Date: Sun, 8 Sep 2013 11:08:40 +1200
From: bob charles <pennywise3636@gmail.com>
Subject: Washed Up (Gay / Young friends) chapter 17

Washed Up.

Disclaimer:

Warning: this story contains sexual content, contact between young boys,
and other themes that may offend.  If the subject matter offends you, is
not to your tastes, or if you are under legal age for your area, then find
something else to read. In the following story all names and events are
completely fictional.  Although I may mention a specific location, place,
or person any resemblance to said people, location, or places is completely
unintentional.

Chapter 17:

They finish up quickly, and pull the cover back down to cover me back up. I
am still shaking and crying when they pull the sheet back down to expose my
back, but the examination there is very quick because the doctors are no
longer expecting to find anything. Mum and Sarah try their best to calm me
down again, while the doctors check the rest of my vital signs. The doctors
finish and give me a clean bill of health, well before I start to get back
under control of my emotions.

When I eventually calm down enough, the doctors decide that it's time to
move me. They wheel me out of the room and into the corridor again, but
this time it looks like they are actually going to take me somewhere. We go
further along the corridor and deeper into the bowels of the emergency
surgery ward. We pass what must be the operating theatres, which seem to
all be in use because of the red lights outside the doors, which are all
glowing to indicate that they are in use.

We finally stop outside a closed door to a recovery room, and I feel my
heart do a leap for joy. Pierre's presence is really strong now, so I know
that he is extremely close. The psychologist opens up the door to the room,
before he comes back around the back of the bed to continue in assisting
with the moving of me. They push me into the room and what I am greeted
with makes my heart sink right through the floor, and I just break down in
tears.

************

It is a sight that I had never expected, and has also left me wondering
what has gone so wrong. Pierre is lying on the hospital bed, with the sheet
up over his head, while a couple of nurses clean up around his groin,
checking for any infection at the same time. I can't believe it, but it
seems that they have surgically removed my boyfriend's dickie. Why on earth
have they done that? I really don't know because he had only come here for
brain surgery.

"Puis-je vous aider?" One of the nurses asks quizzically, with a bit of a
confused look on her face.

"Chambre mal désolé." The doctor replies a little embarrassed at
himself. I just really wish I knew what the fuck they were talking about,
because I really want to know why they cut off Pierre's willy.

My confusion becomes even more compounded when the doctors wheel me back
out of the room. I had been hoping to stay in there with my boyfriend
because he really looked like he needed me, but I also want answers about
how on earth they botched up the surgery so badly. I am becoming
increasingly frustrated and upset again. I really hate not knowing what is
going on, especially since it involves my boyfriend.

I am really at the point of throwing a massive wobbly while we leave the
room and head down the corridor a bit further. My frustration and anger are
really clouding my judgement, but it is also taking away my ability to
concentrate. So I miss the doctors stopping outside another door and
opening it, because my mind is fuming too much and I really am at boiling
point.

I finally start to realise that something is going on when I am pushed into
the new room, and see another boy, well I think it is a boy, lying on the
bed. I can't see the person's face, but the shortish slim frame suggests
that it is one of a child. I'm just hoping it is who I think it is, but due
to his head being heavily bandaged I really cannot tell.

The body is hooked up to all sorts of monitors and drips, and there is a
doctor in the room constantly monitoring all of them whilst checking over
the patient in the bed. He gives us a cursory glance as we enter the room,
but says nothing and just goes back to what he was doing. The doctors wheel
my bed right up beside that of the patient and stop there. I manage to get
a quick glance of the clipboard hanging on the end of the bed while I am
wheeled past, and I am no better off because it has no patient name on it.

The doctor who is already in the room, now decides to talk with my doctors
to find out what is going on. I try as hard as I can to eavesdrop but yet
again it is pointless because they are conversing in French. It is really
frustrating being in a foreign country trying to find out what is wrong
with your lover, when you don't know the language. I know I can't complain
too much because I should learn the native tongue, but I never expected
anything like this.

The doctors converse for ages, causing me to get all paranoid and
frustrated. I don't know what they are saying, but the way they keep
glancing over at me is starting to make me feel uneasy. Eventually they
stop talking, and my doctors then have a word with François and Manuel's
dad, again in French. The looks on both their faces concerns me a lot,
because they look very worried about what is being said to them.

I can feel my heart sinking, as I start to think the worst case scenario. I
can't help it because so much horrible shit has happened to me, that
something as good as Pierre coming into my life feels like it is almost too
good to be true. My negative thinking has plagued me for years, and not
knowing the condition of my boyfriend is bringing it all back.

"Callum and Manuel, you are both going to have to get out of Josh's bed."
François suddenly says very commandingly to the little boys. They look
up at him confused, but seeing the serious look on his face, they don't
hesitate to do as they are told. The quickly scramble off my bed, while
taking enough precautions not to bump or hurt me while they climb out. I
feel really lonely now that they have stopped hugging me and gone, so I
really am hoping that this is Pierre and I'm going to be allowed to touch
him.

"Josh, as you have probably guessed that is Pierre. I have a couple of
things that I have to tell you, before we go any further." François then
tells me. I just gulp, because the seriousness in his voice is really
scaring me. His face doesn't do anything to help build my confidence
either, because it is more creased than usual from worry, but he also looks
very upset.

"Firstly there were complications during Pierre's surgery, and they almost
lost him. Thankfully they managed to bring him back, and also successfully
relieve the swelling on the brain due to the internal bleeding. What they
are unsure of at this stage is whether he has sustained any brain damage,
but they are hopeful that they got there in time and he will recover
fully." François says.

I am almost in tears again from hearing that Pierre almost died on the
table, because it was not news that I wanted to hear. I am exceedingly
relieved that he is still alive, but the thought of potential brain damage
is still bugging me. I really do hope he comes out of this whole thing
unscathed, but it is not looking very likely. I really am gutted that
Pierre has come off worse during this ordeal, because I had hoped that the
man would take it all out on me. It really has just been another case of
how good my luck is.

"The other thing that I need to tell you is that Pierre is in a drug
induced coma. The painkillers he is on aren't sufficient to quell the pain,
so the doctors thought that it was best to put him in a coma until the pain
starts to subside. They are perfectly happy for you to be with him, but you
are going to have to be extremely careful not to disturb his head."

Now my mind really goes into a spin, because I suddenly remember all the
pain I felt when I was out in the corridor. Could it be related to Pierre's
drugs not having any effect? No, surely not. It must be some
coincidence. Then I suddenly remember about Dan and Caleb, nah surely not,
I mean they are really close and have this magical connection. It couldn't
be possible for Pierre and I to have the same thing going on, well could
it?

With my mind so busy, occupied in my own thoughts, I don't notice that the
doctors are hoisting me out of my bed and placing me with Pierre. It is a
sudden jolt of electricity which surges through me, from just the lightest
of touches, which makes me realise that I am now in bed with my lover. My
mind stops all thought and I just instinctively latch onto my boyfriend and
snuggle as close to him as I can get.

Even in a comatose state I still feel the warmth and love being emitted
from Pierre into me. I feel whole again, although I really wish that Pierre
was awake to enjoy it with me. I really want to kiss my lover to try to
bring him back, but he has tubes running into his mouth making it
impossible to do. His mouth is the only part of his head which isn't
bandaged up, making me feel really bad for him. I long to see his gorgeous
face, and heart-melting smile again, but I know I'm just going to have to
wait.

