The G. M. Os. - 31. Chapter 31 - Buddy

Chapter 31
Ship Clock 263234
Adetitus 95-498g
Buddy

“Good morning, Titus, my name is Dorothea 32, but you can call me Dottie. How are you today?”

“Okay. Tom calls me Buddy. Could you call me Buddy instead of Titus?”

“Sure, Buddy, however you want to do this is fine with me. Have you ever seen a psychologist before?”

“No, never. Tom said he saw you when he was younger after he had been raped by a man at the commune. Do you remember him?”

“Yes, Buddy, I remember Tom. He is a remarkable young man. How do you know him?”

“I live with him and his husband Don. I guess it was Dr. Don who did the referral for me.”

“Oh, yes, Dr. Don and Tom. That’s interesting, but that doesn’t have anything with why you’re here now. Tell me, Buddy, what is your earliest memory of your mother?”

“I had accidently broken a blue vase my mother kept roses in. I knew she was going to punish me because she had punished me before, but this time is the clearest in my mind. My father was there, too. I can’t remember which of them was madder, but my mother wadded up a washcloth and stuffed it in my mouth. I didn’t know why she did that and then I found out. My father took me into the kitchen and he put my arm on the counter and he held it with one of his hands and half of my arm was over the edge and the other part was on the counter being held by that hand and he pushed his other hand down on the part of my arm that was over the edge of the counter and my arm snapped and I tried to scream, honest, I tried to scream because it hurt so much, but I had that washcloth that my mother put in my mouth and no noise came out, but I heard it in my head, I heard me screaming, it hurt so much and I cried, I’m sorry, I know boys aren’t supposed to cry and my mother told me to shut up and I couldn’t because it hurt so much and I couldn’t stop trying to scream and it was loud in my ears and she slapped me, I can’t remember how many times, but I didn’t mean to break the blue vase that my mother put roses in, I’m sorry.”

Buddy cried and cried, but the memory of that awful day wouldn’t go away; the day his parents broke his first bone. Finally, he noticed Dottie holding a box of tissues. He took some, daubed his eyes, and blew his nose.

“I’m sorry for breaking down like that. I promise not to do that again, promise. I know boys don’t cry and I promise not to cry anymore.”

“Buddy, it’s okay for boys to cry.”

“It is? But, my father broke my leg once when I cried because he had hit me in the chest and made it hurt real bad and I cried and cried and couldn’t stop crying and then my mother stuffed a washcloth in my mouth and he broke my leg. He told me that if I didn’t stop crying he was going to break the other one and he did. Honest, Dottie, I’m not a bad boy, honest, I just couldn’t stop crying and my mother stuffed the washcloth in my mouth and my father broke my legs. It hurt so much I couldn’t stop crying and he hit me, again, in the chest and then I think I passed out probably because I hurt so much. I’m sorry, Dottie, but I couldn’t stop crying. I’m not a bad boy. I’m just little.”

He sat in his chair staring at the floor as tears poured down his cheeks, but he didn’t seem to notice. Dottie handed him the box of tissues and he took some. He daubed the tears off his face and out of his eyes, but he didn’t look up. He was lost in the memory of that day, the other day, the next time, and all the other times. A flood of horrible memories washed through his mind dampening his spirit, his will to continue.

“Buddy, where are you?”

“Nowhere, not here, you can’t imagine how bad it was having my father breaking my bones and making my sister break my bones when she was older. All the time my mother stuffing a washcloth into my mouth so my screams couldn’t be heard by the neighbors. You can’t imagine how much I hate them and then selling my sister into sexual slavery just to pay off my father’s gambling debts. They tried that with me too, but I was able to get away from my kidnapper.”

“Buddy, I’m going to refer you to a psychiatrist because I think you might need a prescription to help you deal with the traumatic memories of your childhood. Does that sound like something you’d like to do?”

“I don’t know, but if you think I need medicine to help me, I’ll go see a psychiatrist. Where do I have to go?”

“To the clinic in town for at least your first few visits and then she should be able to come out here to see you.”

“Will I continue to see you?’’

