Date: Thu, 13 Jun 2002 11:04:54 EDT
From: Bwstories8@aol.com
Subject: The Castaway Hotel - Book 5   chapter 11

Legal Notice:
The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts.
The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality.

Don't read this story if:
**You're not 18 or over,
**If it is illegal to read this type of material where you live,
**Or if you don't want to read about gay/bi people in love or having sex.

The author retains copyright to this story.  Placing this story on a
website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's
permission is a violation of that copyright.  Legal action will be taken
against violators.

I wish to extend my thank you to Ed for his editorial assistance with this
chapter and to Ataan for his suggestions about the storyline.

If you have enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me at
http://members.tripod.de/wolfslair, in the 'Other Stories' section.

E-mail responses to the stories, story suggestions, or other 'constructive'
comments or advice may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com.

                  *    *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Although the boys in these stories have unprotected sex, I strongly urge
all of you out there to be smart and protect yourselves from various
sexually transmitted diseases by using condoms when having intercourse.

                   *    *     *     *     *     *     *     *

The Castaway Hotel-Book 5-by BW (Young-Friends).  Copyright 2002 by billwstories
Chapter 11 - Repercussions.                       March 2002

Trey and I struggled to come up with a way to handle this situation,
wanting most of all to end this type of harassment.  After much debate, we
finally concluded that we would file reports with both the police and
school district, telling of the events that took place, but without naming
names.  First of all, Trey would just admit he didn't know that boy, but
then he would stretch the truth a bit by saying that he didn't have a
chance to see who else might have been there.  Trey didn't want to drag his
former friends into this, figuring if they were truly his friends, they'd
come forward on their own.  He was also hoping that by doing this they
might come to him to apologize for not trying to help him.

We had also decided to make this a sexual harassment issue, because the boy
had admitted that it was basically due to the fact Trey was gay, plus it
would get more attention that way, especially in the school district.  Trey
knew that this meant his orientation would be made an issue and be made
known to many more people, but he felt this attack had brought so much
notoriety to this fact already, that it couldn't get much worse.  What had
happened didn't fit neatly under the guidelines of sexual harassment, but
those provisions could be used to bring more pressure to find and punish
the culprit responsible for what had happened.  We felt it was our best
option, so went with it.

Both the school and the police wanted Trey to go through the past couple of
yearbooks, to see if he could recognize this kid, but that proved
unsuccessful.  We decided this boy must have been absent on the day the
pictures were taken, he made a conscious decision not to be included in the
yearbook, or he had just moved into this district.  We weren't sure which
was the case, but it didn't really make that much difference.  Without a
picture, it would just be that much harder to locate him.

At the end of March, my college boys came home to celebrate Easter with us.
It just happened that Passover and Easter coincided this year, so they
would get time off from classes.  It was nice that it happened this way,
and we were all glad to have them home.  Although Trey's injuries had
mostly healed by that time, except for the rib, it was still noticeable
that something had happened to him. Both Frankie and Dustin wanted to know
exactly what had happened and what we had done about it.  We filled them
both in, but they didn't seem satisfied that what we had done was enough.
Especially Frankie.  I guess he still felt bad about his attack against
Trey, back when he first joined the family, and I think he looked at this
as a chance to atone for that transgression.

As luck would have it, that Saturday the boys went to the mall together, to
do some shopping and just hangout.  As they were walking around the mall,
Trey spotted his former attacker and pointed him out to his brothers.
Shannon was the only one of my boys who knew who that boy was, as it turned
out that he was another of the Boy Scouts who had harassed Shannon on
previous occasions.  This boy was also a friend of the local scoutmaster's
son, the kid who had singled out Shannon for attack shortly after he moved
into our school district and word got out he was gay.

This kid was accompanied by a couple of his friends, and the boys quickly
talked things over and discussed what they were going to do next.  Frankie,
who didn't seem to be known to these boys, followed these others fairly
closely, with his brothers following him.  His brothers stayed far enough
behind that they wouldn't be seen or recognized by the group they were
following, thus spooking them.  It took about an hour before those other
boys left the mall, and my boys followed them out into the parking lot.
Once they were away from the buildings, Frankie approached the trio, as
they made their way to their car.