Everyone looks on intrigued by what they are seeing, especially taking note
of the instant response Pierre's brainwave monitor displays. The moment I
touch him the monitor records an overwhelmingly positive response, but not
enough to bring him from his coma, but that is only because he is still
getting fed the drugs to keep him that way. What the monitor also indicates
to the doctors is that Pierre's brain isn't registering anywhere near as
much pain as it was before.

The psychologist has the biggest smile on his face, which really has that
`I told you so' look to it. I haven't noticed it myself, but then I'm just
enjoying being with my comatose boyfriend and trying to help him get
better. Mum isn't surprised in the slightest at the result that I have
managed to achieve, but then again she understood right from the start what
the psychologist was on about. Everyone else is astonished and looking on
in disbelief at the instant results I have managed to achieve.

Manuel and Callum though, don't really have any idea about what is going
on, and the expressions on everyone else's faces just confuse the two
little boys. They are somewhat happy seeing Pierre again, but they know
that he isn't in a good way, so are also really worried. They haven't
picked up on the positive responses I have got out of Pierre, because all
the monitors really mean jack shit to them, other than a whole lot of
squiggly lines.

The two youngsters feel all alone, because no one is letting them know what
is going on, let alone paying them any attention at all. The nervousness
and worry is clearly written on their cute little faces, because they have
started to misread what everyone else's expressions are telling them. They
think that things have gone bad, and that I am having no effect on Pierre
whatsoever.

"What's happening? Please tell us what's wrong with Pierre? Is he getting
worse or something?" Callum asks agitatedly after a while, to anyone he can
get the attention of. François is the first to respond to my little
brother, and walks over to both the nine year olds and hugs them.

"Nothing is happening. Pierre is responding to your older brother's touch,
and in a good way. He is going to be fine, I'm pretty sure of that. Now
stop worrying, and maybe you can both hold one of Pierre's hands. You know,
so he knows that you are here for him." François replies, getting big
smiles from both the little boys.

"Can we, are you sure it's alright?" Manuel asks excitedly at the prospect
of holding Pierre's hand. Both the boys are bouncing around on the spot,
finally excited about something on what has been a horrible day for
them. They have spent the entire day worrying about the health and safety
of either me or Pierre, and at times both of us. Even though Pierre is
still not well, the prospect of helping out my boyfriend has sparked some
life into the boys.

"Yes it will be fine, but take it easy and be gentle on him." François
tells them seriously, because he is a little scared that they may be a tad
overexcited. He needn't have worried because Callum and Manuel never would
have done anything to hurt Pierre, but François still figured it better
to be safe than sorry, and warns them to be careful.

Manuel and Callum don't need to get told twice and rush over to the side of
the bed, surprisingly organised, so that they both end up on opposite sides
of the bed. Callum doesn't think twice and just takes hold of Pierre's hand
and gives it a little squeeze, just to let my boyfriend know that he is
there. Manuel is a lot more tentative and cautious, not really sure of
himself. I see how the youngster is acting, and just nod my head and give
him a warm smile to let him know that it's alright. He doesn't need any
more encouragement and quickly holds my lover's hand within his two smaller
more delicate hands.

I am just so happy to see my two younger brothers doing so much to try and
help Pierre. It does really warm my heart, but I am saddened knowing that
Pierre won't come out of his coma until sometime after they stop pumping
him full of drugs. I am hoping that he won't be like this for too long, but
I'm no expert in this sort of thing, and I know doctors tend to be really
cautious about things. It could be days, or weeks even before they decide
to stop the drugs, and hope Pierre pulls out of the coma, but I hope it's
nowhere near that long.

Manuel suddenly jumps and rips his hand away, after Pierre's hand gave his
a little squeeze. Callum also flinches, but manages to remain calm enough
to keep holding my lover's hand, when he has the same thing happen. I am a
little dumbfounded to say the least at Manuel's reaction because I have no
idea what freaked him out so much. The scared little boy regains his
composure after a few seconds, and takes Pierre's hand again. I see him
give another flinch seconds later, but this time he continues to hold my
boyfriend's hand.

I almost shit my pants, well, if I had any on that is, when Pierre's body
moves slightly so that he is snuggled closer into me. I'm not sure what to
make of it because my lover is still supposed to be in a coma, and as far
as I know his body and muscles shouldn't be moving. I turn slightly to get
a better look at my sexy French boy, and in doing so notice his body trying
to move with me. Pierre's cute reddish brown lips seem to be moving, albeit
minutely, but the more I watch them the bigger the movements seem to be. I
am almost temped to rip out the tubes in his mouth just to see whether he
is trying to talk or not, but I know that is a bad idea.

Unbeknownst to me, or the two younger boys, the doctor has stopped the drip
that was pumping in the drugs used to induce Pierre's coma. He had been
given the go ahead by the psychologist, but because I had been paying too
much attention to what François and the two youngsters were doing, I had
missed it all. Pierre is waking from his coma and I still don't know it is
happening. In fact I don't even realise that this is exactly what the
psychologist had been expecting, because Pierre is regaining consciousness
quicker than anyone expected, and it is all due to my touch.

The adults and doctors all watch on in fascination, hoping to see what many
would regard as a minor miracle. There is a look of total amazement on
their faces, but instead of disbelief like I would have expected, their
faces also show pride. They all seem genuinely happy that Pierre and I have
such a magical connection, and what is best is that they all know that
Pierre is going to be perfectly fine. Even my mother is thrilled and
ecstatic with just how strong our love is for each other, which I am just
so pleased about, because it really does prove to me that she is over all
her prejudices about our relationship.

Callum suddenly flinches again, followed closely behind by Manuel, as
Pierre tries to pull his hands free from the two loving and caring
youngsters. Even after their initial fright they are both reluctant to
release Pierre, because they aren't aware that Pierre is actually conscious
and wants his hands back. I don't blame them for not picking up on it,
because I sure as hell haven't, but I don't care because I'm in bed with my
lover again.

The room is suddenly filled with a strange moaning, almost a wailing
noise. It sounds like it is coming from Pierre, but with all those tubes
down his throat I don't think that he will be able to make any real
noise. The strange sound starts up again, but this time I know for certain
that it is coming from Pierre, because I can see my lover's lips moving, as
the pitch of the noise changes. I am literally dumbstruck because this is
the first time that I have actually noticed that Pierre is conscious.

Callum and Manuel have released Pierre's hands by this stage, and are
staring at my bandaged up lover in disbelief. With his hands now free,
Pierre strains to pull his arms up so that he can wrap them around me. It
seems to take a lot of effort, which is making the strange noises coming
from his mouth even louder because of the tremendous exertion required to
move his arms.

The electric feelings that flood through my system when Pierre hugs me, is
the first instant in which I realise that he is conscious. I don't really
get time to properly acknowledge the fact that he is back in the land of
the living, because my mind quickly goes into a trance with the
overwhelming feeling of love that is flooding my body. Subconsciously
knowing Pierre is awake I instinctively reach over to him and embrace him
in a tight loving hug.

It really does feel so magical hugging Pierre again, even if I'm not sure
that he really understands what is going on. All I know for sure is that my
mind is totally at ease, and I feel safe and secure being with my lover
again. Hopefully, I'm generating the same feelings for him, but I can't be
sure because he can't actually tell me. Also not being able to gaze into
his beautiful hazel eyes doesn't help to ascertain how he is feeling
either.