“Yes, Buddy, I want you to continue coming to see me. We need to talk about a lot of things and you will find that talking about your experiences with your parents will help your mind to deal with all of your memories.”

“Oh, okay, that sounds like something I’d like to do. Next week I’m going into Central City to the med center for surgery and to see some specialists. Dr. Don knows when I’m going. I can’t remember what he said.”

“Do you have trouble remembering?”

“Sort of; I have trouble remembering a few things. I can remember stuff that I’ve read, but when someone tells me something I have trouble remembering those kinds of things. I know he told me when I’m going, but I can’t remember. Do you think that’s because of what my parents did to me?”

“I don’t know; it will be something we’ll have to work on. It might be the way your mind deals with what people tell you. I’ll let the psychiatrist know you’re having trouble with your memory and she can work with you on that. Is there anything else you want to talk about today?”

“Well, yeah, kind of, you see I think I might be gay. I don’t know if it’s because I’m little or if it has to do with my desire to have sex with a guy. Is that something you can help me with?”

“Does it trouble you that you might be gay?”

“Well, kind of, yeah, I just can’t see myself ever being interested in getting to know a girl in a sexual manner. I mean, I wouldn’t mind having a friend who was a girl, but I wouldn’t want to have sex with her. On the other hand, I wouldn’t mind getting to know a guy and then having sex, but I don’t know what all of that entails. I don’t know what it means to have sex with a guy. I know you’re not in a position to tell me, but I just wonder what it entails.”

“Have you thought of looking up sex subjects on the module? I’m sure there are a lot of reading material on what it means to be gay and how to have gay sex.”

“Oh, I never thought of that. I should do that and then I might have a good idea on what I would want to do. Thanks.”

“Okay, Buddy, I think that pretty much covers what we need to talk about today. I’ll check with Dr. Donaldus on when you’re scheduled to go to the med center and then we can set up our next visit. Take care of yourself.”

“Thank you, Dottie, for listening to me. I feel a little better having someone who will listen to what I went through.”

“Buddy, that’s why you’re here.”

********

THE MALE PENIS IS AN AMAZING APPENDAGE THAT IS USED TO DRAIN URINE FROM THE BODY, DELIVER SPERM FOR REPRODUCTION, AND TO ELICIT SEXUAL PLEASURE TO THE MIND AND BODY, WHETHER THIS IS BY MASTURBATION OR CONTACT WITH A SEXUAL PARTNER. IF YOU ARE THE PARTY WHO WILL BE GIVING PLEASURE YOUR CHOICES ARE LIMITED ONLY BY THE PARTS OF YOUR BODY THE OTHER DESIRES OR PREFERS TO USE TO RECEIVE THAT PLEASURE.

THE SIMPLEST METHOD IS BY MANUAL MANIPULATION (I.E., MASTURBATION). THIS CAN BE IN A MANNER YOU USE YOURSELF OR THE WAY YOUR PARTNER PREFERS. BEFORE INITIAL CONTACT IT IS BEST TO DISCUSS WHICH METHOD(S) ARE PREFERRED. IF IT IS YOUR INTENT ...

“Buddy, what are you reading?” Tom asked when he sat down in the wingchair next to the sofa where Buddy was reading his mini-module.

“Something about gay sex,” Buddy said. “Do you want to talk about something, otherwise I’ll go back to reading this.”

“No, just wondering what you were doing. How did your visit with Dottie go?”

“If you don’t want to talk, why did you ask me a question? I cried. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“What’s going on in here?” Don asked as he walked into the living room.

“I’m trying to read about gay sex, but Tom keeps asking me questions,” Buddy said. Accepting the fact he wasn’t going to be able to continue reading anytime soon, he bookmarked his document and exited the site.

“Still think you’re gay?” Don asked.

“Why shouldn’t I be? I certainly don’t want to have sex with a girl. Don, will you let Tom fuck me?”

“No, but he couldn’t do it anyway, he’s a bottom.”

“What’s a bottom?”

“You’re reading about gay sex; you figure it out. How was your visit with Dorothea?”

