From: FANCHAPHAW@news.delphi.com (FANCHAPHAW@DELPHI.COM)
Subject: FAN CHA PHAW: DONNIE (man/boy)
Date: 24 Dec 1994 23:46:52 -0500
Organization: Delphi Internet Services Corporation

FAN CHA PHAW PRESENTS:
 
FROM THE ARCHIVES:
 
"DONNIE"
 
 
This story is from the archives of Fan Cha Phaw. This story might 
have appeared previously on the net, or in other publications.
 
This is an adult fiction story, which consists of sex and sexual 
scenes between men and boys, or boys and boys.
 
If this type of story offends you, or your community standards, 
exit now and do not continue reading.
 
If you are under the age of 18 (in the US), or under the age in your 
country to read such stories, exit now and do not continue reading.
 
Fan Cha Phaw does not condone the actions of the actors in this 
story. Fan Cha Phaw does not condone the breaking of any laws.
 
We can be reached at fanchaphaw@delphi.com
 
PLEASE REMEMBER that all repost requests, comments, and 
discussion belong on alt.sex.stories.d, and not on the story 
thread.
 
 
 
DONNIE
 
 
 
Donnie Dugan watched his breath fog into a cloud of steam, one 
moment alive, only to be snatched away by the chilly wind. The 
tingling, almost hot sensation, of the cold winter air bit his ears.  
To the natives it's a great climate, best of both seasons.  It has the 
vigor of cool autumn days, the chill of winter's snow, and a 
summer sun that can fry an egg on the sidewalk.  To foreigners, 
from outside Texas, it's where someone gave the earth an enema.  
Both schools of thought have merit although Donnie was 
beginning to lean toward the asshole of the earth idea.  
 
Donnie was a product of the south but his attendance at a middle 
size college and later in Seattle had opened his eyes beyond his 
small town Baptist upbringing.  He grew up on a farm, reared as 
they called it.  Folks said you raised pigs, one reared kids.  In 
watching the two he wasn't sure the distinction was that clear.  
While he was not exactly God fearing, he had been given a 
modicum of Baptist training.  He got more for his money than 
most.  Most just got preached at.  His wasn't exactly a "Road to 
Damascus" conversion but it was touching, very touching.
 
Donnie was the usual kid growing up on a southern farm.  It was a 
farm where there was always enough to eat but he still stayed on 
the skinny side.  His brown hair was home cut and unruly but it 
served to bring out a boyish look.  He wore his clothes well past 
when most kids threw their clothes away but he wasn't particularly 
conscious of being deprived.  What the hell, his friends were in 
the same shape.  His eyes were a common brown but with a more 
expressive than most.  One had only to look into his eyes to read 
his heart.  He ran a little taller than others for his age and was 
proportionate except for his privates which were the talk of the 
hospital when he was born.  If they fulfilled their potential they 
would be Boone and Crocket, real record material.  His home 
atmosphere was easy going and for the most part he was a laid 
back kid.
 
He lost his parents shortly after birth, consequentially he was 
reared by grandparents.  Kids, farms, and grandparents were a 
dime a dozen.  At twelve he hadn't heard of duplicity or hypocrisy 
but was rapidly getting an education in the idea from the local 
pastor.  Reverend Small would fondle Donnie under his choir robe 
on Sunday morning and by eleven thirty was sending everybody 
to hell.  It became a part of the Sunday morning service, get 
dressed for children's choir, then go help Reverend Small in his 
private study.  He meditated there before sending "the flock" to a 
special purgatory reserves for just about everyone.  Donnie 
wondered how it was Reverend SmallUs sucking Donnie's peter 
exempted him from damnation but why look a gift horse in the 
mouth, especially one that could take out his teeth.  
 
Donnie enjoyed the fondling.  Of course it had soon developed 
into full blown sucking with Donnie spread eagled on the 
reverends desk, choir robe over his head.  The Reverends finger in 
his butt, he could take or leave but he thought the Reverend may 
be onto something.  It was kinda' like patting your head and 
rubbing you belly all at the same time.  Fingering his butt and 
sucking him at the same time was a strain of the Reverend's 
coordination.  He found the prospects of hell disquieting but not 
terribly so, after all, the train hadn't left yet.  If he wound up there 
the Reverend would surely be waiting.
 
