The Angel of Retribution - 3. Chapter 3

I woke in the morning and immediately became aware that Bobby was still in my bed. In many ways I welcomed the comfort of his young body although it went against all that I was trying to instill in my home. I jostled him and said, “Hey sleepy head, time to get up.”

He opened an eye and stared at me. Then, surprisingly, he climbed up on his knees and straddled me. His young cock stared me down.

“Suck it,” he said as he leaned forward, pressing his hardness between my lips.

I pushed him away, refusing to comply with his perversion.

“Get away from me,” I said.

“I want you to have sex with me.”

“No way little boy!”

He climbed off me and said, “If you were decent I’d let you fuck me, but we both know you’re not going to do that.”

“I’d do it, but you don’t have the capacity to appreciate what I’d be doing to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it buddy boy.”

I got out of bed and went looking for Nana. I found her in what was to be Stan’s room. “Out, Nana?” I said. I followed her to the back door and outside. She found a spot to take care of her business and ran back to the door. “Good girl,” I said. “Breakfast?”

That got her jumping with excitement and we hurried inside where I filled her food bowl and went to get water.

Nana looked up from her food bowl and went, “Woof!”

I looked out the back draperies and saw Frank Larson standing in the backyard holding a pistol. Other than the .45 caliber I owned, I didn’t know much about pistols, but that thing looked big.

“Bobby, use the land line to call 911,” I hissed. “Tell them there’s a man with a gun in our backyard.”

“Is it Dad?”

“Please make the call.”

I don’t know why I didn’t make the call. Maybe, I thought I could somehow protect the boy from the bullets. I went back to the draperies, but didn’t look through thinking Frank might see me doing that and shoot me.

It’s surprising how time slows down in stressful situations. I imagined police cars pulling out of the station downtown. My mind measured their progress to my home. All the while I feared a bullet piercing the lock on the back door. Would he shoot and kill dear, sweet Nana? What would I do without her? I felt one of my eyes fill with tears. There was a knock at the front door.

Was it the police or Frank playing a trick? I went to the door and looked out the peephole. It was a policeman. I opened it and he came in.

“Go to a room away from the backyard and hunker down,” he said.

“Come on, Bobby,” I said. We went back to my walk-in closet and sat on the floor. Soon, Nana joined us.

“It’s my dad. Isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“God, he’s such a stupid fuck.”

We couldn’t hear anything until a loud boom seemed to reverberate throughout the house. Bobby got up and ran out before I could stop him. I followed and saw he’d gone outside. When I got out there I saw one of the officers holding Bobby in a comforting embrace. On the ground, Frank’s body was quivering spasmodically. Thankfully they had covered his head.

“Come on, Bobby, let’s go back inside,” I said as I pulled him away from the officer.

He was weeping as he clung to my side. I took him into the house and into his bedroom. I lay him down on his stomach, covered him with a sheet, and said, “Rest, I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“I want you to fuck me,” he said.

“Sorry, not going to happen.”

“You don’t know what it means to me to be raped by my father. I want you to fuck me.”

“It’s not right that I should fuck you.”

“The hell with that. You don’t know what he did to me. I want you to fuck me. I want it to be normal like. Please, do this for me.”

“We’ll see,” I said. I looked down at him and realized if I fucked him it would be as if his father was doing it.

“We’ll see shit. He’s dead and gone and you’re going to fuck me like I want.”

“Do you really want me to fuck you like your father was going to do it?”

“Yes!”

“Without lube?”

“Yes!”

“Without caring how you feel?”

“Yes!”

“That’s rape child and I will not do it.”

“Fuck me!”

“Okay, when the police leave.”

“Yes!”

I went outside and the medics were putting Frank into a body bag. The police had gotten the hose out and were spraying the grass to dilute the blood and brain matter.

“The boy was naked,” one of the police said.

“He was whipped by his parents and is more comfortable without clothes,” I said. “Plus, the clothes they sent aren’t sufficient for him to wear.”

“This man, who was he?” another policeman asked.

“The boy’s father,” I said.

“I don’t understand.”

“He hated Bobby because he is gay. I suspect he came here to kill him.”

“That’s sick.”

“Yes, but it was also the man’s religion.”

“No, religion doesn’t have any right to do what that man intended. To want to kill your own son goes way beyond any religious principles I know of. If the boy needs any help, please have him call us down at the station and one of us will talk to him.”

“Thank you, I’ll do that.”

They left and I walked back into the house. I walked back to Bobby’s room and said, “The police have gone.”

“Fuck me,” he said.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want me to fuck you?”

“Because my father raped me.”

“Do you want me to rape you, too?”

“No, I want you to fuck me normal like.”

“Why?”

“Then don’t. I’ll live with the memory of my father raping me.”

“That’s a horrible memory, but in time with proper counseling you should learn how to deal with it.”

“Counseling? Is that all you can offer me? Why won't you fuck me as a man fucks another man. Like you fucked your husband.”

“No! Sure, you’re past the age of consent, but I cannot do that. For god sakes child, you’re barely out of childhood.”

“Fuck that! Fuck me like I want you to do it.”