“I cried. She made me remember things I’d rather stayed in a dark corner of my memory. She’s referring me to a psychiatrist for medicinal support. Plus, I’m going to have to go back to see her, so I’ll need to know when I’m going to Central City.”

“You’re going next Archday, but I was notified by the bots that they are going to test your intelligence while you’re down there, so we’ll need to go down on Botsday afternoon. They’ll be doing the testing at a facility in the med center where you’ll stay until you’re released after your surgery on the following Diosday afternoon.”

“What are you guys going to do?”

“We won’t be accompanying you. The bots will be providing transportation for you going and coming. We’ll have to pack a bag for you. I’ll call Dorothea and set up your next appointment for next Starsday. Is that okay?”

“Sure, Don, that’s fine. Now, could you guys leave me alone so I can go back to reading?”

“What are you reading about? Maybe we can offer some suggestions, if you’d like,” Tom said.

“Really? You’d do that for me? Though, I would prefer being able to practice with one of you.”

“Not going to happen, Buddy,” Don said. “First of all, I’m your doctor and, second, we’re your guardians. We can get in all sorts of trouble having sex with you.”

“So who do I get to have sex with?”

“Well, Buddy, I think you’re just going to have to wait until you’re a little older and a little more physically mature.”

“I’m mature enough to a university.”

“You’re not physically mature enough to offer anything to a sexual relationship with another guy. Sorry, but having sex with you would be like having sex with a little kid. I don’t know of any guy who would be interested in doing that unless they were perverted.”

“Fuck! Fucking damn parents. They fucked me over and they keep fucking me up. How long is it going to take for me to become physically mature?”

“Buddy, I would count on years rather than months,” Don said.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Now, now, don’t be that way,” Tom said. He put his arm behind the boy’s shoulders and pulled him over into a half hug. Buddy dropped his mini-module and sank into Tom’s side. He pulled his lower legs up under his hips and shut his eyes. He accepted the offered comfort.

Don went into the kitchen and opened the glass cupboard. He took down a liqueur glass, took it into the dining room where he stopped at the liquor cabinet. There were four liqueurs, but he chose an ancient Earth cherry liqueur from a part of Earth called Denmark. He poured a little bit into the glass.

Back in the living room, he looked down at the small form of Buddy, and said, “Buddy? Here take this; it might make you feel better.”

The boy opened his eyes and he took the offered glass. He took a sip of the sweet, syrupy liquid and smiled. “Thank you, this is nice.”

Buddy moved slightly as if to sit up, but Tom wouldn’t let go, so he settled back and sipped at the glass of cherry liqueur. Life here among the older men was so different from what he experienced being with his family. There just didn’t seem to be any threats, explicit or implied. With his family there was always an implied threat of violence, even when he got older and it was harder for his father to break bones. A quick jab in the ribs was always a risk, which could be excruciating if the fist hit a soft spot. He took another sip of the liqueur.

Then an unexpected sharp pain jabbed into Buddy’s left thigh. It hit, again, and he dropped the glass. It shattered on the hardwood floor. A pain shot across his consciousness. He tried to straighten that leg, but the muscles didn’t seem to work as the pain started to make his teeth hurt.

“Buddy, what’s wrong?” Tom asked.

“Pain,” Buddy whispered. “I’ve gotta move.”

He leaned against Tom and tried to straighten out the left leg, but another pain seared through it and up into his hip. He grabbed it with both hands, but the pain refused to abate. Finally, he was able to get a hold of his ankle and pull it out from under him.

Don came over, knelt down in front of Buddy, and asked, “Where does it hurt?”

“Right here,” Buddy hissed as he held onto the spot over where the pain continued to burn.

“Tom, go soak a towel in hot water, wring it out, and bring it back here,” Don said. “How bad is it, Buddy?”

“Bad, like when my dad broke it, there, when I was thirteen.”

“Can I see?”

“Please, don’t touch it!”

“Okay, Buddy. Tom! Hurry up!”

“I’m hurrying!”

“Buddy, slip your trousers down,” Don said.

“Why?”

