The Pain Doesn’t Go Away (A Personal Story)

Boy standing in dark

It has been a while since I received a personal story from a reader and this one…well it is quite a big story. I must warn readers there is sexual abuse mentioned and other aspects which may not be suitable for younger readers. But this person’s story is important to read. They wish to remain anonymous, but their story is one they want to be shared. They and I welcome comments. Thank you. ~ Alan


To tell the story I need to explain how it all began.

I was born in a town in Buckinghamshire in the March of 1955. To the east and the west were the oldest estates. During the 1920s another estate was built in the north where my maternal nanny eventually moved to. Then during the late 1940s she moved to a new estate that was built on top of the hill, and to the east side of town. During the 1950s the gap between my nanny’s estate and the main road that went through the town, was filled with new houses. These were occupied from the start by those who were married and came from the old estate east of the town. They were people like my daddy, so everyone knew each other, having grown up together. In ways it was very clannish, and to a certain extent still is.

My mummy’s elder sister and her family lived up around the corner. My daddy’s youngest sister and her family lived a couple of streets away. It was the same for most of the families, so we all grew up close. Even in our street lived my dad’s best mate since childhood. His siblings and parents even lived in most of the houses in our road. All the kids had the same aspiration, and that was to go to the secondary school close by, that nearly all of our parents had gone to.

My story begins at the start of the school summer holidays in 1963 when I was 8 and a few months old. It was then that the family moved a few streets away to my nanny’s old house. She had moved to a town in Berkshire about 30 miles away, as my step-granddaddy got a transfer to another part of the company.

Soon after we moved we went on our annual holiday for two weeks. As soon as we returned I went down to call on my very best friend Ann. I guess you could say she was my first love, as it hurt me very much when I called for her, and her mum told me she had gone away. She was too upset to add more. I had known Ann since infant school, and when we started at the junior school we sat next to each other. We often had tea at each other’s house. I guess what made it hit me harder, was the not knowing as to why she had gone away, so I always thought about her, and wondered what had happened. (I was about 40 when I learned that her dad took her away, as her mum was having an affair.)

From then on, I must admit my life began to go downhill.

I did like the house we moved to, and not only as it was my nanny’s, but it was bigger, as well as had a much larger garden. The problem was I did not like the boys in the street. There were only 4 that were my age, and a few very young children. As the estate was old most of the children who had lived there, were grown up and had moved on.

I missed my old road very much, as well as all my best friends who were all about the same age as me. Although I am a male, all my best friends were girls bar one boy who lived in my road. Even at the infant and junior schools all my best friends were girls. I did not like most males, and that also included my male cousins.

I did not really get on with the boys in our new road, although, we sometimes played together. In ways, I was mostly allowed to be their friend only now and again when they let me, while my younger brother was accepted as their friend. So most of the time I played by myself in the small box-room at the front that was soon to become my bedroom, as my brother wanted the larger bedroom at the back. The only time my brother and I played together was when we played dressing up with our mummy, in her old clothes that were kept in my room. I would probably have to admit I always liked dressing up with my mummy, and was probably more the mummy’s boy the other boys always saw me as.

Because my brother was more often than not out playing with the boys in our road, it did cause problems for me. They would make fun of me, even my brother would for being a mummy’s boy when I had to often deliver messages to my brother from our mummy. After making fun of me, my brother would then tell me to go away and not very nicely, and the other boys would then tell me to do the same. It didn’t help that my mummy would always question me, and asking me if I did tell my brother. Each time I would tell her I had, but I got the impression she never quite believed me for some reason. I never told her what he and the other boys said, as I doubted she would believe me anyway. My brother only had to complain that I had upset him, even over something trivial, and one of my parents would punish me until I cried. Even if it was not true, the one thing they would not tolerate was my upsetting my brother, as he was younger than me. To ensure I did not get punished I tried to keep well out of my brothers way most of the time.

Home life did get worse, with my parents arguing most of the time. They were just as bad as each other, and at 9 I was seeing things no child should ever see. I was never a violent person, and had only ever hit one boy who lived around the corner from my old road. When I was about 6, three of the girls in my road came running up to me, and told me about a boy around the corner that had picked on them. So I went with them and when we saw him, I warned him never to pick on girls, especially my friends, before I hit him. His parents would never have complained, as picking on girls was something you did not do, and besides their dads would have sorted it out with his parents, if I had not.

With my home life, even at 9 I now detested violence in any form. Whether a boy picked up on that from my junior school I do not know, but he did start to bully me on the way home. Half way along the path he would stop me from trying to get home, and enjoyed making me cry. Finally some older boys put a stop to it, and I was never bullied at school again.

Things got so bad at home, that at the age of 10, my younger brother and I were sent to live with my maternal nanny. We were there for about 7 months, and as we were away for so long my brother and I had to attend a local school for about 5 months. This not only upset my life, but also ruined my schooling as I had no time to catch up when we finally returned home. I had expected to pass my 11+ when I finally returned to my old school, only I failed. Not that I expected to go to the local grammar school, as like most of kids where I had lived, we intended to go to the secondary school nearby, as it was where most of our parents had gone to.