I figure that he must be feeling the same wonderful sensations which I am
because he is trying to hug me as tightly as he physically can, which isn't
very tight at all but I can still feel his love. He has sort of rolled onto
his side to enable him to hug me better, but it has all become too hard, so
he never rolls very far. I am pretty sure that he has fallen asleep because
his body feels all relaxed, and all his stresses seem to have been
alleviated, well, for now anyway.

Just lying there with my special lover is precious to me, because I had
feared all day that I might never see him again. I know for sure that
Pierre is going to be perfectly fine, because, well, I sort of feel it in
my body. It really is hard to describe but I have this feeling streaming
through me telling me that everything is going to be fine, and that it's
all going to work out really well for the two of us in the end. I certainly
hope my instincts are right, because I really am sick and tired of all this
bad shit happening to me. Have I got some kind of curse on me or something?
It's just that bad luck seems to follow me no matter where I go.

With those awesome magical feelings again coursing through my veins, and my
mind totally at ease again, my eyelids start to feel heavy. It's just been
such a traumatic and stressful day that I'm feeling totally shattered and
tired now. Despite my best efforts there is nothing I can do to keep my
eyes open. I'm a little scared to fall asleep, because I feel I have to
stay awake for my lover, but it is all too hard now, and I drift off into a
blissful deep sleep.

The next two days are really hectic for me, due to the police wanting to
have a few talks in order to find out as much as they can, and the
psychologist also wanting to try to help me with my issues. Pierre's
condition improves slowly, but during these two days the doctors decide not
to remove any of the tubes, drips or monitors which are connected to my
lover.

I'm pretty sure the reason for that is that the psychologist wants to see
how he reacts without my presence there, because every time I have to talk
with someone I am forced to leave the room. Despite my mood deteriorating
every time I leave Pierre, I have noticed that the psychologist seems to be
taking more notes in the time we are walking to where he is going to do his
work, than he does during our little sessions.

Mind you, I don't really blame him because by the time I get to his little
office I am so distraught that I refuse to co-operate with him
whatsoever. I also get extremely frustrated that everything he says has to
be translated by either François or Manuel's dad, depending on who comes
with me, because the psychologist doesn't speak enough English to be able
to converse with me properly.

Over the two days he tries countless times to have a decent session with
me, but they all go absolutely terribly wrong. My mood is always in
complete ruins, which just makes me shut down and refuse to co-operate one
little bit. What makes matters worse is that when I get back to Pierre each
time, I find out that he has relapsed and lost consciousness again. I have
pretty much figured out that the psychologist just wants to see just how
strong our connection is, and that is the only reason why he keeps
separating us.

The police at least send a detective who speaks English, and I go with mum
each time for my talks with them. They are really patient, because I think
my psychologist may have explained a thing or two to them. Slowly but
surely they get the information they are after from numerous short
interviews, but they are surprised when mum also informs them about what
happened in Vichy, because they wonder if the two incidents may in some way
be connected.

It is a long shot, but after talking to the police in Vichy, who then
interview the guy who scared us at the pool, it does turn out that there
was a connection. The man from the pool had been horribly abused by the
hotel owner when he was on holiday with his parents down here at the age of
ten. It turns out that he and his family were very lucky to get out,
because the police slowly unearth just what a true monster the hotel owner
was.

After an extensive search of the basement, the cops found a mini graveyard
dug into the concrete floor. There were heaps of skeletons found inside the
mass grave, most of which seem to be adult, but there were also quite a few
children's bones in there too. It really was an appalling find, which
requires weeks' worth of investigation to figure out just what went on in
there. The police are really good to us, and they make sure to keep us
informed about everything that is going on in the investigation while they
prepare for what will be one of the biggest court trials in France's
history.

The only real issue I have, aside from losing my mind every time I'm away
from Pierre, is the whole nakedness issue. It isn't really even about being
naked, it's sort of more that I don't want to see that dirty tainted thing
between my legs. That thing down there has been the major cause of all my
grief, and it's got to the point where I'm totally disgusted by it.

The psychologist is becoming increasingly concerned with the way I have
reacted to it. He has been following me everywhere to monitor my mood. So
he's observing when I go to the toilet, or take a shower, and he really is
worried about how badly I have reacted to this incident.

You see I just can't bear to see my dick so much that I do everything I can
in order to hide it. I use full use of the hospital gown to hide away my
pecker while I take a piss, and again it covers everything well when I have
to sit down on the toilet. It isn't all about not seeing it either, because
I just can't bring myself to touch it, so when I take a leak I make sure to
get some toilet paper so that I can handle my little dickie to pee.

I refused to take a shower until mum had got some briefs for me, which I
put on whilst still in the robe. Only once I have my undies on do I take
off the robe and get under the shower, before doing the reverse to get
changed. To wash down there in the shower I slip the soap carefully in
through the leg hole, and then sort of move it around from outside my
undies. I spend at least half an hour trying to thoroughly clean the dirty
tainted appendage, but no matter how long I stay there cleaning it I still
feel all gross and unclean.

Of course with me not wanting to touch it, and Pierre not being able to, my
hormones still play havoc with me. I'm stiff like almost all the time, and
every time I move I get those amazing feelings surge through me. I still
stay strong, because despite how much I would love to enjoy those feelings
again, I still can't bring myself to touch it. I can't even rub it from
outside my robe or briefs because I just feel like it is the cause of me
and Pierre getting so badly defiled by that monster.

Of course the hormones, which have started to rage through my system, were
always going to have the last laugh. The second night in hospital, they
finally win out, and I get woken up to a damp feeling around my
midsection. Not realising what has happened I automatically think that I
have gone back to wetting the bed again. I really can't believe it because
I thought that was all over with, and now it seems to have come back
again. My mind really doesn't comprehend what has really happened, which
causes me to just break down and cry.

"What's wrong Josh?" Mum asks in a hushed voice, upon hearing me whimpering
away.

"I... I... I wet the bed again!" I blubber. I am fully awake now, but there
is only one thing going through my mind, and I am totally embarrassed at
having wet the bed again. During the process of waking up the way I did, I
also must have woken up Pierre, because I suddenly feel him trying to hug
me tightly again. I truly do love the magical feelings he generates in me,
but again it isn't quite enough to overcome my embarrassment. I think it's
mainly because he is still very weak so his hugs aren't very tight at all.

"Oh, are you sure? I mean you haven't wet the bed before whilst you have
been with Pierre, so I am not sure why you suddenly did so again." Mum says
in a sincere soothing voice. She is pretty concerned, because it means to
her that the psychological damage done by that man is far worse than she
first thought.

"Yeah I think so. I feel wet around... um... well, you know. Strange thing
is it doesn't feel as wet as usual, and I didn't have a night terror. In
fact the dream I had was a really nice one." I reply, still sobbing but I
am slowly getting my emotions back under control.

"Um... Okay. I don't think you did wet the bed, because I think something
else might have happened. Do you mind me cleaning you up, because then I
can confirm what I think?" Mum says a little flustered, which totally
confuses me. I mean if it's not pee what else could it be?

"Um... yeah, please. Just make sure I can't see, cos I still don't want to
even look at that dirty disgusting thing." I reply apprehensively.

Mum doesn't reply, because she has been caught totally off guard with my
admission. She finally realises that it isn't being naked that scares me,
but it is my penis itself. She realises that it's because I have seen the
effect which that appendage can cause someone, which is why I now hate it,
not to mention that I have also witnessed first-hand, just how much pain it
can cause people as well.

