It's Not Fair - Timmy's Letters 1 to 3

By Red Rover

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Copyright 2017 by Red Rover, all rights reserved

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Timmy (age 15)
  

Dear It's Not Fair: 

My name is Timothy Conway, but everybody calls me “Timmy.” I am 15 years old and in the 9th grade. I should be in the 10th grade, but had to repeat the fifth grade because of “immaturity.” That was when I was put on Puericil and it really messed me up that first year. Even now, five years later, I am only 5’1” tall and weigh about 85 pounds. I have one sister, Jenny who is twelve and a brother, Danny, who is ten. We live with our mother, Joanne. My major problem is that I basically stopped growing at age 11. I am the smallest kid in my class, even though I am the oldest. I have no hair except on my head and my boy parts are smaller than my brother Danny’s. So, I am treated like a small child by Mom, my siblings and the kids in my school. 
  
About three weeks ago, I was home from school with the flu. It was Friday, just after school let out and I was almost recovered. I was sitting in my pajamas in the living room when the doorbell rang. Jenny answered it. It was Mrs. Langston, a close friend of my mother, with her daughter, Tami, who is 14 and in my class at school. In fact, she is in all my classes, we are on the same “track” in the curriculum. They were accompanied by Tami’s close friends, Debbie Roberts and Angie Denton, who are also 14. 
  
The girls had brought me my textbooks and homework assignments, so I could catch up over the weekend. Tami even offered to come over and help me with the work. I really like her, even if she is much bigger than I am at 5’7”. Of course, Angie and Debbie are taller than me, too, but not by as much. Even Jenny is an inch taller and Danny is only an inch shorter. 
  
While we were sitting there talking about school and other stuff, Mom looked at the clock and said, “Four O’clock, I need to take Timmy’s temperature. I started to get up off the floor where we were sitting and Mom horrified me by saying. “Don’t get up, Timmy; we’ll do it right here. Jenny, go get the boys’ thermometer.” 
  
“The boys’ thermometer,” meant the rectal thermometer. Mom used an oral thermometer for Jenny and herself, but a rectal thermometer with a clown head on it for me and Danny. It’s the kind of thing you’d use with a 3 or 4-year-old, not a teen or pre-teen. But Mom claimed that it was the only way to get a good reading for little boys. 
  
My face must have been bright red as I pleaded with Mom, “Please Mommy, can we go to my bedroom to do this?” 
  
“Nonsense,” Mom snapped. “I am sure the girls have seen little boys’ bare bottoms before. They must be babysitting by now and I know Tami has a younger brother.” 
  
Mrs. Langston laughed and the three girls giggled. “Tami gives Kevin his bath every night and Debbie and Angie often help her.” 
  
“But, but, Kevin is only seven and I am fifteen,” I sputtered. “And the girls are all younger than me.” 
  
“That doesn’t matter,” Mom stated resolutely. “You are still a little boy. Tami is a mature young woman, even if she is a little younger than you are. And I am sure that Debbie and Angie are equally mature for their ages.” 
  
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Langston gleefully added to my sense of doom. “Angie and Debbie are very responsible. They both have been babysitting for almost a year now.” 
  
At that point, Jenny came in with a big smirk on her face as she delivered the stupid clown thermometer, a jar of lubricant and a box of tissues to Mom. Then she brought in an armless dining room chair and set it up in the middle of the room where everybody would have a good look at my humiliation. 
  
“Thank you, Jenny,” Mom said. “Jenny is very helpful to me in raising the boys.” 
  
She sat down in the chair and beckoned to me. “Come here and get over my knee, Timmy.” 
  
At this point I was almost hysterical, “No way!” I shouted. “Not in front of the girls. Please, Mommy, don’t make me do this.” 
  
Mom glared back at me. “Do you want me to send Jenny for the hairbrush?” 
  
That set of another round of giggling from the girls, including Jenny. Danny had wandered in during the discussion and stood there with a big grin on his face. He obviously remembered the times he had been in the same situation and was delighted to see his big brother so mortified. 
  
