The answers that you get always depend on who you ask. The neurologist said that I suffered TBI, traumatic brain injury. The psychologist said that it was merely traumatized and held back by my fears and insecurities, that I was afraid to live or think or even act. My older brother said I was retarded. Oddly enough, it turns out that he was the one who was right.
My name is Simon and time is my bitch. It hasn't always been that way though.
The beginning was January 23, 2007. I was riding in a car with my parents on my way to a Mary Jo Kopernick's 10th birthday. We were still at the age when everyone went to everyones birthday parties. I had just had mine a couple weeks before. See, I was born on new years day in an odd stutter step fashion. It was never explained to me well. Mom said my head cleared briefly then seemed to roll back in and finally I came out. It made the newspapers with a nurse claiming I was both the last baby of the old year and the first of the new year.
The roads were icy and a car crossed the center line and hit us. Our car flipped over and ran into a tree. They died and I lived. When I was found I barely had a heart beat and was barely breathing. I was taken to the hospital where I slowly came around.
I didn't wake up until February 1st. Everything was different when I woke up. I couldn't describe it. Everyone seemed to scurrying around. I assumed to was lingering effects of being knocked out.
For the first couple of days it was just doctors and nurses dashing in to check my vitals I was in and out of sleep but it never seemed to be long enough. I was tired and sore and getting poked and prodded constantly.
A couple of days later my brother Kevin came in. He hadn't been in the car with us. He was 18 and working part time as a mechanic. Next year he was going to be going to be going to college to study engineering and design cars and not just repair them.
"Simon." He started with a rather high pitched voice. "Mom and dad are dead. It's just you and me." He started to cry and left the room. The nurses came in and told me I had to have physical therapy.
They wheeled me away and the impact of what my brother told me hit. The two of us were alone in the world. The therapist had me stand. I thought I was moving at a normal pace when she said, "That's okay, take your time."
I felt a little weak but managed a few steps. "Try a cane they suggested." Great, 10 years old and walking with a cane like an old fucking man. I used the cane and walked some more.
"Okay, we are going to push you a little bit. Just try to stay standing."
The gentle push felt like a mighty shove but I kept my feet. I was released from the hospital two days later. I had missed my parents funeral. It was weird going home with my brother to the empty house.
I was home for a week before I realized that something was really wrong. It felt like everything was moving too fast. I could barely understand what was going on in TV shows, it seemed like people were talking too quickly and time just flew by. It was all I could do to keep up.
I went back to school and just couldn't seem to catch up with where everyone was. Insurance provided a tutor for me for the rest of the year but it was all I could do to even keep even. It took me twice as long as everyone else just to do the homework. I was always tired and always working.
When summer finally came I felt free. I just barely escaped having to go to summer school but I was determined to try and catch back up to everyone. While everyone else was riding bikes and swimming in the city pool I was on the internet studying, trying to figure out how to keep up or even get ahead.
My one summer relaxation was baseball. I was still at the level where everyone was on the team and everyone plays. At the first practice we did sprints to first base to see how fast everyone was. The year before I was the fastest boy by a length. This year I finished behind the girls and even the one really fat kid. More tryouts and I couldn't get ahead of the ball to catch it, and I had no chance of getting a hit.
I heard the coaches talking in hushed voices about my accident. They weren't going to try to keep me off the team but they made it really clear that if I showed up to games in uniform I would have to play.
For the most part the team was okay with me being at practice. Although I was dead last they saw me trying. I was always the sweatiest and the dirtiest at the end. All of that changed when the first game rolled around. They held off putting me in, hoping the other team wouldn't notice. It was the top of the ninth and their coach scanned the bench for clean uniforms. The fat kid was sitting in the stands. Their coach spotted my shiny uniform and demanded that I be sent in.
I run at full speed out to right field, though to everyone else it looked like a slow jog. The other teams power hitter was coming up and we all moved back towards the fence. He hit the ball with a masterful precision. It wasn't the massive hit everyone expected but a half hearted tap, aimed right towards me. I ran forward as fast as I could, the first baseman was at the bag. I did my best and caught it as it was rolling. At that point the batter was on second. I threw it towards third but it didn't make it. The ball hit the ground and the batter made it home on what was my first charged error ever.
One batter popped out to third and the last was struck out, but we were going into the ninth a run down and I was third in the order. Needless to say I was the last out of the game. The team took it hard. No one took it harder than Scott.
Scott had been second fiddle to me the prior year, always a hit or two behind, an RBI or two behind, and this year with me being off my game, it was his year to shine. Of course he blamed me for the loss, like it was somehow my fault, like I intentionally sabotaged his success.
The next practice was hell. Scott beaned me with the ball and commented I should get used to it since it would be the only way I would get on base. He got the other kids to turn against me. Even the fat was getting in on the action. I tried to defend myself be the insults came flying at me so fast I couldn't respond.
My brother picked me up from practice that day. He heard the other kids screaming names at me. He finally said, "Don't stand there like a retard. Come on."
A lot of things changed that day. My brother took to calling me retard and I never played baseball again. I still loved it but I realized that I couldn't play it anymore, that may have been what hurt me the most.