 Not that long after I started at the secondary school my parents separated. In time I went to live with my daddy’s parents who still lived on the old estate, and so not too far away. As my daddy drove a lorry for a living, he was often away for the night, so I would sleep at the house of friends of the family, just up the road. After a couple of weeks it was decided I was to go and live with my grandparents. I was bullied a little along with a few others. I did not really mind, as mostly it was more teasing than anything else, and more because I picked up the speech pattern of my Southern Irish grandparents.

I stayed with them until the start of the school summer holidays when I was 12. Mummy then came and took me away, and told me that I would be living with her and my brother at my maternal nanny’s house that they had only been living in for a couple of years. It only had two bedrooms so while my mum slept downstairs on the put-u-up which we called the sofa-bed, my brother and I had to sleep together. So as not to disturb him, I was made to go to bed early the same time as him. I actually got into bed before him, like he always expected me to, as he made me get ready for bed before him. It was easier to do what he wanted, than end up getting punished. Although my nanny was married to my step-granddaddy, it was my nanny who had always ruled the house. It was also my nanny who set our bedtime and not my mummy. As my brother was only 10, she decided he had to go to bed at 7:30 when we had school the next day. When we did not have school he could go to bed at 8.

I never told my nanny that my bedtime had been a lot later, especially while I lived with my other nanny. She worked in the evenings cleaning offices, so I would always walk with her across the Mead, a large field nearby, and over to the main road where she worked. I did have a male friend then who I played with, and who lived with his widowed mother in a prefab across the other side of the stream at the back of my grandparent’s house. Then later in the evening I would walk over to the main road to meet my nanny, and walk back home with her. As we sometimes had not had tea, for a treat my nanny would get fish and chips from the shop nearby. They were not rich, as well as lived what you would call a very simple life. My mummy told me years later that someone had phoned her, and told her I was running wild on the streets, which was why she came to take me away. I guess it might have looked that way, even if it wasn’t exactly true.

My brother didn’t like our maternal nanny that much, as he thought she was too strict, while I just accepted doing whatever she told me to, and just like when my mummy told me to do something. In many ways my nanny was even far stricter with me than my mummy was, and threatened to punish me for even the smallest thing, that she considered wrong. She was called by the family a tartar behind her back, and even with my aunts and uncles, she usually got her own way.

Every Sunday morning my brother and I had to go the Methodist church near by for Sunday school. It was not only so we could learn to be good boys, but also meant she could have some time on her own with my step-granddaddy. She often liked to relax and read the papers. If there were things in them she thought I was too young to read, she would put them under the cushion of her armchair.

On Sunday afternoons, my nanny expected my brother and me to have a bath around 3:30, so we were always ready for bed when we sat down for tea at 5, as we always had it early that day. My brother always made me have a bath first, in case his friends called round. He hated it when they did, as when I was ready for bed my nanny would often get me to answer the door in my pajamas. Even if the girls called for me, or boys for my brother, I had to tell them like my nanny had told me to that we were not allowed to play out, as we would be going to bed soon.

Now we were no longer rich, and like with my other nanny, we often went to jumble sales where she would find clothes for me to wear. I did not have that many when I first arrived to live with my nanny so needed some more.

My brother and I were on the short side, so when my nanny was given a load of girls vests and pants, and she told me to I was to wear them as I had few clothes, I did. As my brother had not seen the violence and that, he was now actually tougher than me. As he didn’t want to wear the girl’s things, my nanny did not push him to. As I hated violence and confrontation I just did whatever my nanny told me to do, and without complaint. In ways and knowing my brother was tougher than me, I now found I could not even seem to stand up for myself. At least there were some girls who lived close by that were my age, I became friends with.

My brother had quite a few male friends his age, but I usually kept my distance as they made fun of me for wearing girl’s clothes, or would pick on me whenever my brother did. He thought it funny as even when I reached 13 I often just wore the girl’s vests and pants at weekends and holidays. Often my nanny as we had hot summers then would tell me just to wear them even when I played out in the front garden. I preferred others did not see, but still did whatever my nanny told me to.

In time my brother did get our nanny to let him off having his bath early, as his friends kept calling around for him to play out. As my friends had stopped calling for me after a couple of times, my nanny saw no reason for me not to get ready for bed early, until she did let me bath later when I reached 15 if I wanted to. Often after tea my brother and I had to clear the tea things away, and I would have to always wash up. As there was not much to do afterwards, I would usually go to bed about 6. Even if my brother had nothing much to do, he would always leave it until the last moment before getting ready for bed.

In ways I guess my nanny was far stricter with me, as with like the rest of the family they all thought that my brother being the youngest had suffered with the divorce more. Even when I was older and even more docile no one ever asked how badly it had affected me. I also suffered more, because not long after moving in with my maternal nanny, my parents decided that it was for the best my daddy would no longer come and see us. My brother did not care, while I still wanted him to visit, but I was never asked.

In time my brother did get our nanny to let him go to bed later, so he could play out with his friends. He had always been a bit of a whiner so usually ended up getting what he wanted. I was never asked, and so I would still get ready for bed before teatime. Then after I had washed up I would be in bed by 7 which became my usual time. My nanny thought since there was nothing I wanted to watch on the TV I should go to bed anyway. That became my usual time, even up to 15 when I was given the option to go later. I usually read unless my nanny came in to say goodnight, and then I was expected go to sleep. I guess my brother had more leeway as he kept whining and asking, so his bedtime was later. In ways I preferred not to ask in case it displeased my nanny.