Somehow, I managed to force myself to walk over to Mom’s chair and then I just froze. Jenny, at a nod from Mom, came up behind me, grabbed the waistband of my pajama pants and pulled them down to my ankles, exposing my bare bottom and boy parts to the delighted girls. To keep at least a part of my privates concealed, I practically dove over Mom’s lap, presenting my bottom for the humiliation that was now inevitable. 
  
“Pull off his PJ pants, Jenny, and put them in the laundry,” Mom directed. “He won’t be needing them for the rest of the day.” She nodded to Mrs. Langston and the girls. “When one of the boys is being difficult, I usually keep him bare-bottomed for the rest of the day. Sometimes, I leave both boys bare-bottomed the whole weekend. Jenny and her friends love that; they can play with the boys’ private parts and give them play-spankings whenever they want.” 
  
Jenny chortled, “Yeah, and sometimes Timmy cries as loud during the play spankings as he does during real spankings.” 
  
“Interesting,” Mrs. Langston responded. “Do you still spank Jenny, too.” 
  
Mom shook her head, “Heavens, no. Spanking is for boys. Jenny hasn’t been spanked since she was six. Did you ever read Denise Vernon’s book, ‘Taming the Teen Boy’?” 
  
“No, I haven’t. I probably should; Kevin is getting older now.” 
  
“By all means, do.” Mom smiled. “It has really helped my deal with Timmy and Danny. It’s especially important if the boy is on Puericil as Timmy is. I am going to put Danny on it as soon as he turns 11.” 
  
“Denise says boys should get regular spankings all the way through their teens. The law says boys on Puericil are children until they reach age 22. I intend to keep up the spankings at least that long.” 
  
“So how often do you spank he boys?” Mrs. Langston inquired. 
  
“Usually three or four times a week,” Mom replied. “They’re not always hairbrush spankings, of course, but they are always on the bare bottom. And I do it in the living room where anybody who happens to be in the house can watch. Denise says that is important, especially if the observers include girls the boy’s own age or younger. It makes them realize that females are superior to males.” 
  
Mom gave me a quick spank. “OK, Timmy, now spread your legs as wide as you can. Jenny, hold his bottom cheeks open so that the girls can observe what is going on. It will be useful if they ever need to take temperatures this way.” 
  
Jenny spread my cheeks wide and the girls gathered around in anticipation. I was, of course, even more humiliated than before. Not only were the girls seeing my rosebud, they could see my tiny testicles and baby penis as well. Of course, there was no pubic hair to interfere with the view. 
  
Mom took a gob of lube onto her index finger and proceeded to insert her finger slowly into my rectum. It didn’t really hurt, but it was uncomfortable and I must have squirmed a bit because she smacked my bottom again. “Hold still, little boy.” 
  
As she wriggled her finger around in my rectum, Mom explained to the fascinated girls, “Make sure you use plenty of lube. You can use butter or lard if you want, but it’s better to use KY jelly or Vaseline. Spread it around well and insert your finger as far up as it will go. If you have sharp fingernails, use a glove so you don’t hurt the boy.” 
  
She withdrew her finger and reached for the thermometer. “Put another glob of lube on the end of the thermometer and insert it very slowly and carefully so you don’t puncture anything. This thermometer is plastic, which is safer, but some people use glass thermometers and you have to be very careful with them.” 
  
She inserted the thermometer and I started squirming again, which brought forth another smack on my bare bottom. “Now you need to wait five minutes to make sure you get a good reading. Some people just leave it in there, but I suggest you keep one hand on it in case the boy tries to expel it. If that happens, you’d have to start over. If it starts to come out, just wriggle it around using light pressure to get it back in properly. Jenny, you can release his cheeks now.” 
  
After what seemed like hours, but was only five or six minutes, Mom pulled out the thermometer and read it. “Ninety-Nine point one,” she announced. “Basically normal. You can stand up now, Timmy.” 
  
