Date: Tue, 14 Feb 2006 09:57:02 -0800 (PST)
From: William Cordova <wcordova98@yahoo.com>
Subject: William Cordova - Chapter Twenty-Five
Disclaimer
This story contains acts of the sexual nature between underage boys.
If you do not like this type of story, or it is illegal in the area in
which you live, do not read any further.
Author's note: Sorry for the very long wait. I have been working on
this story for awhile and then real life issues came up. But Late in
December I started again. I wrote a lot over the holidays and since then
I've kept up a steady pace. So I have some new chapters to post for you.
Really sorry to all those who have waited -- I know I left with a huge
cliffhanger -- really sorry.
So without further delay -- the ending to my story (I should say,
the first chapter of the ending as there are many chapters still to come.)
Chapter Twenty-Five: Coming Out Party
I looked back at my dad's room in utter misery. My dad grabbed the
lamp next to him and before I knew what was happening, the lamp crashed in
a loud shattering racket against the wall next to me. My dad steamed down
the hall cursing his colorful vocabulary. I quickly slammed my door shut
and locked it.
"Holy shit!" I yelled.
"Open the fuckin' door William!" my dad screamed!
He pounded his fist against the door shaking it violently. I
started crying in fear. I put my body up against the door to hold it in
place even though I had just locked it.
"Open the fuckin' door you fuckin' faggot whore!" he repeated.
I balled out, "No! Go away!"
I was terrified now. Fear was not a true enough word for the
occasion. I thought my dad was going to literally choke me to death.
"You better not be a fuckin' fag. Were you kissing that bitch
Matt?"
I quivered and slid down to the foot of the door -- too scared to
move away.
"You kissed that bitch? Are you a fuckin' fag? Don't lie to me
William! You get your ass out of there and be a man. You aren't a fuckin'
perverted son'ava bitch queer!"
"Go away!" was all I could manage to say between my sobs. The
pounding stopped for a brief moment. My dad continued his onslaught of
verbal cursing and swearing. I heard my mother arguing with my dad. She
appeared to be defending me -- more like defending me against him not
defending that I was gay. My dad continued his pounding on my door when he
didn't feel like arguing with my mom any longer. She was screaming for him
to stop -- that he might break the door. I got up on my knees -- still
holding the door for my own security.
A loud thunderous thump vibrated the door and no less than six
inches from my face, the door jam splintered and doorknob broke. It
knocked my flat on my rear. I quickly got up and jumped onto my bed. I
slipped between my bed and the wall. I was trying to hide behind my bed
and I could see when my dad finally kicked the door completely in. Pieces
of wood fell and the door slammed against the wall causing a picture to
fall from the wall -- crashing onto my dresser. My dad stood in the
doorway yelling his profanity at me.
"You little shit! Get out from behind there," he hollered as he
jumped onto my bed. He grabbed my arm and yanked at me, trying to pull me
out.
"Let go of me," I fought back.
I heard my mother behind him, screaming for him to stop. I tried
my best to punch and kick in defense. He let go, but still hovering over
me, he looked directly at me. I opened my eyes long enough to see him
piercing his eyes into mine.
"No son of mine is a perverted bitch faggot mother fuckin' fag!"
I closed my eyes as he continued to verbally assault me. He
attempted to pull me out of my spot again but I wouldn't let him so he gave
up. From under the bed, I could see my parent's feet standing in my room
and then the arguing screams came. My dad's verbal insults on me were
livid. I couldn't see his face, but from the words he was spewing, he had
to have horns.
He turned his attention back to me. "So you're a fuckin' fag are
ya! I'll show you what it's like being a fuckin' fag!" I saw his feet
move over to my TV. "Fags don't watch TV," he yelled as he pushed my TV
off its stand. It crashed to the floor making loud cracking noises. He
stomped on it a few times.
It didn't seem to register with me because I feared for my life at
the moment not my TV.
"Little bitch faggots don't listen to music neither," he said as he
threw my stereo against the wall.
By this time, my mom had stopped yelling. She must have given up
and let my father go on his rampage of my room. She either figured he
wouldn't hurt me or that he would hurt her too.
