Date: Thu, 24 Aug 2017 09:36:09 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Beaux Thibodaux 26

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/) for warnings and
copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between adult and young-adult men, some of them related to one another. Go
away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my
characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of
future stories. Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html
to keep the cum coming.

*****

"Okay, when you pull yourself together enough to walk -- and I'm telling
you it may take a minute so don't rush -- go shower and spend some time
'down there' to get the lube off. It turns sticky. And don't be surprised
if you have an urgent need to 'go' tonight. It's normal. And, um, now I
need to go take care of a very pressing personal matter of my own." Beaux
and I both looked down at my throbbing cock that was literally dripping
precum down my balls and off in a stream onto the carpet and laughed.

*****

Beaux Thibodaux 26: Appointments in Hell

Tuesday/Wednesday

By Bear Pup

*****

Even as a bottom and a lover of big, brutish, hairy guys, the image of the
beautiful Beaux's explosive anal orgasm drove my jack off fantasy that
night to a very... satisfying conclusion. I was up before Beaux and faxed
some notes over to Louise on a job that was stalled in the permitting
process for no apparent reason. She's so much better with that shit than I
am.

Beaux looked a little worse for wear when he came out and we headed to the
utility/gym room. He looked incredibly uncomfortable as he went through his
routine and I noticed he left a little lube-residue (I hope) on the
seats. I cleaned them as he watched, mortified. "Beaux, relax. Perfectly
normal until you get used to ass play. Just remember for about day
afterwards to take a towel with you and sit on that if you're naked, or
wear two pairs of undies if you're not. We can take care of it this
morning, though."

"Um, Oncle? About that? I'm, uh, not always wearing those under-drawers,
me. Is that, well, is that a bad idea?"

I laughed about as hard as my aching body let me. "No, Beaux, but you need
to know it may really increase your popularity when you start going to the
bars!" He looked at me, gobsmacked, and I laughed again.

We threw our jocks into the used pile and trooped over to my steam shower
and let it work its muscle-magic for a few minutes. I showered and told
Beaux to just sit and relax. Beaux, as was the case nine hours out of ten,
was railed again. "Okay, stand up and come over here. Wash your hair then
relax and lean up against the wall there."

He looked at me funny but did as I suggested and I started to wash him. I
did his back and legs, then his chest and belly. "Okay, I'm gonna get you
cleaned up back here. You're gonna really like it, so you wash your front
parts and get some 'relief' as I do, okay, sport?" Even from behind, his
blush was intense. It was like he suddenly had a red, diamond-shaped mantle
with corners on each shoulder, between his pecs and midway down his back.

I set the showerhead to cascade down his back and began to lather his butt
cheeks and got a startled yelp then a very embarrassed moan. When I rubbed
between those perfect orbs, the fap-fap-fap started in earnest. When I
started to wash around and eventually well into his asshole, he came up on
his toes and mewled like a kitten. I washed and rinsed a couple of times,
being sure to get at least a couple inches deep.

I damned near lost my forefinger on the final rinse as Beaux's climax hit
and his muscles locked like a vise through his cussing and screaming
orgasm. I acted like nothing had happened, praying my own blush and rampant
erection would go down before he noticed. We dried and he finally,
sheepishly, met my eye and thanked me.

We headed upstairs and made a quick breakfast (Ham & Egg on English muffins
-- all protein and carbs to prep for the Tala Torture) and then dressed. We
had about an hour before we had to be at Sparta so we decided to drive
around a little.

I took Beaux to The Plaza, the shopping gem of Kansas City and, frankly,
the region. Studded with unique and wonderful shops, at the time it was
mainly local, high-end, specialty stores. I promised to bring him back for
a day soon, as it was the first shopping experience that didn't horrify
him.

We tootled around until it was time for Tala, both of us in abject
dread. Surprisingly, it went really well. Tala was satisfied that we'd done
our exercises. His only comment to me was, "We'll work on resistance
crunches at the end of the day. You've been leaning back too far." Today
was all about the machines. We donned the clean if well-worn jocks he
provided. For the next 90 minutes, we learned more about how the human body
and the resistance machines worked than I ever really wanted to know.