I have learnt that the penis is a strange part of the body, because it can
cause people to do some really outrageous and horrible things. It is that
thought which scares the shit out of me, because I don't want to go crazy
like my dad and those other two men. I really want to get rid of my dickie
because I don't want to turn into a horrible person who just wants sex all
the time. No, I just want to love Pierre, and I don't need my pecker for
that.

Mum disappears out of the room to search for some stuff, so that she can
clean me up. On her way back to Pierre's and my room she bumps into Sarah,
who is on her way back to relieve mum. The adults had all decided to take
turns watching over us at night, just in case something happens. With it
now being the early hours of the morning, mum's watch is supposed to be
over so Sarah has come to take her place.

Before mum returns to our room to clean me up she gives Sarah a rundown
about what has just happened. Sarah also looks concerned and dismayed when
mum tells her about the last thing I said, because they both can now
clearly see how much psychological damage has been done to me. When mum
explains about me wetting the bed, Sarah starts blushing, because just like
mum she thinks that she knows exactly what has happened.

They both come back into the room to attend to me, but I've fallen back to
sleep by that time. Both mum and Sarah feel a bit uneasy cleaning me up
with me off in the land of slumber, because unlike last time there is no
real need to clean me up. I don't stink or anything, and I'm obviously not
lying in a big wet puddle, because they both know if that was the case I
would have been out of bed in a flash.

They both decide that instead of cleaning me up while I sleep, they will
try and wake me again first. Sarah decides to try to rouse me, while mum
gets everything ready in order to clean me up quickly as possible. Cleaning
up after I have wet the bed is a job that she has had to do far too often
and she was really hoping I would be out if it by this stage, but she does
realise that a lot of it is her fault through failing to protect me, so it
is a job she feels inclined to do.

After a short while Sarah gets me to respond and slowly awaken, but I'm
totally confused by what is going on. I don't remember having woken a short
time ago due to the wet sensation around my crotch, let alone the fact that
it is Sarah trying to rouse me. I really have no idea what is going on
until Sarah gently explains about what happened a short time ago. The
embarrassment comes flooding back as Sarah tells me I wet the bed again,
because my mind is still too asleep to function properly.

What makes everything worse is when Sarah tells me that she and mum believe
I may have had a wet dream, due to the hormones my body is producing
because of entering puberty. I'm suddenly not sure that I really want mum,
or Sarah for that matter cleaning me up if I have cum myself again, but I
realise quickly that if they don't do it then it will be me who has to. I
really don't want to see that thing again so I decide to leave it up to
them.

Mum and Sarah then set to work, with mum pulling the sheet up from the
bottom and then Sarah holding it to ensure I can't see anything. They are
both concerned with my reaction, but aren't willing to take any chances and
freak me out. They do know how unstable and volatile my mind is, funnily
enough, so they don't want to cause me any further undue stress.

"Josh, don't worry, you didn't pee yourself, and just like I had suspected
you ejaculated. I know you aren't going to like this, but if you want to
stop having them, then you will have to take care of your urges. Yes, that
does mean you will have to look at yourself down here again, but you have
nothing to be ashamed of." Mum says uneasily to me. It is still the type of
conversation she struggles with because she was really hoping that dad
would be the one to explain to me about the stuff boys need to know, but it
is up to her now, because there is no one else around.

"What...? You want me to play with it...? I can't, I really can't because I
just don't want to look at that hideous thing again!" I blubber, almost on
the verge of screaming. I know mum is trying to help, but I don't know, I
just can't do it. Even when I picture my little dickie it morphs into the
most vile and repulsive thing in the world, so I have no idea how I'm going
to even look at it again, let alone be able to play with it.

"Josh, Josh, it's okay. Look your dick really is nothing that horrible, in
fact it is really quite cute and I know that Pierre adores it. You are just
a little messed up because mean nasty men keep trying to do bad things to
you, but not all men are like that. I mean look at François, or Jean for
that matter." Sarah says sincerely, whilst trying to get me to calm down
again.

"Yes Josh, listen to your sister. Not all men are as mean as the few you
have had bad dealings with. She is also right in saying that you have
nothing to feel dirty and ashamed about. Your... um... penis really does
look nice, and... um... well, Pierre is really lucky to have you and it. I
know he feels that way too." Mum stutters, feeling totally uneasy and
embarrassed about what she is saying.

It really is hard on my mother, or sister for that matter, to tell me I
have a good looking dick, but they know that they have to. They just can't
bear seeing me react this way any more so try everything they can to make
me appreciate myself again. They do realise that they are most likely going
to have little impact on the way I'm feeling, but they are still going to
try anyway. They know that we are going to have to get back to New Zealand
sooner rather than later, so that I can continue my therapy with my
psychologist.

They do have little impact, but I listen to what they have to say. It is
just as embarrassing for me, as it is for them, to hear them talking about
my dick like that. I mean they are the two people who really should not
talk about that, even if they are just trying to help. It is the remark
made about Pierre that influences me the most, but until he can tell me
himself, even that has little effect on the way I feel about myself.

Mum starts to clean me up, which quickly breaks all train of thought. It
feels really weird having her clean around my dickie, and she does a
thorough job of it too. Not being able to see what she is doing is the
strangest thing, but I can feel it when she pulls back my foreskin to clean
underneath it. Again I am left hating this puberty thing, because despite
the fact it is my own mother handling my pecker, it still responds like it
is someone else.

I can see mum's face turn bright red, as she is now suddenly holding my
rock hard dickie while she tries to clean me up, but she doesn't do
anything to make me feel ashamed about it. Instead she tries to continue as
normally as possible, not drawing any undue attention to it, but most
importantly making sure I feel that I haven't done anything wrong. She
knows that I can't physically help it, but she is also very worried that
due to my unstable mental state that I'm going to misread things.

I think mum wants to say something supportive and reassuring, but she
doesn't know how to go about it. For starters she doesn't really want Sarah
to know that she is handling me while I'm erect, although she knows my
sister will never say anything bad or derogatory about it. In fact Sarah
pretty much assumes that I would be like that, because she is fully aware
of how much effect the hormones raging away in my body are having on
me. The other problem for mum is she really can't think of a good way to
say something about it, well, at least not without offending and
humiliating me. So she just keeps doing what she is doing, drawing no
further attention to it.

Despite the embarrassment of the situation, I am far too worn out to react
too much about it. It doesn't take too long before my eyelids feel like
concrete blocks again, and I drift back off to sleep. My dreams are rather
pleasant to start with, which is probably due to mum still cleaning up the
mess I made, but they soon change into a more normal dreams which last till
the morning.

When I slowly waken, the room is bright from the sun pouring in through the
window. I can't see much at all because the room is far too bright and my
eyes are very slow to adjust. I'm in a much better mood this morning, with
the events of last night totally forgotten about, and just those magical
feelings I get from being so close to Pierre helping me out immensely.

As my eyes slowly adjust as I wake up properly, I am surprised to see
François and the two boys in the room, waiting patiently for me to
awaken. Once Callum and Manuel see my eyes start fluttering due to the
early stages of waking up, they start to become more alive and antsy. They
leap off their seats the moment they know that I'm fully awake, and race
over to me to give me a huge hug. It feels so good having them as well as
Pierre hugging me, because I feel oh so loved and appreciated.