“No, I adamantly refuse to do that. I would be violating my position as your foster father. No, no, I won't do it.”

He glared at me, sat on his bed, and began to weep.

“Okay then, when you've had your cry, come to the kitchen. We still haven’t had breakfast.”

I went to the kitchen where I took down a saucepan and took the Cream of Wheat down from the cupboard. Bobby came out of his room and, surprisingly, he was wearing his nightshirt. It wasn’t much and barely came down below his cock, but at least he was trying.

He looked at me and there was much sadness in his eyes. He said, “When my dad fucked me I was on my stomach. You could've done it that way?”

“When your dad fucked you with you on your stomach he was raping you, not fucking you,” I said. “If you don’t like being fucked that way, I suggest you go to the high school this fall and find some stud who likes to fuck little gay boys so they know they’re being fucked.”

“You’re mean.”

“No, my dear little boy, I’m gay and I expect my lovers to treat me as such. You’re just a little boy who thinks I’m going to have sex with you just because you think you’re appealing. But, dear child, you are not appealing. You’re small, skinny, and have little to offer sexually.”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Dear child you want being gay to suit you, but you have to understand that, for the most part, gay sex is determined by the other party. You are small, skinny, and your genitals are insignificant. Even your ass is small and lacks structure. You want me to have sex with you, but you don’t have anything to have sex with. If anything, you might be a good fuck, but a dirty hole is all you have to offer.”

He stared at me as I served up the Cream of Wheat. He looked at the off-white substance in his bowl and said, “What do I do with this? It looks like warmed over cum.”

“Here’s some sugar, brown and white,” I said. “Plus, here’s the milk. Don’t over dress it. That’s enough sugar; now put some milk on it. You can stir it up if you want.”

“We had oatmeal,” he said.

“Hate the stuff and I won’t buy it for you.”

“You know, this isn’t half bad.”

“And, it isn’t slimy like oatmeal.”

“Charlie?”

“What?”

“Will you fuck me if I ask nice?”

“I think we’ve gone past that. Plus, do you remember what I said about your body?”

“Yes, but you can change your mind.”

“No, I can’t. Bobby, you just have to accept the fact that I'm in no position to have sex with you. It's simply not going to happen.”

“Will you suck me?”

“Why can't you accept the fact that I can't have sex with you?”

“But, what am I going to do about sex?”

“This fall you’ll be starting up at the high school. Be on the lookout for a boy who may be gay. It may take you awhile, but if you’re careful and watchful, you just might find such a boy. Okay, rinse the breakfast bowls and saucepan and put them in the dishwasher. I’m going to give you your bath and then take the paperwork into the office. If I have time on my way back, I’ll stop and get you some clothes. What size do you wear?”

“I don’t know, Mom took care of that.”

I went into his room and looked through the clothes they sent. It looked like they included his sister’s clothes and what must have been well worn clothes belonging to his father and mother. After sorting out everything that didn’t belong I was left with four pair of baggy underwear, three gym socks, five baggy t-shirts of three different sizes, no pants, and no shirts. I hated those people and was glad Frank chose to take himself out of the equation.

“Are you going to give me my bath now?” Bobby asked.

“Yes, I’ll run your water, but you’re going to have to do this yourself one day soon,” I said.

“If I do, will you suck me afterward?”

“Bobby, that’s not going to happen.”

“Why can’t you just take me in your mouth and satisfy my need?”

“Why won’t you simply beat off your cock?”

“I want you to suck my cock.”

“I cannot, period, and that's final.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Bobby, please stop asking me to have sex with you. It's not going to happen.”

I looked at his erection and small ball sack and had to admit they probably weren’t going to give him anything close to an orgasm very often. I kind of felt sorry for him, but, equally, I wasn’t going to sacrifice my own principles and give him sexual pleasure.

“Will you please suck my cock?” he asked.

“No, Bobby, you can take care of it yourself,” I said.

“But, I can’t! It doesn’t cum every time. Please, sir, suck my cock.”

I stood up and helped him out of the tub. I pulled the plug and looked at him.

“You know this is not going to happen,” I said.

“I don’t care, just suck my cock,” he said.

“I’m sorry Bobby, but I refuse to have sex with you. You’re going to have to take care of yourself.”

“But, it doesn’t feel like anything and I don’t know why,” Bobby said. “It never feels like anything. If anything it makes me feel sick to my stomach. Why is that?”

“Bobby, you’re just growing up. You’ll get regular orgasms, eventually.”

“You’re not going to have sex with me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Shit!”

I went to my desk and began rifling through the middle drawer. Do you remember having something and putting it away in a place you’d remember putting it? I remembered having a clothing tape, but couldn’t remember putting it anywhere. Finally, back in the middle of my desk drawer I saw the probable image of a clothing tape. It was white and it was round. I pulled it out and was presented with my goal.

“What’re you doin’? Bobby asked.

“Looking for my clothing tape,” I said.

“What’s that for?”

“To measure you for clothes.”

“But, Mom always took care of that.”

“Oh, Mrs. Larson, are you there? I need you to give me Bobby’s sizes.”

“Oh, very funny, ha-ha. See I’m laughing.”