“So I can put the hot towel on your thigh, it’ll make it feel better.”

“Well, okay, but if you rubbed my cock, that would make me feel better, too.”

“Not going to happen, Buddy.”

“I can try,” Buddy said as he brought his other leg out from under him. He winced, but undid his trousers and slipped them down to his ankles.

“Don, here’s the towel,” Tom said as he walked into the living room. He handed the towel to Don.

“This is too hot, we don’t want to burn the boy,” Don said. “Open it up and air it out a little.”

“If you didn’t want it this hot, why didn’t you say so,” Tom said. He took the towel, unfolded it, and waved it in the air. After a while, he felt it and folded it back up. “Here, is this okay?”

“Well, it’s still a little hot, but I don’t think it’ll burn,” Don said.

“Move out of the way of the broken glass,” Tom said. He left and returned with a small broom, dustpan, and a damp cloth. He swept up the remains of the liqueur glass and cleaned the liqueur off the floor.

Although the towel was sort of hot, Buddy tolerated the heat as best he could because in a short time he felt the comfort it was supposed to provide. He tried to lean into the back of the sofa, but a sudden pain brought him quick to sitting straight up.

“What happened?” Don asked.

“A pain in my thigh, directly under the towel,” Buddy said. “It was feeling good so I wanted to relax, but it wouldn’t let me. What’s wrong with me?”

“I can only speculate, but has this ever happened before?” Don asked.

“Yes and always right there.”

“Maybe the muscle was damaged when your leg was broken. I’ll contact the orthopedics department tomorrow and see what they say. Is the pain going away?”

“It’s lessening a little, but the towel is cooling.”

“Tom?”

“Yes, master, I’ll warm the towel, not too hot this time,” Tom said. He took the towel and left the room.

********

On the following Botsday Buddy sat at a module going over his answers to the test he had just taken. It was fairly simple, mostly multiple choice and true/false, but there were also math questions that required him to use a light pen. He’d never used one before so it took him a few questions to figure out how close he had to get the tip of the pen to the screen so that his answers were properly recorded. The first section of the math portion was algebra problems where some of the steps in the equations were given and he had to fill in the blanks between. At first they were confusing because it was as if he was being asked things that an elementary student would know, but he went ahead and did what he assumed was being asked.

The second section was all pre-calculus and followed the same format. It was harder because the answers started out with a few lines and then there were up to ten lines to be given. He went through the answers as best he could, but on a lot of the questions he suspected he was just skipping lines, though he always came out right at the end.

The third and fourth sections consisted of questions about differential and integral calculus, which Buddy figured he got all correct. In many ways, he thought the questions were too easy, but, also, suspected that the bots may be trying to see if he could come up with the correct answers without performing a lot of steps that were required in school, not that he had been able to take those classes. He was just going with the knowledge he picked up from reading books and looking up things on the module.

Finally, after an hour of checking, Buddy was sure he couldn’t do any better than he had and pressed the END button. There was nothing he could do except wait for the answers to come up, which happened at that very moment:

Score: 250/0

Grade: 10.0

Adetitus 95, please remain in your seat, you will be debriefed in-place.

An unidentifiable bot came into the room and assumed a sitting position at eye-level across from Buddy.

“Adetitus 95, I am Robotic Human Educational Services Unit 933,” it said. “You are a remarkable young human with high intelligence, however, due to your mutational error and physical abuse, we will not be able to provide you with a future position commensurate with your intellectual capabilities.”

“But, what do I do? I thought Robotic Services needed geniuses,” Buddy said.

“Oh, yes, we do, but, you see, you are not physically able now, nor will you be in the future, to handle the stresses of whatever position we would deem desirous to the success of Hercules III. You are a remarkable human, but your mutational error goes beyond the hormonal deficiencies in your young body. Also, the physical abuse you suffered at the hands of your family may be detrimental to your working in any stressful position. We are concerned about psychological problems that you may experience if you are placed in a high stress environment. We are sorry, but Robotic Services cannot use your intellectual talents. When you are physically repaired we will counsel you further on a position we would feel you are capable of handling.”

