True As It Can Be - 2. Chapter 2

The creature carries me into the building. The first room we enter is quite dark and appears to be some kind of large bedroom, the size of a studio apartment. It stank of sweat and musk. Being in college, you get used to the smell of such rooms, a lot of guys don’t always have the best hygiene or cleaning habits. However, a faint glow of a dim table light in the room illuminates the shredded remains of boxer underwear, beer cans, and several magazines with pictures of muscular guys. The faint sight from a scene of destruction gives the room an air of despair. The creature quickly exits the sad room with me still in its arm. We head to a fully lit hallway of what appears to be an old-fashioned house with 4 other bedrooms on this floor. Most of the occupants of the rooms are staring at me and the creature as we move from hallway to staircase and finally to a vacant room on the second floor in a swift motion that did not allow me to distinguish any of the facial features of the people living here. I can be certain of one thing though, all the people that stared at me earlier are around my age. If this is a dorm of some kind, then everyone here are likely students.

The creature lays me on a bed, which was larger than the twin-sized bed I am used to in my own dorm. It must have been at least a Queen-sized bed, if not larger as I could not feel the edges of the bed despite being spread out with my head facing the ceiling. The bed is also softer and firmer than the mattresses that I have been used to, both at home and my dorm room. Despite the firmness on my back, there’s a relaxing and magical form fitting quality about the material, probably a new kind of memory foam. My body feels supported. The creature left the room for an unknown amount of time, while I just lay there on the bed.

When the creature returns to the room, it plants an icepack on my face to quell the swelling developing on my cheek from Gary’s slap. It feels very refreshing and I allow the icepack to do its job. Next, the creature takes off my shoes and socks, though not as roughly as his appearance might indicate. Then it removes my jacket, which was light and offers very little in warmth for New England’s cool Autumn nights, but it was the only jacket I could afford. When it lifts my arms and subsequently removes my T-shirt in one motion, a feeling rises in me of exposure. With everything else removed, it begins to undo my belt and I have to stop it, new fears begin creeping as the possibility of being ravaged by this monster dawns on me.

“Please, I don’t want…” I try to say in my frighten tone. I have just avoided one bout of sexual assault, it would be my luck to end up with another.

It stops, looks at me with its blue sapphire eyes that seem to reassure me, “Mrs. Potter needs to see where he hurt you. I won’t take off your underwear, I promise.”

The creature pulls off my kid-sized jeans and reveals my small white briefs. I think I heard an exhale of arousal from the creature as its gaze hovers over my white briefs. Even soft, my larger than average dick can be seen creating a noticeable outline. I do not know why, but the stare of its blue eyes on my flesh causes me to harden quickly. Maybe it was the excitement from earlier or it could be the feeling of the mattress, but I am getting turned on by just this creature’s stares. Before long, my enormous dick’s head had left the confines of my underwear, further exposing me to this creature as it saw my hardon. I had messed around with guys before, usually mutual jerk-off sessions, but I have never been aroused just by sight alone.

For a moment, its hand motions to approach my erection, then it retracts its hand and its voice booms at me in anger, “I am not into your small weak scrawny body. You look like a little kid with those tight white briefs. Is that your game, look innocent and seduce bigger guys to fuck you? You’re pathetic, I bet that’s why he chose you. You’re a little slut, aren’t you?”

The words from this human-like creature were biting and haunting to me, but I couldn’t respond to him as my arousal did not let up despite what it implied about my character. Luckily for me, a voice even more fierce than the creature was booming right behind him.

“Brad, you step the hell out of this room, right now. He doesn’t need your cruel words or judgement. The boy was just assaulted, have you no shame?”

A tall slender woman forces her way past the creature and approaches me, I ask sheepishly, “Who are you?”

She smiles pleasantly, “My name is Angela Potter, you can call me Mrs. Potter. I am a registered nurse and caregiver to all the residents here, especially to Brad over there.”

The creature snorts at her, “Fuck lady, just call me the Beast, it’s what everyone else calls me here, including your own son. Don’t pretend to be my wet nurse or something.”