The last 30 minutes were back to health. We talked diet and recounted the
meals, several of which he made minor corrections to or comments about. He
did a short-arm inspection on Beaux's cock in such a no-nonsense way that
Beaux didn't so much as blink. He checked every part of Beaux from top to
bottom, commenting occasionally on things he wanted Beaux to do
differently, foot care bring a big part of that.

His eyebrow went up when he was checking Beaux's ass and he turned Beaux
around and asked both of us, "You're using an enema?" Beaux did blush then
and I nodded, blushing even more. "Plain water?" I nodded. "Good. No more
than twice a week, and tell me if you start bottoming. It changes some of
the exercises." My eyebrows shot up. "Don't worry Faolan, yours are already
calibrated for that." I spluttered and he smiled. "Faolan, I train the
elite. Plenty of them are gay and lesbian. I don't give a fuck as long as
they follow orders and stay in shape, and tell me what I need to know."

He sent us off with a new exercise plan that he said he'd revise again
after weight-training on Thursday. We hurt far less that day than after our
original session. It was perhaps a little odd, but also made sense due to
the daily conditioning. I decided not to cook at home and instead do Lupper
(Lunch/Supper in early afternoon with a light snack for later). We drove to
a chain called Olive Garden that had recently opened in front of Metro
North mall.

[ED: For those of you not old enough to remember this, OG used to serve
exceptional Italian-American food at very reasonable prices. My how the
world changes.]

So, why a chain restaurant and not a local fave? Simple. Beaux was
absolutely addicted to hot, fresh breads, and Olive Garden's breadsticks
were some of the best. I made sure the waitress knew to bring the 'family
sized' baskets; she took one look at Beaux, sighed, and said, "I have teens
at home. I'll warn the kitchen?"

We had the salad (round one of breadsticks demolished), split some toasted
raviolis (basket 2 and the start of 3, this time with a side of alfredo for
dipping) then I had their Cannelloni which is always good and Beaux had a
new special, the Tour of Italy, with lasagna, chicken parmesan and
fettuccini. Stuffed to the gills, we skipped dessert. The final score was
Beaux 4, Breadsticks Zero. I helped; I'm pretty sure I got at least two
breadsticks in there somewhere.

When we got home, I called Eloise, Rob's wife and nurse, to see if she had
Hans' number. I could hear the smirk as she recited it to me, but she made
no comment. I called and left a message, explaining that Dr Silvers wanted
me to track down the two kids from the party and see if they'd be
interested in spending time with Beaux.

We spent the rest of a lazy afternoon in the office, Beaux doing homework
and me doing... hell, I don't know. Mainly we were desperately fighting a
Pasta Coma. We were so intent on not drowsing that we both missed the fact
it was getting dark. The phone rang, snapping me out of my trance. I was
surpised how late it was. Hans was calling and (heart fluttering) I
explained what I needed. He said he'd call me the next day with the
numbers. We did some disgusting kissy-kissy noises and then I roused Beaux
from his study-pasta-breadstick-trance. Thank God he hadn't heard the
conversation!

He headed straight for the bathroom and I waited, fidgeting, until he was
finished. Do you REALIZE how difficult it is to wait when you *know* that
someone else is pissing on the other side of a door? It's a very special
kind of torture. I actually considered contacting Reagan's School of the
Americas and suggesting it as an interrogation tactic.

Our late meal was a salad as we were both recovering from the epic Olive
Garden experience. Wednesday dawned bright, cheerful, clear and breezy,
none of which described Beaux as I reminded him over the resistance machine
that we had appointments today. We got cleaned up, ate breakfast and
dressed, giving us about an hour or so before we needed to leave for the
first stop, Evan Walsh, my attorney. Beaux put the hour to good use by
sitting at the table in my office scowling at me, arms and legs crossed and
neck practically pulled into his chest he was so mad.

We headed for the lawyer's office and Beaux's eyes got a hazy green. I
think the rich woods and glass-cased law books were too eerily reminiscent
of Judge Banks' office. Not a happy or comforting memory. "It will be fine,
Beaux, I promise. Just relax and it will be over before you know it, okay?"
I got a snort for my trouble.

A darling little secretary ushered us into Evan's office. It was always
easy to know who'd hired the secretaries: cute, bubbly and smart were
Evan's hires; big-breasted and smiley were his dad's. The days of "taking a
dip in the secretarial pool" were just ending at that point in history.