My dad moved over to my closet and ripped the door open. He
viciously grabbed at my clothes tearing up what he could and throwing them
into a heap on the ground.
"You won't be needin' these any more. Your mother can buy you some
fuckin' dresses. You can wear fuckin' blouses and shit you cross dressing
bitch!"
He opened my dresser. "You don't need no fuckin' boxers neither!
Women wear panties!" he barked. He started tossing all the clothes out of
my dresser, flinging them all about the room. "Panties for the pussy!" he
roared.
I could see my boxers falling to the ground in shreds. He paused
his rampage for a moment to catch his breath.
"You wanna wear makeup like all the other girls in town? No fuckin'
son of mine is gonna wear makeup." He took a hold of my lamp and slammed
it into my dresser mirror. Both shattered on impact.
He went on for another ten minutes before tiring himself out. He
gave me one last final insult when he got down onto his knees and looked at
me -- cowering underneath my bed. He told me he was going to come back and
paint my room pink. Since I was a girl I needed a pink room.
I whimpered under my bed for another hour. I could see the shambles
of my room -- clothes torn apart -- my TV cracked -- my stereo shattered.
I heard someone stop in the doorway on several occasions but I wasn't sure
who it was. I had to come out sooner or later. Sooner rather than later
because I was getting the urge to use the bathroom to clean myself up. I
had pissed in my pants and it was starting to stink. I slowly crept out
from behind my bed. I crawled up to my bed like a wounded animal. I
caught my room at first sight. My father had torn all my posters down.
They were shredded in many pieces.
I saw my tear soaked face in the shattered mirror. My dad called me
a pussy and now I felt like one. I cowered in hiding like a pussy instead
of standing up to him like a man. I sat on my bed in disbelief. My room
was in ruins. I could hear my parents talking in their room. At least my
dad was not arguing incisively any longer. His tone was much more
reasonable now. I walked over to my door and peaked out -- looking toward
my parent's room. I couldn't see either of them.
I turned my attention back to my room. I started whimpering again.
I couldn't believe my dad tore my room apart like this. I gathered my
clothes up -- the ruined in one pile and the acceptable in another. There
weren't as many torn apart as I initially thought. It was mainly a few of
my t-shirts and my underwear. I suppose those were the only ones he had
the strength to rip. I picked up a pair of jeans where were relocated to
the front of the room. Underneath it laid my necklace -- my emerald green
necklace Mr. and Mrs. Ducker gave to me on graduation. I felt anger and
grief all at once. I hated what Mr. and Mrs. Ducker were doing to their
son, but the necklace reminded me more of Matt than them. It was their
gift to me, but felt like a gift from Matt. I whimpered again as I put it
on.
Benjamin stood in my doorway. His face was red as if he'd been
crying.
"You ok Will?" he asked.
"I'm fine. You?"
"Why's Dad mad at you?"
"I dunno," I lied.
"I can't believe he did this," he shrilled. "You must have really
pissed him off."
"I dunno what to do," I muttered. I sat in silence while Ben just
looked in on me. He made comments about how I lost my TV and stereo --
about how all my posters were torn to pieces -- like he has to remind me.
I can see.
"Where's Mom," I asked Ben.
He looked down the hall. "She's still arguing with Dad."
"Good. I'm gonna get outta here for while."
I put my shoes on -- removing a rather large piece of glass from the
inside of one. I walked quietly out the front door and around the corner.
I knocked on Ian's front door.
Ian answered, "Will?"
"Hi, can I came in?"
"You look like crap."
Back in his room, I sat on his bed and Ian inquired about my awful
looks again. I wasn't sure what I really wanted to tell him. I just
needed to get out of my house and this is the first place I thought of that
I could be with someone friendly.
"My dad is pissed at me. He thinks I'm gay -- but I'm not," I
quickly added. "He went on a rampage of my room. He scared the shit outta
me."
"So that's why you look like you've been crying?"
I nodded my head.
"But I'm not gay," I reiterated. "He just thinks that because of
what someone said. I can't believe he'd believe someone else over me. He
didn't even bother askin' me."
"There must be more to it than that," Ian added.
"There isn't," I said. "My life's ruin't now cause of this. You
realize now everyone's gonna think I'm gay."
