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bellamy peter panell
TW: child abuse/child sexual abuse/molestation/statutory rape, substance abuse
Tea, crumpets, the Queen, Hogwarts, driving on the left side, and being obsessed with queueing. All signs pointing to, you guessed it, Britain! Ah, Great Britain. The land of bad teeth, dry humor, indistinguishable accents, and more tea. Those are mostly stereotypes but well, some might be true. Anyway, let's get back to you and not this awful narrative.
So, your name is Bellamy Peter Panell. Your parents are named William and Lydia Panell. (Oh, God, those are such British names, I'm so sorry). I suppose you were a bit more special, however, being given a name that isn't so common and localized. You were born in a quaint, insignificant little town north of Manchester in early winter, but really, that town isn't important anymore because a month after your birth, your family packed up all of their belongings and moved to London. (Honestly, this is becoming cliché). So come wintertime, you and your small family were all moved into a nice flat in the bustling city of London. Now what caused this move you might ask? Well, get ready.... wait for it... your father got a new job! Do you hear the sarcastic fireworks? Me too.
Your father and mother adored kids and both were studying to be educators of some sort. Your mother loved the little ankle biters and taught primary school while your father taught at a university level. Well, a position opened up looking for a biology professor and your father was accepted. Go him! Finding a school for your mother to transfer to wasn't difficult so everyone gets a happy start to this story. If only this story could stay happy.
Fast forward to the first few years of your primary school. You're just a young lad, barely taller than the kitchen counters, and just as cute as a button. Your mum teaches the very young ones so you never had her as a teacher. You're around 7 and it's year 3; you just about adore your teacher, Mr. Madison. He's very nice and he gives you extra attention. He always puts smiley faces on your homework and sometimes you'll get more stickers on your tests compared to the other kids! Mr. Madison would sneak you candy during recess or snack time when the other kids weren't looking. It was easy to say that he was your favorite teacher ever and you were his favorite student. Mum and Dad loved Mr. Madison too. Mum said he had one of the best Year 3 classes in school. You felt so lucky to be his class and so lucky to be his favorite student. Mr. Madison would sometimes keep you in the classroom when the other kids were outside so you could have special alone time with him and hang out with him.
It started off normal. He'd show you new music he thought you might like, give you sweet treats, and share his favorite kids books with you. Each passing week, his seat would move closer and closer until his knee bumped against yours. He'd bump it, you'd bump him back, it was a game. Then he invited you to sit on his lap. He said you couldn't tell anyone though. It was his little secret since the other kids would get jealous. So when recess time came along, you'd sit in Mr. Madison's lap and color on his desk. His hands didn't wander the first day but after a while, his fingers would brush against your hips and his hands would slide down your legs. You thought it was weird but Mr. Madison said he was just making sure his beautiful, favorite student didn't have any scratches or bumps since you loved to play football with your schoolmates.
You felt like you could tell Mr. Madison anything in the world - you trusted him more than your own parents. So one recess, when you two were alone, you confessed something to him. "I think I like boys, Mr. Madison," you said. "What do you mean, Bellamy?" You twiddled your thumbs and looked down at your shoes, blushing. "I think I like boys like how Mummy likes Daddy." You were on the verge of tears but Mr. Madison lifted you into his lap and gave you a hug. "That's okay, Bellamy. That's completely normal. And I'll tell you a secret too. I like boys too." Your eyes widened in shock to hear your favorite teacher was just like you. "Really?" You were in disbelief but you were grinning from ear to ear. How relieved you were to hear that you were normal! These feelings you had were normal! "Yes, I do. You know, I like you, Bellamy." You blushed and smiled. Mr. Madison's kind words always made you happy. "I like you too, Mr. Madison." "You do?" You nodded fondly. "Well, can I show you how much I like you? And then you show me too?" You were confused by what he meant but you would do anything to show how much you liked Mr. Madison so you nodded again. "Good," he said and then unzipped your pants.