 After the end of the school summer holidays while I was still 12, I did attend my old secondary school for a while, before my mummy and nanny decided that I was to attend the local secondary school. Although I had been in the top form at my old school, for some reason they put me in the 3rd form, one up from the bottom. And even worse, I had to sit around for a whole year while the rest of the class had to catch up with me, as I was that far advanced.

Although I did not like the school that much, my mummy and nanny did not seem that bothered when I told them what it was like. All they told me was that it would get better in time. I guess that since I had no choice, but to go there like they expected me to, I had to accept what they said.

I had only been there a couple of weeks or so, when one of the boys from another class hit me on the nose, and made me cry. The boys in my class had been wary of me before, but not any longer. I was made fun of for being a cry-baby, while I stood there, and tried to stop the bleeding while I cried.

 There were two groups of boys in my class of about 15 boys and 15 girls. There was Bob and quite a few of his mates who were the bullies. Then there was a group of mainly 4 who were what I called the weaker boys. There seemed to be a bit of friction between Alan and Martin as to who was the leader, but it was Martin who seemed to finally make the decisions. Then there were a few other boys who came from the villages, and seemed friendly with both groups, although usually did their own thing. There were no girl bullies as such, although quite a few of them always stayed together as well as looked down on the other girls, and were friends of Bob and his mates

In the pecking order of things, I was now relegated to the very bottom of the class, as Bob started to pick me on me more after the boy hit me. Even the weaker group of boys thought less of me when they had been friendlier before, so I often had to sit on my own at the back of the class.

After the boy hit me and made me cry, it was Bob who started to pick on me the next day. I knew what was coming when he moved closer to me, while we had woodwork. He did not seem to mind when I saw the weaker boys back even further away, while I was too scared to, and knowing it would make it worse for me if I did.

The first couple of weeks it was mostly name calling, and I would have to tell him I was whatever he called me. Then it was soon a smack in the mouth, or twisting my nipples, before he started to do it really hard which apparently was all the rage then. He and his friends found it amusing, that even from the start I would beg him not to hurt me each time. They liked too, I was often close to tears, and even cried soon after the bullying began to get worse. It now seemed to be very rare that Bob would even pick on the weaker group, and even then more just to make fun of them. It still seemed to make them nervous when he did, seeming worried he would start to pick on them too I thought. I guess that seeing I was the weakest boy in the class, and such an easy target, Bob preferred picking on me all the time.

By then I hated school even more. I dreaded going in each day, and knowing I would be bullied. I was glad when the weekend arrived, although still dreaded that Monday was just around the corner. When the bullying started to get worse I often during the school week tried to retreat inside my shell, and stay there. I often wished I could die too. This went on for nearly a year. Most of my life was a nightmare then although it was not always easy to understand all of the undercurrents going on in the background. Not only did my nanny not really want us there, my mummy left her to raise us for a lot of the week. There was also the fact I think one of the reasons for my nanny being stricter with me, was not only as I was the eldest, but I don’t think it went down to well that I had chosen to stay with my daddy. I doubted though she would have known anything of what I had gone through, and remembered before my parents separated.

One of the worst problems for me after the bullying, was the substandard education I was now being taught. I was very intelligent and even in infant school I was learning as much as I could. I loved maths especially. When I moved to the junior school I was in the top form. We had 48 kids to each class, but this was no excuse to fail. Because I was in the top form, apart from art all lessons were academic. Our lives were being directed towards the Grammar. We never had homework as we were taught everything in the class. We all learned what we needed to know by rote. This meant no having to look up books to know how to do something, which is actually a lazy way. It is the same as writing everything down. To keep it in your memory like learning a song you learned by wrote. If you write the words down of your favourite song you will find the brain then has no need to retain. I learned this to my cost when I moved to Berkshire.

 What happened with my parents caused lots of problems with my education. Stiil I was in the top form at the secondary school. That first year was totally academic and nothing else. We learnt everything in call and still had no need for homework. We were so far ahead we finished all our maths over a month early, so for something to do the teacher taught us German. There is also one other thing I should mention and that was the boys were kept separate from the girls. It made learning easier, although I miss my friends. At least I saw them dinner times so we could wave to each other while we queued at our respective canteens.

So moving to my new school, the emphasis was less on academia, but more a mixture of all different things. There was lots of homework too, as they taught less in the class, and nothing by rote. Having been through the different systems I can honestly say the education in my old town was far superior. I am sure that with a better education it would have given me more to concentrate on than the bullying.

I was never sure why, but my brother and I were made Wards of Court. We had a social worker who came every so often. She would sit with my nanny while they drank their tea. My brother and I had to be there so she could talk to us. The problem was with our nanny there I could never tell her how bad the education was, especially compared to my old schools. Even though I was not sure if she could have done anything, I could not bring myself to tell her about the bullying either.

Although the weaker group of boys also thought even less of me, they did finally let me be their friend. I was sure that was mostly so I was a buffer between them and Bob, just in case he started to pick on them again. To be allowed into their group I even agreed, that as the weakest I deserved to be bullied, and not just by Bob, but them as well. As I had no other friends inside school, I even accepted them bullying me, as well as calling me all the names that Bob called me, whenever and wherever they wanted to. I was too scared of them especially Martin to ask them not to. There were a set of steps in the lower playground where the weaker boys, and some of their other friends from the other classes often congregated. While they sat at the top, I had to sit on the bottom steps to show my position in the group.