"Why? Just tell them you're not," he suggested.
"Oh yeah right!" I yelled sarcastically. "You think they're gonna
believe me? They'll think I'm lying. And I'm NOT even gay! That's the
worst part. My life's ruin't over sum'in that's a big fat lie!" I shouted.
"I don't think you're gay," Ian voiced.
I looked over at him. His face had turned a light shade of pink.
He was smiling -- trying to comfort me. I couldn't help but smile back. I
leaned over and wrapped my arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a
hug.
"Thanks Ian. But I dunno how I'm gonna get outta this anyways. My
dad hates me now."
"Oh are you sure he hates you?"
"You weren't there. You didn't see what he did to my room -- what
he tried to do to me," I said. Then I went into much further detail about
everything he said and did. Ian was dumbfounded. He couldn't come up with
a conceivable reason why my dad would do that. Ian suggested my dad didn't
hate me, but was just disappointed and pissed -- that he would soon come
around. I wasn't sure if he was right or not. I went back to my house an
hour later. I had a good talk with Ian.
I walked back into my room, carefully avoiding the sight of my
father. I really wanted to talk to him and try to convince him I wasn't
gay. I wanted to see if he'd believe me -- his own son. I thought about
the best way to accomplish this and came to the conclusion that using my
mother was it -- explain things to her and she could tell my dad. Then
later I could confront my dad.
He was too irrational to speak with right now. I could tell. I've
seen him angry before and when he gets angry, anything that's not his way
is wrong no matter how reasonable it may be.
When dinner came around, my mother called for me to come eat, but I
didn't feel hungry. I told her I wasn't going to eat at the dinner table
with him. Even though secretly I knew I was gay, I had to put up the front
I wasn't. I now knew how my dad would take the news and I hate it. I was
angry at him. I think I even hated him from that point. He hated gays so
much he trashed my room with the mere thought I was gay. He did it without
confirmation or proof. That's why I think I hate him.
I skipped dinner. Instead I stayed in my room with my door shoved
shut. I whimpered on and off all night. My mother came in once to try and
give me food. I refused.
I envisioned what Monday would bring -- the talking behind my back,
the names, the teasing and insults. I knew somehow everyone would catch
wind of it. It's high school -- the fruit of gossip. How would Eddie,
Mitch and Jeff take this news? For all I knew they were turn their backs
on me. We've never really had any talks about gay people, but I'm sure
they'd have trouble with it. They change clothes right in front of me
everyday. I wonder if that'd change.
I began to think about gym then. If everyone in there thought I was
gay, would they treat me differently? Would I be allowed to change in the
same locker room? Would they want to play basketball with me any more? --
With a shirtless gay person touching them in basketball?
By the end of the night, I didn't want to go back to school.
Thoughts of running away and even suicide ran through my mind. I thought
long and hard about suicide, but I loved life too much to give it up. And
I was starting to really love Matt. I thought about life without Matt and
it hurt deeper than my father's hatred of me. The best times of my short
little life has been those few moments I've spent with Matt. I just could
do it. And running away was in the same boat. Without Matt, I felt
pointless.
Monday I laid in bed almost all day. Until my mom looked in and
told me we had to talk.
"Who is we?" I asked.
"The family. We have to talk about this. We can't live like this.
It's not healthy --"
"No shit it's not healthy," I interrupted rudely.
"William!" she barked back. "Come to the dinner table. Everyone is
waiting. We're gonna talk this through."
My mom held her hand out to indicate she wanted me to come with her.
I got up reluctantly and slowly moved toward the dinning table. When I
walked about the corner my dad was sitting with his head down and little
brother, Ben, was at his seat. I stopped and stared. My dad must have
sensed me because he looked up at me. He appeared calm. Mom and I sat
without a word being spoken.
"OK, we're gonna get through this," Mom said. Her gazed moved to
me. "I've talked to your father. He is gonna keep calm and you two are
gonna talk to each other, in the open, without anger. Got that?" she
asked. "Your father has promised he won't yell or call you names. He's
gonna stay in his seat and hear what you have to say." She turned her
attention to my dad now. "You want to start? Tell William what Mr. Ducker
said on the phone?"