As Mrs. Potter softly feels around my stomach and rib cage for any detectable signs of serious injury, she replies without any hint of anger in her tone, “Brad is your name, no matter what you may think It should be now after everything. You are still human and your needs matter, just as this boy’s needs matter right now.”

The creature storms out of the room, leaving me with Mrs. Potter. She found some tender areas around my stomach and rib area, but there was no discoloration, so she believes that it was mostly muscular injury than anything more serious. She asked me a few questions about what happened and what Gary had tried to do to me. She asks me about my classes tomorrow and I tell her that on Fridays, I only have Economics at 9:10 AM, which I had already finished my reading assignment earlier in the week. She tells me that Brad had already told her that I would be staying the night in this room; though it does seem odd that Brad would have any influence over who stays here.

After our brief question and answer, she left the room for a few minutes, then returns with two pills and a glass of water. She tells me it’s a mild painkiller and anti-inflammatory that should be enough to heal my pain and allow me to sleep. After taking the pills, I fell asleep without any issue despite being in a house that should not be there, or the fact that a disfigured asshole named Brad with a love for expensive and rare blue roses just saved me.

In the morning, I awaken to the sound of a boisterous yell and the feeling of someone jumping on the mattress. It takes me a moment to remember I am not in my own bed, then I open my eyes slightly to reveal the appearance of a young boy. He is about my height and size, but I can tell by the tenor of his voice that he’s barely reached puberty as it kept breaking slightly from high notes.

Realization hits me, I’m in the presence of a young boy with only my underwear on and try to cover myself with the blanket; though, he probably saw everything. I am not a modest guy, but I do have a sense of decency. I take in the sight of the boy before me in detail at this point. This brown-haired boy could have been one of my younger cousins, he’s pale and slender like me, but you can tell he’s not finish growing yet. He is wearing yellow Pikachu pajamas and little fluffy yellow slippers. I might wear discount clothes for boys, but I draw a line with stuff like that, it’s way too weird for a guy my age to be seen in public or even a dorm wearing that stuff. This boy is definitely not in college with those kinds of pajamas.

He screams out as he notices my eyes tracking him and my attempt to cover myself, “You’re awake, You’re awake. Wow, you are really small like me. Are you my age? Are you like a child genius or something? Like there was this old TV show my mom likes about this kid who became a doctor and was like my age. I think the guy playing him grew up to be gay. By the way, I am gay too and my name is Chris, but everyone calls me Chip. Mom said I could wake you up at 7:30 AM before I leave for school and bring you some of my clothes, because she thinks it will fit you. I’m so happy to make a new friend like me, because no one around the house is my size. Mom said I should pick boring T-shirts for you, but I think you’ll look great in my favorite blue Squirtle T-shirt and blue jeans after you shower. Do you want me to take you to the bathroom on the 2^nd floor? I’m not hitting on you or anything, I know you are probably not into me, because I talk too much with my ADHD and Autism disorder. You don’t have to worry though. I’m not mental or anything. I have medicine for that stuff. It makes me feel sleepy and weird sometimes, but it calms me down…”

Chip is a spitfire of commentary and information, I hate to interrupt him, but I need to organize my thoughts and a shower would be nice, “Chip, can you lead me to the bathroom? I really appreciate everything your mom and you are doing for me.”

Chip gleefully pulls me up from the bed, unconcerned with my state of undress or morning erection, “Cool, you will love our shower. We have 4 bathrooms in the house, it’s so cool. They’re mostly the same except the one in the Beast’s room. That guy is really scary and mean, like my dad. My dad left me and my mom, when I was little. He used to call me a retard, like the Beast does sometimes. It makes me feel bad and mom yelled at the Beast to never call me that again. People don’t realize how sad names calling make people feel. Like in school, my old best friend Dennis can’t stop shaking and people call him my vibrator. He’s not even gay and people made him feel bad, so he stopped being my friend. Robby is my new best friend. He is gay, cute, and has ADHD, too. We play video games all the time together and do videos with twitch…”

He continues to banter about everything on our way to the bathroom. I gather that his mom is a live-in nurse and this dorm is special accommodation created by the university. All the students here have some kind of disability or accommodation needs. All this information seems to make sense, but there are several underlying issues with everything. We have disabled students in our freshman dorm, they range from deaf and blind students to a mobility disabled veteran of the Afghan war, so why would the university create separate housing for the people here with a nurse on staff? Also, Keller Hall isn’t on the official university directory of buildings, why was it absent? Above everything else, the Beast or Brad’s appearance would have generated a lot of gossip on campus, I haven’t heard about a grumpy disfigured guy attending classes like him.