Of course the bullying soon got worse, and Bob would even pick on me in the corridor, and in front of everyone. After I wet myself I told him I was going to report him. He took no notice, before he finally asked if I would. I admitted I wouldn’t as I was too scared of him too, as well as too scared nothing would be done, when he made me tell him.

To understand why I didn’t complain, you have to understand the type of environment I lived in. Unlike where I was born, I was now living in a new town, where a lot of Londoners had moved to after the mid-fifties. Most of the kids my age and older were born in London. They were now living in what had been a rural area, and that had a profound affect on those who were born in the surrounding villages.

A lot of the kids born in the surrounding village’s, did not like the newcomers, and saw them as interlopers. The town was also encroaching on what had once been only a rural area. And a lot of the kids that had come from London were just as openly aggressive like a lot of their parents. In ways the kids ruled the schools, as the teachers were too weak to stop them. It wasn’t unusual for some of the women teachers to leave the classroom crying, after being bullied by the kids. Even some of the men teachers had been beaten up by the bullies. Little was done to stop it, and if I complained and nothing was done, which it seems was usual, I knew I would get bullied even worse.

If you think that was bad, it was even worse when the headmistress decided that they would no longer use the cane about a year before I left. No one I knew had ever been caned, but now even the younger boys openly bullied others, even the older children in the playground. I always made sure I stayed clear of them as some knew Bob, as well as knew that he bullied me. He was a skinhead then like his friends, and the younger kids, and I knew they would pick on me given the chance.

It wasn’t just our school that was bad. There was the other school on the other side of town. That had a worse reputation than our school. Even when I was 13 there was a rivalry between the two. Kids from the other school would come to ours, and ours would go to theirs. When they came to our school, kids would even go out to meet them on our playing field for a mass fight.

So the bullying carried on, and soon I was even telling some of the girls in my class what I was, when Bob told me to. Mostly he called me a sissy, a fairy and a homo, and that was what I had to tell the girls I was. A fairy then just meant an effeminate homosexual, and sissy meant a boy who was effeminate, as well as a yellow-bellied coward.

It wasn’t long before Bob even had me stand at the front of the class, before the teacher arrived. I had to tell everyone that I was a homo, or whatever Bob had told me to, before he would let me go and sit down.

It wasn’t long before my mummy moved back to our old town where she still worked. Although she had got a two-bedroom flat, there was no talk of my brother and I going to live with her. Soon she had her own life to lead, as a single women, and no kids to look after, and only came to see us every couple of weeks or so.

 In ways my nanny was far stricter with me after my mummy left. And like my mummy, she was still not that interested in how I was really doing at school. In ways she did not really want us there, as she had been expecting a quiet life after she retired. My brother had his own friends, so he was always out with them. Mostly I stayed indoors, when I did not go out exploring on my own.  While I was home I would do whatever my nanny told me to like running errands or helping her clean the house, so there was even less reason for her to punish me like she often threatened to. In ways it did surprise me that my nanny never remarked on the fact I had hardly any friends unlike my brother, or seem to notice that I was now even more docile with the bullying, and would even jump to do whatever she told me to do.

Soon Bob had me telling him things I preferred him not to know, but I was too scared of him not to tell him the truth. So soon he knew all about the situation with my family. I even admitted I was a mummy’s boy when he thought I was. I admitted I was also my nanny’s boy when I told him that she was like another mummy in a way. I did not want to tell him, but admitted I wanked when he told me to tell him. I even admitted a couple of times each day, as well as more when I got the chance. I even told him I was sure my nanny knew too, as I often went up to the bedroom while my brother was out. My nanny never said anything, but the look she gave me left me in no doubt she might have heard the bed, or guessed what I had been doing when I came downstairs each time. Bob knew too that I was too ashamed to tell my mummy as well as my mummy that I was a sissy and a fairy as Bob saw me, as well as how much I was being bullied as I was so weak when he asked. Of course as soon as he could, Bob made me tell the whole class that I was a wanker, as well as tell everyone how much I did it.

Sometimes Bob did sit next to me in the corner at the back where I had to sit in class. He would often hit me on the hand hard with the ruler. Most who sat near saw me hold out my hand when he told me to. His other trick was to put drawing-pins upside down on my chair so the kids saw me sit on them when he told me to. Then there was the compass. Each time he threatened to stab me with it, unless I begged as well as I could for him not to. Thankfully I did.

Bob got worse, and was soon hurting me even more. He and his friends made fun of the fact that I would even get down on my knees and beg him not to hit me when he told me too.

Seeing the way Bob treated me, the weaker boys started to treat me worse too. They would often send me to Coventry, even for what I thought were silly reasons. It was usually ages before they would let me be a friend again. Each time they would make me grovel often before that happened, even making me grovel in the playground in front of everyone, and begging for their forgiveness so I could be their friend again. While I was sent to Coventry and one of the other boys was sent to Coventry too, we would be friends. That only lasted until the other boy was forgiven, and usually long before I was.