The last couple of days I have been feeling more like something from out of
a sideshow in a carnival, because of the way I had to be taken here and
there, getting grilled and interrogated at the same time. The police have
been good to me, but I still feel like a sideshow freak or something,
because of the sorts of things I was getting asked. The psychologist on the
other hand has been driving me nuts, because I know that he was only doing
the things he was in order to provoke reactions in me and Pierre.

I hated it because I just felt like a science experiment, instead of a
patient in the hospital. He was doing absolutely nothing to try to help me,
because he seemed more interested in the close bond between me and my
lover. I really just wish he would let us be, because when I'm with Pierre
his health improves a lot quicker than it does when I'm away. In fact he
relapses every time I leave him for a while, making his recovery even
slower again.

Callum and Manuel have me in a really tight hold now, because it is the
first time in a couple of days they have been allowed to hug me. With all
the stuff with the police and the psychologist, the two youngsters have had
to leave me alone, which they absolutely hated every minute of.

Now they can hug me again, I really don't think that they are ever going to
let go, well not until we are allowed to leave the hospital at least. I
feel really bad for them because they know that again something bad has
happened, and even though I had no control over it this time, they both
still feel like they have failed to protect me like they so desperately
want to. It is guilt that I'm feeling because I have let my brother down
again and got myself in trouble. I know he doesn't blame me, because it
really wasn't my fault, but I still can't help but to feel that way.

Most of the day is pretty uneventful. Nurses and doctors come in every now
and then to check on Pierre and me, and also occasionally to change
Pierre's bandages. I get a good look at how Pierre has fared during those
times, and it isn't a pretty picture. His face is still all black and blue,
and that welt where the man hit him still looks as nasty as ever. His
beautiful wavy light brown hair is all gone, shaved right back to the
scalp.

I can't believe they shaved off all his gorgeous hair. He doesn't look like
the same person any more. I'm completely gutted and hurt by what I see,
because he is in a much worse state than I thought. What further surprises
me is when they change the dressings from where they drilled into his skull
to relieve the pressure the bleeding was causing, there isn't just the one
hole like I initially thought there would be. No, there are two holes on
opposite sides of the head.

It turns out that where most of the swelling had occurred was not where the
brain was bleeding, so they had to drill the second hole in order to stop
the blood. There were complications due to that because when they drilled
the first hole a lot of blood came out, but it just didn't stop
bleeding. So Pierre lost a lot of blood in a short space of time, which
inevitably took its toll, and before they could get the drips replacing the
blood at the same rate as he was losing it, he had died.

I'm just glad that they managed to bring him back, but I was hoping that he
was in better shape than he is. I can tell immediately that he is going to
be in here for a while, and of course the big question still remains about
whether he has suffered any brain damage, to whether he has amnesia. I know
that he is going to come out perfectly fine, but seeing him the way he is,
is causing a lot of self-doubt in my beliefs.

I can't help but doubt what I feel because Pierre really does look like he
is in a very bad way. I am hoping that I'm right and he will come out of
this perfectly fine, but I'm just not sure. The thought really does upset
me, and I just can't help myself, so I start to break down. I'm glad
François has taken the two boys away while they are changing my lover's
dressings, because I don't think they would handle seeing Pierre like this,
but I also don't want them seeing me crying again.

Once Pierre's dressings have been changed the doctors and nurses leave the
room again, allowing François to bring the boys back in. I'm glad that
I've got my emotions back under control, because I don't want to have to
explain to the youngsters why I was crying. I just don't want to upset
them, because they have been through enough already. I know my eyes still
have the red puffy look to them to show that I had been crying, but I just
hope they don't notice it.

They don't get a chance, as the rest of the adults pile into the
room. Sarah and Manuel's dad are trying to calm a stressed-out mum down. I
don't know what is going on but to see mum this stressed means that it is
something major. I have only seen mum this bad on a handful of occasions
and none of them have been any good, so I instinctively know something is
going on behind the scenes.

"What's wrong mum, you look stressed about something?" I ask.

"It's the insurance company... they are refusing to pay out for yours or
Pierre's hospital care. I have been arguing with them all day, but they
won't budge. Already the bill is climbing high into the tens of thousands
of dollars!" Mum replies. The stress is her voice is evident, which leaves
me wondering just how much money mum has left. Normally that sort of money
wouldn't really mean too much to her, but seeing her stressing so much
makes me think that her funds are getting low.

"Do you need money, because if you do then..."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have a very special guest to see you." The
head of the Nimes police department says as he enters the room, stopping me
mid-sentence with what I was saying.

"This is Georges Duchamp, diplomat for foreign affairs for the French
government." The head of police informs us, as an immaculately dressed man
enters the room. He is in full business attire, which is a dark grey,
almost black in colour, with a tidy red and white striped tie to finish
things off. He is an older man with thinning grey hair on his head, and
lots of stress related wrinkles all over his face.

The two visitors pull up a seat and sit down, making themselves
comfortable. Then the diplomat starts to tell us about why he is here. It
turns out that due to how big and how high profile the case is, and also
because of how much we have helped to nail the bastard, the Nimes police
have put lots of pressure onto the French government to help us
out. Reluctantly the government finally folded and decided that it is in
the best interests of the country, and France's relationship with New
Zealand, that they help us out.

The government has decided to foot the hospital bill for Pierre's and my
recovery and any surgery that is required. They are also going to pay for
all specialist help required to get us back on our feet, along with all
further expenditure during our time in France. With that the diplomat then
shakes our hands and thanks us for our help before leaving.

The relief mum feels from it is plain for all to see, as the stress
literally melts off her face. I am glad too, because I feel that we deserve
some help from the authorities after we helped them nab one of the biggest
monsters their country has seen. All in all we are happy with what the
French government is going to do for us, but we still feel like it isn't a
genuine thank you, just more a political stunt. It doesn't matter too much
because what did we really expect? I don't think there is a government in
the world that would be happy to pay for everything for a bunch of
foreigners.

The head of the Nimes police department stays behind to fill us in about
what they have discovered in the case against the hotel owner. It turns out
he preyed mainly on single parents with boys. He preferred single parents
because it was easier to kill one person than it was two. He lured single
parents in by giving them a heavily discounted rate, which simply just
couldn't be ignored. Once they were asleep in bed he made his move and took
the whole lot hostage.

It was easy going because once he had the parent detained the kids would
follow his orders. To ensure the kids always did exactly what they were
told the man let them know exactly what would happen if they didn't. To
prove the he wasn't kidding around he would kill the parent right in front
of the kids. His punishments were pretty simple; the first time they
misbehaved he cut off the penis. There was no second chance, because if the
same kid didn't do as he was told again he was never seen again.

Occasionally the man got brazen and tried to befriend boys who had more
than one adult relation with them. But in their case he just did what he
wanted and then let them go home with their family. He made sure to scare
the boys senseless in order for them never to tell anyone what he had done
to them, and that guy from the pool happened to be one of these kids. In
total the police found more than forty adult remains in the basement, but
they were still trying to sort out the children. To make things harder the
man also disposed of kids he deemed to be too old for his liking, so it has
confused the police a bit more because some of the kid's remains are almost
like adult ones.

Once the head of police has finished filling us in, he proceeds to
apologise for the delay in rescuing us, as well as all the information he
has just told us. Thankfully François quickly realised that the
information was going to be far too gruesome for Callum's and Manuel's
ears, so he took them out of the room. I wish he had taken me too, because
I really didn't want to know all that, and it has left me wondering how I'm
ever going to sleep at night again.