"Hey," Frankie said to the kid who had attacked Trey, "I hear you think
you're pretty tough.  How about trying your hand with me?  Let's see if you
can take someone who's ready for you, without giving you the chance to
attack them from behind."

The boy turned and was shocked to see the well-built Frankie staring him
down, but he still had enough bravado left to reply, seeing there were
three of them and only one of Frankie.  "Look, man," the boy told him, "I
don't know who you are and I really don't want to fight."

"Why?  Are you a coward?" Frankie egged him on.  "Do you only attack those
whom you don't think can defend themselves?"

"Look, man, I really don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about you beating up one of my brothers just because he was
gay."  At this pronouncement, the boy's mouth dropped open, having finally
put two and two together.

"You mean you have a brother who's a fag?" the boy blurted out without
thinking.

"Look, asshole," Frankie told him emphatically, glaring at him as he did
so.  "I don't like your smart mouth and I don't want to hear any more of
that kind of shit, unless you plan on backing it up with your fists."

The boy looked at him for a second before he responded.  "Hey, there's
three of us here and only one of you, mother-fucker," the boy announced
defiantly, looking from side to side, at each of his companions.

"Not exactly," Frankie announced, causing the boys to wonder what he was
talking about.  By this time the other boys had been able to come up from
behind the trio, and now they surrounded them, making their presence known
as they did so.

"I know you know at least one of my brothers," Frankie said mockingly,
while pointing at Trey, "but now let me introduce you to some of the
others."  The boys looked around very nervously now, knowing that this time
they were outnumbered.  At this time Frankie 'introduced' some of the
brothers who were with him, Dustin, Danny, Brandon, Shannon, and Nick, and
then Frankie got in that kid's face and started to make his point.

"Unless you'd like to finish this now, I've got some advice for you."  By
this time he was poking his finger quite firmly into the boy's chest,
trying to see if he could provoke him into action.  The boy was either to
scared to respond or didn't like the odds this time, so he just stood
there.  "The next time you attack one of my brothers, or anyone else for
that matter, I'm going to find you, rip your balls off and shove them down
your throat, before I dance on your skull.  Do I make myself clear?"

The boy nodded, but Frankie wanted to embarrass him in front of his
friends, making sure they all knew he wasn't really that tough.  "I'm
sorry," Frankie mocked him, "I couldn't hear that, even with all those
rocks in your head banging around.  What did you say?"

"I said I understand," the boy repeated a little louder.

"You understand what?" Frankie continued.

"I understand what you're going to do to me, if I fight any of your
brothers."

"You called that a fight?  I hear you punched him from behind and kicked
him like some girl.  Is that true?"

By now more school age kids had gathered around, to see what was happening,
adding to the boy's embarrassment.  "Well, not exactly," the boy stated,
trying to save some face.

"Then what exactly did you do?  Did you hit him from behind?"

"Well, only because he turned."

"Yes, he turned.  He was walking away from you when you sucker-punched him,
right?

"I guess so," he responded meekly.

"And you kicked him like a little girl after that, didn't you?" Frankie
persisted.

"I kicked him like a kick boxer or someone who knows karate."

"Oh, really.  Would you like to demonstrate those moves on me?" Frankie
challenged him.

"Uh, not really."

"Why not, because you don't kick like a kick boxer or someone using
karate?"  The boy was turning red now, knowing that Frankie wasn't about to
let it drop.  "Maybe it's because you were kicking like a little sissy,
like some girl in a cat fight.  I'm surprised you didn't try to scratch him
too."

By now Frankie knew he definitely had the upper hand, and he just kept
ragging on this kid.  Now he began to push him, trying to get him to react.
"Admit it, you're just a little pussy-boy, aren't you?  And you can only
beat up on people smaller or weaker than you."

"That's not true," the boy insisted.