Soon when the games teacher did not turn up for sports each time, I was always the only one that Bob told to stay naked, or to strip if I was still dressed. Bob then often had me stand on one of the seats, and then hold onto the water pipes, and then dangle there. I was then told to stay still and open my legs wide, while Bob and his mates stood not too far away. When they were ready they would then throw tennis balls at me, as hard as they could. Only when he grew tired of that, did he let me get down.

After then if we had time I was usually made to crawl back and forth the length of the changing-room on my hands and knees. Even the weaker boys, Bob made join in and while they stood each side of me, they would hit me as hard as they could with their knotted towels. They would even move down the room to hit me again. Often when I couldn’t move I would be hit with the knotted towels, as well as kicked a lot so I begged for them to stop, before I was then made to move on again.

A couple of times I was even pushed out the back doors naked. Bob would often shut the doors, while I had to stand there facing the school field with the road beyond. I was too scared of Bob to even cover myself even if someone saw, as he had warned me not to.

We had P.E. twice a week, on a Tuesday before dinnertime, and the last period on a Thursday. It was the latter when if the teacher was there we sometimes had to do a cross-country run. Since we might be a bit late getting back it was never a problem. I think our games teacher was often one of the male teachers who got bullied, as he did leave in time. As he was often away while the girl’s games teacher turned up, I can only speculate as to why he often did not turn up.

 The following year before I turned 13 I also had to stand there naked in the middle of the changing-room. I had to stand there arms at my sides like I was told to when Bob had got some of the girls he knew from our class to come in and look, as well as make fun of me.

Another time when the sports teachers did not appear and the girls from our class were all congregated in the corridor area outside, as their door was locked, I was marched naked out of the room. I was then made to stand there arms at my side again, so that Bob could make sure that all the girls saw me. It was the girls that were friends of Bob who made fun of me, while I was made to stand there for ages.

The next time our games teacher did not arrive, the 4 weaker boys and I were told by Bob to stay naked. The weaker boys were then made to sit in a row, while Bob’s friends all stood around to watch. Bob then told to get down and kneel on the floor, and then crawl to him. Although the weaker boys protested and made a token resistance, but not too much, I had to use my hand and mouth to perform fellatio on them in turn when Bob told me to, as I was to do my best to get them aroused. Of course it was also another excuse for the weaker boys to have a go at me. We all knew though that although they would resist doing what I was made to do, it was easier for them that I would do it to them whatever Bob told me to. I was always too scared not to do what I was told, and get hurt worse as well as forced to do it.

 The next day most of the girls in class knew what I had done. Not when or who with, as all they were told was that I was a homo and loved using my mouth as I was cocksucker. Bob then told me to confirm it was the truth what he had told them, which I did. 

 That was not the last time as, mid-term during the holiday, Bob told Martin and I to come round to his house on the Monday. As Martin and I lived near we had no excuse not to be there, as well as too scared of Bob not to do what he told us.

When we arrived at Bob’s house, his friends where already there. Martin refused to do what Bob asked, so Bob did not push him to. Instead while Martin stood there in the middle of the room, Bob told me to get down and kneel on the floor. Martin was then told to sit in the chair, while I had to crawl over to him. Bob and his friends then gathered around to watch while I had to undo Martin’s jeans and pull his penis out. While everyone watched, I had to use my hand and my mouth to perform fellatio on Martin. I was told not to stop, and after what seemed ages they all had a good look while I had to keep my mouth open, before Bob told me to swallow.

After we left Bob’s I did apologise to Martin as we headed to our homes, as we lived not that far from each other. Although he did not beat me up, I told him I deserved it when he thought I did. Like before though, we all knew it was easier for Martin and the others for me to do things like that to them, than them being made to.

The start of the school summer holidays when I was a few months past 13, I was even picked on by a couple of younger boys. I was down the park near to where I lived, and where there were the swings and that we played on. As usual I was on my own when two boys aged about 9 and 10 came up to me while I was playing on the swings. They asked who gave me permission to play there, so I told them no one had. They told me then they were going to beat me up. I begged them not to when they moved closer. I guess I was even weaker now than I thought, as when the youngest one went to hit me I started to cry. They made fun of me for that. In the end they did not beat me up, but they made me admit that I was coward as I was scared of them, two young boys. After that they made conditions, and that I was not allowed to play in the bottom field unless they told me I could, otherwise they would beat me up, even if I was with my friends. If they came to play in the park, or they were playing on the swings, I was to leave the park or they would beat me up. After then when they were there, and I did not see them until too late, they would chase after me. When they did catch me I could not help crying, so they just made fun of me, before they told me to go away.

All through the holidays I looked out for the boys. Sometimes I saw them down the park, so would go and find places to explore. I did worry that others would find out even my brother that I was scared of boys even younger than him. He never thought much of me anyway knowing I had few friends, as well as I always did everything our nanny told me to. When I did not go out exploring I often stayed in and would usually read the books for younger children I had, as well as been given.

I think he thought even less of me, as he still called me a sissy especially as during the holidays I still often helped my nanny out each week when she had friends around for one morning each week. I would help her make the drinks and that, before they sat in the lounge to talk and knit. I often use to kneel on the floor by her chair, and help her wind up wool and that, and anything else she wanted me to do. It did feel nice when the older ladies thought I was a good boy. My nanny always agreed, although it was hard to tell what she really thought of me.