"No I don't," he said.
"Fine, then I will. According to your father, Will, Mr. Ducker said
you were caught kissing Matt on several --"
Ben gave an audible disgusted sound; almost in disbelief he heard it
from Mom.
"-- on several occasions and overheard sayin' things to him that can
only be interpreted as -- well, you know -- as what you father thinks."
"Just say it!" I grunted. "He thinks I'm gay. He just takes the
word of that man and doesn't even ask me what happened."
"Will, please. Calm yourself. We're gonna have a reasonable
peaceful conversation," she ordered. "Mr. Ducker seems to believe ya'll
two are gay."
"That's my whole point," I interrupted. "HE SEEMS TO BELIEVE! --
without evidence!"
"Will, I said calm." She gave a long sigh. Her gaze peered between
me and my dad. "Will, are you gay?"
I felt uneasy by the question but answered it as confidently as
possible. "NO!"
"Are you sure?" she continued.
"Of course I'm sure -- geez...what kinda question is that?"
My mom's attention turned to Dad. "You see what keeping a level
head and calm demeanor can do? I simply asked him and he answered us
truthfully."
"Of course he's gonna deny it," my dad spoke up for the first time.
"He doesn't want to admit he's a faggot."
"Thomas!" my mother interrupted. "You promised me you were gonna
keep that language out of this conversation."
My dad apologized.
"Are you sayin' you don't believe your son? You believe someone
else over what your own son is sayin'?"
"Do you not trust me?" I interrupted.
My dad's eyes pondered around -- roaming the room. He gave a long
sigh before putting his on his face.
"Dad?" I called.
He looked up at me.
"What makes you think he is right?" I asked.
"He said he saw ya'll kissin'. Why else would ya'll two be
kissing?"
"Can you answer that," Mom said turning to me.
I grunted. "Well, it's true. Me and Matt did kiss once -- but!" I
quickly added when my dad's face changed for the worse, "We were just
practicing for the dance. Matt was scared he couldn't kiss his date, so we
practiced a little. It's no big deal! Mr. Ducker said he understood and
didn't care. He said he knew what we were doin' it for!"
My mom turned back to my father and said, "See, you overacted again!
Instead of asking politely Will's side of the story, you just destroyed his
room in a rage."
"But Mr. Ducker said he saw it on several occasions. Not just that
once!"
"I have no idea what he means. How could he if we had the door
locked --"
"What?" Mom and Dad said at the same time.
I felt queasy again. I looked over at Ben who was confused and my
mom and dad were staring at me. "I...I..."
"You said you had the door locked. So that means you were kissin'
more?" my dad asked.
I was speechless.
"YOU ARE GAY!" he bellowed.
"I didn't say that," I shot back sheepishly.
"But you pretty much just admitted it!" my father said as he quickly
stood up causing his chair to smack hard against the floor.
"Thomas!" my mother quickly jumped up with him. She grabbed him by
the shoulder to keep him calm.
I was taken aback by this, but didn't get out of my seat.
"You promised me you were gonna stay calm," my mother pleaded to
Dad.
After both my parents took their seats again, Mom turned toward me
and asked if it were true.
"I said I'm not gay! What part of that don't ya understand?!"
"You said you had the doors locked, so that means he couldn't see
ya'll. Does that mean you are gay?" she asked again.
"I'm gettin' tired of this!" I exclaimed as I got up, but my mom
grabbed my shoulder and forced me back down.
"Answer me Will. Please don't lie."
"I..." I muttered as I looked at her.
"We will love you no matter what William," her eyes pleaded.
"I..."
"Just tell us the truth son," my dad said in a rather calm voice
considering what he was just seconds ago.
My mind was in shock. An image of Matt blurred in front of my eyes.
I saw him standing with his back to me. His rear end bruised from the
beatings. He turned his head and looked at me. He face reddened from
whimpering. He mouthed the three words that can make me cry in an instant.
`I love you.'
My eyes felt itchy and they began to water. I saw my dad looking at
me with his stiff face -- my mom with her pleading eyes.
"I -- am," I muttered as I lowered my eyes, wiping a tear away.
I heard my mother give a long deep sigh. My father stood up
knocking the chair to the floor again.
