Bacha Boys ltd

Before I start with this story, I should warn you this is a harsh story, that will upset many and possibly make some angry. It is not a sweet story about a boy finding his identity, it is a harsh story of manipulation, grooming and abuse. Now you may be asking why I am writing a story like this. The reason is that this happens in real life! There are bacha boys in some countries, mainly Afghanistan. This story is meant to highlight the problem, and shock people that even today, such a thing happens, and the world is silent about it. What you do after you read the story is up to you, but let us hope that one day, there will be action!

Now the story….

I was 12 when all this happened and let me start by saying that my life was nothing to boast about. My mom left shortly after I was born, and Dad was a lazy sod that hated work and was quite happy with the government paying unemployment, so he can sit on the sofa all the time. The flat we lived in was a disaster. It looked like a storm threw everything around. It was never cleaned or tidy. I tried cleaning a few times but gave up a half an hour when Dad just messed everything up. I don’t know why I even call him Dad, as he never spoke to me and never fed me. I would have to sneak in his wallet to see if there was money to buy food. My clothes were old. I wore mainly an old denim overall that was a hand-me-down and obviously a girl owned it, as it had lace on it and a few butterflies are sewn in. My hair was down to my shoulders because I never could have money to get it cut.

The school was a nightmare. I was teased because everyone thought I was poor and had to wear girls overall. They always asked if I had other clothes and some even asked if I was really a boy. I hardly ever said a word at school and hid during recess. It meant that I was called a lot of names and sometimes was beat up. I would cry sometimes wishing that I had a friend. I suppose I should not complain. The man at the burger stand was very nice. He always spoke to me like I was a human and he often gave me a free burger!

It was one day when I was eating a burger, I was sitting on a bench outside the Church. A fancy sports car pulled up and a man got out. He was dark and obviously a foreigner. I was more interested in the car and dreamt that one day I would own one. The man sat down beside me and started talking. This confused me as only the man in the burger stand ever spoke with me before. I listened as he spoke. He was asking questions about me. I was thinking he could be a perv and thought I was a girl. This was not true. When I had told him that I was a boy, he seemed to be more interested. He asked me about my life. I was honest and told him about home and school. The only comment he had was that I deserved a friend. He looked at his watch and said we would see each other again, and he hoped I considered him as a friend.

These words went through my head all night. The man's name was Omar, and he was 31 years old and came from Afghanistan. He hoped that I would be his friend. Why would a man want to be a friend with a 12-year-old? Something in my head said it was while at the same time it was nice speaking with someone. It was a new experience that someone wanted to be my friend. It was a good feeling and it made me smile for the first day.

The next day, I was at the burger stand. The burger man there was busy, so I just stood around. I should have been going home, but there was nothing there but Dad on a sofa. I was surprised when Omar suddenly showed up. He gave me a hug and told me he missed me. This was also a new experience. He ordered me a burger and spoke to me as I ate the burger. He told me that he really considered me a friend and he even told his family about me. In fact, he invited me for the weekend for dinner and promised me that his mother was a good cook. I smiled and accepted the invitation and finished my burger. He dragged me to the side of the burger stand and gave me some tablets. He told me that he noticed that I looked like I didn’t eat properly, and these vitamins would help, then he drove off. I put the vitamins in my pocket.

The burger man looked worried and asked me did I not find it strange that an old man wanted to be my friend. I just shrugged my shoulders and went home. Dad was of course on the sofa watching TV. He did not even say hello to me as I came in. I took one of the tablets and then it was like I was on a pink cloud and everything around me was singing a nice song. I never felt this good before. I managed to get to my bed and sat down while I looked at the ceiling moving around me and fireworks of colors. This was one powerful Vitamin.

I didn’t expect to see Omar for 3 days when I would visit his family, so I was a bit surprised when his fancy sports car pulled up next to me the next day as I was walking home from school. He invited me for a drive. It was so fun being in that car, and the roof was down as we drove out of town and sped along country roads. He was talking about how much I would like his family and he was so happy that he met me. Then he stopped at the side of the road and said we could have a serious talk. He put his hand through my hair as he talked. He said I had pretty hair and in fact, he thought I was pretty. I tensed up as he said that. In my mind, pretty was something that you said about a girl. He continued talking as I was thinking about the word pretty. He could have used the word cute and he could just say I was a good friend.