After I started back at school, our year had to move across to the other building. It had once been the grammar school, and now housed the 3rd year and above. Our old school now held all the 1st and 2nd years.

 Bob still bullied me each day. Mostly he would thump me, and I would still beg him not to hurt me. I guess after the incident with the two young boys I felt even weaker than ever.

It wasn’t that long when one weekend I came to the conclusion I deserved being bullied, because I was so weak. I realised too that I was probably just as scared of younger girls too that seemed just as aggressive as the boys. It was then that I came to accept I was the sissy and fairy Bob always called me. I know most see the latter as a derogatory term, but I came to realise that it was more me, as that was just how I felt. Whether I was completely homosexual, I did not know, but I knew I would perform fellatio anytime I was told to. Perhaps I was strange in that it was easier to do what I did with the weaker boys as Bob told me too, but I cannot say I hated doing it. I often even dreamed of what Bob had made me do, in the changing room, as well as in front of the girls. It was then I came to the conclusion that because I was weak I deserved to be bullied, and even accepted that I would probably always be bullied even after I left school.

On the Monday when I just stood there, and didn’t even flinch when Bob went to hit me, he seemed to know I now accepted being bullied. When he asked I admitted I did. I admitted too that I was a sissy and a fairy like he thought I was when we actually had the chance to talk alone. I even admitted I had liked performing fellatio when he asked. After telling him I deserved to be bullied for being so weak, I told him as well that I even accepted if I was to be bullied for the rest of my life.

I guess in a way that it did please me, that it pleased Bob, that he had broken me, and I was now his to do with whatever he wanted, as well as would always obey him. After then he still bullied me each day to show I was his. In ways I was also his slave as I would gladly carry all his books and things each day. Because we now had different teachers who were rarely away, and the changing rooms were laid out differently, Bob never got the chance to bully me the same, as in the old school.

Although whether it didn’t help me I am not sure, but I was the only boy in our class who was circumcised, as I had been since the age of 5. I had blue eyes and at the time my hair was brown. I only grew to 5 foot 6, but I was actually quite big down there. At 3 I had long white blonde curly hair, and my mummy was going to let it grow even longer. Unfortunately my paternal nanny had got it cut without asking, which really annoyed my mummy. My hair slowly darkened so by 17 it was long and curly, and more a darker brown with a white streak at the front. Just after I turned 18 it turned more a white blonde its original colour, and is still more blonde today. Much to the chagrin of my younger female friends, my hair is always more a bleached blonde in the summer, which they complain they have to pay a hairdresser for to get the same effect.

I should also add that Bob was about as tall as me, while most of his friends were taller. Bob also said something to me when he first started to hurt me more, that made me think he may have been bullied too. Whether that was why he bullied me, I never knew.

I don’t think it was that long after we started school in the new building that all of our year, were all told that we had to see the school doctor. I’m not sure why, but when I told my nanny she told me she would come with me.

When it was time for me to see the doctor and I left my lesson, my nanny was already waiting there. I’m not sure if  the female doctor who looked to be nearer 40 thought it was strange, as after I introduced the doctor to my nanny so she knew who she was, my nanny made me stand there while she stripped me, and even stayed in the room to watch the doctor check me over.

The doctor gave me a thorough check out, and then having to cough while I still stood there naked. As I said I was quite big and she gave me a nice smile, before she moved her hand away. For some reason she then got me to walk naked to the door and back. Afterwards while I stood there next to her still naked, she told me that if I had any problems to ask for her, and if I wanted she would even be willing to become my doctor. She was really nice, and I often regretted not letting her become my doctor, especially as she was much nicer than my male doctor. She even gave me a smile, while she watched while I stood there and let my nanny help dress me, before we left.

It wasn’t the first time my nanny had seen me naked, as we were not allowed to close doors unless using the toilet. When I had baths or washed I would still always leave the door wide open. My nanny had always done that, and unlike my brother I would not have dared pushed it almost closed. Even when I was in the bedroom or in bed I always left the door wide open like my nanny had told me to. My brother usually pushed it slightly too, and was never told off.

In ways I was still friends with the weaker boys. If anything though, they bullied me even more when Bob was not around to see. Although Martin knew I would do whatever he said, in front of the others he would tell often me he would beat me up if I didn’t. He knew I was scared of him, as I had told him I was each time he asked. In ways I think he was still trying to show he was in charge, as often Alan seemed to think he was.

Although Bob never got the chance for me to perform fellatio again, it wasn’t the last time I did it though. A couple of my brother’s younger friends seemed to know I was weak, and told me to. Usually they came to the house on the pretext of talking to me, and would want me to go upstairs with them to talk. I think my nanny knew what was going on, although she never actually came out with it, and asked why we were upstairs. She did know I wanked a lot. During the summer holidays my brother had spent some time on holiday with his friend and family. We had not had a holiday since I was 9. So while my brother was away I had no worry about wanking. Although my door was wide open, one time I had not heard my nan in her room after I had gone to bed at my usual time of 7:00, or earlier when there was nothing to stay up for. My nanny must have heard me, as she told me I should be asleep. “Yes Nanny,” I ways I doubted I could have lied to her if she had asked me what I was doing.