"Okay then, come on and show me what you can do."  With that statement,
Frankie pushed him again, but the boy just kept backing away.  One of his
friends made a move to step in and help him, but Dustin stepped in his
path, challenging him to try something with him.  The kid backed off.

"Either fight me here and now," Frankie screamed, "or admit to everyone
that you're just a little pussy-boy."  By now people in the crowd were
snickering or even laughing out loud.  The boy glared at them, wishing
Frankie would just go away, but he knew that wouldn't happen.  After
looking at Frankie and his muscular build, he knew he'd get his ass kicked
if he tried to fight, so he decided to wait this out.  Frankie wasn't so
cooperative.

"Well, which will it be?  Are you going to fight me or admit to everyone
that you're just a little pussy-boy?"  The kid glared at Frankie again, but
he didn't make a move.  He knew Frankie wouldn't let this drop until he was
beaten or humiliated, but he wasn't ready to get his ass kicked.

"I guess I'm a pussy-boy," he whispered.  His friends looked shocked when
they heard this, but Frankie gloated.

"What was that, I don't think we all heard you.  Speak up," Frankie goaded.
The boy looked up, not believing that Frankie was going to make him say it
again, only this time louder.  Frankie gave him an evil grin when he saw
his response.

"Well, which is it?" he repeated.

You could see the boy biting his lip, trying to decide if he wanted to
fight instead, but eventually he decided against that.  "I'm a pussy-boy,"
he said a little louder.

"So, you're a pussy-boy," Frankie announced in his loudest voice, pausing
to let the full impact sink in, both for the bystanders and the boy
himself.  "So, pussy-boy, are you going to promise me to be a good little
pussy-boy and not pick on people weaker than you again?"  Frankie's voice
was dripping with sarcasm this time.

"Yes," the boy responded in a normal tone of voice, but Frankie didn't push
this further.  He knew he had already sufficiently embarrassed him in front
of his friends and others.

"Okay, pussy-boy.  Run off with your pussy-boy friends and behave."  He
said this like a mother would tell something to her two or three year-old
child.  The effect wasn't lost on anyone.  The boy and his two friends all
looked equally embarrassed now, though the other two had only been
implicated through friendship, but all of them knew they'd have a tough
time living this one down.  They quickly made their way to their car, got
in, and sped away, wanting to put as much distance between them and the
Curries as they could.

Some of the bystanders began to whistle, clap, or cheer as the boys drove
away, and Trey and the others went to congratulate Frankie for the
marvelous show.  "Thanks, bro," Trey told him succinctly, but you could
read the admiration and thanks etched on his face.

"No, problem, little bro.  I owed you that one."  Trey looked puzzled at
first, but then understood the implication of that subtle comment.  The
others took their turns congratulating Frankie too, while Dustin had been
smart enough to ask others who had witnessed what had happened, what that
boy's name was.  Once they had stopped patting Frankie on the back, they
took that information and headed home.

I got a full recounting of this story when they arrived back home, with
different boys adding their own touches to the retelling.  I thanked
Frankie for sticking up for his brother, though I hoped it wouldn't mean
further retaliation in the future, but he assured me that wouldn't happen.
"Dad, that kid was so scared he was nearly pissing himself today.  He
doesn't want to see me again, so he'll leave Trey and the others alone
now."

"I hope you're right, but I'm glad we also discovered his name.  I'll call
the police and give them that tidbit now, and I'll notify the school on
Monday.  That should help to close this episode for the time being."

The boys all went their separate ways after this, but maybe they felt a
little bit closer than they did before.  They had made a statement today,
letting everyone know this family would stick together, no matter what.  It
was a reassuring gesture to all the younger boys, and a major statement to
the community, as they knew my boys would consider an attack on others in
the community the same way.

As Easter is a time for hope and new beginnings, this too gave Trey a new
beginning, though we would all remain watchful of him in the future.  He
would continue to do his research at the library, but from that point on
one of his other brothers would just happen to have something to work on
there, at the same time.  Funny how that worked out, isn't it?  Trey
understood what was happening, but didn't think any more of it, other than
that his brothers cared about him and wanted to protect him.  Really, they
all understood this and it was just another unspoken family truth.