Buddy watched the bot stand up and walk out the door. He didn’t know what to do. Supposedly, they were going to keep him here for three days before he was supposed to go further into the med center for his appointments and surgery, but, now, he didn’t have anything to do for all that time. He turned back to the module and entered his ID and password. His home screen came up and he went down to his reading app. Then the screen went black.

“Adetitus 95, if you will please stand up and pick up your bag, you will be escorted to a speeder that will take you back to your residence at Eden Commune,” said a voice from somewhere in the room.

Buddy did as he was told and a bot appeared at the door. He followed it into the hall and down to a landing dock. He threw his bag up into the speeder and climbed in where he took a seat behind the pilot position and buckled himself in. The speeder’s cover closed, it rose into the air, turned around, and flew out of the building. It quickly climbed up to the bot transport lane and headed toward the commune at a high rate of speed, which meant the trip took just under fifteen minutes.

After landing, Buddy unbuckled, threw his bag out, and climbed down. The speeder reconfigured for departure and left. Buddy picked up his bag and went inside. Not having anything to do, he changed into some coveralls and put on some boots. Maybe he could find some work to do up at the orchard or out at the flower farm. He went over to the orchard office, but there was no one there. He didn’t know where or if any fruit was being picked so he decided to walk up the lane between the orchard and the beefalo ranch figuring if he couldn’t find any pickers in the orchard he could keep walking up to the flower farm, which is where he eventually ended up. He went over to the flower office, but it was empty. Now, he didn’t know what he should do. He looked around, but there weren’t any speeders in sight. There was nothing to do except walk back to the rez.

When he got back Buddy saw speeders parked in the spots for Lee and Willy, Abe and Gene, and his own. He went up the steps and on into the rez. Don was sitting at the dining table eating his lunch.

“What are you doing here?” Don asked.

“The bots don’t want me,” Buddy said. “They said because of my mutational disability and injuries from the abuse I will not be suitable for working in a high stress environment. What’s for lunch?”

“Whatever you make. You’re old enough to figure that out yourself. In fact, once you’ve recovered from your surgery, I don’t see any reason why you can’t start helping out fixing supper.”

“Oh, sure,” Buddy said. He went into the kitchen, but didn’t know what he wanted, which was strange because at home he had to fend for himself after he stopped going to school. He went to the refrigerator and found some leftover green salad. He took it out and put some of it in a bowl. Back in the refrigerator he found some grated cheddar and added that to the salad. In the cupboard above the counter he found some extra virgin olive oil and sprinkled a little over the cheese. After finding a fork, he took his salad to the table and sat down.

“Are you okay?” Don asked.

“No, I’m disappointed that they don’t want me,” Buddy said. He picked at his salad and took a bite. After chewing, he swallowed and then got up from the table. He went out into the kitchen and got a tumbler from the cupboard. From the refrigerator, he took the milk jug and poured some into the glass. Back at the table he sat down and began to eat again.

“You’re awfully quiet; are you going to want to go down to the school this afternoon?” Don asked.

“Might as well, there’s nothing else to do up here,” Buddy said. He took another mouthful of salad and washed it down with milk. “I went out to the flower farm, but I guess I missed them. You know, Don, maybe I could do some work this afternoon. Going to school doesn’t sound like something I want to do if the bots aren’t interested in giving me a position where I can use my intelligence. Maybe, I should just be a farmer like Tom wanted to be.”

Buddy went back to his salad. If he had his way, he’d just as well stay at the rez all afternoon, but figured Don wouldn’t like that, so he didn’t bring it up. Finally, he finished his meal and took the bowl and glass out to the kitchen where he put them in the sink. He heard Don come in and watched him also put his plate and glass in the sink.

“I’m going over to Lee and Willy’s and see if I can go out to the flower farm this afternoon,” Buddy said. Maybe being a farmer wasn’t a bad idea. Of course, where would he live? He certainly couldn’t continue living here or could he? But, whatever was going to become of him was way in the future and the bots might just let him use his high intelligence in a way that actually benefitted the ship. You never knew what the bots were going to do.