So, I stood there like a dummy, one hand shielding my boy parts and one trying to hide my bottom. It was probably the most embarrassing moment of my life. Having three girl classmates watch as my most private area was violated that way. But it was about to get worse. 
  
“You girls have seen a demonstration, but it would probably be more instructive if you got a little practice, wouldn’t it, Carol?” Mom inquired. 
  
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Langston responded, a bit too eagerly for my comfort. “I think I will start using a rectal thermometer on Kevin. It is a good way to keep a boy from getting undue modesty issues.” 
  
“That’s what I thought,” Mom replied as she got up from the chair. “Tami, take my place in the chair and Debbie, hold his cheeks apart.” 
  
So, I went over Tami’s lap this time and the whole process was repeated, although they didn’t do the five-minute wait because they already had my temperature. Tami was pretty gentle with me, but she did spend more time rubbing my bottom than I thought necessary. Debbie and Angie giggled through the whole procedure when it was their turns. 
  
Finally, I was released and allowed to go to the bathroom. I think I must have had half a pound of gunk in my rectum by then after four temperature session. When I got back to the living room, Jenny insisted on inspecting my bottom, to make sure I had wiped properly. I was still naked below the waist, of course. 
  
When I finally sat down among the girls on the floor, I heard Mom talking to Mrs. Langston. “You know that I am going to be starting a different work schedule the first of the month. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I will be working until 8:00 PM and won’t be getting home until after 9 PM. I was hoping to be able to have Jenny look after the boys, but she is still only 12 and still pretty small. Of course, Timmy is too immature to leave in charge and Danny is only ten.” 
  
“Yes, I understand,” Mrs. Langston said. “Your whole family is on the short side.” 
  
“Right,” Mom said ruefully. “I was getting carded at age 30 and so was Frank. He was only 5-5 when we got married and I was just 5-3. So, the kids are small. What I was hoping is that you would allow Tami to babysit the boys three days a week on the nights I have to work late – and maybe some Saturdays as well. Jenny doesn’t need a sitter, of course, but she’s not strong enough to handle two boys.” 
  
Mrs. Langston nodded thoughtfully. “It sounds like it would work out. My house is only two blocks away so Tami could call me or David if something goes wrong. And since Tami and Timmy are in the same classes, they could help each other with their homework.” 
  
“Yes,” Mom said. “They already do that. Tami is good at Algebra and Timmy is good at English and Spanish so their skills match up nicely. And they are already friends.” 
  
“OK, it sounds like it will work out well,” Mrs. Langston said. “but it will have to be clear that Tami is in charge at all times.” 
  
“Of course,” Mom replied. “I would insist on that as well. Tami will have the authority to spank the boys any time she finds it necessary. And it will always be bare-bottom. She can use her hand, the paddle or the hairbrush at her discretion. She will give the boys their baths, with Jenny’s help, make sure they get to bed on time and do whatever else is necessary for their welfare.” 
  
“You still bathe Timmy?” Mrs. Langston asked with raised eyebrows. 
  
“Yes, boys are not very good when it comes to cleanliness,” Mom replied as my ears burned in shame. “We usually put them in the tub together and give them a good scrub after dinner. If they have been good that day, they can stay up until 9 PM and wear pajamas to bed. If not, they go to bed at eight, straight out of the bathtub and stay nude until after breakfast.” 
  
“Can I have friends over while I am babysitting?” Tami asked. 
  
“Of course,” Mom replied. “but no boys, no booze, no drugs and no smoking.” 
  
They talked some more about details, but I was basically turned off at that point. I was just visualizing what would happen at school when the other kids found out I was being babysat by a girl a year younger than I was. 
  
As the visitors were leaving, Tami gave me a hug and patted my still-bare bottom. “I’m really looking forward to being your babysitter. We can have lots of fun together as long as you behave.” 
  
Debbie and Angie also hugged me and smacked my bottom. “We’re looking forward to seeing more of you,” Angie said, and hey both giggled. 
  