That Monday I called the school, relaying the identity of Trey's attacker,
and then asked the High School principal what actions they anticipated
taking against him.  He said he couldn't comment on that officially, but
off the record he suspected that this might lead to a lengthy suspension or
even expulsion.  Having heard the boy's name, he said this was not the
first trouble the boy had been in, though he wasn't a chronic problem.  It
seemed he picked his spots to act out, but then went at it with such gusto
that he drew considerable notice, from both his peers and the school.  He
assured me he'd keep in touch, keeping me informed of what was happening or
about to happen.

Once Trey had gathered much of the background information for his project,
he began to write his play, giving me his rough draft as he finished it.  I
would read it, make comments and suggestions, then I would give it back to
him, so he could make his changes.  It was a very long and time-consuming
process, so it was good that he had gotten an early start on it.

April also brought with it some other interesting news.  Ricky was notified
that he was among the finalists for the exchange program.  This meant he
had to write a short essay about himself, telling in more detail why he
wanted to be an exchange student and why he thought he was also the best
candidate.  He was happy that he was at least a finalist, although he
wasn't thrilled about having to write more about himself, but he knew he'd
have to do it, if he wanted to be selected.  With this in mind, he began to
write the first draft of his essay.

Ricky put a great deal of thought into how he wanted to word this, knowing
how much he desired to become an exchange student, but he also accepted the
fact that he probably wasn't the most qualified candidate, at least in his
mind.  Although his grades were slightly above average, he understood he
was not a great student, and he probably wasn't the most needy any more,
even though that wasn't a requirement for this program.  He knew he had to
look deep inside himself, to see what made him special, and somehow convey
that to the committee who would select those who actually got to go.  When
he finished his letter, he gave it to me to look over.  Here's what I read.


To the selection committee:

I know I am supposed to tell you about myself, so I will.  It's just that I
don't think there is very much to tell.  When I was little, I wished that
my life would get better, because I wasn't very happy.  Sometimes I even
felt sorry for myself, because my mom used drugs and slept around a lot.  I
still loved her, I just didn't like the things she did or how we had to
live.  I wanted to live in a normal family and do things like normal kids
did, but I guess I knew that would never happen.

One day she died, and I didn't know what was going to happen to me now that
she was gone.  I didn't really have any other family.  Fortunately, I went
to live with my principal, because he was a foster parent, and later he
adopted me.  I still don't live in a normal family, because my dad's wife
had died before he adopted me and he's adopted many other boys too, and now
I'm part of a really big family.  I like that a lot and I love my dad, but
now I want to be part of an even bigger family and get to meet and live
with others from around the world.

I know my grades aren't the best, but it's not from lack of trying.  I
wasn't a very good student until I went to live with my dad, and he helped
me do better.  I'm still trying to improve, but it isn't always easy, so I
hope you won't hold that against me.  I'll do my best if I am selected, and
you won't be disappointed, because I want the people in the other countries
to realize that Americans aren't bad, no matter what they've been told.

Sincerely, Ricky Currie


After I finished reading it, I sat down and talked to him about it.  He
asked me what he should change, and I told him nothing.  I explained that
was from his heart, did what it was meant to do, and there was nothing I
could suggest to improve it.  He looked at me funny, like he wasn't sure I
was being honest, but then he said he trusted my judgment and would send it
out the way it was.  I just gave him a wink and told him I thought he was a
shoo-in, but he told me I was prejudiced, because I was his dad.  I told
him that might be true, but I'd think that was a great letter even if it
hadn't come from him.  He thanked me and went off to print it off, so he
could send it out.

The next week I heard that the police had charged the boy who attacked Trey
with aggravated assault and he spent a couple of nights at the local jail.
The first night was because he couldn't be arraigned until morning, but his
second evening in jail was because his family couldn't come up with the
bail money.  Even though he was separated from the general population in
there, the others still taunted him.  As I understood later, the inmates
always try to intimidate young persons who are brought into jail, trying to
get them to change their ways before it's too late.  I guess there is some
good in all of us.

