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  • Poor Simon Ch. 01

Poor Simon Ch. 01

*Hello, this is a quick disclaimer from your author. This story contains gay material, and if you are okay with that, it also includes emotional turmoil, forced sex, and humiliation. You may think I am sadistic, but the next few chapters are a lot better, and there is some real love. Please tear it to shreds, and comment a lot, that way I can make future chapters better! Remember, all characters in this story are 18+ the bit in the beginning is just a flashback.

Have a nice read, and I hope you will have a better time then poor Simon...*

*

I loved my parents. It seems like a simple thing to say, but it's true. It would be safe to say that my parents were my entire world.

My father was an amazing man. Now that I look back, he must have known how feminine I was. He must have guessed that I was gay, but he never let that affect his judgment. When I was fourteen, he came in my room to find me crying on my bed. I felt so ashamed that my father was seeing me like this, but he just sat on the bed next to me and waited for me to tell me what was wrong.

"A k-kid at school c-called me a f-faggot." I sobbed. "Wh-what if h-he's r-right?"

My father only hugged me tighter. "Listen Simon, that kid is a jerk, but I want you to know something." He pulled back and tilted my head so I was looking strait into his eyes. "It doesn't matter to me if you're gay, strait, bisexual, transsexual, a cross-dresser, or a goddamn Martian; I will always love you."

My mother was all of that. When I was growing up she was as protective of me as a mother bear. If anyone tried to hurt me or give me grief at school and my mother found out they would soon regret it. If my father was the best dad in the world, then she was my best friend and my protector. I was happy.

A week after I turned eighteen they died.

I came home from school a week after my birthday in October. I was nervous and full of indecision. A boy at school—one almost as nervous and shy as I was—had kissed me on the cheek. I knew that my parents would be accepting, but I wanted to hear my father's reassurance and I wanted to hear my mother's advice.

When I got home there was a police officer at my house asking me if I was Simon Grayle, and if I knew that Nathan and Sasha Grayle had been in an accident?

My mother had been killed instantly as a drunk driver careened into them. My father lived for three more hours in critical condition, and his lungs filled with blood just as I made it to the hospital. I made it to his room just in time to see him surrounded by doctors as his pulse flatlined.

I sleepwalked through the next two days. I talked to morticians and the doctors and the social workers, stupid and dry-eyed with shock. It wasn't until their funeral that I broke down. The sight of those shiny, cheap caskets that contained all I had ever known.

I sobbed in that room. No one was there except the mortician and a chubby older man that I didn't recognize. They could have been on fire for all I cared; my sobs came out in rough, gut-scraping paroxysms of pure grief. When I opened my eyes, I could see my reflection in the casket, a feminine blonde boy with hair that was too long and dark eyes that were swollen and red from crying. I hated that boy; I hated how weak he was.

I jumped as a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. When I looked up it was the chubby man; he was wearing a cheap suit and he had a heavy fleshy face. He seemed awkward and unsure.

"Hello Simon." His voice was a deep rasp. "I'm Peter, you're mothers uncle. I'm going to take care of you for the next few months."

I followed him. Like a stupid, obedient dog I followed the man who showed me no ID or papers to prove who he was. I followed this dangerous man. When we got out to his car I sat in the front seat. I yelped in shock as someone in the back seat put his arm around my neck. As I took a deep breath to scream, the person in the back shoved a damp cloth over my face and nose. As I inhaled, I got a heavy dose of something that smelled sick and sweet, and unconsciousness came swifter than I ever could have imagined.

My head hurt. My eyelids weighed a thousand tons, but I somehow had the strength to crack one open. I was on a soft leather seat and a man was sitting next to me. I pulled open my eyelids by sheer force of will and I moaned with fear.

I was in an airplane. The tube of the plane was narrow, but it seemed bigger because there were no rows of seats. I was sitting on a circular booth-like leather couch next to my 'great-uncle'. On the other side was a tall skinny man and an Asian girl in a pretty blue skirt and white blouse. The girl was either asleep, or drugged like I was.

I feebly raised my head, feeling panic crawl up and down my spine like a cold many-legged rat with sharp teeth; a panic-rat.