“I notice you wear a t-shirt with your overall,” he said
I just nodded
“It's warm, you do not need to wear a t-shirt. The straps over your shoulders are good enough”

The fact was I didn’t mind wearing a t-shirt. I felt comfortable with it. I would feel half naked if I just wore the overall. People would see my chest. This did not help, he kept on telling me I did not need a t-shirt. He even wanted me to take it off. I was saying no, and I was happy with it on. There was a sudden change in Omar that nearly scared me. He became quite demanding. I felt like crying when I slowly unbuckled my overall and took off my t-shirt. He smiled and asked did I feel better. I remained silent because I did not want to tell him that I did not. He told me that he did not want to see me with t-shirts on when I wore the overall. I felt as if I wanted to cry.

Omar changed the subject and said that he had a present for me. This made me smile as no one ever gave me a present before. I opened the package and could see it was Disney panties. The problem was that there were Disney princesses on them. He bought me girl panties! I did not want to make him mad, so I put them in my school bag and said thank you. Then he said he deserved a kiss because he gave me a present. I was in shock. Did he just say a kiss? Boys do kiss men! I really did not want to be stuck here in the middle of nowhere now. Everything was weird. He held a vitamin pill out for me and said I could take this. I gulped the vitamin pill down as that was better than giving a kiss. Once again, I was on a pink cloud.

The next thing I knew was that I was home in my bed at home. Today was so strange. I tried to remember what happened after the vitamin pill, but disgusting things were going through my mind. I had pictures in my mind of me sitting on his lap and kissing him. There were also pictures in my mind of him taking pictures of me as I stripped naked. The last ones were me giving him oral sex. When this went through my mind, I rushed to the bathroom and vomited. After I vomited, I went back to my room and found the panties. I threw them in my drawer.

Why were such disgusting images going through my head? Did he really make me do those things? It could not be true, as he was my friend. I walked out to the sitting room and seen Dad once again on the sofa watching sports. I really wanted to speak with him and hear what he thought, the problem was that he did not even notice me. I went back to my room and took a vitamin once again and was in another world for a while.

I was teased at school because I wore no t-shirt with my overall. My life could be no worse than it was at the time. For some reason, I spent all my spare time eating the few vitamin pills that he gave me. I also had a dilemma. I did not know if Omar molested me or not. Still, I promised to go to his family for dinner. Every bone in my body was telling me not to go.

When the weekend came, I went to Omar's house.

He had a mom and a few aunts and a lot of uncles. I did not understand a word that they said because it was in their language, it was a bit funny as it sounded that they all wanted to speak at one time. They didn’t speak, they shouted. I was a bit surprised that no one asked Omar why his friend was only 12 years old. Besides all of this, the food was great and there was so much. While they spoke, I was in my own world. I was thinking that this was what a family was like. I liked it when people spoke with each other and everyone seemed to like each other.

After dinner, we sat around the sitting room. No one really spoke with me, and I ended up sitting on Omar's lap. Others wanted me to sit on their laps, but Omar said no. I was happy about this. Once again, they were deep in a discussion that I could not understand. I did think about why I was there. Omar asked would I dance for them. When he said that, his mother told me to stand as she held a white dress in front of me. She muttered it would fit. I looked at Omar and said I did not want to dance. He smiled and said maybe next time.

I whispered in his ear saying that I had no Vitamin pills left.
“Do you really need them?” he asked
“Yes! I feel like my body is twisting and things now. They help me”

It was a bit embarrassing that everyone was listening. Omar said he had no tablets but could give me a vitamin shot. He told me to show him my arm. I hate needles, but I would do anything now. He gave me a shot. I felt this cold rush go through my veins. Afterwards, I was not on any pink cloud, but I was very giddy.

Omar sat me down again on his lap and laughed that I was giggling over nothing. He told me he wanted to tell me about some boys in Afghanistan. “Some boys in Afghanistan are not yet men and yet are very much liked by men. These boys like making men happy. They are in a way girlish and this does not bother them. These boys do not mind wearing a dress and dancing for men and making men happy. They are very special boys and we call them bacha boys.”

One of his uncles shouted Bacha Bazi.

Omar told me he wanted me to be a Bacha boy. I stopped giggling and was once again confused and in shock. Luckily it was time to go home.

