Foster’s Porn Story: More Than My Friend – Chapter 2

H-hello?

Mac peeked down the filthy alley warily. There was no response. All he could see was a dumpster, some old boxes and other scattered pieces of trash. No sign of anyone else. Gripping his backpack straps tightly, he cautiously entered and began to make his way through, glancing about cautiously.

Please? Anyone? Hello? Again no response, just the sounds of the rush hour traffic nearby. The boy was starting to become more anxious, his eyes never staying still as they moved about for any movement besides his own. He gulped nervously and tried once more.

Its Terrances brother, Mac! Im here! Please? Any-OOF! before he could go any further a hand seemingly came out of nowhere, grabbing Mac roughly by his shirt, lifting him up off the ground and pressing him against the wall in one swift movement.

Mac grunted in pain as he was slammed against rough brick wall, coming face-to-face with his assailant. His attacker, a grungy teenaged boy dressed in raggedy clothing, sneered angrily at Mac look through his long and tangled brown hair and then shook the boy roughly.

Youre late. He said with a growl. The little boy gave a hard gulp as he broke out into a nervous sweat.

Ben, please, Im only seven mi-AACK! Mac gasped as Ben wrapped one of his grimy hands around the boys neck, cutting him off.

Listen you little shit, you know the rules! the dirty teen snarled. When you come here, you come at the goddamn time we tell you to come here, got it? Dammit, you know I cant afford to hang around here too long, I could get caught! And if anything happens, you know whos gonna get the blame for it, right? he said with a malicious smirk.

Mac, his face beginning to turn a fine shade of purple, managed to nod weakly. With that, Ben released his grip and let the eight-year old tumble to the pavement, gasping for breath. However, Mac barely got much of a respite before he felt the sharp pain of Ben kicking him roughly in the side.

Hurry up man, whats your problem today? You know the drill! the dirty teen yelled impatiently, eyes constantly darting about nervously.

Still desperately trying to catch his breath, Mac quickly opened his backpack, taking out a wad of crumbled bills. Ben quickly snatched these from Macs hand, stuffing them into one pocket of his ragged cargo pants while removing something from another pocket.

Okay, that looks like enough, here you go, Mac. He grunted, roughly handing the boy a plastic bag filled with pure, grade-A marijuana. Mac shuddered involuntarily as he accepted the bag and quickly stuffed it into his backpack. Even after all the times he had done it before, he still never liked handling any of the goods. It just all felt so terribly wrong.

By the time he had finished zipping up, Ben had already disappeared. Typical of course. Never wanting to be caught, he always disappeared the moment the sale was complete, leaving Mac all alone in case they were ever spotted. It was all routine, of course. Nothing special, nothing that the kid could really do anything about. Rubbing a sore neck, Mac limped off in the direction of home.

While he entered his apartment building, Mac noticed that his mothers car was not in its usual space in the parking lot, meaning that she was working late again.

Crap. He thought disappointedly. Its just him and me. Oh God, here we go again.

Mac sighed painfully as he made the final march to his familys modest apartment. However, he barely had set his fingers on the doorknob when the door swung open from the inside. Mac suddenly found himself grabbed roughly by his shirt again and dragged inside, while the door was closed again with a slam. Instantly Mac felt someone rip off his backpack while he was unceremoniously tossed aside, hitting the floor with a thump.

Terrance, Macs mangy older brother for all the world resembled the missing link, dug furiously through his brothers backpack. For a few moments schoolbooks and paper rained through the air until the dirty teenager found what he was looking for.

Aha! Here we go! he cried triumphantly, pulling out the bag of weed, which he promptly opened to smell for a quick quality check.

Aw yeah, Ben my man, youve done it again! he hooted loudly in celebration. Now thats the stuff! Heh heh!

Meanwhile, while the momentary festivities went on, Mac was quickly crawling apart on the floor, trying to gather his things together and hoping desperately to remain unnoticed. If Im lucky, he thought, then Terrance will go straight to his room, and Ill be okay for the night.

Today was not his lucky day. Just as he was zipping up his bag, Macs world suddenly exploded into pain as he suddenly received a massive kick square in the stomach. With a squeal of agony he tumbled over onto his back, from where he was immediately grabbed by the shirt and for the second time that day found himself shoved against the wall like some bizarre decoration. Mac flinched involuntarily, as Terrance looked him square in the eye.

I got a phone call a few minutes ago. He scowled, sounding very disappointed. Ben says you were late.

No, Terrance, please! Mac pleaded desperately, knowing what was to come. I-I just lost track of the time, thats all! P-please! You got your stuff! L-l-leave me alone! he stuttered out.

You know the goddamn rules! Terrance bellowed, shaking Mac roughly. Why are you still getting it wrong? Its so fucking simple! Ben gets the pot, I give you the money for the pot, we tell you where to go for the pot, you meet Ben to get the pot, you get the pot and bring it right back to me. What the hell, Mac?