Evan came in as Bambi or Bobbi or Candi -- whatever; something
overly-cutesy with an 'I' on the end -- poured us water. He sat and pulled
my legal file out. Evan took care of all my personal and business legal
affairs except for contracts; those were done by a team of younger lawyers
who, I assumed, were chained up in the basement.

"So, what brings you in, Kevin?"

"This is my ward, Beaux Thibodaux. He recently lost his mother and
grandmother, both of whom raised him. I'm his only known relative and the
court in Louisiana gave me custody."

He leaned over the desk to shake Beaux's hand. "Good to meet you, Mr
Thibodaux. I'm Evan Walsh; please just call me Evan"

Beaux blushed a little as he shook hands, "Hello, Evan. I'm just Beaux."
Evan, though terminally straight, was also quite attractive.

"So, Kevin, what is it you want me to help you and Beaux with today?"
Beaux's brief flash of enjoyment vanished like smoke as he crossed his arms
again and just stared at me.

"I, ah, I am determined to be more than just a guardian. I want him to be
my heir if I pass and get everything other than the special bequests (Barry
and such) I already have. Add a five-million bequest to the Nature
Conservancy instead of making them the primary beneficiary. Beaux's needs
are more important to me."

Evan's eyebrows rose and his gaze flicked to Beaux and back to me. "Um, I
suggest you wait a while on that, Kevin. No offense, Beaux, but that is a
rather... major change in a very short time."

"I understand, and I am absolutely certain and have no questions at
all. It's Beaux I've needed to convince."

"I don't want this, me. I don't like talk of dying. It's bad... I don't
know the word. Luck? It's inviting bad things to happen. Tempting fate."
Beaux looked up at Evan as if daring him to contradict his perfectly sound
logic.

"Actually, Beaux, that's one of the most common things I talk about with
wills, and I don't deny it. But not being prepared is a whole lot
worse. I've seen families put out on the street when a wealthy man dies
without a will. I've known Kevin long enough to say he's not going to let
that happen." He turned to me.

"That said, such a complete and wholesale change to your estate. Especially
as this is such a recent development and even more so since he has not
reached majority. Beaux, how old are you?"

"Sixteen, sir."

"Then, Kevin, if you pass in the next roughly five years, this becomes
incredibly complicated."

"I am not taking no for an answer, Evan."

He sighed, "Yeah. I know that voice. For now, I'll make Beaux the primary
beneficiary of your estate. I'll get folks working on how to protect those
assets from the state, who would likely move to break the will since Beaux
will become its ward. If you're dead set on this, and I see that you are,
the will would be much stronger from a legal standpoint if you adopt Beaux
as your son." He looked from one of us to the other.

"Oooooookay, you've already discussed that, obviously. I'll make Beaux the
primary beneficiary as a stopgap measure and have the paperwork messengered
to your home office. I'll also get the team working on a better
solution. What else?"

"How quickly can I change the title of my house and land from 'Kevin
Faolan' to 'Kevin Faolan or Beaux Thibodaux'? That would completely bypass
the estate, correct?"

Deep sigh. "Yeah, for about a year. There's a bill in the legislature right
now that massively complicates that as well. It's in draft as Senate Bill
35. Beaux would have to have a Custodian / Conservator named, and that
person has virtually unlimited control of a minor's property. The final
wording isn't set yet, but we're hoping they allow you to name the
Custodian / Conservator. If they don't, there will be a lot of nightmare
scenarios."

"Evan," I sighed just as deeply as he had, "I know it's complicated, but I
trust you. The effect I want is that Beaux cannot, under any circumstances,
be forced out of our home and gets the bulk of my estate when I die. Let me
know when you have a plan and I'll sign it. And, um, I'll call you later. I
have some minor stuff," I shot an eye-flick toward Beaux so Evan would get
it, "that we can do on the phone."

We made our goodbyes and had about an hour before the
I-hate-that-fucking-word appointment, you know, the Tooth Nazis. It was
actually comical. Beaux's tension drained at precisely the rate mine
climbed. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, I looked like Beaux had
on the way into the lawyer's.