So now I am two weeks away from becoming the laughingstock of my school and being controlled by a girl younger than I am. What can I do? 
  
Could you call my mother and tell her that I am too old to have a babysitter, especially a girl younger than myself? Her phone number is (**Omitted **) 
  
IT’S NOT FAIR!



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Timmy (age 15)
  

  
Dear it’s Not Fair:


My name is Timothy Conway, but everybody calls me “Timmy.”  I am 15 years old and in the 9th grade.  I live with my mother, my 12-year-old sister Jenny and my 10-year-old brother, Danny.  I wrote to you about a month ago about being treated like a much younger kid, including getting my temperature taken in my bottom with four girls watching and about being about to get a baby sitter that is a year younger than I am. 

Well, things are getting worse for me.  A week or so after the thermometer incident, Mom discovered that she had arthritis in her wrists and wouldn’t be able to spank us boys as she had been doing. So, she came up with the brilliant idea that JENNY would be doing the spanking from now on.  This is even worse than having my 14-year-old classmate, Tami, spank us while she is babysitting us.  But, as usual, boys have no say in what goes on around the house. At first, she would just tell Jenny when one of us needed spanking and Jenny would do it. But then she decided that Jenny was in full charge and could spank us any time, any place whenever she felt like it.  Now Danny and I have to go around bare-bottomed almost all day after we get home from school in case Jenny decides we need to be spanked. 

And her spankings are nothing like the play-spankings she and her friends would give us when they were playing with us like we were babies. Jenny is a tennis player and athlete and is stronger than either of us boys, plus Mom will back her up with a belt if we try to resist. Danny tried to fight her once and had belt marks on his legs for days. If Jenny decides to spank me, she will sit down in a straight chair in the living room and tell me to bare my bottom and get over her left knee.  Then she pins my legs between hers and starts spanking my bare bottom with her hand.  At the same time, she will tell Danny to fetch the hairbrush.  When he is back with the hairbrush, she announces the warmup is over and starts smacking my bottom as hard as she can, covering every inch of my bottom, especially the “sit-spot” where the bottom cheeks meet the thighs.  After a few swats with the brush, there are tears in my eyes and I am sobbing after the first dozen or so. But she doesn’t stop there, she keeps pounding my sore bottom with that brush until I am howling in pain, with snot and tears running down my face and blubbering pitifully, begging her to stop and promising to be “the goodest little boy in the whole world forever and ever,” or some similar pathetic humiliating thing she wants me to say. 

After she decides I have had enough, she dumps me off her lap onto the floor and I just lie there bawling and slobbering until I have the strength to get up.  I hear about kids that jump around and hold their bottoms after being spanked, but I am simply so exhausted I just lie there until she takes pity on me, wipes off my slobbery face and helps me stand up.  Then it’s into the corner to display my red, sore bottom for anything from ten minutes to an hour, depending on whatever else is going on. She takes special delight in doing this whenever there is adult company or when some of her girlfriends or some of my female classmates are visiting. (Danny and I are never allowed to have male friends over to the house – not that we would want to!) The procedure is the same when Danny is being spanked. But Jenny doesn’t spank Danny nearly as often or as hard as she does me. Maybe because he is younger than her and it’s more fun to smack me, the older brother, around. 

When her friends are over, it’s like a party for them.  Mom gives them cookies, milk and other goodies and they sit around munching away and watching me or Danny (sometimes both) get our spankings. They giggle and make funny remarks during the spanking, like “Look how red his bottom is” and “Watch how his bottom bounces up and down” and “Boy, he sure squirms a lot.”   They like to come over and feel our bottoms for heat and give us pinches, slaps and rubs while we are standing in the corners. If it’s Tami, Debbie and/or Angie who is visiting, they act more adult, but they still giggle and enjoy the process. 