I know I could probably ask Chip and the filter-less kid will likely give me answers, but it would take a while as he rambles into various topics. I’ve never encountered kids with ADHD or autism disorders officially, but there were kids I knew who were homeschooled with similar traits to Chip. Despite being different myself, I grew up ignoring kids like him and just vaguely knew they exist, like the idea of rockets and Eiffel Tower. There’s a diagnostic gap for these kinds of conditions, especially in rural United States. Sadly, Chip’s father use of derogatory descriptions like “retard” were pretty common, where I grew up. Considering it all now, I think people like Chip are intelligent in their own way, innocent to a fault, and probably the sincerest form of humanity left in our modern world.

I hate to dismiss Chip, but like many others, I need direct and quick answers to modern questions about life, which I don’t have the patience to wait. I know I am holding prejudice toward Chip, but the situation is just too weird not to get straight answers. I settle for asking Mrs. Potter after my shower, if I could find her.

As I enter the large bathroom, I notice the toothpaste and a tooth brush were set in front of a sink for me. I am immensely grateful for their hospitality and I used it. The shower is also much better than I am used to in the common bathroom of our dorm building, especially the unique water jets that shoot from the two sides of the shower stall. It makes sense for disabled students to have water jets like that to clean places missed by traditional showerheads. For a guy like me though, it feels almost like I am getting a massage by the water jets. I remember staying at a hotel in Minneapolis for a wedding once, where there was a jacuzzi hot tub that promised to massage you with water jets. It’s almost like that except you are standing up and the water jets don’t require you to be submerged to feel it hit your body.

After I was done with my shower and rinsed off with a nice towel, I dress in the offered T-shirt and jeans with a pair of blue boxers, which I have to admit are really comfortable for a guy like me. I don’t wear boxers due to the cost of the underwear compared to standard packs of white briefs, but I might have to reconsider for functionality. I view myself in the mirror in astonishment at what I look like. I could have definitely passed for a 12-year-old, right now. Chip’s Squirtle blue T-shirt was light blue in color and yellow in front with the Pokémon logo, which isn’t too bad as there’s a lot of people into Pokémon Go around campus. However, the back of the T-shirt showed off a group of Squirtles speaking in unison through a thought bubble, “We’re packing water guns, don’t mess with our squad!”. Luckily, I have a light jacket and I could just wear it during class to hide the back, but it’s still really embarrassing. I step out of the bathroom and return to my bedroom from last night. My backpack and jacket are sitting on the reading desk. I gather my clothes on the floor from last night and shoved it into my backpack, along with my pair of white briefs. I really owe them a lot for everything they have done for me so far. I took out my laptop for charging at an available outlet on the reading desk, so I have power for my economics class in an hour.

I wander down the staircase and follow my nose to the smell of eggs and bacon. Four young guys around my age of different ethnic backgrounds are sitting around a table drinking orange juice and eating breakfast. I notice two of them, a Latino boy and a Black boy, immediately. While they dress in polo shirts and khakis, something most college students at the university wore, they are unlike any boys I have met so far. They both appear to be wearing Mascara with Latino boy having a heavy coat of makeup and the black boy having long hair held by silver hair pins. They were likely part of the LGBT spectrum, but they each had odd physical features, the black boy has lost a hand and the Latino boy appears to be severely burned on one side of his face, which took me a while to notice with the heavy makeup against his skin. Two muscular boys, one Asian and one white, sit opposite them. They look like jocks based on their body structure, except the Asian boy is sitting in a wheelchair. The white jock boy reminds me of Gary Gaston, except he had red hair and slightly bigger arms. Straight in front of their dining table is an open kitchen, where a male white cook appears to be flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs. He notices me and grins.

“Take a seat kid, I can whip you up a western omelet if you have 10 minutes. Otherwise, I got pancakes and scrambled eggs right now.”