The little shit had the balls to oh-so-smilingly say, "It will be fine,
Kevin. Just relax and it will be over before you know it." He held the door
open for me and don't you know I was tempted to rack his balls as I went
by. Something about going to the D Word reverts me to sulky teenager.

I walked up to the counter and went to growl about our appointment and
looked up. Oh my. This absolutely delectable young man, perhaps 25, looked
up and smiled. He wasn't entirely my type, but had a nicely-muscled if thin
physique. Very, verrrrrrrry nice bulging arms, too. "Welcome to the office
of Doctors Fenders and Larson. I'm Quinn. How can I help you?"

"Um H-H-Hi. I'm uh--"

"Your name's Kevin," Beaux whispered in my ear, just loud enough for Quinn
to hear and smile. I could have decked the little fucker.

"I'm Kevin Faolan and this is Beaux Thibodaux. We have appointments with
Olivia -- I mean, Dr Fenders."

"Kevin, Beaux, please have a seat and I'll see you back when she's
free. Which one of you will go first?"

"He will."

"He will."

It was like a fucking echo. Quinn laughed delightfully and said, "I get
that a lot."

I sighed and said morosely, "I will." My confidence was not improved when a
kid, maybe ten, came out all teary-eyed followed by a rather severe-looking
mother.

"Kevin, follow me, please. Is Beaux accompanying you? It helps
some.... patients to have someone with them."

Before I could respond, Beaux chirped up. "Oh, I'm coming. I've never been
to a dentist and Kevin is going to show me. I'm there to help him be calm."
You just IMAGINE how well that phrasing sat with me. Towing an
almost-visible black cloud over my head, I grumped into the sparkling
office as the simply mouthwatering Quinn got the gown and the little paper
bib in place.

Beaux sat on one of the two chairs by the window. Even though he was partly
behind me, I could *hear* the little bastard's smirk. I spent the
leaning-back-in-dread time, what I call Dental Purgatory, devising ways
that I could arrange for Rob and Dr Silvers AND Beaux -- Oh! and Tala -- to
all meet some terrible fate.

Olivia came in, sunny and pleasant as always. She went to Beaux first, "Hi,
you must be Beaux. I'm Dr Fenders, but you can call me Olivia if it makes
you more comfortable. I understand that you have never been to a dentist?"

"No, ma'am. Where I grew up it wasn't much of an option."

"Beaux is my ward. His mother passed away in Louisiana and he's had a very
unconventional upbringing. And, yes, this will be his first-ever visit to
a, um--"

"Dentist," she stage-whispered to Beaux. "Kevin doesn't like us much."
Beaux laughed merrily and I added a fifth would-be-victim to the
list. "Don't worry. Very little of what I do today will hurt at all."

This was in the days before Dental Hygienists, and Olivia started off with
my cleaning. Giant silver monstrosities and whirring this and buzzing that
attacked me from every conceivable angle. It took at least three hours. She
kept up a running commentary for Beaux and shushed me every time I
flinched. When she was done, she had Beaux leave the room and did my
bite-wing X-Rays, then decanted me from the chair. "Beaux, your turn."

"But that was so quick! I thought it would last a lot longer."

"Nope. Cleaning is about a fifteen-minute job. Yours might be longer since
you've never been." I skulked over to the chair and glowered. When she
pulled back, she shook her head. "Your teeth are disappointingly
perfect. You've got the start of a cavity, but it's not enough to do a
filling unless I see something unexpected on the X-Rays. Kevin, can you
wait in the lobby, please? I want to do X-Rays and then take a few minutes
to teach your new ward how to brush and floss properly." She shot a
disapproving, schoolmarm look at me, "God knows you're not going to do it!"

I fled and was rewarded with the beatific smile of Quinn who very politely
took an enormous amount of money from me and offered me water or sugar-free
Kool-Aid. I declined both and just sat. Beaux was out in about ten minutes
with a sack of stuff. I knew there'd be a couple of toothbrushes,
toothpaste samples, floss, all that stuff.

Olivia had given up sending them home with me when she was over at one of
my parties and found out that I used them to stock the guest bathrooms,
never having opened one. I don't like to floss. I don't want to floss. I'm
not going to floss. I had my toothbrush and I was happy with it, and I
*like* the stripy kid-toothpaste. So there.