When Tami is babysitting, she makes it clear that she is the one in control, not Jenny.  She doesn’t spank Jenny, of course, but she doesn’t let Jenny spank us either. We still have to be bare-bottomed after we get home from school as long as we are in the house or the back yard. That can be embarrassing, because our back yard just has a chain link fence around it and gates that lead to neighbor’s yards. So, the other kids and adults in the area get to see our bare bottoms and boy parts very often.  Fortunately, there aren’t any high school or middle school boys on the block; Danny and I are the oldest boys here. But it is still makes me blush when one of the younger mothers or older girls sees my private parts, especially if they are talking to me or in the yard.  

Tami doesn’t spank me as often as Jenny does and treats me like I was a couple years younger than her, which is better than treating me like a six-year-old like Mom and Jenny do. Afternoons with her, Debbie and Angie are not bad, except for having my penis, testicles and bottom on constant view of girls my own age.  We do our homework together and we are all getting better marks as a result, so that part is good for everybody.  But when I do misbehave, Tami gives me the same kind of spanking as Jenny does and it really hurts.  Sometimes she has Debbie or Angie give me a hand-spanking as a warmup, but she doesn’t let either of them use the hairbrush on me (yet). The main difference is that after the spanking is over, Tami will hold me over her lap and rub my bottom.  Plus, one of the other girls will usually wipe off some of the tears and snot from my face while I am still crying. This gives me at least a tiny bit of dignity and I can stand up after a while and make it to the corner on my own. 

I have tried talking to Tami as you suggested. She is sympathetic and says she likes me, but that I am too immature to have her stop spanking me. She read Dr. Vernon’s book and says that, for some boys like me, the Puericil stops the physical aggression and makes me more receptive to correction, but that it may make my impulsive behavior worse for a few years and so I still act like a six or seven-year old at times. She also says that I should start going through puberty when I am 17 or 18 and that she is willing to help me as long as I need her.  I really like Tami and I think she really likes me and believes that she is doing what is best for me. Angie and Debbie seem to like me too, but they get a lot of pleasure out of watching me get spanked. They are so unlike Jenny who is just on a power trip and wants to make life as painful and humiliating as possible for me. I think she is still mad at me for when she was 5-6 and I was 8-9 and used to boss her around.  Mom doesn’t really care about boys and just puts up with us because she has to. If it weren’t for the trust fund, I think she would have palmed us off on one of dad’s brothers years ago.

Bath time is kind of fun when Tami does it, but a nightmare when Jenny does it. Tami puts us in the tub one at a time.  She always bathes me first and is very gentle. She sometimes giggles when she washes my penis and scrotum and asks me if I am getting off on it.  It does give me a warm fuzzy feeling and makes me feel kind of tingly.  Sometimes I get an erection and she giggles and strokes me even more tenderly. She’ll say, “We’ve got to take good care of Tiny Tim here, so he can grow up and make us both happy.”  I can’t wait for puberty to set in, so Tami and I can be real boyfriend and girlfriend instead of sitter and kid.  I just hope she waits for me to grow up, but she says she’s not in any hurry and I’m too good a prospect to pass up.  I like it when she talks that way. Debbie and Angie are both in the boy-crazy phase and they practically go into orgasm when a boy notices them. (Yes, I know all the sexual stuff; I am immature, not ignorant, even if my body is still like 11 years old.)

If Debbie and/or Angie are around, they usually bathe Danny while Tami is drying me off and cuddling with me.  They treat him like he is just a kid, but they are gentle with him and he seems to like it.  He doesn’t have any girls his own age around except for the ones that hang out with Jenny and they are just as mean to him as Jenny is.  The nights that Jenny bathes us are really bad.  She puts both of us in the tub together and she and her gal pals just grab onto whatever they can reach and wash it with a rough washcloth and sometimes with laundry soap instead of bath soap. Our boy parts are almost always sore and sometimes raw when they are finished with them.  And at least one of the girls will always jam one of her fingers up into our rectums to “make sure they’re clean inside.” Sometimes, they try to put two or even three fingers into my rectum at once and it really hurts. After that, they scrub the area between our butt cheeks with a small scrub brush and that hurts too.  Sometimes it even bleeds a little.  But we can’t complain or resist even a little bit because then Jenny will spank our bare, wet bottoms with a big plastic bath brush and that is horribly painful, especially if we had already been spanked earlier in the day (which is usually the case). Mom usually hangs around the bathroom while Jenny is doing all of this and she laughs at us when we whimper and cry, “such little crybabies” and even encourages her to be rough with us. 