A couple of months or so after we had started back to school, my nanny became more of a mummy to me. It was a bit of a bombshell when my mummy told us she was giving up the flat, and going to work in the states. I don’t think my nanny was too pleased, especially when she asked about us, and my mummy thought we would be fine. I’m not even sure if my mummy asked my nanny if she would look after us. I came to the conclusion that both my parents were selfish, and more concerned what was happening with them, and far less concerned with the effects on me before and after they separated and the repercussions it would have on my future.

There is more going on that did affect my life, the time before, and the time of the bullying and what happened in the future. It is beyond the scope of this story, and makes a story in its own right. What I will tell you is a little bit of the worst thing that did happen for me. When I was just 13 and going through the some of the darkest hours of the bullying, and I was in my shell, I made myself a promise. This promise did not go into my memory, as it went to my subconscious. (See near end.)

My nanny and I did become closer after my mummy left. I did wonder if she realised why I always wanted to do things for her. Being a mummy’s boy as well as being very docile now I knew I always needed a strong mother figure to look up to.

It was hard to know if it was Bob’s bullying that had affected me. I could never be sure that since I always preferred having girls rather than boys as friends, if I was different in some way. There was also the possibility Bob had picked on me at the time when I was more likely to become more submissive, as well as pleasing males like Bob had made me do. There is a fact that by the time I was 13 and no one was home, I wore women’s clothes that my nanny had been given and kept in a bag in the airing cupboard. I also wanted to change to be more like a woman. My nanny never knew, but I had lots of paper cuttings all about April Ashley who was in the papers at the time.

I did sleep with an older guy I knew when I was 16 and had just left school and started work. I also performed fellatio on him whenever he wanted me to. It would be almost another year before I actually slept with a woman, and who was actually one of my best friends.

My nanny did know how much I wanked too. I started college in the September when I was still 16, and she would get me to come home for a meal dinner times, as my step-granddaddy came home then too. Evening meals during the week were more snacks since my brother and I always had a school dinner while we attended school.

My nanny still never said anything, even though she had caught me a few times as I still always left the bedroom door wide open. As soon as I got in from college and she put the kettle on, she would usually tell me that I had time to go upstairs, before we would be ready to sit down and eat. She never seemed to mind when after I helped clean away I would tell her I was just popping upstairs. The worst part was she knew when I needed to use the bathroom afterwards.

In ways I think it pleased my nanny too, that unlike my brother who was always out with friends, I usually stayed in and did my homework like when I was at school, before I got ready for bed, and before tea-time. I often still went to bed early at 7, as I knew that pleased her too, as she could come in and say goodnight to me, and then go and relax in front of the TV. My brother thought he was too old for that when he went to bed much later.

The worst part was Fridays, as I did not finish college until 5:30, when other days it was 4. As I usually took nearly 15 to 20 minutes to get home, I would go and get ready for bed as soon as I got in. That was more from wanting to please my nanny too.

My mummy did come back to England at the start of 1972 to live when I was getting on for 17. She had come home for a short holiday each year, and out a lot so spending little time with us, and where she met a man. After coming home for good she married him shortly after. I would have preferred she did not marry, as I had always hoped she would get back with my daddy again, although he had remarried, and I had a half-brother. I was even closer to my nanny by then. My brother went to live with my mummy soon after the marriage. Although they lived in the next town about 8 miles away, my mummy and brother had to travel to the town where my nanny lived each day. My mummy for her work, and my brother for school.

I continued to live with my nanny for quite a few more months afterwards. In ways it was much nicer and quieter there without my brother. My nanny would mother me even more, and in many ways I was still more like a child when I was with her, even when I turned 17. I would still never close doors, as well as do whatever she wanted to please her. Although she could not actually see, my nanny never minded when she often caught me playing with myself under the sheet. I guess it might seem strange but apart from keeping a few secrets, never having had or needing privacy, it was not something I ever craved. Since in many ways I was still a child and lived at home, I saw I had very little to hide from my nanny no matter how old I got.

I know she did not want me to leave later that summer, when my mummy thought I should live with her, so we could be a family. In many ways my nanny still treated me more like I was her child, which I felt I was in many ways. She knew too I would have preferred to have stayed living with her given the choice. The worst part was my mummy was more bossy, and I guess with a new father it was just never the same.

Later that year while I was still 17 I met Mary for the first time. I knew she was, as well as always be very special to me the moment I looked into her eyes. In someways, we were very similar as she was soft as well as shy. Something did hold me back from ever asking her out, but we were very close and shared a special bond.

 Mid 1973 when I 18 I got engaged to a girl, but it did not last. She said she was in love with one of the few males who was my friend at the time. I gave her my blessing as there was little I could do. I then met another girl and we dated. Even then the other girl would always call me when she needed my help. No matter how late it was, and I was not at work on the railways where I worked shifts, she would always call me, as she knew I would always be there for her. For some reason she never called her boyfriend.

I had not seen Mary for a while, but when I saw her next she was pregnant. Thankfully she did not marry the boyfriend, as he was no good for her. As I found she now lived just around the corner from me, when I could on Sunday afternoons I would walk with her so far down the hill, before we would then turn to head towards the east of the town. She was going to see her nan, while I was going to see my girlfriend or going to work. Those times were special to me, especially when the baby was born. I would now push the pram with Mary at my side. Even though I had my girlfriend I wished Mary and her daughter were mine. The end of that year I lost touch with Mary as it was 1973 and I moved with the family to the town where my nanny lived.

