, and people to go with us to explain everything to your grandparents. And we aren't saying we are taking you away from them; we just think that we could provide better for you. You can still do whatever you want to do, and they will also have us to help them as well."

Mark looked me in the eyes, and said, "So what do you think?"

Emotions threatened to overtake me again, but I managed a "Yes."

He smiled and tousled my hair. "Okay, we should have things taken care of shortly."

He got a more serious face. "After the papers are signed today, then the police will come and we can be here with you. The principal wants to talk to you, and we have to see about getting you into school."

"I can't go back there!" I said, getting all panicked again.

"I understand," he said. "Taylor is making arrangements for you to be admitted to Brown's Academy for Boys. They do not tolerate bullying, or any kind of hate issues. So we are getting all your class materials, books, etc., and by next week, you should be ready to go to school."

It was all too much to take in! My head was spinning!

"And, one day soon, you will walk into your school and show everyone there that they can't get you down, and that what happened doesn't define you. I am sure that Doc Murphy will discuss it with you."

He looked at me with that serious look. "I did. And yes, it scared the sh ..., I mean, crap out of me." He smiled at correcting himself. "But I walked in with my head held high, and looked people in the eyes, and just did what I needed to do."

"And," he said, "your two dads will be with you!" It was too much. I lost it again, and, once more, he was hugging me, and I was dripping snot on his shoulder.

"It was also a way for me to show anyone else out there that it didn't have to happen to them, and if it did, or the bullying didn't stop, that it does get better."

It really became a whirlwind then. Mark's lawyer came in and explained what was going to happen. He said there wasn't a lot that had to happen, since I was 18 and could legally make my own decision about where I lived, but these papers just allowed Mark and Taylor to be responsible for me.

I signed, and then Mark and the lawyer left. I got out the iPad and played some and surfed some. I thought of surfing some porn, but didn't. I wondered what Mark and Taylor would say about that.

Shortly after lunch, Mark was back, smiling. "Welcome to our home, son!" He was brimming with emotions that got me going.

"What did G&G say?" I asked, when I was able to talk again.

"G&G? Oh, okay, grandma and grandpa; I get it. It took a bit to get them to understand, but they finally got it, and thought it was a grand idea. Taylor and I are arranging some home care for them to come in and check on them, get them their meals, and make sure they are taking all of their medicines."

"Wow, that's great. But isn't it costing a sh ..., er, I mean, a boat load of money?" I was going to try and be better with my language. G&G didn't tolerate it, but I tended to use it a lot in my mind, and the few times I talked to people, as I thought it would help me fit in better.

"It's okay. Taylor's parents left him some money; we both work; and we didn't have any children, until today; so it isn't like it's going to make us poor or anything."

"What kind of job does Taylor have?" I asked. It had never come up in any of the conversations.

"Hmmm, I thought we told you. He's teaching Physics and Drama at Brown's Academy for Boys." He watched the surprised look take over my face.

"Yep, both of your dads are teachers. So don't think you are going to get to slide by in your senior year. We expect that you will do the best you can in every class."

He laughed, "And you better darn sure get A's in physics and math!"

I smiled. It was too much to take in.

The police officer arrived then. Mark stayed in the room while they interviewed me. Officer Hendricks was very patient, as he asked me about what had happened. Mark held my hand through it all, and squeezed it when he knew I was having difficulty recounting the incident.

"So you didn't see any of the boys that did this to you?" he asked.

"I did see one. The one that pulled off my hood before jumping in the van and they drove off."

"Would you recognize him again if you saw him?"

"Yes," I said. But I was worried about identifying anyone.

"And Brad was the name you heard one of them say?"

"Yes," I said, again.

When he was done, he said, "The principal is outside, and he wants to ask you some of the same questions." He smiled, patted me on the leg and said, "We'll get these guys."

The principal came in then, and went through similar, although less thorough questioning, and had me recount it. I really had difficulty telling about the rape. It was still too fresh in my mind.

