Many things happened over the next few months, for one, I healed maybe better than I ever was, I discovered that there was another side to me and most important I met Tim. He was the one that found me and maybe even saved me. A middle aged man who once had a daughter, I know that because I am now living in her bedroom, sl**ping in her bed and wearing her clothes.
But lets rewind for a moment, the first thing I remember waking up is seeing Tim. He asked me my name, "Danny" I said, he introduced himself as a doctor that didn't practice anymore and now lived by himself. He told me that I was safe and didn't need to worry about anything for the moment, other than getting better. He also apologized that I was wearing his daughters nightgown and he would get me something a boy would wear. I had thanked him and fell asl**p, I did feel safe. Over the next few weeks we talked about where I was from and what he did and his life. He became a father figure I never had, he was kind and caring, he never approached me in any fashion that was considered lude and gave me my privacy, a favor I returned as well. The first couple of weeks he did examine me regularly, as a doctor would, the most painful part was when he checked my anus to make sure that I was healing well; and under his care I was.
One evening we sat in the living room after dinner and it was the first time I started to talk about what had happened the night before we met. I didn't realize it then but he had waited for me to start talking to him first, he listened as I explained. In the end, I paused and he asked me, "I think there is a little more you want to say". So I told him, "There was something about this that happened to me and I don't know how to describe it, something good". He nodded and waved his hand to go on. "If it hadn't been for the constant fear that I was going to die, I might have enjoyed some of it, I think, I dunno, I 'liked' to be handled. He was rough and disgusting and yet...
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