Jenny makes a big deal out of our peeing and pooping, too.  While she is in charge, we can’t go to the bathroom without her or one of her buddies going in with us to observe.  Sometimes they will hold our penises while we pee, “to make sure you don’t miss. Little boys are so sloppy.”  Then they wipe them off with a baby wipe and are not very gentle with that either.  When we poop, the girls will “supervise” while we wipe our bottoms and then make us stand up, bend over and spread our cheeks so they can check to make sure we are clean. They run a baby wipe over our cracks and usually stick it up into our rectums and wipe around there.  If the wipe comes up dirty, we get five or ten whacks with the bath brush and then a re-inspection.  Tami, Debbie and Angie, don’t do any of this, just sometimes check us with a baby wipe and tell us to wipe again if it comes up soiled. 

After our baths, the other girls go home. Jenny takes her own bath and then supervises us while we clean up the bathroom. If it doesn’t pass her inspection, it means more smacks from the bath brush. Then, if Jenny and Mom are home, Danny and I are sent to bed naked and not allowed to get dressed until after breakfast in the morning.  If Tami is staying over we get to put on our pajama shirts and sometimes our pants, (but the pants have to come off when Mom gets home.)  Usually Danny goes off and plays games on my computer while Tami and I sit and watch TV until Mom gets home.  If Jenny is off in her room, Tami and I can cuddle on the couch, which we both really enjoy.  When Tami stays over, she sleeps in Danny’s bed, so Danny has to bunk with me, but my bed is big enough so we are comfortable. 

I really wish that Tami could be my babysitter all the time and Jenny was out of the picture, but that’s not likely to happen because Mom thinks that boys, especially boys on Puericil need to be treated harshly and spanked frequently. I wish she had never heard of Denise Vernon and her stupid book, because I think I could be a good kid for Tami if she was in charge of me all the time. 

Well it turned out that what I worried about last time, that Tami would be a harsh babysitter didn’t happen.  Tami is a wonderful girl and very patient and kind to me except when she has to punish me. But Jenny and Mom are just a bad combination. They are much crueler to me and Danny (especially to me) than they need to be.  I just wish I could get adopted by Tami’s family.  Her mom and dad are always good to me and her little brother, Kevin, is a happy little kid. My big fear is that Tami will find a real boyfriend before I am grown up enough for her and I will wind up stuck with Jenny and her nasty little friends all the way through high school.

IT’S STILL NOT FAIR!

 

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Timothy (15 years old)
 
Dear it’s Not Fair:
 
My name is Timothy Conway, but everybody calls me “Timmy.” I am 15 years old and in the 9th grade. The last time I wrote to you, I was living with my mother, my 12-year-old sister Jenny and my 10-year-old brother, Danny. My life was a living hell because of my sister, Jenny. Mom put her in full charge of me and Danny and she took advantage of the situation to literally torture, torment and humiliate me at every opportunity. She would spank us on the bare bottom with a hairbrush in the presence of her girl pals, adults or anybody else who was around. These spankings happened in the living room and sometimes in the back yard where the neighbors could watch. She also forced us to run around bare-bottomed in the house and yard, even in the front yard where people walking or driving by the house could see us. And our baths were more torture. She and her friends would strip us, put us in the tub, often together and scrub us with harsh soap and rough washcloths, even scrubbing our private parts with vegetable brushes or toothbrushes. This really hurt and left our most sensitive parts very sore and tender: sometimes they would even bleed. Mom was totally unsympathetic and encouraged Jenny to be as rough as she wanted with us.
 