In the jail there was a doorway through which they could see each other,
and it also allowed them to shout things back and forth too.  The older
inmates used that to their advantage, using this chance to spook the young
man a bit.  They began by telling him they'd like to get to know him
better, and then they asked him if he'd like a boyfriend.  They teased him
that a cute young guy like him could have lots of boyfriends, if he wanted
to.  I learned from a corrections officer friend that this really bothered
the boy and he was a bit scared after that, but not so scared that he
didn't still make some comments to his tormentors.  Luckily for him, they
couldn't get at him, but they sure let him know he didn't have the upper
hand.  They promised they'd help to tame that foul mouth of his, if he were
ever put anywhere near them.  They also advised him that they'd make sure
next time he really had something to complain about, like a dick up his
butt.  They said they would request that he be allowed to take showers with
them, so he could pick up the soap, and then they all laughed.  I guess
that deflated the boy's defiance some, because the correction officer said
he was very quiet the rest of the night.  After spending those two nights
in jail, he got out, but I think it gave him a taste for what it would be
like, if he got sentenced to have to be confined there for what he had
done.  Maybe it would give him a new perspective on things, especially
about how it felt to be bullied.

While the school addressed the issue of how to handle this from their end,
one of my friends kept me informed about what was going on.  I asked him to
see if he could delay things, until the court handled their part of this
matter, and he said he'd see what he could do.  I knew, from watching other
things happen in the past, that this would probably drag on for a month or
more in the courts, but I was hoping the boy might just accept a plea
bargain and get it over with.  I even met with the D.A., to let him know
what we'd consider acceptable, though I wasn't sure they cared about what I
had to say.  They did finally offer him a plea bargain arrangement, where
he'd plead to criminal mischief, a misdemeanor, and spend eight weekends in
jail, which he finally accepted.  They did this so he wouldn't miss any
school, seeing it was still in session, and I think I might have influenced
their sentence recommendation.  He would be separated from the adult
inmates while he was there, but he'd have to show up each Friday by 6:00
p.m., and he wouldn't be released until 6:00 p.m. on Sunday.  They told him
they'd also seal this under a juvenile offender status, provided he didn't
get into trouble again, before he turned 21.  We all hoped he could keep up
his end of the bargain.

The situation at the school was going slightly different.  I heard they
planned to expel him for his actions, so I asked to meet privately with the
Superintendent and the members of the school board.  I expressed my hope
that they would merely give him a month of in-house suspension, and
volunteered to oversee that duty, so it wouldn't cost the district anything
extra.  They expressed their surprise that I didn't want that boy expelled,
especially after what he had done, but I explained that we merely wanted
him to learn that there were consequences for his actions, but we didn't
want to ruin his life.  They said they would consider this matter further,
and take my recommendation into account, before they made their final
decision.  I thanked them for their consideration.

On the night the board met to make their final decision, I attended it
alone.  I didn't want the boys there, just in case there were others there
who supported this boy, possibly looking for trouble.  It turned out that
very few people, other than the board members, had shown up.  There were
only a couple of others in attendance, outside of the boy, his parents, and
myself, but they were there for other matters.  Once the board told the boy
and his parents of their decision, I waited quietly until the meeting
ended, then I walked over to them and asked them if we could speak alone.

"Why?" the boy said defiantly.  "Are you here to pass on more threats from
your other sons?"

"Don't you know when to shut up and listen?" his father asked him.  "This
man has already done you a couple of favors, so I think he deserves to be
heard."

"What favors?" the boy followed.  "Favors like sending his other sons to
threaten me?"

"Didn't you hear anything the D.A. or the school board president told you?"
his father wanted to know.  "The D.A. told you he was going to recommend
that you do 60 days in jail, until Mr. Currie here persuaded him to only
make you do weekends.  And the school board president told you they were
going to expel you from school, but Mr. Currie suggested they only give you
a month's suspension."