"Where..." I moaned. "Wh-why?"

I was feebly starting to get up when the man who had masqueraded as my great-uncle turned around and shoved two white pills in my mouth. I tried to spit them out but he covered my mouth with his hand. The pills were as bitter as pain.

"Swallow them, Baby." He growled. "Or I'll just give you a little tap on the head." I whimpered when he held up a shiny black police-issue club, and I swallowed the pills. "Good girl..." he crooned, sneering as the world faded to shadows.

I woke up twice more in that long drugged hell. The first time I was still in the plane and the 'Uncle' shoved more pills down my throat. The second time I was in another leather seat and I could hear the all-encompassing roar of helicopter blades. It was so loud that my 'Uncle' couldn't tell that I was awake and I caught a glimpse of where I was; not that it helped.

We were flying over an Ocean that was as bright blue as a postcard, dotted with hundreds of small islands. When the man realized that I was awake he dragged me back into my seat and shoved pills into my mouth. As the pills dissolved I saw the choppers whirring, and the world dissolved into moments and the eternity between each one.

I woke up for the final time in a dark room. I was on a narrow, hard bunk; as the drug began to wear off, my eyes began to adjust.

The room was about the size of a large closet. It consisted of my narrow bunk and a bucket and a flat vent on the floor. The door had no handle and a small wire-hatched window.

As I sat up I moaned softly in humiliation. I was wearing the white, buttoned shirt and black pants that I had worn to my parent's funeral. At the armpits my shirt was soaked in sweat, and at the crotch my pants were soaked in piss. My mouth tasted as hot and dry and fuzzy as a sock out of the drier. My throat was gummed shut and I was panting with thirst and heat.

I weakly got up and I felt dizzy and light-headed. Blood rushed up through my head and I could feel it roaring in my ears and eyelids. I moaned at the pain it brought and I felt tears beading under my roaring eyelids. I felt as weak as a kitten.

I hobbled to the door and feebly pounded on it.

"Let me out! Please let me out!" My voice started out strong, but near the end I was begging. I was so afraid of the mysterious man who had stolen me away from my home.

I yelped as the door was abruptly opened and I fell out into the hallway. The sudden movements made my head ache like a rotten tooth and I curled up on the floor, moaning as splinters of bright light pierced my eyes and made my headache worse.

I was kicked in the side by a huge, booted foot. "Get up, Sweetie." A rough male voice sneered. "You wanted to be let out, didn't you?"

I tried to get up, but my tormenter kicked me again and I cried out with pain. I managed to scramble to my feet, and as soon as I did, the man grasped the back of my neck in a huge hand. I was crying from the pain and shock and the fear. I was deeply afraid of this man who called me 'sweetie' and held me close into his massive body right after he had kicked me.

I whimpered as he leaned in close and took my ear between his teeth, biting hard enough to make me yelp with fear and pain. The panic-rat was sprinting up and down my spine, cutting me with its sharp little claws and biting me with its filthy little teeth.

"The Doc and I are gonna have a lot of fun with you, Sweetie." He licked my stinging earlobe and I gave a little sob of terror.

He began to half-lead, and half-drag me down the long, brightly lit hallway. He pulled me into a door about three from the end. Inside was a room that looked like an ordinary doctors office.

Before I could get a good look at anything, the man dragged me onto the padded table so I was in a sitting position. He wrapped one arm around my neck and the other began to rub my thigh in long stroking motions. I cringed, but there was nowhere I could go.

The room was cream-colored with a blue border. There was a counter with a sink built into it and several shelves in it. Sitting in a swivel chair was the Doctor.

The Doctor was a tall, slim man with thinning blonde hair and pale blue eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses. He was wearing a dull green shirt and brown tweed slacks. Shiny black shoes were on his feet and he wore a white lab coat over his thin shoulders. He looked up and smiled gently at me.

"Poor boy." He murmured in a soft sympathetic voice. "Things must be very confusing right now." I watched his hands in his lap. I couldn't look into those bulging blue eyes, but his hands were even worse; long and white and waxy, twitching and wringing in his lap like pale spiders.