The only bright part in my life was my part-time babysitter, Tami. She was 14 and in my class at school and we have been friends since the third grade. She usually hung out with Angie and Debbie, who were also 14 and in our class. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights, Mom worked the 3-11 shift so did not come home until nearly midnight. On those nights, Tami slept over and was in charge of us kids. She could (and did) spank me and Danny when we misbehaved but she was not as rough about it as Jenny was and didn’t spank without a good reason. She also let us bathe ourselves and just checked us to make sure we were clean. In fact, as time went on, she became more my girlfriend than a babysitter, but she made clear that she was in full charge. She wasn’t allowed to spank Jenny (Mom believed that spanking was for boys only), but she wouldn’t let Jenny hurt or humiliate us either. She even let us wear pants in the yard.
 
 A few months after Mom’s new job started, things came to a dramatic head. Jenny had done a particularly vicious cleaning job on my anus and privates on Thursday night and they were very sore the next day. On Friday night, Tami saw the damage and rubbed in some aloe cream to ease the pain. She told Mom about it but Mom just laughed and said “Jenny sometimes goes overboard, but the boy will heal. No big deal.”
 
Saturday there was more pain and swelling. When I complained, Mom put me on my back and had Jenny and her friend Dana hold my legs up in the air so she could check out my injury. When she saw the swelling, she just laughed and said, “Timmy is such a baby, this is nothing but a little scratch.” Then she got out a bottle of alcohol and rubbed it into the sore tissue vigorously with a wash cloth. This stung so badly that I screamed in pain, which she laughed off again. “Poor baby, all that fuss over a little scratch.”
 
 
 
Sunday, it really hurt bad, but I kept my mouth shut, knowing that complaining would just bring more pain and humiliation. Finally, after school on Monday, Tami and Debbie came over to babysit us for the evening. Tami could see right away that I was in pain and asked me what was wrong.
 
“It’s my bottom,” I said. “The place where Jenny scratched me is all sore and feels warm. And I had something that looked like pus on my underpants when I went to the bathroom at lunch.”
 
Tami had me lie down on the couch and looked at my groin. She and Debbie lifted my legs as Jenny and Dana had, but were gentler.
 
“Oh, my God!” Debbie gasped. “He’s got an infection there and it’s oozing all sorts of gross stuff!”
 
“It’s just a little scratch,” Jenny sneered. “He’s such a baby, he makes a big fuss over everything.”
 
Tami turned red, then white with anger. “Get out of here, you little monster, before I bitch-slap you silly. Go to your room and stay there until I tell you to come out.”
 
Tami took out her cell phone. “Call Angie and Maxine,” she told Debbie. “We need somebody else here in case this bitch gets violent. I’m calling Mom and getting her over here, too. After you do that, find Danny and check to make sure he’s OK.”
 
It was only a short time before Mrs. Langston and Kevin, Tami’s 7-year old brother arrived, followed shortly by Angie and Maxine, another one of our classmates. Tami sent Kevin off to play with Danny, while her mother and the two new girls examined me. Debbie reported, “Danny is OK, just a few bruises, as usual.”
 
Mrs. Langston examined my groin carefully. Oddly enough, having a woman and four girls looking at my privates was not at all embarrassing because I knew that they cared about me and were concerned about my welfare. “Damn that bitch,” she said angrily. “This is a nasty infection. We have to get him to the Emergency Room right now. Tami, find his pajama pants. Debbie, you and the other girls stay here until I can get an adult to come over. I am leaving Kevin with you. Call your parents and let them know what’s going on.”
 
As Tami helped me into my pajama pants, Mrs. Langston called her husband at work. “David, this is Carol. I’m at the Conway house. That bitch of a sister has hurt Timmy badly and Margie let her do it to him. Tami and I are taking him to the ER and I am leaving Kevin here with Debbie, Angie and Maxine. Try to get over here as soon as you can.”
 
“No, I am NOT calling Margie. In fact, if she shows up while you are at the house, don’t let her near any of the kids. Call the cops if she gives you any trouble. Some of the girls’ parents should be showing up soon.”
 
