Beguile

Chapter 22

This chapter contains strong language, sexual content and pedophilia, drug use, and explicit scenes of gore and violence.

Read at your own risk!

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3rd Person POV

12 year old Kurt tries to stretch loose the tshirt that been on his closet for as long as he remembers.

Its blue dye have almost fainted to white, and the cheap thin fabric does not warm nor does it hide his pale pink nipples that has been rubbing against it. The shirt stops just above his knee, so his thin hairless legs is out in the open and his knees are flushed red, but he's still grateful for being able to wear a new underwear. It may not have a brand, and its color is an awful black that coincides the fainting shirt but its still better than nothing.

"Hey kid, what are you doing there?  Come here with Papa."

Kurt immediately bolted out from the stock room which is also his bedroom, and to the living room where his brunette father already emptied 5 bottles of cheap beer.

He doesnt want to go out. Even if he's constantly sneezing from the dust forming around old cabinets, drums and melting cardboards stocked in his room. The gray futon and his bright lampshade is his only safe place.

He doesnt really have a choice, he knows that their threats arent just empty words. They would throw him out, and what can a kid do who already stopped from school with no friends, and neighbors who never care.

"What are you doing there? Sit, get comfortable."

Kurt obliged. He sat on the stained couch facing his father, its the furthest one he can think of.

He doesnt know why he's called over, he just uncomfortably sat there in silence while the man in front of him is gulping beer directly from its bottle, and his eyes never leaving Kurt's unclothed legs.

When he finished, not even wiping the trickles of liquid on his beard, he made a comment "You tricky little minx, no pants?"

A shiver ran down Kurt's spine. He's doing it again, he thought.

His father is always bringing a girl home, those with young unwrinkled skin so different from his mother.

He would often hear them having sex -as what they call it- with the bedroom door wide open, while his mother is on the living room drowning herself in drugs and alcohol, doing everything just to make her husband stay even if it meant hurting herself on the process.

When he got no girls over, he would compliment him like he did to them.

"Your legs are so thin, its like theyre calling for me... Should I let them get me?" His father's sultry grin makes him nauseas. But he knows better than talking back, the black eye and the bruises on his thin arms are evident enough.

"Come here" he motioned, and Kurt has no choice but to follow.

He stood in front of his father, trying to stretch the cheap shirt but careful enough so it wouldnt tear. Afterall, its the only one that can actually cover his bum.

He struggled not to flinch when his father's cold wet fingers travelled along his bony shoulders. "Your hair is already this long." He reach over on his dark ginger hair that stops right on his shoulder. "You should keep them longer, it makes you so so beautiful."

Kurt couldnt even react when his father suddenly threw him on his shoulder. But when he realized what's happening he couldnt stay quiet. Panicked rose through his throat, and he began to resist, punching his father's back and violently flail his legs. He wanted to escape.

"Let me go, father! Please let me go!" He screamed. Tears welled up on the back of his eyes. He couldnt believe that his own father would actually think of him like that.

"Shut the fuck up! Jennifer, help me up with this one!"

His mother appeared from the kitchen. She wiped her hands on her floral skirt that covers upto her broken ankle, even tuck a load of her dry graying hair behind her ears just to appear a little decent in front of the guy she's blindly in love with.

However, when she sees her crying son wrap up on his arms, she couldnt help but ask. "What are you doing?"

"Just help me up!"

Her eyes widened when he brought him to their bedroom. The same bedroom in which the kid was never allowed to enter up till this day. The same bedroom where he brought his prostitutes over. The same room where they, a husband and wife, sleep. Just sleep.

"Quick! You hold up his arms."

"But he's your son."

The boy is thrashing around. He couldnt bother to listen to whatever they were spouting, his main focus should be to get away from the grip of a 5'10 man because he knew that his mother couldnt help him.

"Who are you fooling! This boy has orange hair, do I look orange to you!!" That wasnt a question. The man was already so turned on he wouldnt even care if its his own. And he always knew that he's the man of the house, one single word and his wife will be on his beck and call. "I'll really leave if you refuse."

The 12 year-old screamed more when he felt his mother's hand around his flimsy wrist. His legs on his father's, while his other hand was ripping his fragile shirt. He lifted up his underwear, exposing the boy's soft little weiner. He never had boys before, but this soft pinkish skin of the little ones made him regret not having them earlier.

The grown man was kneading the boys chest with his rough palm which is still cold from the morning beer.

Kurt shivered, his voice was getting hoarse, more so when the man's hairy hand crawled down to his butthole.

The boy didnt understand where he's touching, nor when we forcefully pushed a dry finger in and he felt himself tore. The pain was excruciating, all he could do was sobbed as warm blood flowed to where he was rip apart.

When he pulled the finger back, Kurt huffed a breathe. He thought it's done. He thought he's finished.

But then the belt buckle drop, he was just getting started.

He let his penis sprung, he stroke it up and down while watching the boy struggle under him. He was rock hard and practically drooling over the soft pinkish skin and the beautiful face of the little red-head. He was always with brunettes and blondes, now he wants to know if these types taste like strawberries like how they look.

The boy cried out in pain when he felt him deeply thrust inside of him.

He felt humiliated, disgusted of himself while seeing the man he once called father was moaning above him.

He just wanted love. He thought that with time they'll become a proper family. One without drugs and girls. One without ice cold beer etched on their palm.

Now, Kurt just wants to die.