“Come over here and stand still. Gee, you are a small boy. I think I’ll deck you out in clowns and balloons. Just a cutsie little boy.”

“You do that and I’ll kill you.”

“Okay, I think I got everything. Let’s see, official paperwork, clothing sizes for the little boy. Yep, got everything. Remember, no one inside this house, especially your family.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Bobby I’m serious about this. No one comes inside.”

“Yes, sir, no one comes inside.”

I left, hopefully assured the house was under the protection of Nana. The people at the CPS office were officiously uninterested with my submission of paperwork. They said they would contact me if anything was amiss. Even Beth Sommerfeld was busy in meetings and could not meet with me. Gloom hung over the city when I drove out to the suburbs.

I didn’t know where to go, so I picked a big box store and went in to see if they could help me with my clothing search for Bobby. The sales clerks all seemed to be up at the counters and when I approached they all appeared to have something to do that kept them away from me. I was at a loss as what to do until I noticed a cluster of young people, seemingly at an age relative to Bobby.

I went up to them and said, “Excuse me, but a friend of the family was thrown out of his house and I need to find clothes for him. I have his sizes. He’s a young teen. Could you please help me?”

“What is he … gay?” one girl asked.

“Well, yes, he is,” I said. “Does that matter?”

“Oh, no sir, we’re cool,” a boy said. He seemed older than the others and stepped up to take control. He took my copies of Bobby’s sizes. “Boy, he certainly is small. How old is he?”

“Sixteen.”

“Okay guys we’re looking for smart teen boy in small sizes. Hi, my name is Devon.”

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Charlie,” I said.

The crowd of children spread out into the store looking for clothes for Bobby. “Are you sure this is going to work?” I asked.

“Oh, I trust them implicitly,” the boy said. “Oh, if your protégé should need replacements have him call me. Give me your cell and I’ll enter my name and number in your contact list. I’ll be happy to assist him explicitly.”

Okay, as Devon entered his information into my phone my mind wondered what kind of young teen used words like implicitly, protégé, and explicitly, all the while named Devon. The kid was a walking, talking, faggot from suburbia.

I got out of the store without spending over $500 and was equally surprised none of the kids would take any recompense for their assistance. Devon helped me carry the bags to the car.

“If you don’t mind, have Bobby call me,” Devon said. “We can chat.”

“I live out in Twin Forks,” I said.

“My dad will ferry me out if we hit it off.”

“Sure, Devon, I’ll do that,” I said. “Do you mind if I ask you for a hug?”

“No sir.”

Although he appeared quite robust, in my arms he was next to nothing, feeling almost like a runner, a swimmer, or heaven forbid a fag.

“You held me two seconds longer than normal,” he said.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize there was a time limit to hugs,” I stammered.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you just liked the feel of the material.”

“Yes, that must have been it.”

“If you must know, if my friends weren’t here I’d suggest a parking stall a few lots over. Men your age have said I have a remarkable mouth and tongue. I can take you quite deep.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds and then he smiled with incredibly white teeth. I’d been right, again. Sometimes, we are so stereotypically true to form it’s scary.

The drive home, via the preferred back way shortcut, was uneventful. Almost before turning into my cul-de-sac, I remembered I had to buy a bed and get a nightstand and lamp for Stan. Finally, after being out too long I pulled alongside my house. There in the middle the front door looked as if it had been attacked by an angry beaver. I pulled into the garage and turned off the engine.

Bobby was right there, along with Nana. He said excitedly, “Mom was here with Connie and Uncle Ralph.”

“Who’s Uncle Ralph?”

“He’s like Mom only worse.”

“Did you go outside?”

“Are you kidding, she had a hammer.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure, but what are you going to do about Mom?”

“I need to make a phone call. When I’m finished, I have a gift for you.”

“What?”

“A boy. I’m pretty certain he’s gay and he wants to be your friend. Try on your clothes. Anything you like, you can tear off the labels; the others leave so I can take them back.”

I went out of the room and placed a call to CPS in the county seat. When the line picked up, I said, “Beth Sommerfeld, please.”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Charlie Hughes, for Robert Larson.”

“One moment while I check if she’s available.”

After a few moments the line came on and Beth said, “Charlie, we must stop meeting like this.”

“They came to my house today while I was out buying clothes for Bobby.”

“Who came to your house?”

“According to Bobby, it was his mother, older sister, and an uncle named Ralph.”

“Okay, we have to escalate this. Be in my office tomorrow morning by nine, suit and tie if you have them. We’ll be going before a judge. We need to get a restraining order to keep them away from Robert. Can you make it?”

“I’ll get in line with all the other commuters,” I said.

“Good, we just have to make sure they can’t get at Robert. Damn, I hate dealing with Fundamentalist Christians. They’re so set in their way they think they can override normal laws because they have a Bible in their hands. See you tomorrow morning.”

“What?” Bobby asked.

“I have to go into the county seat,” I said. “They’re going to get restraining orders.”

“Paper isn’t going to stop them. They’re going to walk right through your front door and try to kill me.”

I wish now I’d taken him to heart and moved him and Nana to a motel in town.