The next few days was back to my normal life. Dad being a lazy sod on the sofa all the time, everyone ignoring me at school or teasing me and a life where I only had myself to speak with. There was one difference. I remember Omar's mom holding that dress against me and saying it would fit. I also remember being told about boys dressing up as girls and dancing. Omar wanted me to be one of these sissies! There was no way I was a sissy. I decided to test his theory. I found the panties he gave me and tried one with a picture of Mulan on them, I looked in the mirror and could not believe that I really looked like a girl. I also had to admit that the panties were comfortable and nice to wear. I decided to keep them on and wear panties under my clothes from now on. This did not mean I was a sissy!

I was happy that I did not need the vitamin pills. The shot worked, although I felt like my head was always fogged up and I could not think like I used to. My body started shaking after a few days and I thought I needed a new shot. It was good that I was visiting Omar again. As soon as I came to his house, I begged for the shot. He smiled and said we should eat first. So, everything was the same as the last time. After dinner and we were sitting, and they were discussing, Omar asked if I would dance. I said I did not want to as I was no sissy.

Omar became quite mad and said it was time for me to go home. I begged him for a shot, but he shoved me out the door, I never experienced him so mad.

The next few days were hell. My body was in agony. It was craving a tablet or even a shot. Not only this but boys noticed my panties at school during gym, so now everyone thought I was a sissy. They beat me up saying a sissy has long hair and wears panties. The worse thing was that I missed Omar. He was the only friend I had. I tried to ring him, but he said he had no time to talk. This meant I spent the next few days on the brink of tears all the time.

I was sitting on the steps once again when the fancy sports car pulled up. Amir got out with a pack. “I am sorry I was mad at you. I should not force you. It must be your own decision” he said, “The thing is that you are very feminine and you do not know it. That overall is a girl overall, your hair is long, and you have the cutest eyelashes that I ever did see.”

I could not argue against that. He gave me a shot and once again, my body settled down. Then he told me to think about dancing. He gave me a pack and said to let him know my answer.

When he went, I walked inside and opened the pack. It was tights and the white dress. My head was foggy and that is my excuse for trying them on. The tights were hard to put on but let me tell you my legs never felt so good. The material of the tights was hugging my legs and I felt like angels were dancing around them. The dress went down to my knees and was a bit fluffy. I looked in the mirror. Omar was right. No one could see that I was a boy! I went out to the sitting room where Dad was watching TV. I started dancing. I was a hopeless dancer and didn’t know what I was doing. It was also a bit exciting that I was dancing in front of Dad wearing a dress. It was embarrassing but exciting! The strangest thing was Dad looked at me for the first time in years and told me I was a good dancer. Then he looked at the TV again.

I wore the tights all the time after that.

I went to eat once again. It seemed like Omar still wanted to be my friend. After I was sitting on Omar's lap again and everyone was discussing in their language. At one stage, Omar asks me if I wanted to dance, I said I would for him. Before I knew what was happening, his mother took my hand and took me to a bedroom. I was standing up and three women were standing around me. One was a girl that was a small bit older than me. They were talking in their own language and started stripping me. This was so embarrassing. They only smiled when they saw I was wearing panties and tights and it was a relief that I could keep these on. They found this white dress and put it over my head. As it fell in place on me, I realized what I said yes to. They were dressing me as a sissy. Then one put my hair in a ponytail and I was told I was ready.

I was led back to the room and the men cheered. The song was “lady in red”. I was in the middle of the room and started to sway to the music. I still was not a good dancer, but it was nice being cheered on. After a bit, I didn’t mind dancing, and pretending to be a girl was not that bad. I liked getting the attention. The only thing I hated was when I came close to a man and he groped my bum. After I danced, I sat on Omar’s lap. He told me I was now a bacha boy. He gave me a shot.

I know I was confused, and in a way that shot he gave me helped me. The next few days I was confused. I didn’t care what the boys at school teased me about. I didn’t care that Dad did not notice me. I was in a daze, I had one friend that thought I should dance as a girl and when I did this, a whole bunch of people paid attention to me. Maybe it was for the wrong reason, but attention was attention and I loved it.

Omar changed after I danced the first time. He was far more demanding and expected me to do what he said. I never questioned him by this stage and just followed his orders. He wanted me to come to his house every second day and as soon as I came in the house, the woman would put girls’ clothes on me. Then I would help them serve food and later I would dance. Its like he no longer talked to me, but he spoke down to me. I never objected. In fact, once I heard him say that he owns me!