I flinched as the man behind me put a hand on my chest and squeezed hard as if grabbing a girls breast.

The Doctor frowned. "Stop it Hanson." He turned to face me and his smile had a false waxy feeling. "I know that this must be hard for you right now, but if you cooperate with us and promise to hold still for the physical, I can have Mr. Hanson take his hands off of you. Later, we can get you a shower and answer you're questions. How does that sound?"

I feebly tried to pull away from Hanson. I was trembling all over and tears were streaming down my face. "I p-p-promise."

He got up with a big smile on his face and Hanson reluctantly let go of me. When his big hands left me I let out a little moan of relief. The Doctor neared me and told me to step on a small flat scale in the corner.

"Five foot Four and one hundred and thirty-five pounds" the doctor muttered as I sat back down on the table. He checked my eyes, ears, and throat. Then he measured my pulse after he thought I had calmed down enough. I was afraid to speak to them, afraid that if I opened my mouth they would do something to me. Hanson was watching me from the swivel chair, and he was rubbing his crotch with his hand.

"Get up Hanson."

I flinched away. "Y-you said he w-wouldn't touch m-me" I stammered.

"He needs to hold you down. Fish always struggle during this part."

I was still staring at him and wondering why he had called me a fish when Hanson grabbed my wrists and held them behind my back. I started struggling when he ripped open my shirt.

"Wh-what are you doing!" I cried. Writhing in Hanson's grip. I gave a small scream of terror as the Doctor calmly unzipped my pants and yanked down my underwear. I gave another frightened cry as his hand closed around my penis.

His eyes were glittering and he had a huge smile on his face. His teeth were bared and gleaming and he looked insane. "Calm down Dear, I just need to measure how long you are!"

After he said that I froze trembling and crying as he began to stroke my limp cock. The Doctor was holding my legs apart and Hanson was holding my arms behind my back. He shifted his hands so only one was holding my wrists and I cried out with fear and humiliation as he pinched my tiny pink nipples between his strong fingers.

My humiliation only grew worse when my body began to respond. I cried out over and over with shame and unwanted pleasure, as my penis got hard in the Doctor's long waxy hand. My body felt hot and cold and I was covered in sweat and I felt so bad. How could I be getting hard if I felt so terrible? I was crying helplessly by the time he was done. He held a short plastic ruler in between my legs.

"Five and a half inches." He purred. I could see droplets of sweat on his forehead. "And about three inches around. That is a nice length, not huge or anything, but a pretty handful." I whimpered as Hanson licked my ear. "Alright Mr. Hanson, turn him over."

I began screaming when the big man forced me onto my knees on the table. He mashed my face into the faux-leather cushion and held my wrists at a painful angle behind my back with one hand. The other went under my belly, forcing my naked ass into the air in a horrible, vulnerable position.

"Stop it!" I begged as the Doctor ran his spidery hands over the soft globes of my buttocks. "Y-you can't do this! You can't d-do this!!"

"But I can, my Dear. I can do whatever I want to you now, you're my Fish."

I cried out as Hanson jerked my arms even higher, almost dislocating my shoulders. The brutal move stopped me from struggling and I was completely helpless as the Doctor tormented me.

His breathing came in short gasps as he stroked my ass. I cringed with horror when I realized he was doing it with only one hand. I had cried so hard up until this point that I was exhausted and trembling silently with pure terror and shame. I gave a hiccupping sob as his fingers curiously prodded my opening. Nothing had ever been in my ass before except what nature intended. I was terrified.

His hand moved away for a few seconds, and then it came back slick with some cold slippery fluid. I gasped and flinched away as his horrible long fingers touched me there. He chuckled and I felt my insides writhe with disgust as he licked my buttock. Then his forefinger began to pry and twist it's way into my tight, untouched pucker.

It hurt. Physically I had to grit my teeth and whimper because he had long fingernails and it felt like he was gouging my ass; I was trying to push him out but that just made it hurt more. Emotionally I was being raped. His cock wasn't in my ass but every single thing that they had done was rape, and I had never felt so dirty or worthless or helpless.

"Oh!"

I felt my face flushed with blood and tears streamed from my gritty eyes, tears of utmost shame.