"You're?"
"You are gay?" my mother asked.
I couldn't speak. My eyes leaked even more as I started to lose
control of my emotions. I couldn't bare myself to look at them. All I
could do to answer her was nod.
Another long deep sigh came from my mother. My father stood still
-- his face turning red, but managed not to explode in anger yet. I stood
up to walk back to my room, but for some reason, felt like waiting for
permission to leave.
"I can't believe it," my mom muttered.
"I think -- I'm gonna go to my room now."
"No wait," Dad said calmly, and then told Ben to leave. Ben didn't
argue. "Sit Will." I sat back in the chair, wiping more tears from my
face.
"How do you know?" my mom asked.
"I -- just do," I mumbled.
"But how?" she repeated.
"I told you -- I just do. I can't explain it any better."
My father spoke up accusing Matt of turning me gay.
"That's impossible!" I exclaimed. "I was this way before I ever
knew Matt."
"You were born this way, right?" my mom pleaded -- almost coaxing a
`yes' from me.
"I guess -- I dunno." I looked up to make eye contact for the first
time since I confessed, but couldn't hold it as my dad was looking pissed.
"Of course he wasn't honey!" my dad exclaimed. "He wasn't born
this way! Something made him this way," he said as he slammed his hand
down on the table. "We can fix him though. I know we can."
I looked up at him when he said that. I transfixed my eyes to him.
"Fix me?"
My dad started speaking as if I weren't even in the room.
"Yes, fix him! We'll make him as if nu'in ever happened. We can
find a good church -- go ever Sunday. Maybe even more -- we'll see. And
we can get Jesus to fix him. That's it!" he said proudly snapping his
fingers. "Alls we gotta do is get Jesus in his heart. He's just being
pulled by the devil that's all. Jesus can put him back in the proper
place. Let Jesus touch him!"
"I'm sitting right here," I said confused.
"Yes! That's it," my mother started speaking up. "That's perfect.
He can definitely fix this all up. You hear that son," Mom turned to me.
"We can fix ya. Don't you worry about a thing honey."
"But -- what if I don't wanna be fixed?" I asked.
"Don't be foolish son," my father spoke up. "We'll fix ya up with
no probs. You'll be glad when you finally come aroun'."
"And what about Matt?"
"Oh -- right. Good catch son. I'll have to call Mr. Ducker and
tell him."
"What?"
"Well, maybe Mr. Ducker hasn't thought of this brilliant idea yet.
I'm sure we can get Matt fixed too." My dad sat down and did some thinking
before he continued. "OK, so starting next Sunday -- hopefully we'll have
found a good church by then -- we'll start attending church. Now go clean
up your room. It's a mess."
"What? You're the one who trashed it. You broke everythin' I had."
"Don't argue. I'm doin' all this for your own good."
"But..."
"Just go," my dad said raising his voice.
I went back to my room. I sat on my bed pouting. I couldn't
believe what just happened. I came out to my family and they weren't
pissed. Angry a little -- disappointed for sure -- but they weren't
beating me into a bloody pulp. I did eventually start cleaning my room. I
picked up the broken glass. I patch-worked the posters back into place. I
got my clothes back into place. But left my broken TV laying skewed on my
floor.
I laid down and reflected upon my life. My dad wanted to fix me.
My mom was going along with this idea. I had no idea if I was broken or
what. I got thinking to the idea that he was gonna make me like girls. I
could fit in. I could -- but -- then I wouldn't like Matt. I didn't want
to not like Matt. I think I loved Matt for that matter. I got scared at
the idea that I wasn't going to love Matt anymore. I could barely stand
being away from him for a week. I can't live without him.
Monday morning I was surprised to find Matt standing at our meeting
place. He ushered me back into our secret room. He immediately embraced
me into a hug and zealous kiss. His hand slid up my shirt and explored my
belly but soon dug into the front of my pants. He had a handful of my cock
-- stroking feverishly -- before I broke our kiss.
"What's goin' on?" I asked.
"Just kiss me. I gotta have you!"
"We gotta talk," I said as Matt's attention was focused on getting
in my pants. "Did you hear me Matt?"
"What?" he said, not taking his eyes off my hardening dick.