He still gave me shots, and I got more and more as I visited him more. He also gave me bags of girl clothes and expected me to dress like a girl when I was at home. I did this, and, in a few weeks, I was used to being a girl at home and at Omar's.

The dancing happened every time, and the women taught me how to dance better. I didn’t know that the moves were seductive. I just enjoyed the attention. There was one thing that I did not like. Omar would tell me to go into a bedroom where a man would treat me sexually as if I was a girl. It was pure molesting and sexual exploitation. It was embarrassing and it hurt both physically and emotionally. Omar tried to convince me that I liked it and Bacha boys made men happy. After a few weeks, I knew that he was no longer my friend and he was my pimp,

It was during one of these episodes that I was just finishing making some fat man happy and was sitting on Omar's lap after getting a shot. My head was extremely foggy, but I understood a small bit about what was being said. Omar was saying that I was now ready, and it was time he sold me to someone in Afghanistan so I would be a bacha boy there and would have a career for many years. I do not think that Omar knew what I was listening.

At home, I had no one to talk to. I needed advice. This man, who was my friend was now my pimp and he wanted to sell me and traffic me to some foreign country where a new pimp would own me, and I would have to be a girl all the time and please men. I did not want this and at the same time, I did not want the life that I had.

Omar finally told me his plan. He said I was ready. I told him I wanted to stay with him as he was my friend. He smiled and said this was out of the question. He had to find a new boy. I had a chance of being a bacha boy, but I would get a new owner and be in a new country. I would be a bacha boy all the time and sleep with men every day. If I did not want to do this, I could just go back to the life I had before.

I spent a few days thinking about this. I should have known from the start. Omar never wanted to be a friend. He wanted to prepare me for the life as a Bacha boy and make money off me. He was like the rest of the world. I had no friends and no one who liked me for the way I was. People thought I was a sissy and people like Omar knew I could make them money. What choice did I have? I could continue school and be teased and beaten up. I could live and starve with a Dad that did not even love me. I could be the way I was before.

I had two choices. I could commit suicide and end it all or agree with Omar that he could sell me.

I was to chicken to commit suicide.

I wore my white dress, with panties and tights. I kissed Dad on the cheek and told him I was leaving. I was to be a boy prostitute in a foreign country. Dad did not even answer. I walked down the street as a girl ready to meet my destiny. I noticed the burger stand was gone. As I walked down the street, an old pick up pulled up beside me. It was the burger man. He asked me to sit in the truck.

“I noticed this foreign man and you became close,” he started, “I was afraid of what was happening to you. One day when I was going home, I saw you in the window of your flat wearing this dress you are wearing now and dancing. I thought this boy must be transgendered, as you usually wear that overall. Then I had a friend that knew Omar's family and he told me everything. He told me Omar finds cute boys, pretends to be their friends, gets them addicted to drugs and at the end sells them to be prostitutes. I also spoke with your neighbour that told me about your home life.”

The burger man's name was Edward. He was not married and lived by himself. He told me he was moving to another town and wanted to take me with him. He knew me now for years and wanted to take care of me. It was my choice. I could go to Omar or be with Edward.

I chose Edward which was the best thing I ever did in my life. We reported Omar to the police and it was a national story, which was embarrassing as everyone knew what I did. Edward convinced me that I could save other boys from the same fate and no boy should be a bacha boy! I ended up telling everything I told here in court. Omar and many of his friends were now in jail for a long time.

As for me, Edward got Dad to sign adoption papers, so Edward was now officially my Dad. To be honest I do not think Dad knew what he was signing. Edward got me a whole bunch of boy’s clothes at the second-hand shop and my hair was cut. Edward loved me for who I was. He was strict and always had advice. He never abused me or hurt me in any way. I started at a new school and was not bullied or teased. I loved helping my new Dad at a new burger restaurant he opened.

The worse was that I had nightmares about being pimped out. Edward would wake up and sit by my bed and tell me that I was safe. The only thing I had with my past was that at weekends, I was his daughter. This was my idea and my choice. I felt like part of me was a girl and wanted to be a girl at times. Edward never teased me about it but got me some girl clothes, so I could be a weekend girl.

The most important thing was that I was now happy!