- Harry AnderS -
'Born to be a King'
An inspirational fantasy
A retired psychotherapist meets a severely burnt little Gypsy boy, and takes him into his house.
Chapter 8 ended with:
"You are allowed to call me 'Dad' as long as you are with us; but, please, don't tell this to your father. Okay?"
"He isn't my father!" John answered with bitterness in his voice,
John threw his arms around my neck, and smothered my face with kisses.
Ten seconds later, little Harry claimed his share and joined our cuddle.
Chapter 9. Surfing the Internet for adoption; and an honest talk with John.
After a while, John and little Harry went to the kitchen to wash their faces and drink some water.
All the cable modem lights were blinking, and I checked and double-checked all the connections, but I couldn't establish a working Internet connection.
I surfed to a well-known search engine, and typed in 'burn injuries'...
Next, I looked for 'healing procedures' and the possibilities of 'plastic surgery'...
Now, I looked for 'adoption'; and, within seconds, hundreds of sites showed up containing at least some adoption information.
The door opened, and two happy boys with sweaty faces stumbled into the living room:
"Hi, Dad. When are we going to eat?"
"Are we going to eat again? So soon?"
"We are still growing boys, you know..."
I looked at the clock, and was shocked. I had no idea that I had been surfing through those Internet sites for more than three hours!
I spent the rest of the afternoon in front of my computer, looking for a solution that would allow me to legally become little Harry's father.
The door opened, and three happy boys with sweaty faces stumbled into the living room:
"Can Thomas eat with us, Dad? His parents aren't home, and his sister is eating with her friend..."
"Of course, Thomas MAY eat with us! However, all of you have to wash your sweaty faces and dirty hands first!"
"Can... err... may we have a quick shower? I am feeling sweaty all over..."
"Yes, of course you may. Do you know where I've put the clean towels?"
They raced upstairs, happily giggling and pushing each other.
After twenty minutes of waiting, I went upstairs, being curious about what they were doing in the shower for such a long time.
I retreated, but returned a moment later carrying a bucket of ice-cold water.
I went to my bedroom to change out of my wet clothes, closely followed by three soaked boys:
"Don't you have any more dry towels, Dad? They are all wet..."
Good heavens... Is this what a household with growing boys looks like?
"Can we... Sorry... May we have pizza tonight, Dad? We do like all kinds of them, except for those with salty anchovy fishes..."
I ordered pizzas for all of us, and the vendor told us they would be delivered within twenty minutes.
I restarted my Internet search, and discovered a small country where adoption was nearly always granted.
At nine o'clock, Thomas had to go home; and my boys entered the living room, looking tired but happy.
"I never knew it would be so easy to make new friends, Dad, even with my freaky face!"
"That's because now you are really proud of yourself!" John told him,
The boys started to zap the channels, and I went back to my computer and tried to find some more valuable information about adoptions.
"Are you going to ADOPT me, Dad?"
"Well... I'm looking at the possibilities, but it will not be easy."
"Please, Dad, I WANT you to adopt me! I want to be your REAL son..."
John leaned into me, looking at me with yearning eyes:
"Will you adopt me too, Dad? I want to be your real son too!"
"That will be even more difficult, John, because you already have a real Dad..."
"I NEVER had a real Dad!" John answered with venom in his voice,
John crawled onto my lap, and melted into me.
"I want John to be my real brother..."
Bedtime approached, and I threw a couple of soaked wet towels into the electric dryer.
At last, little Harry and I worked together, both of us pointing at the same spot and shooting at the same time...
We tidied the mess, dried each other with the by now dry towels, and went to my bedroom.
"Dad, please, may I join you and Harry in your waterbed tonight? I don't want to sleep alone..."
"Yes, Dad, that's no problem. Our bed is big enough for the three of us!" little Harry pleaded.
"Well.... I don't know... if you really want to sleep here..." I answered with some hesitancy. How would Eric react, in case he ever heard about it?
"Yippee! You are the best Dad in the world! Thank you, and I love you!"
Both boys dived under the blankets, and invitingly kept them open to me...
"Sir? Err... Sorry; I mean, Dad?"
"I like that, you calling me 'son'. I wish I could be your son for real!"
"I can't promise you anything, but I will give it a try. Okay?"
"Yes, Dad, please! I want to be your real son too!"
He melted into me even further, and kissed my cheek.
"Dad, can I... I mean, may I ask you a question?"
"Of course you may! You may always ask me anything."
"Thank you, Dad! I like that. Now I would ask you a difficult question. I wanted to know, if you... err, I mean, when you were a boy yourself, did you... you know, did you get... sort of a stiffy, sometimes? And perhaps, when you were still a small boy, did you now and then, err... sort of play with it?"
I could feel him hold his breath. Obviously, he wasn't at ease with his daring question...
"Yes, John, when I was at the start of puberty, like you are now, I used to play with myself a lot. Every boy plays with himself now and then."
He breathed out with a hissing sound, and I could feel him breeding on the next question:
"Thomas' father told him it's a sin to play with your thing; and God will punish you with aids for touching it..."
"Good Lord! No, John, the God they are talking about has created you the way you are, and the Bible tells us He saw it was good! He created sex to have fun, to enjoy the feelings, and aids has nothing to do with it. You are allowed to play with yourself every time it makes you feel good; and never listen to people who are trying to make you a sinner because you are enjoying yourself."
I could feel him gather some courage to ask me the next question:
"Thank you, Dad, I am glad to hear that. But... when you... I mean... err... you are playing with somebody else? I mean, when both of you are playing with each other?"