When we got to the car, Beaux turned and said, "I'm real sorry, Oncle. I
can right see why you don't like it. It's invasive and no fun. I don't mind
it, but I can see why others might hate it. But isn't Olivia just so nice?
And that Quinn? Me oh my, Oncle!" I smiled in spite of myself and drove
off.

I was tempted to do Braum's for lunch just out of spite (famous for ice
cream and sweet-treats in addition to luscious burgers) but decided to keep
it simple, Minsky's. We each had one of their incredible sandwiches. I had
a weakness for their Grilled Ham and Cheese, and Beaux demolished one of
their signature Minsky's. I split an order of tabbouleh with him, one of
the first dishes that Beaux flat would not eat.

Beaux happily used his new mouthwash (some terrifying red concoction) to
exorcise the ghosts of onions past. His happy-face, though, vanished when
he recalled the final appointment of the day.

"I don't want to do this, Oncle. I'm not feeling well." His traitorous
stomach growled in spite of the large lunch. "I've decided I'm not going. I
don't want to and there's no reason I have to." His chin was stuck so far
out he looked like he had a shelf at the bottom of his face.

"You know, I don't want to either." He really brightened. "Let me just pull
in and phone Dr Silvers and tell him. Help me remember, though, what he
said about this appointment? Miss it without being hospitalized or dead,
and you get no sauce, salt or seasoning until you do go? Something like
that. Wait, didn't he also say no butter, meat or cheese?"

Beaux's eyes were round as saucers. "He wouldn't really! He was just
threatening me. And you wouldn't do that, you wouldn't call him, right? And
even then, you wouldn't cut out EVERYTHING, would you?"

"You bet you ass I would. Try me. If you have me pull off instead of going
to see Dr Baskin, my *second* call will be to Barry. I'll have him go
straight to the house and take away every herb, spice, meat, cheese or
trace of flavor. Every. Single. Item." Beaux's mouth was open enough that I
could see his tonsils clearly. "Even salt, Beaux. Even *hot sauce*."

His voice quivered with a mixture of horror, rage and resignation as he
muttered, "You just keep driving, you." He turned to mournfully but bravely
watch the world go past, exactly like a martyr in a wooden cart being
hauled to the Colosseum. We pulled into the parking garage and I escorted
the condemned prisoner to an ornate wooden door with gold leaf on the
frosted windowpane proclaiming, 'Dr Julia Baskin - Licensed Sexual
Therapist - By Appointment Only'.

I reached for the handle and was a little surprised to find it unlocked. We
went into a tastefully-furnished, inviting and pleasant waiting room. I
can't really explain why I was shocked. I half expected either clinical
sterility of a modern bordello. This, though, was just an office -- and a
damned nice one to boot.

A clean-cut collegiate type with glasses looked up from what appeared to be
a textbook. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. Are you Misters Faolan and
Thibodaux? Excellent, please have a seat. Dr Baskin will be with you
shortly." He smiled at us then went back to work. Beaux and I sat
uncomfortably, which was quite a feat in the wonderfully-comfortable
chairs. The next surprise was the doctor herself.

Just as with the office, I have a very clear mental image of the person Dr
Silvers referred us to. Big and trim with a huge smile, maybe a bookish
Farrah Fawcett or a filled-out Kate Jackson, but certainly someone from
within the Charlie's Angels spectrum.  What came out to greet us was a lot
closer to a mousey-haired Tyne Daly, a bit blocky and certainly
no-nonsense, perhaps 40? She had on an immaculately-tailored suit-dress
that made the most of what she didn't have that much of.

One thing she did have was a dazzling smile. You could tell instantly that
she was a person you'd like to meet one day. "Beaux and Kevin? Can I use
your first names? I'm Julia. Come on back." Her voice was that of a
long-time smoker, a bit lower and more burlap than silk.

The office was not dissimilar to Dr Silvers, but much more... opulent is
not the right word. It wasn't over the top at all, just brilliantly
done. Understated, but elegant in a continental way. I could feel the
custom builder in me taking copious notes. Rich woods were everywhere along
with saturated but tasteful greens and reds for upholstery. She had a nice
desk of a style I didn't know, sort of like the tasteful end of Beaux-Arts.

