| Welcome to the Website of Author/Photographer J L Foster |
| Site Page - Straight |
| Straight |
| BLURB Matthew Grey is a young man almost like any other. He enjoys all the things out of life that most men enjoy. Well... all but one thing, that is. You see, Matt is a little different. Matt is what is known as a heterosexual. Yes, in this world of homosexual religious dominance, Matt is the outcast - the forbidden. He is one of the diseases of the world that his father - the Reverend Ronald Grey - and so many like him are trying to "cure." This daring new novel by J. L. Foster - author of the acclaimed "The Estranged Affair: A Love Story" - goes where few others would dare. Taking the modern day prejudices against homosexuals and throwing them in reverse, this controversial tale follows one loving young man on his journey to self-discovery, making his stand as a heterosexual in a world of gay invention. What happens when the minorities are reversed? Take a moment to live the life of a straight man and find out. EXCERPT |
| They watched from across the street – the four figures dressed all in black. In the shadows, they seemed to disappear completely, but they were still there, watching as the breeders across the street kissed – rather deeply – and parted. They held steady as the girl disappeared into the darkness, rounding a corner and beginning her route to wherever home was. A couple of cars passed by, and the figures stood silently, not wishing to draw any attention to themselves. Then, with slow steps, the male breeder began to walk, heading off down a lonely, dark street. Now, the figures followed. They followed at a pace of about fifteen or twenty feet behind him at first, turning several corners moments after he did and only quickening their speed the further he traveled down the empty, dark streets of downtown. Tossing an empty liquor bottle to the ground, one of the figures shattered the glass over the sidewalk, bent over, and picked up the most jagged piece he could find. Matt heard the glass shatter behind him, but he did not turn to see its source. Instead, he picked up his pace, walking faster and faster down the dark, deserted road. He could hear the footsteps behind him, picking up their pace as well. There were many of them, he could tell. In a frantic move, he turned right at the next corner. Here, he found himself in an alley with a large brick wall at its dead end. Matt stared at it in awe for a moment, and then he turned to head back. The sound of the footsteps was much closer now, and he could see shadows reflecting from the moonlight. The shadows grew closer and closer to him, and he found himself growing into a deep state of panic. Quietly yet quickly, he backed down the alley, hiding in the darkness by the brick wall. For a long moment, he heard nothing. The shadows were suddenly gone and the footsteps had completely disappeared. In relief, he took a deep sigh and relaxed, taking a step away from the wall. He had been crouched there for only three minutes or so, but his knees popped from the forced position he’d held. Somewhere from above him, he heard a racket. When he looked up, he saw the source of the racket – the man in black crouched atop the brick wall. The man smiled at him and offered him a nod of the head. Then, with quick force, he pounced from the wall onto him, knocking Matt to the ground. At that moment, the other three figures in black stepped out from their hiding places on the street and entered the alley slowly… one by one… until they all surrounded the man on the ground. “What the hell’s going on here?” Matt questioned, but he was afraid he already knew the answer. “We saw you on the street,” the man who had jumped him said, running a finger over Matt’s trembling cheek. “We saw you with that girl, breeder.” Oh, shit, he thought, breaking into an instant sweat. He was about to be straight bashed. “We let the chick escape,” another said, whispering into his ear. “But we’ll see her again. Don’t you worry about that.” “We’ll fix your breeder girlfriend up good,” said a third, smiling giddily. “Stay away from her,” Matt panted, only to be slapped across the face by the one figure who had not yet spoken. This was the figure that held the broken glass. “So where you heading, breeder?” the first man asked, pushing Matt back to the ground as he tried to stand. “Off to fuck more girls!” the second one hollered. His voice was English and drunken. “Is that true, straightie?” the first one asked again, pulling Matt up just a little by his jacket. “I was just…” he began, but he wasn’t allowed to speak. The first figure’s fist connected with his jaw, cracking a tooth and causing blood to spew out his mouth. Matt yelped from this, falling backwards onto the concrete ground. “You like to fuck girls?” the third man asked, kicking him in the side. “You like it? Huh? You like this?” Again, he kicked the man with the steel toe of his boot, forcing bruises to melt over his side beneath his clothes. “He’s a fuckin’ hetero,” said the second man, bluntly. “Of course he likes to fuck girls! He’s a fuckin’ demon, man! A demon!” Adding to the brutality of the third man, he, too, kicked the fallen Matt. This man’s foot landed against Matt’s nose, again drawing blood from him. For the first time, the fourth man – the one with the glass – spoke. “Maybe we should make sure the breeder learns a lesson or two… Teach him why straight simply ain’t…” And then, to Matthew’s horror, all four men were upon him, showering him with brutal punches and forceful kicks, knees to the groin and stomach and slices from the glass across his face and arms. His new coat was destroyed in a matter of moments, and the glass shredded through most of his other garments, piercing into his flesh and raising more and more blood. One eye was punched and then the other. A tooth was knocked out… another was cracked and broken in half. The only sound he could hear was the buzzing in his head, and he could no longer see the men as the ravaged over him. When he no longer felt their kicks and punches and he could no longer sense them being on top of him, he rolled onto his side in devastation and tears. His mind told him that they were gone, but his mind was a liar. They were not gone at all. They had, in fact, only stepped off to the side, long enough to grab two metal bars, a thick broken tree branch, and an abandoned baseball bat. It was a short time before they returned to Matt’s side, and when they did, they brutally finished the beating that they had started. Finally, when he no longer cried, struggled, or even seemed to breathe, the four figures stood, tossed their weapons aside, and each basher took one last swift kick to his side and gut. Then, as if by ritual, they took turns spitting on him and turned from the alley, leaving him alone to rot and, with any hope, die. |