"How are you doin'?"
"I'm fine," he muttered softly.
"Matt!" I exclaimed as I grabbed his chin and pulled it up --
forcing his focus on me and not my boyhood.
"What?" he said, almost whimpering.
"How are you holdin' up?"
"I dunno."
"How's your rear?"
"Still bruised but fine."
"Let me see," I said as I turned him around. I slowly raised his
shirt and lowered his pants. His butt was still a light shade of purple
and gray. I softly rubbed my hands over it. "I'm so sorry." I felt like
tearing up, but held it back.
Matt pulled his pants back up and turned around to me. He leaned
forward and kissed me again. I tasted his sweet mouth and sucked on his
tender tongue.
"I'd love to just make out with you for the rest of our time, but I
gotta know. You're dad stop beating you?"
"Not really...but he doesn't do it as often."
"Has he hit you anywhere other then your butt?"
"No," he muttered.
"Apparently he's let you come back to school finally. Does that
mean -- he's over the whole gay thing?"
"NO!"
"Well -- I mean you're here at school so that's a start."
Matt nodded and turned his attention back to my open zipper.
I continued, "Did you know my dad called yours yesterday?" Matt
silence told me he hadn't so I went on. "He's gonna try and get us fixed.
Fix us up so we'd like girls again."
His eyes peered into mine. A sense of fear overcame his. "Your
parents know?"
I explained the whole weekend's events after I left his home. I
went through the dirty details of my dad trashing my room -- breaking my TV
and radio -- tearing up my posters and clothes -- shattering the lamp and
mirror and all the colorful names he called me. Then on to the next day's
conversation with my family and finally when I couldn't hold back my
emotions and confession. And the idea my dad had about trying to fix us.
Matt responded by saying, "But I like you -- I dunno if I want to
like girls now."
"I know exactly what ya mean," I laughed.
"What ya gonna do then?"
"I'm gonna go along with it. Don't have much of a choice. I'm very
surprised my parents are handlin' it this way. I mean -- my dad did trash
my room and go overboard, but I'm not being beaten -- and I'm not dead
yet."
Matt was shocked I said that. His eyes filled with sadness. I had
said too much.
"I'm sorry Matt," I apologized.
"We're wasting time. I gotta get off. I miss you so much."
"Matt -- please be honest with me. Do you love me? Or just love
the sex?
"What? How could you ask that?" he shot back.
"You just seem more interested in my cock right now than what's
happening to us."
"Let me prove it then. Let me prove how much I like you," he said
as he wrapped his arms around my body. He leaned forward and kissed me.
He parted our lips and wrestled with my tongue. He started pushing hard
against me and I stumbled backwards -- but he never let go of me -- even
when I fell onto my knees. We rolled onto the ground together, locked arm
to arm -- mouth to mouth. We made out for the remainder of our time. We
kissed so deep and so passionately, I knew he loved me just as much as I
loved him.
"I can't..." he muttered but dove back into my mouth. "...Live without
you Will..." He kissed at my neck. "You have no idea..." then another kiss
ensued, "...how much I've cried lately..." He stopped and looked at me in the
eyes. "It's always thinking of what will happen if I never get to see you
again -- or hold you -- kiss you -- be with you. It hurts thinking."
"I know exactly what you mean Matt. But I don't seem to have much
of a choice. Think I gotta go along with this."
Matt continued to hold me close, lightly kissing my neck
occasionally.
"This is what we gotta do," I continued confidently. "Just go along
with what your parents want. I dunno if they're gonna do what my dad
suggested, but doesn't matter -- just go along with whatever. If we just
make our parents happy, then we can be together. I hope."
Matt finally stopped kissing me and looked into my eyes. "What if
that doesn't work?"
"I dunno -- but we don't have a choice. We can still be together --
here at school," I finished gloomy.
"But -- I..."
"If you have a better idea, let me hear it."
Matt didn't respond in verbal words, but his tender kiss right
before the warning bell signaled he didn't have a better idea.
Questions and/or Comments?
Thanks to Frank for proof reading and editing :)
wcordova98@yahoo.com
Coming February 17th -- Chapter Twenty-Six: The Fix in Progress