Mum must have sensed that the information was too much for me, because she
embraces me in a hug to try and keep me calm. I'm a little shaken by all
the information, and I know it is going to haunt me in my sleep, but
otherwise I am actually relatively fine. I think it is because I know
Pierre is right beside me, still gingerly hugging me, but it is still
enough to keep me calm. The head of police then thanks us again for our
help and leaves the room.

With him gone an eerie silence fills the room, as everyone just lets what
has been told to them sink in. It really was a lot of information, some
good, and some absolutely ghastly. Knowing we have no financial issues for
the rest of the trip is great, but it doesn't weigh down the information we
have received about the hotel owner. Those thoughts keep creeping back up
to the top of our thoughts. I'm really struggling to believe that someone
could be so callous and cold-hearted. It defies belief what that monster
has done, and to so many kids and their families as well. I shudder
realising just how lucky we were.

The silence quickly disappears when François comes back with Callum and
Manuel, who immediately sprint across the room to embrace me in a hug
again. They have been like this pretty much all day, and even when they
have to leave for some reason or another, they always come running straight
back to me. It really does make me feel special and loved knowing that they
care that much about me. I feel a bit bad for my lover though because he is
the one who really needs the support, but the two youngsters seem more
interested in supporting me, not him.

"Callum, Manuel, why do you two keep hugging me? I mean I love it and you
make me feel special, but Pierre needs you more than I do."

"Because we don't want to hurt him, and anyways we know Pierre feels it
through you!" Callum replies lovingly. I just hug him and Manuel, because I
know they are right and they are really trying to look after Pierre's best
interests as well.

The rest of the day is pretty much uneventful after our visitors have
gone. The adults go back to taking turns staying with Pierre and me, with
mum taking François's place. I'm surprised that mum allows both Callum
and Manuel to stay, because I would have thought that she would have wanted
to get rid of the youngsters. I have noticed that mum doesn't seem to have
a lot of patience towards the two boys, because I think they tend to be too
full on for her, which is why I'm really surprised that she has allowed
them to stay.

I suppose mum realises that the two nine year olds are going to be no
nuisance whatsoever, because they both seem too contented with hugging me
to get up to any mischief. They both look really cute and adorable with the
way they are trying to cuddle up to me, especially given that they are
still standing on the floor, instead of squeezing up into bed with Pierre
and me.

The door to the room suddenly opens up, drawing the attention of the two
boys and me as well. Standing in the doorway is an attractive blonde lady
whom I definitely know, but never expected to see. Well, at least not here
anyway. Callum has the same dumbstruck look on his face that I do, because
he can't believe what he is seeing.

"Alice!" Callum and I scream in unison.

"But how...? Why...? I mean, what are you doing here?" I ask, totally
confused at seeing my psychologist from New Zealand.

"Hello Josh and Callum. I got asked to urgently come over by your mother
and the psychologist who has been trying to help you from here. They said
that something had happened and that I was the best person to help you. But
enough about me, is that Pierre, and who is this other boy clinging on to
you?" Alice says.

I confirm her thought by telling that it is Pierre who is in bed with me,
and then I introduce her to Manuel, as well as explaining to her how he
came to be in the picture. Then without being asked I tell her all about
what has happened in France, along with the impact it has had on me. I do
of course make sure that I give the child friendly version of what
happened, due to having my two little brothers in the room. Like just about
everyone else she can't believe my luck, but brushes it aside because what
is done, is done.

Alice listens intently and courteously, because she is just happy that I'm
able to tell her the story without even being asked, so she doesn't want to
interrupt me in any way. She really is impressed at the way I can tell the
whole story and not react, which is nothing like the last time she saw
me. Even after I have finished she just sits there in silence, not saying
anything at all.

The silence starts to become eerie, because I have nothing else to add to
things, and Alice is still just sitting there. I can tell that she is
contemplating what to do, but it's starting to get frustrating because I
just want her to say something. When she does eventually speak it isn't
what I expect to hear. She effectively leaves me hanging by saying that she
will come back tomorrow and work on things then, because she is tired after
such a long flight.

I suppose I can't really argue because I know how long and tiring the
flight is, but I feel like she is just trying to avoid dealing with me
today. I don't know why, especially seeing as I didn't even know she was
coming, but I really sort of expected her to be able to fix me right there
and then. Wishful thinking I suppose, but I really believe that Alice can
fix me just like that. Most of it is probably my longing to be normal
again, just like everyone else.

Alice apologises profusely to me, since she has picked up on my change in
mood. It is almost like she can read me like a book, because she says all
the right things to me. The important part for me is that she is genuine
and sincere, because she really does want to start trying to help me. The
long flight, and connection through to Nimes has obviously taken its toll
though, and she really does need to get some sleep, so with that she says
her goodbyes and leaves.

What is left of the day just drags on from there. Mum is replaced by
Manuel's dad, and the two boys get dragged away when she leaves. They are
both very reluctant to go, because they really are worried that without
them being there something will happen. It takes an age before me and mum
manage to convince them that me and Pierre will be fine, and that they
really need to have some food and go to sleep.

They agree to go with mum eventually, but very, very reluctantly still. As
soon as they have disappeared I sort of feel a little lonely. With Pierre
still not really with it, it sort of feels like it is just me and Manuel's
dad in the room. I still get all the warm comforting feelings from Pierre,
but the magic just isn't the same with him constantly in a battle to stay
conscious.

It doesn't take too long without Callum and Manuel with me, before I start
to feel drowsy. The day has been pretty long and mentally fatiguing. With
everything that has gone on my mind is feeling like a fried circuit board,
and refuses to co-operate any more. My eyelids start to feel heavy and I
struggle to keep them open. Before too long I doze off into a blissful
night's sleep.

The next couple of days Alice works with me extensively to try and get me
over the new problems which have arisen after the latest incident. I can
tell that she really isn't used to having to deal with these sorts of
issues, because she looks a bit uncomfortable and embarrassed trying to
tell me how to overcome my nudity issue. Of course let's not forget the
other major problem, which is the way I view my dickie now.

She really does work tirelessly to try to help me, and gives me lots of
advice and things to try. Most of it is to just ease my way back into
things, but some of it is trying to restore my self-confidence. Gradually
she starts to get through to me, and I actually start to put some of the
things she is saying into practice. The results really surprise me, because
I improve remarkably over the next couple of days.

Alice wants to help Pierre out as much as me, but even though the doctors
have now finally removed the tube down his throat and eased up on the
bandaging so he can see, he is still far too incoherent and spaced out for
Alice to be able to help him out in any way. So she spends her time just
trying to fix what she can with me, and leaves the stuff that affects both
of us for when Pierre has recovered a lot more.

The third day Alice tells me we are going to have a rest day before we
start back on the much more deeply ingrained problems. She tells me to use
this day to practice what she has taught me already. She wants me to be as
confident about myself as much as possible, before we start back on the
things dad did to me. This is the part that is going to take the longest
for me to overcome, because I have been stewing on it a long, long time.

Once Alice has finished telling me the plan she says her goodbyes and
leaves. She wants to have a day just relaxing in her hotel room, mainly
because she is feeling absolutely shattered as the jetlag has kicked in. It
has really knocked her for six, because she hasn't had a chance to rest
since she arrived in France, so that was the main reason she decided to
have a free day.