Feeling a bit embarrassed by my clothing and how much I owe these people already from last night, I try to refuse, “It’s okay I am not hungry.”

The seemingly muscular white boy at the table stands up pointing to an empty chair to his right without staring at me, “I think that seat is open, be our guest…uh…what’s your name? Mrs. Potter never told us before she had to leave this morning to file an incident report and Chip had to rush off to his school bus, while you were showering.”

This guy uses his hands to feel the chair next to him to verify its empty, I realize he is blind.

I reply quickly to him politely “No, I am already taking too much…”

The boy laughs at my comment, “No, seriously, you are a guest and we treat our guest well here. We have more than enough to eat, along with everything else. What’s your name? Mine is Francis Lumens, former football O-line center. In the wheelchair to my left, the former baseball prospect, it is Min Takato. Across from us are the two queens of this enchanted castle, Paki Featherworth, former gymnast, and Warren Garcia, former wrestler. Welcome to the house of broken boys.”

Nervously, I approach the chair, “My name is Beau, Beau Cocteau. Are all of you students here?”

Francis nods his head, then begins to feel for his seat to sit back down, he responds in a dour expression, “We are all students at this university, some by choice and others by necessity.”

Paki, the black boy without a hand, across from Francis speaks up with that comment, “Oh honey, you should not be so dramatic. Me and Warren might enjoy expressing ourselves with fashion and makeup, but we’re all in this house voluntarily. Don’t scare the poor boy.”

Francis counters, “We’re only here temporarily, until the money dries out and the Beast gets sent to some lunatic asylum or a rich kid rehab center.”

Min speaks up, his tone is brisk but very stern, “He is a good man behind the beast.”

Warren, the last boy at the table with burn scars, adds, “Not everyone can live or wear their pain like us, but he doesn’t even try. He’s an asshole, who has an out that most of us would kill for.”

Being lost in their conversation, I want answers, “Why are all of you here? What’s so important about this place that it’s not on the campus directory? Why is Brad so important?”

At the mention of the name, everyone fell silent. I don’t know why I call him by Brad instead of the Beast as everyone else did, but Mrs. Potter calls him that and last night. I can feel something sad about him, too. After meeting all these guys, each appearing to have sad stories of their own based on their appearance, I wonder what all of this means.

Francis addresses my question, “We were all selected to be here. Some of us like Warren and Min came from outside the university, but all of us couldn’t afford a university education due to our circumstances and what happened to us. The criteria were based on our backgrounds. Our disabilities, our sexuality, and our psychological makeup was chosen, because the Beast…Brad’s wealthy family wanted to create a safe place for their son with people similar to him. This house was abandoned years ago by the university after ADA integration, until Brad’s family renovated it for him. We get free room, free food, free internet, free health care, free tuition, and a monthly payment to stay here. It’s not bad, but we’re likely to get kicked out soon, because the Beast would rather fuck himself over along with everyone here. He’s always been like that, a self-absorbed asshole. Some of us don’t have a home to go back to anymore. It might sound rude, but it’s the full truth. So, you should enjoy the food and share what we have right now, because we’re all guests in this house.”

After a few minutes of silence as everyone finish their food, the cook came over with my omelet and a glass of orange juice, gesturing me to eat it, “You should eat, Beau. Like Francis said, we’ve got more than enough and it’s nice to share, while we have it.”

I ate my breakfast in silence. My mind swirl with additional questions about everyone’s stories and how they came to live here, especially the one absent boy named, Brad. The cook carries a tray of sausage, bacon, scramble eggs, and an omelet away, so I guess Brad has a high protein diet and eats alone in his room. Remembering what he looked like from the night and reconciling those features as something human, I can only imagine what he went through. Like most LGBT kids, I knew about bashing. I knew what could happen if you were caught in the wrong place by the wrong people. Yet, those stories always seemed theoretical, like some awful fanfictions that circulate on AO3. I can only guess what these guys went through based on their reactions and their appearance, but their physical and emotional scars seem easier to approach than the monster I saw last night. It’s pretty sad to imagine being that alone and closed off from everyone. I decide to try visiting him before I leave the house for my Economics class.