Terrance, please no! I-it was just a mistake! N-no! NO! Mac cried as a malicious look appeared in his older brothers eyes. Oh God, here it comes.

You know the penalty for tardiness. Remember, little bro? he said with an evil grin. Tear welled up in Macs eyes.

Pleasedontnot again

Now, as I recall, Ben says you were seven minutes late, soooooone! Terrance yelled, slapping Mac across the face.

OW! Please, Ill do better, I promise! Mac sobbed.

Two! Terrance went on, punching him in the shoulder. The sick countdown continued to go on, with every number equaling another punch, slap, or kick for Mac, until finally

Seven! Terrance bellowed, ending off with a well-aimed punch straight into Macs stomach. With that he carelessly dropped his younger brother to the floor in a sobbing bundle.

See, little bro? Now that wasnt so bad, was it? Terrance said mockingly. Mac was unable to respond, lying face down and doubled up in pain. His older brother let out a cruel laugh, bending down to speak to Mac face to face.

And remember buddy, rule number one, buddy, we dont tell anyone about any of this, got it? Not Mom, not anyone at school, not anyone of those weirdos at that freak show house, no one! Because if you do, then Ill get unhappy. And then Ben will be unhappy, all our friends will be unhappy, and youll be-

Dead meat. Mac finished in a whisper. He remembered the stupid line.

Good boy. Terrence laughed, sauntering off to his room and leaving Mac on the living room floor. With the slam of a door, all become quiet in the apartment again, only periodically broken by a little boys pained sobs.

He thought things had been bad before, when his brother was nothing but a hulking moron who enjoyed beating up him up occasionally for fun. Unfortunately, in the last few weeks, the complete unthinkable had finally occurred. Now, Terrence was a massively stoned hulking moron who enjoyed beating him up every day for fun. At first, when Mac learned about his brothers new habit, he was actually a little glad. He hoped that now his brother had become a pothead, he would now be too busy getting high to pick on Mac whenever he pleased. And things actually were that way for a bit, and in all actuality it was pretty good. Terrence would slink off somewhere to become stoned out of his mind while Mac was left unmolested to spend more time at Fosters. Of course, Mac reminded himself with a heavy sigh, things were never that easy with Terrence.

At first, Terrence himself had to go down and meet with Ben to get his pot, as his paranoid dealer friend a stickler for always wanting to do business in a secluded area but still not too far away from his own home. However though, about three weeks ago realized that he didnt need to buy his drugs himself and run the risk of getting caught. Why do that when he can have his little goody-two-shoes brother go out and retrieve his weed for him? Of course, some rules had to be set down to make sure certain little brothers didnt blab out his secret to anyone. Also of course, these were followed by the appropriate punishments for the disobedience of any of those rules.

That was basically the way things were. Since then, much of Macs life was now occupied by the same, sick routine. Once, twice, maybe three times a week, Terrence would hand him some money (where he got it from Mac refused to find out) and give him a time. Mac would then go to the same, filthy alley, where if he didnt break any of the rules, then he and the always overly-apprehensive dealer would make a relatively smooth transaction. Then, the boy would come home, his brother would take the weed off of him instantly, slither off to his room, and a few days later the whole thing would start up again. Of course, even if he didnt cause any trouble, the teens always gave Mac his usual share of punches and kicks, mainly just for the hell of it.

That was they way things were now. And the awful truth was, he couldn’t do a single thing about it. What was there that could be done? Go to Mom? No way. He knew full well that she had more than enough to do, working full time as a single parent to support her family and make ends meet. Besides, she was at work most of the time, she was never at home enough to deal with or even realize what was going on in her childrens lives. Heck, she was even to tired tonight to realize that Terrence had come to dinner high as a cloud. Could he tell anyone? His teachers? Bloo? Madame Foster? Forget about it.

From time and time again, he was reminded rather painfully what would happen if he tried to tell anyone what was going on. The bitter truth of what would happen to him was literally beaten into him almost every day. If he turned Ben in, Terrence would beat him to a bloody pulp. If he turned Terrence in, Ben would beat him to a bloody pulp. Even if managed to somehow turn both of them in, there were plenty other friends out there, of whom Mac did not know at all but was absolutely sure they all knew who he was. It wouldn’t matter if he got Terrence and his dealer friend busted, there was always the threat of those three or four other friends of Terrence out there involved in this whole little drug ring. Just a bunch of guys Mac had know idea who they were, but they would still probably hunt him down like an animal and wouldn’t think twice about torturing an eight-year-old kid. How do you turn in people you’ve never even seen before?

Simple. You don’t.

This is it. Mac realized somberly to himself. Im trapped.