The rest of the room was set as a very large conversation group. Two
asymmetrical settees (taller at the far end, each with a wave-like profile
to the backs), both invitingly-comfortable, faced each other across a
coffee table that seemed Edwardian but echoed the curves of the settees
perfectly without actually matching. Two large chairs like those in the
drawings of London Clubs sat with their backs to us and a very long,
curvaceous but simple sofa sat with its back against the far wall.

"Gentlemen, please, sit and relax. Would either of you like water, tea or
juice?" I took her up on the tea and Beaux fiddled with his glass of water
nervously before setting it down on the side-table between his chair and
the settee I'd chosen. All the tables were glass-covered, eliminating the
need for coasters or worries about water-rings on the antiques. And I had
no doubt, every single item was chosen with incredible care and screamed
authenticity and taste.

Julia settled opposite me and put on a very professional but pleasant
face. "Doctors Silvers and Martin have both briefed me. Beaux, first, I am
so sorry for your loss, but I am very glad you landed with a very good,
very stable man. That said, we have a lot of work we need to do."

"Why?" Beaux's voice was surly enough that I wanted to slap him; it missed
inexcusably-rude only by a matter of degrees. Julia acted as if he'd used
the voice for, 'Could you please pass the cream?' at a tea party.

"It's a fair question, Beaux. And like any annoying psych doctor, I'll
answer it with a question. Dr Silvers tells me that you are adamant that
your tastes run to men. Can you tell me the earliest age at which you
thought that might be true?"

Beaux's eyes, green and glittering, slitted. "I never saw a man up close
until two weeks ago, so it was then."

"When you masturbated before you came to live with Kevin, what did you
picture in your mind?" I thought Beaux might honestly get up and leave at
that, but he worked his jaw and looked away, taking a deep breath instead.

"I thought about how it felt, me. Why?"

"We'll get to why in a moment, but you didn't have sexual fantasies, the
way you do now, right?"

"No." Beaux was at the end of his tether and I wondered if I should say
something. The look in Julia's eyes where she shot me a quick glance told
me not to utter a word.

"Your Mama and G-Ma -- did I get that right? -- were very restrictive in
what you could read and do, right? Were they nice to you most of the time?"
I was getting seriously uncomfortable with her line of questions.

"No. I can't say they were. They didn't whip me or anything, but nice? I
can't say that they really were nice to me, or each other for that matter."

"So, Kevin here, was the first really decent person you interacted with
much?"

He turned to me and his scowl softened slightly. "Yes. I think you could
say that. Why?"

"I understand that you're not sexually attracted to Kevin, correct?"

"No!" He cussed in French under his breath. "It's not like that!" She
utterly ignored the tone and implied rebuke.

"Okay. Tell me about a few other really nice people you've met, Beaux."

"Well, I didn't like Dr Martin at first, but he is nice in the end. Hans, a
nurse from when I got lightning-struck is just the nicest man, and Barry,
the guy that cleans for Kevin is a sweetheart. Um..." he got a blush going
and stumbled a bit, "and Will Jones is very nice."

"So to answer the question, finally, of why I think we should work
together: You didn't think about being sexually attracted to anyone, male
or female, before you met Kevin, and Barry, and Hans, and Will. In your
life, Beaux, you've never really interacted with a particularly nice and
kind woman who really cared for you as you. The idea of being sexual with a
woman *has to be* horrifying, perhaps even revolting." Beaux was sitting
upright now, eyes narrowed but in interest, not disdain.

"But, Beaux, you *will* meet really nice women, really nice girls. Most
people are pretty nice. When you do, don't you think you should at least be
prepared to think about what they mean when they ask you on a date or flirt
with you? Sex is an integral part of life, Beaux, and an essential part of
communicating. Don't you think you should give yourself the tools you need
to work with both the men and the women you meet?"

Beaux sat and stared for the longest time and Julia simply sipped her
tea. "Fine. But I'm not going to like this, me!"

Her laugh was rich and bell-like, an absolute explosion of joy and good
humor. "Beaux, I am so glad you told me. From the way we've talked so far,
I never would have guessed!"

She took us on a sort of tour of what would be happening. She was sending
us home with three, two-hour videos, none of them sexual at all, but all
interviews with nice, occasionally-beautiful young women from all over the
country. What they liked and loved and loathed. Where they wanted their
lives to go. What they thought of random subjects like 'ocean waves' or
'Chinese takeout' or 'skyscrapers' or 'ice cream' or 'spiders'. Beaux and I
would watch them together.