When I said the name, Brad, he seemed to know immediately who that was, and the group of guys he hung around with.

He looked at Mark and said, "Mr. Reynolds, I understand you are now his guardian. We'll keep you informed about what happens. I understand you have also made arrangements for him to attend Brown's." He looked at me and said, "That's a great school. You do well there, and it should be a snap for you to get into the college of your choice."

He paused, "I am sorry that this had to happen to you, and appalled that some of it happened on the school campus. I want to get to the bottom of this, and make an example of these boys, to get the message to the school population that these kind of actions are not permitted."

He smiled and said, "As difficult as it may seem, I really want to have my school be an accepting school, where everyone can be free to learn and enjoy it, without being harassed."

Roger told me that everything "back there" was healed up, and I could have solid food. Mark asked what I wanted, and he called Taylor, who brought in a pizza for us to share. I had terrible heart burn afterwards, and they laughed, and Roger gave me something for it. He had told me to go easy, and only have two slices. I wanted more, but I listened.

I was released the next day, after a session with Doc Murphy, and Mark and Taylor took me "home.” I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't what was there. It was a bungalow of sorts, with 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, a big kitchen, living room/dining room combination, and a big back yard.

"My room" was all set up with a twin bed, desk, laptop, books, TV, and everything. It was wonderful! All my stuff from G&G's had been brought over and put away. Taylor showed me my uniform for school. Grey slacks, white shirt, tie, and a blazer. He said, "We'll have to get you fitted out for some shoes, but wanted you to try them on before we bought them."

"Wow! It's all a bit much!" I said. I looked around and said, "I thought you said my school books would be here? Don't I have some studying to do before Monday?"

Taylor laughed. He pulled the iPad out of his messenger bag and handed it to me. "They are all on here. And, yes, you have some reading to do, and some homework. But tonight, why don't we just let you get settled in."

I looked over the stuff in the room when they left me alone. There was a new messenger bag with the logo of the school on it.

We had dinner together, on the counter of the bar that wrapped around the kitchen. Mark had made a stir-fry dinner, and it was amazing!

When it was time for bed, Mark asked me if I slept in pajamas or what. I said, "Usually my boxers and a t-shirt."

"That works fine around here!"

That night, I had a terrible nightmare about guys beating me up, and me having to walk through school naked, while everyone laughed, and threw rotten eggs at me. I must have screamed or something, because Taylor was waking me up, and telling me it was just a dream.

He stayed with me until I went back to sleep.

The next morning was a shock to me. Mark and Taylor were walking around in boxers and that was it. Taylor was on his way to the bathroom, and I noticed the tenting of his shorts. I had my own morning wood, but wouldn't have walked in front of anyone with it!

Mark saw my expression and said, "Sorry about that, but we are all men here, and it is bound to happen that you are going to see us naked, and we see you.

He looked at my face, again, and said, "Look, you probably have fantasies of sex with us." He laughed, "Don't be shocked. I was a hermit for a while, and I had all kinds of wild fantasies. So it's okay!"

He said seriously, "But, we won't. And if you ever have any questions about anything, sexual or otherwise, do not hesitate to ask." He made sure I was looking at him and said, "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I said.

He laughed. "My dad is a sir, I am Mark or uncle Mark or whatever you want to call me, but not Sir!"

"I call him asshole a lot!" Taylor said, coming into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his waist. I was mesmerized by his fit chest! It matched the rest of the images I had of him.

"Yeah, he has that effect on people!" Mark said, seeing my glazed look.

Taylor laughed, as I blushed. "It's okay to look."

And they were right; over the course of the next several days I saw them naked and they saw me as well.

They set ground rules for me and computer surfing. "It's okay to surf porn, and if you need access to a site that requires payment, use this card." They handed me a credit card. "It has a limit on it, and we will refill it when it gets low."

