Bus Stop, Cedar Creek Mobile Park, Bushwash, Kansas...
Daybreak had just barely been on the horizon as a lone Deacon Parker Hudson better known as "Dean" stood at the bus stop staring up at the sign patiently awaiting the arrival of the bus to take him to school. Cedar Creek High had not been an ideal place for an education given its low test scores and often violent student body when it came to bullying. The teachers often turned a blind eye to it for the most part and it is just accepted as a way of life to either be the bully or the bullied when going through those less than pristine corridors. Life had been difficult all around and as a result people more or less either kept to themselves in Bushwah or didn't care at all. Dean, being the son of known drug addicts and petty criminals had not endeared him to anyone despite him being born here. There wasn't a man or woman around in Bushwah that his dear old dad hadn't run afoul of at one time or another.
The cool kiss of the morning breeze had caused young Dean to shiver a bit as it lapped at the exposed flesh of his thin pale arms as he stood looking down the winding road and noting the very few passing cars and no sign of the school bus. When it came to his school work, Dean had been a pretty decent student, with a special interest in classic literature and a hobby of becoming a writer. He had been very much an avid reader due to the nature of the quiet hobby and when not at school and desperate not to be at home with Clint, he had always gone off to the library to read and work on his homework if nothing else but for peace of mind. He had not missed his mother despite most people thinking so and found that his deadbeat father's only redeeming quality is that he elected to still take care of him when she left.
One could say he had resented his "mother", her drug habit, and her choice of men due to how she bailed on him when the going got tough and didn't bother looking back. Clint never let him live down the fact that he kept him and "still takes care of him" for whatever it had been worth, but Dean eventually discovered the truth about his existence and his true relationship with his so-called father, Clint Hudson had been his mother's pimp in the past and he'd gotten her hooked on drugs at a young age to make her more palpable to having sex unprotected or otherwise with strange men for money to line his pockets.
Between his drunken tantrums and his sexual assaults, she had finally gotten the courage to leave him, believing at the time that Clint had in fact been Dean's biological father, but in the end, Clint had revealed that he wasn't the night she left, he'd been so filled with drunken bitterness and spite he had said it outright beating Dean with his brown leather belt and smashing glasses about the place.
Dean who had been only a year younger during that time had been terrified and confused more often than not when faced with his guardian's violent temper. Clint had marched into his bedroom, flicked on the light switch, and began belittling and berating the confused lad as he attempted to hide beneath his covers. The lad had not forgotten the thick scent of alcohol on his breath as he pulled back the covers and began beating Dean with his belt as if he had done something wrong when it was his mother who had elected to leave them both.
Terrified, bruised, and reduced to hot salty tears, Dean had not known what he had done to deserve what Clint had elected to take out on him but the belt smacking against his thin pale body had been nothing compared to what Clint had in store for him after the fact. He gripped Dean by his ankles and pulled him toward the end of the bed. Dean struggled through tears to get away gripping his bedsheets and mattress as Clint pulled down his pajama bottoms and underwear. He had thought the man was going to beat him with the belt along his exposed pale ass but that had not been the case.
He had been thrown into more confusion when Clint suddenly climbed onto the bed, the sensation of him being naked against the back of Dean's bare legs had given him a good deal of alarm especially when he felt Clint's average-sized cock harden against his pale ass cheeks.
"You and your fuckin slut bitch Mama thank you're better than me?" growled Clint in Dean's ear as his upper body pinned the lad down and he wrapped a tight gripping hand about the lad's pale neck. "Stupid bitch thought she could ditch me and leave a scrawny piece of shit like you for me to take care of, you ain't even my kid but I'm damn sure gonna get my money's worth, your pale ass belongs to me...I may not be your real fuckin' Daddy, but you'll know your place round here....boy."
Dean continued to struggle in vain against the larger drunken brute who elbowed him in the spine and choked him to nearly pass out before his body had been limp enough for him to maneuver as he wanted. White hot tears continued to stream down Dean's pale cheeks as he felt the unwanted sensation of Clint's drunken questing hands spread him apart and then the unceremonious impaling of his hard cock into the tight anus of the screaming lad before he slapped him once more and began thrusting inside him indefinitely.
It had been the most painful encounter Dean had ever experienced as he lay there crying and gasping for breath as Clint continued to impale him with his cock not having a single care as to how badly he'd destroyed his former "son" in the wake of his drink and coke-fueled vengeance streak. As a result of that night, Dean had been weary of Clint's high days and how brutal he could be when he didn't get what he wanted.
There were times when he'd beat the boy outright and force himself on him in the worst of situations before taking off for days only to return and act as if nothing ever happened. He had seemed to believe it when he played the father role but once he'd been high off his ass again the abuse escalated and the sexual assault kept happening.
Dean had not even been sure of his own sexuality given what happened but he had begun to fight Clint less and less when he came for him in the middle of the night, it resulted in far fewer bruises he'd have to explain when at school and he no longer needed to fear anticipation of what he dreaded most when he could just get it over with.
While he wasn't technically a virgin after that first experience with Clint, he had not been much for any sort of relationship of his own be it with another boy or a girl at school, he mostly kept to himself, fearful of whether or not someone would discover his secret about his genetic defect and what Clint had really been doing to him behind closed doors. School life had not been any easier due to the bullying with the usual suspects being Trent Mahoney, Shawn Reeder, and Derrick Price.
They had essentially decided that Dean's misery had been their happiness and as such bullied him every chance they got from ridicule to beatings to stealing his lunch money and stuffing him in lockers and garbage bins. Dean had not been much for confrontation and as a result, he'd been their favorite target. Of the three goons, Trent had seemed to enjoy causing Dean suffering the most often calling him a fairy or a faggot just to make himself feel big and strong.
Dean had not even the slightest inclination that he'd been interested in playing for the home team aside from Clint's coke binges and the aftermath, he had never even had the urge to have sex with another man. He did have a crush on a former classmate and head cheerleader Debra Ross, but she wasn't in the least interest in someone as weak and strange as he was.
The cold air continued to chill Dean Hudson to the bone just as the bus came around the corner to pick him up and cart him off to school. He had been in no rush to get there knowing what his favorite tormentors might have had in store for him, but sadly the already miserable and downtrodden lad had nothing else better to do nor any place better to be.