It's been seven and a half years since that baseball game and a lot of things changed. My brother is now 26 and has a beer belly and a 34 year old girlfriend. His brown hair is thinning on the top. He works as a mechanic and generally hates his life. He comes home, drinks a beer or five then grabs either his girlfriend's ass or her 18 year old daughter's. He still calls me retard and blames me for ruining his life. He hates me and resents me, and honestly I don't blame him. My disability has eaten up a lot of the settlement with tutors and academic advisors. He never got the chance to go to college and he feels trapped in his life.
His girlfriend, Tiffani, as I said is 34. She has saggy B cup tits and bleached blonde hair, and I am pretty sure a meth problem. She has that odd body type with a saggy gut but pencil thin arms and legs. She looked both malnourished and overweight at the same time. She had bad skin and bad teeth and was in general repulsive. My brother let slip that she has a pussy like a shop vac.
Her daughter, Brandi, was 18 and well on her way down the same road. She was was skinny with slightly larger C cup tits, that didn't sag. She was bony as hell and a bit of a moron. It think the only reason my brother kept them around was for the sex. I have no confirmation but I am pretty sure he had some mother daughter three-ways.
Scott, my nemesis was captain of the baseball team and star of the track team. He never let a chance go by in the hall to knock me over, or trip me. He grew to be the stereotypical jock, tall broad shouldered with dark hair and eyes.
Mary Jo grew into unbelievable hotness. She had long brown hair and the deepest blue eyes and large breasts that seemed to defy gravity. Our relationship was strained though. She was popular and therefor obliged to hate me. At the same time she felt responsible for my condition. Her father, our pastor, never let her forget it. Senior year she was dating Scott and somehow managed to dodge the cliche of being the preachers kid and was in fact pure and chaste. She let it slip one day in the church youth group that Scott was pressuring her and she wanted my advice. I told her hell no.
Me, unlike everyone else, I hadn't changed much. I grew a couple of inches but at 18 years old I was only starting to get hair on my crotch. I didn't even need to shave yet. I was barely 5'5" and still skinny.
School was hell for me. I was mocked, teased and harassed. I went from a B student to just barely passing. By senior year I had been moved into the special ed classes. I had to keep an audio recorder with me to replay classes for when the teacher spoke to quickly. It was a coping mechanism. It allowed me to keep up in classes. I was given a bit of extra time on tests which almost got me through. I started running down the hallways instead of walking. That allowed me to get to class on time but since I was running as fast as I could and only keeping up with people walking the other kids just mocked me more, they said I had a goofy walk which I guess was a pretty accurate way of looking at it.
This all came to a head on my birthday, new years day. I heard my brother's girlfriend talking with him that they needed to get hold of my trust after I turned 18. They had only been able to touch part of it, but if they could get control of it after I turned 18 then they could use it freely. I knew what she meant, that they clean it out and turn it into crystal meth. Every time I tried telling that to my brother he would call me retard and say I was jealous.
New years eve I went to bed with the recorder next to my bed. Sometime after midnight, I woke up to a stirring. I knew Tiffani was up to something. I turned on the recorder and put it back on the night stand.
It wasn't Tiffani who came into my bedroom. It was Brandi.
"Hi bro. Mom told me to give you the fucking of your life. Not sure why. I think she has a plan though."
I'm slow, but not stupid. I knew her plan. Brandi fucks me, claims rape, I get jailed or institutionalized and they collect my trust as damages. It wasn't a great plan, about what Tiffani would come up with.
Brandi slid into my bed. I tried to stop her. "Brandi, get out of here! I don't want to fuck." I said this more for the recorder than for me. Brandi was hot and I would probably fuck her even if we were actually related. I knew though if we had sex I was done for.
Brandi was lying next to me, naked. I could feel her large soft breasts pushing up against me. Her hand pushed into my pajama bottoms.
"Brandi, get off me. I don't want to do this. Stop."
She didn't stop. Her hand curled around my penis and against my well I felt it stiffen.
"Oh this is going to be so much fun. I'm going to be your first, aren't I? I haven't been someone's first in a long time."
My dick was getting harder in her hand and I tried to push her off. I just couldn't do it. I was too weak.
"You must want it, otherwise you would put up more of a fight." My cock was now free and I could feel her rubbing it against her pussy.
"That feels so good, she moaned." I didn't want this to happen and really not like this but I didn't have a choice. I tried pushing her off but she was just too strong. Her pussy slid down onto my cock. I had never felt anything like it in my 18 years of life. Her pussy was warm and wet and soft. It enveloped my cock and formed around it. Every inch of my penis was being touched by her.
I felt her shaved crotch grind down against any my bare crotch. I was in ecstasy as she rose up and fell down. Her cunt was so tight and she was bouncing up and down so quickly. It was incredible what I was feeling. She came quickly and kept riding me.
"Get off me Brandi!" I shouted.
She slapped my face. I tried to push her off but couldn't because she was too strong. I felt her pussy sliding up and down on my cock. It felt so marvelous, but wrong at the same time.
"Get off of me."
She slapped me again. "I know how your brother felt the first time he did me. Your cock is so much smaller though. It's snug and cozy." She moaned and started to bounce up and down quicker. She was a blur on my cock. I felt her pussy tighten up on me.
"Fuck Simon. Kevin's never lasted half this long." She was bouncing up and down on me so hard and fast it hurt.