It really was a good thing having the day to put into practice what she had
told me to try, because I improve a heap more over the day. I can now touch
myself down there without having a tissue or something between my hand and
dick, meaning it is easier using the toilet again, especially since my
dickie seems to be hard almost constantly again.

I can also take sneak peeks at my dick, but I still can't look at it too
long before it turns into the most vile and repulsive thing in the world
again. Of course that means that I'm still showering with briefs on, but I
don't think it is going to be too long before I'm fully comfortable with
myself again. Like Alice said, I just need to focus on the good things
associated with anything and try to block out the negatives, which does
work but is going to take a lot of practice to get right.

When I'm not doing the things Alice has told me to try, I'm lying in bed
with Pierre. He seems to be sleeping lots still, as he is only awake for an
hour at a time at most. When he is awake the doctor uses the time to feed
my lover. The food looks and smells absolutely revolting, because it has
been liquidised so that Pierre can take it through a straw. They don't want
to give him proper solid food because they are worried about him choking on
it.

After he has been fed Pierre then tends to try and cuddle me, whilst
talking gibberish. Well, at least I think that it's just non coherent
garbage, but I also get the gut instinct that he is really trying to say
something. Words like mama and papa keep coming up, but everything in
between makes no sense whatsoever. The longer he talks the more frustrated
he seems to get, but before long he seems to tire himself out and fall
asleep again.

I feel quite guilty, because I just know that he was trying to say
something to me. It is really cutting me up because I'm his boyfriend, and
of all people it is me who should understand him, but he doesn't seem to be
coherent in the slightest. The knock to his head and subsequent surgery
really seems to have messed up his mind, and I'm starting to worry that he
does have brain damage.

I try to rest my mind and just enjoy the fact that Pierre is at least still
alive, but it all comes rushing back when he wakes up again a couple of
hours later. He seems more agitated and frustrated than he was before he
fell asleep, and his talking seems even quicker and less coherent as
well. I am really starting to become concerned, because he is starting to
fidget around as the frustration he is feeling reaches boiling point.

"I didn't know that Pierre speaks Norwegian, where did he learn that?"
Alice says, surprising everyone in the room. Even Pierre stops dead and
looks straight at my psychologist, but I notice that he has a totally
confused expression on his face. He isn't the only one either because no
one else knew that all this time he was speaking Norwegian.

"He, hva...? Jeg snakker ikk norsk er jeg?" Pierre replies. His voice even
shows how confused he is.

"Yes Pierre you are talking Norwegian, did you not realise that you were
speaking it? Who taught you anyway?" Alice asks. She has decided to
converse with him in English in order to try and get him to start to
realise that he isn't speaking in the same language as everyone else.

"Nei jeg var ikke klar over. Min bestefar pa farssiden var norsk, sa pappa
var flytende i spraket. Han bestemte seg for at det var best for a laere sa
mange sprak som mulig, sa han laerte meg ogsa." Pierre says. We all look at
Alice hoping that she is going to translate what he just said, to which she
obliges.

"He said that his granddad on his father's side was Norwegian, and
therefore his dad was also fluent in the language. His dad decided it was
best for Pierre to learn as many languages as he could, so his father
taught him."

"How do you know Norwegian?" I ask, a little baffled about the
psychologist's vast knowledge of the language. It is mainly because I know
the there aren't many Norwegians living in New Zealand, so to find one
right when we needed one seems to be a complete fluke.

"I'm Norwegian; it's as simple as that. Mum and dad moved out to New
Zealand when I was nine, so I was already fluent in the language before I
had to learn English." She replies. It is at this point where I can just
work out that there is just the slightest accent in her voice which I
hadn't picked up on before. I suppose it is because I just automatically
assumed that she was a kiwi.

The doctor who is in the room then explains to us what he thinks is
happening to Pierre. He tells us that he thinks Pierre's mind is confused,
and although he understands English perfectly well, his mind is not
allowing him to speak it. The thing the doctor finds really strange is that
he is talking in Norwegian, instead of reverting back to his native
tongue. He figures that he must have his wires crossed a lot more than they
had hoped, but assures us that it should only be a temporary problem and it
should come right again pretty soon.

Pierre's frustration has eased a lot now that he knows he is getting
listened to, although I can tell he is annoyed that he can't converse with
us in English, which means Alice has to translate everything he says. What
concerns me most is that Pierre seems to have forgotten a lot about what
has happened in his life. He definitely has a form of amnesia.

He can still remember lots of things, like he knows almost everyone in the
room. He has even managed to get to know Alice in the time she has been
here, but he did remember getting informed about my psychologist. The stuff
he has totally forgotten about is all the traumatic events which he has
been through. It's almost like his mind is deliberately blocking them from
his memory.

He doesn't remember about the car accident which killed his mum, nor does
he remember the big storm which claimed his dad. He has a vague
recollection of me bringing him back to life on the beach, but that is
it. He also doesn't remember the event which has caused him to end up in
hospital, let alone the other incident at the pool in Vichy. It is all just
a blur, almost a hole in his mind, where nothing exists.

It really breaks my heart to have to inform him about the tragic fates of
his parents, because all the closure he has made over their deaths has
evaporated into thin air. He is filled with grief all over again, and I
really hope he can remember for himself everything that has happened. We
have worked so hard to get him to come to terms with their deaths, but it
has all gone to waste now because he doesn't remember it.

It takes hours for me, Alice and Manuel's dad to calm him down again. I
feel sorry for them too, because they now also know what Pierre has been
through, and I can tell it has affected them as well. I just patiently
comfort Pierre and let him grieve all over again, like I did back in Taupo
Bay. I just let him do what he needs to do and in no way do I try to stop
him. After a while he finally stops crying, but all the events have taken
their toll, and he slips into a deep sleep.

With Pierre asleep, Alice uses the chance to catch up with me, and find out
how I am going with the stuff she told me. She is happy with my progress,
because she is aware that it will be slow going to get me back to how I was
before. She just encourages me to keep up with it, before she says her
goodbyes and leaves again.

It doesn't take too long after she leaves before I suddenly feel like I
just ran headlong into a brick wall. I'm overcome with tiredness almost
instantly. It has been an emotional day, with having to help Pierre come to
terms with losing his parents again, and then all the mental fatigue
through me trying hard to get over my issues. They day has really worn me
out, and before I know it I'm out like a light, and having the most
pleasant dream in the world.

Of course the pleasant dream soon reminds me of a major reason I want to be
comfortable with myself again. I wake up with a start to a wet patch around
my crotch. This time I know that it's just a wet dream so I don't freak
myself out over it. I am still embarrassed and a little bit peeved, but I
know that it will only stop when I take care of my urges. I really wish
Pierre could do it for me, but he isn't in any state for that sort of
thing, so in the meantime I am going to have to take care of it myself. The
biggest obstacle though is me.

"Oh dear, did you have another wet dream?" Mum asks, after noticing me
suddenly wake up.

"Yeah... um... can you please get me something to clean myself up with?" I
ask sheepishly. I really am embarrassed even further knowing that mum has
just seen me have a second one, because I would have preferred it to be
François, or Manuel's dad, well any other male for that fact, because at
least they know what it's like.

"Okay dear, do you need me to clean you up again?" Mum asks kindly. I know
she is just trying to help and that she also did it the other day, but for
some strange reason I am mortified by the thought of her cleaning my dickie
today. I don't know why, but I really am adverse to her trying to help with
such a personal matter, even though I know she already knows all about it.