"There's no difference. Enjoy the feelings, have fun with each other, but always be aware of one restriction: it has to be mutual. Never abuse anybody else, or push another person to do things he or she doesn't want to do, and you will be fine. That also has to do with respecting each other."
"Thank you, Dad, and I love you. You've lifted a heavy burden off my shoulders!"
"You are welcome, son."
John draped himself along my side, trying to have as much bodily contact as he could.
"Dad? Did you ever do it? I mean, did you ever play with somebody else when you were a boy?"
"Yes, John. When I was about your age, I used to play with a friend in a barn behind our school, and he played with me. It was a wonderful feeling, and both of us enjoyed it very much."
Again, I could feel him hold his breath:
"Dad? If I'm telling you a secret, will you promise me never to relay it to anybody else?"
"Don’t you trust me, John?"
"Sorry, Dad... Of course, I know I can trust you! But, I am a bit ashamed about it...
"Every boy starts to play with himself before he has reached puberty. Some boys are starting at a very young age, and other boys are starting a bit later, but in puberty, every boy is doing it.
John heaved a deep sigh, and I could feel his hesitation:
"Dad? Are you still playing with yourself? I mean, now you're no longer a boy? I hope you will not be angry at me, for asking such a private question..."
"Yes, John. I am still playing with myself from time to time. Only, my sex-drive has diminished a lot, due to my age. In puberty and thereafter, most boys are doing it at least once a day or more, but at the age of sixty-five, I am restricted to about once a week. It's still a wonderful feeling, and I'm still loving it!"
John pushed himself up, crawled onto my stomach, and put his arms around my neck.
"Dad? Please, will you play with my stiffy? Will you help me to feel good? Please, Dad, I'm nearly exploding. I think I need it..."
I threw my arms around his trembling body, and tenderly hugged him:
"You know, son, nowadays we are living in a world that doesn't approve any more of men doing sexual things with boys. If I would do those things you're asking me for, they could send me to prison for a very long time, because they will think I've abused you, even if you wanted it yourself and did ask me for the favor. That's how our modern law works..."
"I know, Dad, they have told us about that law in school, and I've read about it on the Internet. You could get into a lot of trouble...
The next morning, I woke up with two beaming boys crawling onto my stomach, both grinning and competing for the best place.
"Hi, sleepyhead," little Harry teased me, showing little fun lights in his beautiful blue eyes,
"Hi, Dad, I love you," John tried to melt into me, showing affection in his deep brown doe-eyes,
I put my arms around my boys, kissed their foreheads, and felt on cloud nine...
We washed, donned some neat clothes, and went downstairs, all three of us giggling and pushing each other like little children.
John seemed to have a strong need to touch me whenever he could.
We savored our tasty scrambled eggs and tomatoes in silence.
We had a few minutes left before visiting Peter's shop, so I settled down on the couch.
"Dad..." John suddenly asked me, with a worried look in his eyes,
"What?" I responded with amazement, turning around to face him,
"Well... Last night, you told me that playing with each other always should be mutual, and you shouldn't push the other... But I didn't really listen, and I pushed you to do things to me..."
He looked up at me, desperately, with tears in his brown eyes...
"No, John, you were doing exactly the right thing. You did ASK me, didn't you? You didn't force me, and you didn't push me. The word 'mutual' only means that you have reached an agreement, and nothing else! And we DID reach an agreement! Do you understand what I mean?"
John let his breath go; and, slowly, the lights returned into his eyes:
"Yes, Dad, I think I understand now. Thank you, and I love you for so patiently explaining all those things to me... This morning, I was thinking about what happened, and then I started to be afraid you would be disappointed in me. I wouldn't be able to bear your rejection, after Eric's disapproval and Jack's sudden death...
He started to sob, and I took my handkerchief to let him blow his nose.
"Let it go, big brother, don't bottle it up! In a few minutes you will feel better..."
John let himself go; and he cried.
Finally, little Harry got him another packet of tissues and a glass of water, and helped him dry his eyes.
"I am such a crybaby..."
"We will buy you a couple of diapers..."
"You better buy me a couple of extra tissues..."
I tickled his ribs, and now his sun broke through completely.
"Stop, boys, I am almost wetting my pants..."
"We will buy YOU a couple of diapers!"
They let me go, with the promise to get me back later on.
"What time do we have to go to Peter's shop, to pick up my mask?"
Suddenly, we were in a tremendous hurry.
After a while, little Harry started to hum again.
"Did you and Dad do the same things you and Thomas were doing?"
"How the hell do YOU know what Thomas and I did..."
"You always keep telling me that I am very good at spying..."
"Yes, but you were asleep; and we tried not to make too much noise."
"You TRIED... but Thomas was wheezing like crazy, and you sounded like a wounded elephant!"
"Oh... well... sorry we woke you up!"
"No need for sorry. I enjoyed the show. But, did you and Dad..."
"That's none of your business. Dad explained a couple of private things to me. Did I really make a noise like an elephant with Thomas?"
"Of course not, silly. I'm only teasing you."
"Oh... You're such a dork!"
"Next time, I want to join the fun!"
I listened to their conversation, red-faced and trying to keep my eyes on the road...
Thank you for reading the next chapter of my emotional rollercoaster 'Born to be a King'.
Have a look at my OTHER story, about the same little Gypsy boy growing up in a secluded place in the Rumanian mountains; this time seen from his own point of view. You may click this link.
I would LOVE to receive your comments.