In 1974 I got engaged but the relationship died the following year. By the end of 1974 I should add that the first girl I had got engaged to, had married my mate. She said to me afterwards that she had made a mistake, and should have married me. I never made any comment to that.

 In 1976 I dated a girl, and when she talked about seeing the vicar I bottled it. I am not proud of that knowing I hurt her really bad. Don’t get me wrong, as I often told myself that I wanted to be married by a certain age from 20 onwards.

point I saw Mary again and often visited her. Then she moved and we lost touch. Then about 1977 my brother told me some girl had called at the house that weekend and needing my help. She left no details. I had been out with my current girlfriend, but I finally found it was Mary, and that she was now living with my mate and his family who lived on the other side of town. It did hurt she slept with him, but that would never diminish what I felt for Mary. One night there was four of us including Mary and the mate she was staying with. We had gone out drinking, and afterwards in the car, Mary asked me to marry her, but there was one condition, and that was, no sex before marriage. She told me to think about it.

More than anything it was what I wanted, as Mary really was the perfect one for me. She knew how I felt about her, and I knew how she felt about me, even though we never had to say. There was a problem though, and it made me realise Mary knew me better than myself, and that was why she had made the condition. It was then I knew I could never marry Mary or any other woman, and that was because the promise I had made myself at 13. As I said that promise was embedded in my subconscious, so I could never change it, and when it came to it, I could not go against it. That promise I had made to myself was, “that I would never have children, as I would never let any child of mine suffer what I had suffered with the way my parents had treated me, as well as the bullying.” More than anything that would hurt me very bad if I was to cause any child of mine to suffer.

In 1980 I found Mary had married just before I had finished with my girlfriend of nearly 3 years. In 2010 I decided to see if I could find out how Mary was. There are reasons why I did that, but it is part of the other story. Anyway I could not find her, and worried she had died. There were rumours she was in South Africa. After things got better for me a friend I got in touch with actually managed to get Mary to contact me, as he knew I was trying to find her. Mary is in South Africa as well as remarried. We cannot say much together, because there is so much we want to say, but cannot as she has a husband. What we felt all those years ago has if anything grown, even with all the years apart. All I can hope for is that we will be together one day.

One of the best times for me was when we moved back to my nanny’s town in late 1973 although I did miss seeing Mary. My nanny and step-granddaddy moved to live near us about 3 years later. As I worked shifts I spent every morning and afternoon when I was on evenings with my nanny. I would see her during the other weeks when I could. When she needed me to, I would drive her wherever she needed to go. In ways I was still more like her child, and she treated me as such. I guess too, that as I always saw her more as my second mummy, it hit me really bad when she died in 1983.

I did have lots of girlfriends over the years, although I was not the sort who was after putting notches on the bedpost, no matter what most may have thought. It always had to mean more to me, as well as to be in a long term relationship. Most of them usually lasted between 2 to 3 years.

I guess the strange thing was that in most of the long term relationships, the women were more dominant in time. Some even changed what I wore so the clothes were not outright male. More gender neutral I guess they call it today. When one was into platforms and flares in the 70s, she dressed me the same, and always in softer colours too. Another one when I forgot my pyjamas when I stayed with her weekends at her parent’s house, even had me wearing one of her nighties, and even in front of her mum. I guess she did bully me in a way, as she would have me doing all the clearing up after meals, as well as doing all her ironing. I got on really well with her mother, and she would try and defend me. She was very much like most of my girlfriends’ mothers, as well as lots of other older women, as they all seemed to want to mother me. They seemed to like too that I was very shy, as well as always very polite.

When my girlfriend who had me wearing a nightie often, she would bathe me each time, so I would smell of perfume like her. Afterwards she would take me into the front-room where her parents were. Not that they watched as far as I know, but even while I sat facing her she would take the towel away, and dry me while I sat on the pouffe naked. She often had me wearing her clothes apart from dresses, when the 4 of us took walks through the village and out into the countryside. As I never felt the cold I would wear one of her pretty cardigans over my shoulders for her to wear later on when it got cooler. Her parents never seemed to mind, and I always did what she wanted to please her. I know I doubted I would have stopped her, if she wanted me to wear a dress, as I would often wear her pink and white striped dungarees over one of her pink or white tops.

Although I still do not like men that much, and only ever a few or more male friends over the years, I cannot say no to a man. They even seem to pick up that I am submissive as well as soft, so I will even let them do whatever they want to me. Even when some are very rough, I can never bring myself to stop them. And yes I am still weak, as well as still feel like that young boy inside, and still see myself as that sissy and fairy I was ever since I was 12 and first bullied. I also still live at home with my mummy who is a widow, and I still call her mummy, as that is what she still is to me, and still rules my life in many ways.

Name withheld by request

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About Alan Eisenberg

Alan Eisenberg is a Certified Life Coach, Bullying Recovery activist and author of "A Ladder In The Dark: My journey from bullying to self-acceptance" and "Crossing the Line". He has been writing and speaking to various audiences about the issue of C-PTSD and Bullying Recovery. Mr. Eisenberg has been featured on several print, radio shows and podcasts on this issue, including NPR and in the Boston Globe. He is currently working toward his Master's Degree in Mental Health Counseling.
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