"No, no, no, it's alright. I need to do this myself anyway." I reply a
little bluntly, but also with good reason. I know that I'm going to have to
get used to looking at it again and I can't avoid it too much longer. So I
figure it is time to take the bull by the horns and tackle this problem
head on.

While mum goes to get some stuff so that I can clean myself up, I start to
get myself ready. I pull back the bed sheet, and then just lie there for a
second looking down at the hospital gown preparing myself for the next
step. I take in a deep breath of air, before I reach down and grab the
bottom of the robe. I exhale my breath, before taking another one in. It is
now or never, I think to myself, trying to mentally prepare myself for what
I am about to do.

I then go for it, and without any hesitation, I pull the robe up and over
my head, before quickly throwing it on the floor, so that I can't get to
it. I did it, and for the first time since the hotel, I am completely
naked. My eyes are clenched closed though, because I'm still not quite
prepared to see myself this way. This is the step I hadn't taken into
account, but I realise that I am going to have to look at some stage,
because no one will change me, so it's all up to me.

Of course, because my mind has been so focussed on this, I had totally
forgotten about mum and about why the hell I have got naked in the first
place. Yes, I have forgotten about having a wet dream. I am just focussing
too much on trying to do the next step, which is opening my eyes. It is
taking all my willpower to try to open them, but it feels like my eyelids
are glued firmly shut. I can't get them to budge one little bit, because my
mind is somehow winning the battle of the wills.

"Holy shit; I didn't expect to see you like that. I am proud of you
though!" Mum says suddenly, causing me to jump a mile in fright. In the
process of getting scared beyond belief, my eyelids fly open and I can see
my whole naked body in front of me.

I am really surprised that what I see isn't dirty or heinous. No, it
actually doesn't look too bad, even my little dickie doesn't look like the
god awful thing of pain my mind had been telling me it was. In fact it all
looks the way I remember it looking before anything happened at the hotel,
except I swear my dickie has gotten bigger. It is hard to tell, because I
have never paid that much attention to how big it is anyway, but just
seeing it now I swear it is bigger than I remember.

I then reach down and just fondle my dick, having totally forgotten about
mum's presence in the room. It is just something I know that I have to do
to ensure I get over all the problems I have had associated with it. It
actually feels good to touch myself properly down there without any bad
thoughts entering my mind, but the stickiness of the cum all over the place
quickly brings me back to reality.

"I've done it! I've got over these problems! Thank you so much mummy, I
love you so much." I say sincerely and wholeheartedly, as I look up at my
mother, who is red in the face while she watches me fondling myself. I
quickly release my dickie realising mum isn't too comfortable with what I
am doing, not to forget to mention that it is starting to respond to my
manipulation of it. I also give mum the biggest smile to show her I truly
mean what I say.

"Oh... um... shit! It's alright Josh, I am so glad to see you returning to
normal. It makes bringing Alice over from New Zealand totally worth it. Now
clean yourself up and I will go and find you a new robe." She replies with
a half-smile on her face. She is really embarrassed at seeing what I was
doing. Even though she knows it was just me getting comfortable with myself
again, it is still something she thinks that she should not witness.

She then hands me a damp cloth, before turning around and leaving the room
again in a hurry. I am a little befuddled by her reaction, because she had
no problem handling my dickie the other day when she was cleaning me up,
but seeing me playing with myself made her go all funny. It has really
confused the hell out of me.

I shake my head clear of the thoughts before I start to clean myself
up. The cloth has become cool by the time I get it, but it doesn't bother
me none, and I just proceed to clean up all the cum from around my dick. I
thoroughly clean myself, including retracting my foreskin and cleaning my
glans. The pleasurable feelings I get when doing that cause my dick to
harden and rise to its full length, which is a little bigger than I
remember it being.

Once I given my cherry red glans a thorough clean, I start to work down the
rigid shaft towards my ball sac. The whole time I am cleaning up my dick
the feelings really do remind me about why I used to love it so much. They
really are magical, but I know that they aren't anywhere near as good as
when Pierre plays with me. It is something I am totally looking forward to
again, just lovingly mucking around with Pierre when we feel the need.

By the time mum gets back I have finished cleaning myself up, but I'm still
sporting a raging hard boner. Mum doesn't seem to have too much problem
seeing that, but only because my hands are nowhere near it. I think she
would have freaked if I had still been cleaning my rock hard stiffie when
she came back in, but it's no problem now because I have finished wiping
myself off.

Mum comes over to the bed and hands me the robe, while at the same time she
takes the cloth off me. While I am struggling to put the robe on, she picks
up my dirtied robe from the floor and takes them away. I finish dressing
and then pull the sheet back over myself, before snuggling back into
Pierre. By the time mum comes back I am dead to the world again, and having
a peaceful sleep.

I wake pretty late the next morning to the most magical feelings in the
world. Pierre is hugging me as per usual, but today there is a lot more
strength behind it. He is chatting away, still in Norwegian, to Alice, who
has been waiting patiently for a while for me to wake up. She doesn't stop
her conversation with Pierre as she notices me finally starting to stir,
because she knows I'm going to need time to get my brain and body
functioning properly.

"Good morning sleepy head! I hear you made a lot of headway last night,
congratulations!" Alice says, once I am awake enough to comprehend what she
is saying.

"Um... oh yeah... No, thank you, because it was your help that made it
possible." I reply in a croaky, hoarse voice. She hands me a cup full of
water which I quickly scull, feeling a lot better for it afterwards.

"It's alright, I'm just so glad to help you out with it. Now I'm going to
try and help you with your other problems." She says to me kind-heartedly.

"Oh, okay. What are we going to do today." I ask a little cautiously,
because I really have no idea what she plans on doing. All I hope is that I
don't have to tell her what happened to me all over again, but I am pretty
sure that she won't make me do that.

"Well today I want you to tell me all about your father. Was he always the
way he was? What was your relationship with him like before he started to
abuse you? Just anything and everything you can think of about your
dad. Just like every other time, just relax and take your time. I'm not
going to put any pressure on you, because I know it is going to be hard for
you. All I ask is that you be honest with me, and yourself." She informs
me.

I gulp. I had a feeling that this would come up eventually, but it still
doesn't make it any easier. This is something I've thought about for ages,
and tried to come up with my own answers, but it hasn't worked. Every time
I think about it I keep coming back to the same point in time, but it
really isn't the whole story about my father. No, there is far more to it
than that, so I figure I really have to start right back at the beginning.

I clear my throat, and hug Pierre tightly. I try to get my mind to remember
back as far as it can, back to when I was a really young little boy. The
days before school, maybe back when I was in kindergarten. That I quickly
decide was too long ago because I don't remember anything at all about
kindy. But I do remember my first day of school and what dad was like way
back then.

I clear my throat a second time, before I start to talk about the man who
had ruined my life. This is going to be one tough recollection, but only
because I want to be truly honest with the way I answer all Alice's
questions about him. It just tears me up thinking about it, because I know
a lot of people will never believe what I'm going to say, but oh well, it
is true all of it.

But before I get to start answering Alice, there is a knock at the door. I
sigh in relief hoping that someone has come to save me. The doors opens
cautiously making me wonder whether Callum has snuck off to be with me, but
as the door opens more and more, I know it's not him, nor is it Manuel. In
fact on the other side of the door, are people I never in my wildest dreams
would have thought I would see here or anywhere around here.

************

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