"Wow, big favors," he responded, mockingly.

"They were," his mother interjected.  "After you told us about those first
two nights at the jail, would you really have wanted to have spent 60 days
in there?"  This time the boy didn't have any wisecrack response, but
instead he just glared at his mother, like she let his most closely guarded
secret slip out.

"Let's put it this way," his father advised him, "we can either sit down
and let Mr. Currie say his piece or you can deal with me when we get home."
I think the boy caught his father's implication from that remark, and he
meekly walked over and sat down to listen to what I had to say.  Before I
could begin, his mother thanked me for asking both groups to go lightly on
her son.

"Look, we have nothing against your son," I informed her, "and we didn't
want to see his life ruined over this one mistake."  I got that much out,
before the boy interrupted me.

"No, you just sent your other sons down to threaten me, and make me look
like a fool in front of my friends," he spat out.

"I had nothing to do with that, but the boys were just trying to let you
know they were going to protect their brother and not let anyone harm him.
If it had been to get even, they wouldn't have just threatened you that
day.  They could have beaten the crap out of you and your buddies instead,
as you have to agree there were enough of them there to do that, if they
had wanted to."  The boy didn't respond to that comment, and both of his
parents sat there giving him dirty looks.

"If you'll just let me say what I want, we can all go home."  His father
nodded for me to continue.  "Look, I just want you to know that none of my
boys will go out of their way to do anything to you, unless you decide to
do something like this again.  They will defend their own.  I just want you
to understand that none of the boys chose to be gay, bi, or straight, it
was just they were born that way."

"Yeah, sure," the boy scoffed.

"Well, did you choose to be straight?" I asked him, bluntly.

"No, man, but I'm normal."

"How about your height, did you choose that?  Or maybe your eye color or
skin-color then?"

"No, you know you can't choose things like that," he responded, with a
touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"Exactly, and people who are gay didn't choose to be that way either.  It's
just as they grew up, they discovered they were attracted to other boys,
not girls.  They didn't choose to be like that, it was just who they were.
Some of them even tried to go with girls, but there was just no attraction,
no spark.  If they had continued with such a fraud, it would have been
unfair to both them AND to the girls they were with."  The boy didn't seem
to really hear what I was saying, but his father seemed interested.

"Do you really believe this?" he wanted to know.

"Absolutely!" I responded.  "I've spent many hours talking to my boys and
to others about this, and I believe that being gay is in their genes, so to
speak.  Just as nature makes differences in how animals look and act, it
also makes a difference in whom they're attracted to.  Even straight people
aren't all attracted to the same types, so why should they all be attracted
to the opposite sex?  Maybe at one time that was important for the survival
of the species, but that doesn't seem to be the case any more, and history
is full of examples, both in humans and other animals, about different
members being attracted to members of their own sex.  It's just something
that happens, but they shouldn't be hassled for how they were born.  Think
of it, what if most of the world was gay, and you were straight," I said
looking the boy directly in the face.  "Would you want them treating you
the same way you treat them?"

He didn't even take time to think before he responded.  "There's no way
that would ever happen!"

"Maybe not, but would you want to be made fun of or attacked just because
you were different?"  The boy didn't have a smart comeback this time, and I
think he might have even considered what that might have been like.

"Mr. Currie, thank you for your help and for taking the time to explain
things to our son," his mother told me.  "We're going to go home and talk
about this more with him, and we appreciate your input.  I don't think
you'll have to worry about anything like this happening again.  Please tell
your son, who was attacked by ours, how sorry we are and that we'll try to
make sure it doesn't happen again."

I told her I would do that and then we parted company.  I was pretty sure
at this point that this boy didn't learn his prejudice at home, as his
parents seemed pretty open-minded.  I hoped that this might have opened a
dialogue between them and they might be able to open his eyes as well.

                  *    *     *     *     *     *     *     *

If you have enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me at
http://members.tripod.de/wolfslair, in the 'Other Stories' section.
E-mails may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com.