Mrs. Langston and Tami helped me out to the car. I lay down in the back seat with my head on Tami’s lap. We were both crying at that point and we cried all the way to the hospital. When we got to the hospital, the EMT took one look and called in the doctor.
 
Fortunately, my medical records were on-line and Mrs. Langston was registered as an alternate guardian for medical purposes, so there was no problem getting me treated. After examining me, he said, “You were right to come straight in, this is a serious infection. I’m going to give him something for the pain and an antibiotic right now. And we will admit him to the hospital for more tests. I expect he will be staying with us for a couple of days.”
 
Tami, who had been holding my hand through the entire procedure, looked at her mother tearfully. “Mommy, we can’t let him go home to that house! It’s not safe for him anymore, and we need to get Danny out, too.
 
Mrs. Langston explained the whole story to the doctor who nodded in agreement.
 
“This is a clear-cut case of child abuse. I’ll get the social worker in here now and we can start on the paperwork. Danny is another boy in the house?”
 
“Yes,” Mrs. Langston said. “He has been abused by Jenny and his mother as well, though not as badly as Timmy. But there’s no telling what those witches will do to him once they find out Timmy is here.”
 
“Good point,” the doctor said. “I’ll have the social worker contact Child Protective Services and they can arrange to have him picked up.”
 
“Would it be OK if my husband and I took him home with us for a couple of days?” Mrs. Langston enquired. “He could sleep with Kevin, my seven-year-old and he’d be safe. Scared as he must be, I wouldn’t want to put him in a juvenile home.”
 
“Mommy, can I stay with Timmy tonight, Please, Mommy,” Tami pleaded. “I don’t want him to wake up in a strange place alone.”
 
Mrs. Langston looked at the doctor, “Would that be OK?”
 
“I don’t think that would be a problem,” the doctor replied. The Children’s Ward is pretty empty this week and I am sure we can find a two-bed room for the two of them.” He chuckled, “Besides, I don’t think we could pry your daughter’s hand out of his with a crow bar right now.”
 
Tami blushed, but squeezed my hand even tighter. “No way, I am letting him out of my sight now,” she declared.
 
The next couple of hours were a kind of blur. Once the pain meds kicked in, I was pretty much out of it. When I woke up it was almost ten PM and the first thing I saw was Tami sitting next to my bed. She was already in her pajamas and had been reading a schoolbook. I looked around and it was a two-bed room with cartoon figures all over the walls and stuffed animals on the windowsill. “I think this room was intended for somebody younger than us,” I said.
 
Tami giggled. “Yeah, it’s not exactly a teenager’s room. But the nurses are nice and they treat me almost like a grown-up, so it’s not too bad.”
 
“Those don’t look like hospital pajamas,” I said.
 
“Nope, these are my own. Dad brought them in along with my schoolbooks and computer. He brought your school stuff, too, so we won’t get out of homework while we’re in here.”
 
I pretended to groan. “Slave drivers. How long am I going to be stuck in here with these tubes running into me?”
 
“The doctor says a few days,” she replied. “But I got excused from school for the rest of the week so I can take care of you full time.” She smiled. “I’m not letting you go, ever again.”
 
I was so moved I started crying and she bent over to kiss me and I saw that she was crying, too.
 
“Well, if I’m going to be stuck with somebody for the rest of my life, I’m glad it will be you,” I joked, patting her on the bottom.
 
Then we both started bawling for real. The nurse even came in to see that we were OK. When we explained what happened, she hugged both of us. “You kids are just so right for each other,” she beamed. She even moved our beds closer together so we could hold hands when we were going to sleep.
 
(Yes, we slept in separate beds, for the benefit of those with nasty minds.)
 
The next day, we met with Child Protective Services and the hospital lawyer. I think things are going to be OK.
 
Maybe life can turn out fair after all.
 
Timmy
 
 

 


   
   
   
 
 
(End of File)