I don't think I need to go into any detail about what happened after that. But it continued daily. Once that bell rang for recess, Mr. Madison would have his hands cupped over your small bum and your hand would be wrapped around his hard willy, going up and down until the love cream, as Mr. Madison called it, spurted out and all over your hand. He'd clean up the mess and go on kissing you and tell you how beautiful you were. This lasted the whole school year. Eventually it would come time to enter Year 4 and Mr. Madison didn't teach Year 4 but your Mum loved him so much, he was almost always over. He was a close family friend and as the years went by, he'd come over to tutor you or even babysit when your parents wanted to have a date night. Year 3 was all about hands but now he wanted your mouth and tongue. You didn't like this. It made your body feel weird and tingly but Mr. Madison said it was normal for a growing boy to feel this way. When you hit puberty was when the real psychological trauma hit.
You were 14 and clearly old enough to be home alone but your parents were paranoid and asked Mr. Madison to watch you. As soon as that front door shut and locked, he pounced over you and held your body down on the couch. His lips trailed up your neck while he removed your clothes; his hands wandered down your slim, hairless chest to your new manhood. Mr. Madison chose to get handsy with you this time, getting you erect for the first time before flipping you onto your stomach and forcefully taking your innocence. Tears streamed down your face and you sobbed violently even though your body seemed to enjoy what was going on. He finished his business inside you and turned you over to get you off. He washed off the evidence and tucked you in where you cried yourself to sleep for the first of many nights.
The bastard was finally caught when your mother noticed the blood stained pants and took you to the hospital. Your mother sobbed hysterically and your father was throwing chairs and punching walls. You sat in the hospital bed crying because you made your parents mad and made them cry. It was your fault they were so upset. Mr. Madison was arrested later that afternoon and you never heard from him again but the chill of his touch and name still haunt you at night every once in awhile.
Perhaps the childhood trauma is what caused you to never really grow up. You never understood the whole "being responsible" thing and you preferred to live a bit recklessly. Throughout secondary school, you were constantly in detention for pulling pranks and skipping class. You failed tests and never did your homework because you would prefer to play video games or play football with your friends. Your mother urged you to act your age and stop being immature. You miraculously graduated and got accepted into an university. Although the mischievous lifestyle only seemed to get worse now that you were 18 and legal to buy whatever you wanted.
There shouldn't be any surprise to learn you burnt out your first semester as a freshman. Instead of going to class, you slept in all day because you were too busy partying the night before. Everyone always waited for you to show up at a house party because you were the life of the party. The pills seemed to always find their way in the palm of your hands and you'd wash it down with whatever bottle was near you. You would have flunked out had your father not convinced the board to give you another shot and just put you on academic probation instead. They tried to make you clean your act up but they couldn't control you anymore: you were technically an adult even if you didn't act like it. So skip to a few years of sleeping with your professors for a passing grade and cheating to the best of your abilities and congrats, you graduated university with a bachelor of arts in drama and a minor in English. Way to go, you piece of shit.
So, now what? You've just graduated from university with a useless degree. What do you do? Why, move to America, of course! At the ripe age of 22, you said farewell to your mother and father and left behind everything you've ever known for a completely strange land. Hating the weather you spent 22 years dealing with, it was time for a change so you chose to move to California. After all, there's where your degree would come in handy, right? Wrong. Los Angeles is apparently very expensive to live in and not many fresh-faced graduates land acting jobs. So, you chose to head a little bit more south and found a reasonable place down in San Diego. It wasn't long before a shady looking man took some interest in you and offered you a.... "dancing" job. You were desperate for cash and hell, you knew how to dance so why not? Well, he didn't mention the taking off your clothes part.
The first few months were downright embarrassing but you had no other way of getting cash. Eventually, you were starting to get into it and actually kind of fell in love with it. Did you ever plan on being a stripper when you were younger? Hell no, but here you are: 25 and articulately dubbed "Twinkerbell", you flaunt your, ahem, assets on that stage every night. Mum and Dad think you're a dance coach and you somewhat are: to the new recruits, but they don't need to know anything else. It's your little secret after all.
nessa ● 21 ● est
oh nessa. first of all, i want to say i'm so happy you're joining fantasies!! i was so excited to see you pop into the cbox and introduce yourself right away! that's always so wonderful to see people pop in and just mesh like you did. secondly, i wanted to say that reading bellamy's app was so sad for me. i felt so bad for him and i do wish i could help make the little pumpkin feel better. but you did a lovely job in acknowledging the lingering effects of his childhood experience and what would come of it as he went into adulthood. i can't wait to see what else you cook up for him on fantasies. please don't forget to do those claims and welcome!<3