At our next appointment, she'd start introducing us -- FUCK! Just like
Tala, another one that was going to make me go through whatever Beaux
did. I so did not want to hear about... ick. I can't even *name* those body
parts -- to female sexuality and intimacy, and eventually to erotic
imagery. "That reminds me, Kevin. How much gay porn do you own? Please
don't 'cluck' like that, it's a perfectly normal question. You're an adult
gay man with a healthy sex drive and a healthy income in the age of the VCR
and mass-market porn magazines. You either have porn or you're lying."

"I, uh, I have maybe eight to ten VHS tapes and, I don't know, make twenty
magazines?"

"Excellent, with your library of two dozen or so movies and maybe fifty or
sixty magazines, plus the about twenty erotic books you have, you can
introduce Beaux to that side of gayness as well. Kevin, you're 'clucking'
again."

At every appointment, she'd interview us separately on our reactions, then
together on topics she wanted us to think about and work on.

We were on the way home when Beaux turned to me and asked, "Do you think
she's right? That I like men because I only know men?"

"I promised to never lie to you, Beaux, but neither of us is going to like
this answer. I don't know if she's right, but I hope she is." He
gasped. "Beaux, I love being who I am and I love the sex, but being gay is
tough. Life is difficult enough without adding the bigotry and hatred of
well over half the population, and the distain of another third. If I could
wave a magic wand and make my thirteen-year-old self straight, would I do
it? I honestly don't know. But if I had to choose for you, Beaux... I love
you so very, very much and I want you to be happy, and it's so much easier
to be happy if you're straight."

"That's just wrong! It's more than wrong, it's evil, that is!"

"It is, Beaux. And I honestly believe there will come a day when gay men
can live together and no one much minds. That you can't be fired or beat up
just for being gay. Maybe, I don't know, maybe even be like real families
and have all the stuff they do like kids and inheritance and respect. But
the world we have today isn't, son, and I don't think it will be for a very
long time. There are plenty of people who say gay is a choice. If it is,
Beaux, if it really is, please choose to be straight."

He was silent a long time. "I get that, Oncle, but there's something else
we have to talk about that you said."

All I had was, "Huh?" I'd laid a massive, ugly truth on him and it was
something ELSE we had to face?"

"You just called me son again. No. Hush now, please? And... and I liked it,
Oncle. I... I want... I'd like... Can we talk about what you said all the
way back in New Orleans? I think of it every day, I even remember the
words. 'One day,' you said, 'I hope to use the word son to mean that you
really are my son, that we are a real, actual family.' Oncle, Kevin, I
think... I think I want to talk about that now."

<eof>

As you might have noticed, my error rate just plummeted. The reason is the
kindness of some folks who agreed to proofread for me. I put out a clarion
call on my mailing list and a nearly forty folks responded. I'll be asking
many of them for help on a different story since I tend to get through a
chapter every few days, and got a lot of quick responses.

While a lot of you helped, special kudos to Dustin who were marvelous and
will be appearing in future chapters for being so nice, and Jeff who caught
a lot of hard-to-find errors. Another two added tremendously to the overall
flow, Skip who is always great, and the incomparable Jim Ford (check out
his own Nifty work; you won't be disappointed). Thank you! Thank you also
to Daniel, Ronald, Peter, Nic, (the other) Jeff, Duncan and Patrick -- you
each found something that the others missed and I truly appreciate your
work.

*****

Now on Tumblr: Bear Pup -- Beyond Nifty https://orsonbearpup.tumblr.com/ -
Now including INSTA-PORN, sexual vignettes based on pictures that appear in
my feed

If you want to get mail notifying you of new postings or give me ANY
feedback that could make me a better author, e-mail me at
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
Canvas Hell: 34 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 26 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 26 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Lake Desolation: 19 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/
Culberhouse Rules: 11 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/
Raven's Claw: 9 chapters .../authoritarian/ravens-claw/
Ashes & Dust: 4 chapters .../rural/ashes-and-dust/
Maybe Next Time: 3 chapters .../authoritarian/maybe-next-time/