"And that doesn't mean you can go buy out the world. There's $50 on there, and that's pretty much your allowance for the month," Taylor said.

"But back to porn," Mark said. "Nothing that exploits someone or is hurting someone." He looked at me, "Not that I think you would go in for any of that."

He smiled again and said, "And nothing to excess!"

Taylor said, "Yeah, not like Mark here, who would spend hours and hours in front of the computer doing one finger typing while the other one was busy." He made a jerking off motion over his lap.

Mark blushed and said, "And we expect you to make friends, and, somewhere along in there, you will want to experiment, and that's okay, too. Again, you can ask us about it. And you do not to have to sneak around to do it." Mark was blushing again.

"What he is trying to say is, we would rather have you experiment or 'have sex' here in your bedroom than in the back seat of a car or in a park someplace." He looked at Mark and said, "Not that a park can't be fun!"

"Asshole!" Mark said.

"That's a buck!" Taylor said rattling the jar that sat on the counter.

"Anyway, back to topic. It's going to happen, and that's a good thing, as I am sure that the good Doc Murphy will tell you. So, on your own terms and at your own speed, explore!'

Two of the guys on the list that they had sent me were Paul and Jeff. They shared their story of how Paul had been this nerdy little guy, and how Jeff, this buff athlete, had been neighbors. And they ended up being a couple.

It was fun communicating with them and hearing their funny stories.

Another couple of guys were freshmen in college, who were roommates and lovers. They had all kinds of good advice, and even offered to come over and let me "explore.” The idea was intoxicating, but I just couldn't do that.

One morning, a couple of weeks later, we were having breakfast when I said, "Dad?"

And they both answered, "Yes?" I realized that I had never used that term before with them, but it really felt good to say it. And I could tell that it got to them as well.

I asked them, "Can I learn how to drive?" They loved the idea. They paid for the lessons, and had great fun teaching me parallel parking, and letting me drive. They said they would get me a car of my own when I graduated high school. It would be a used car, but it would be my own. Until then, I got to borrow one of theirs when I needed one.

They caught Brad and his friends. One of them caved in and confessed to everything. Their DNA was conclusive proof. They were all over 18, so they were given their sentences, and would be forever marked as sex offenders.

We did all three walk down the hallways of my old high school, my two dads on either side of me. I met every eye that looked at me, and held my head high. It was a powerful moment, just as Doc Murphy said it would be. It was scary and thrilling, all at the same time.

The principal apologized. He had made a big deal of it at the school, and the boy's names were given out, and what they had done.

Brad's parents felt so terrible that they set up a trust fund for me to use for college. They were distraught that their son would do something like this, and ashamed, so it was their way of making amends.

I eventually decided to forgive the boys. Doc Murphy had talked about not forgiving them would make them have a hold on my life forever.

I saw them at the trial, and they looked defeated. The boy who had apologized while he raped me, came over, crying, and said, "I am so sorry!"

I looked each of them in the face. Mark told me that rapists were not treated well in prison, and they would each have their chance to experience what they done to me. I really didn't wish that on anyone.

My dads made sure I did well in school, and we had lots of fun. We visited G&G at least once a week, and took them home cooked meals. Their caretaker was doing a great job for them, and they seemed very happy.

And, yes, I met a guy at school. His name is Ted, and yeah (!!!) I got to experiment! And I did it in my room! Mark and Taylor kind of did a coming of age celebration for me that embarrassed the shit out me!

I guess they were right when they said, "It does get better!"

I am looking forward to college next year. Ted and I are going to the near by university. I am eager to meet these two college guys, Hank and Kyle!

I do not condone non-consensual sex, but want the story to reflect what really happens and how things can get better.

You can find all of my stories if you click Authors at the top of the Nifty hom page and select Prolific Authors. Then look under H for harry rod.

have fun

harry

We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну

We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну

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It gets better - the High School Fence

by Harry Rod