He laughed, and there was so much cruelty and viciousness in it that I wanted to die. "Looks like we found you're sweet spot, haven't we Dear?"

My cock had wilted, but now it was rock-hard and dribbling a clear fluid. Hanson was stroking my hips and pinching my ass with lewd, hurtful hands. The Doctor began moving his finger in and out. He added another finger and began insulting me as I struggled on the table. Fresh sobs tore from my throat at the demeaning things he did to me.

"You like it don't you, you little slut! You Fish always fight and say that you don't want it, but you always end up whimpering for it in the end! You like it when a Man fingers your little boy-cunt don't you? You love it!"

"No!" I begged in a broken voice. "No! Stop! Please stop! Oh God please stop doing this to me!"

His waxy hand closed over my cock and he pumped his fist up and down so hard it hurt. I screamed as somewhere in the convoluted knot of pain and degradation and fear my body responded to all of the abuse and I had my first orgasm with another man.

I sagged to the table as Hanson loosened his grip and the Doctor's fingers slid out of my ass. I cried in low animal sobs. The kind of sound that makes you hurt just by making it. It hurt my lungs and my throat and my heart. The Doctor walked in front of me and I saw a wet spot on the front of his pants.

"You are an amazing find, dearest." He purred. "You are a very sensitive little girl... now Hanson is going to give you a nice hot shower. Won't that feel good?"

"Water." I mewed. "Please."

The doctor gave me a cupful of water and I cowered as Hanson put his huge hand on the back of my neck, a predatory gleam in his dark eyes.

My legs had been given some strength from the water that the Doctor had given me, but they still trembled from fear and exhaustion. Hanson was leading me down the long hallway. Up the hall, I could see a tall black man walking, and at his side, a blonde woman was crawling.

I stared stupidly; what was this place? The woman was young and half-naked. The only thing she wore was a pair of tight black panties and a leather collar around her neck. Her breasts and hair swung as she crawled next to the large man.

I yelped as Hanson made a sharp turn, dragging me into another room. It looked like a high-school locker room, except all the lockers were made from a gleaming wood and music was playing and the floor was carpeted. He dragged me over to a shower stall as big as a small bathroom.

His eyes were narrowed and lewd. "The Doc already got off with you in his office, now it's my turn!" his eyes narrowed and he slapped me across the face. "Stop bawling you little whore, I ain't gonna fuck you! Just some other things."

As he said that he grabbed my hand and pressed it into the crotch of his pants. I could feel a long length of stone and the fabric was hot and damp.

"Now take off your clothes."

I was out of tears. At this point I was numb and exhausted and I just wanted to crawl into a corner and sleep for the rest of my life. I took off my clothes and I could hear the sounds I was making, and they sounded like someone else was making them; loud, fearful whimpers.

When I was naked he pulled out his cock; it was long and thick and it was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. It was fat and covered in dark veins, and it looked cruel and alive, as if it were watching me through the dirty slit in the bulbous head.

He took my hand and pressed it into the sickening heat of the monster between his legs. "I can't fuck you with this, but we'll find something just as... fun... to do to you!"

He turned on the spray and pulled off his shirt. For a moment the shirt was stuck over his face. He couldn't see me and he was relaxed and he was standing on wet, slippery tiles; I saw my opportunity, and I took it.

With a sound that was part snarl, part sob, and part scream, I ran into him. The force of the collision knocked him to the ground, and I ran—naked and wet and gasping for air—away from the shower room.

As I ran through the long hallway I could hear him chasing me and I found a reserve of energy that I didn't know I had to run even faster. I darted around a corner and I let out a relieved cry as I saw the sun through a set of glass doors and I ran through them.

"No. Oh God, no. NO!"

It was an island. I could see a couple of large buildings and another prisoner—a voluptuous brunette—sunning herself by a pool as a woman in a grey suit looked on. I could see all of this, and a brilliant blue ocean surrounded it all.

When Hanson caught up to me and tackled me to the ground, I was already half unconscious from the shock and hopelessness that my discovery brought me. I was alone and in the middle of nowhere. Him pummeling me to the ground just finished the job.

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