That Donnie enjoyed the pre-service-service could be easily seen, 
or more accurately felt.  He developed a rock hard appendage that 
would be at full attention by the time he reached Reverend Small's 
study. Pavlov would have been proud.  Penile erections and 
doggie slobber can each be anticipatory conditioning.  Spit and 
ejaculation are similar too when you think about it.  Donnie 
guessed the lump behind the zipper of his "Sunday go to meeting" 
pants were OK.  Reverend Small had a similar, if larger lump, 
which he had to rearrange before he could leave the study.  If one 
looked, as Donnie often did, you could see it as Reverend Small 
hurried to hide it behind the pulpit.  "My rod and my staff it 
comforteth me."  
 
He thought it all a wonderful mystery and then suddenly Reverend 
Small had to leave the church in a hurry.  There were little 
meetings of the deacons who whispered real secretive like and then 
no more Reverend Small.  The grown ups talked in lowered tones 
when Donnie was around them but who the hell understood 
adults.  He wished Reverend Small would come back 'cause he 
still got his "Sunday go to meeting" hard on.  
 
The new guy was dull as hell... and he didn't suck either unless he 
was sucking the little girls who now helped him meditate but he 
had a hard on later just like the other preacher.  Gradually there 
were less and less children's choir's.  He forgot the choir but the 
lumps continued with a vengeance. 
 
Donnie was aware of fucking long before he was twelve but he 
didn't know what he knew.  He lived on the farm with his 
grandparents who would have tasted shit if they ever said such a 
word as fucking.  If fucking tasted like shit the farm bull had a 
mouth full of it twenty four hours a day.  His grandparents 
weren't exactly into advanced sex education.  Therefore his 
questions about, "what was the bull doing trying to pump up old 
"Bossie" and why does the rooster ride all the hens," went mostly 
unanswered.  However, by now, he had figured out there was 
more to this than he first suspected so he began his own 
exploration of the subject.  That almost ended quite tragically, in 
his experiment with a sucking calf.
 
Who would have guessed a little calf like that would have teeth?  It 
started when he saw the calf sucking and hunching old "Bossie."  
Damn if it didn't look just like Reverend Small sucking and 
hunching him in the crotch on Sunday mornings.  Bossie would 
probably stick her hoof up his butt too if she knew how.  Donnie 
almost didn't get those damn calf teeth pried apart and his peter 
pried from between them.  When he did he hit the calf square 
between the eyes with the milking stool.  While the calf staggered 
off Donnie examined the damage.  One bent dick not to mention it 
hurt like hell.  Donnie knew when something broke, like a bone, 
you splint it so he split a joint of cane pole and taped it into place.  
Later he would get loads of compliments about how this 
wonderful knot in the middle of his dick.  **** By the following 
summer his now completely healed pecker was getting appreciably 
larger and his interest in the male species of farm animals grew 
accordingly.  Face it, not everyone can use a bull for a roll model.  
He figured the bull had a good idea so he set out to ride a cow like 
he had seen the bull do it.  It should be a snap, after all, he was 
already on his hind legs.  It was a disaster.  He had selected a 
small cow, a little brown jersey that appeared gentle enough when 
he had milked her, so he locked her head in the milking stall.  Next 
he got the milking stool and put it behind her so he could reach the 
top of her tail or more specifically the dirty spot under it. The 
droopy, floppy, sloppy split hole did not look all that inviting after 
closer inspection.  Still, science must go on and his anticipatory 
lump didn't seemed put off by the stained split under her swishing 
tail.  The stool wasn't quite high enough so he added a milk 
bucket, turned upside down.  This brought the dirty little orifice 
right level with his knotted prick, freshly liberating from his 
overalls.  He checked back toward the house before deciding to 
pull his overalls completely off.  He was now holding old 
"BossieUs" hips waiting for the pendulum tail to swing far enough 
for a jab.
 
The timing wasn't very good.  Just as he was leaning back for his 
immortal thrust the jersey spread her legs wide.  Donnie knew It 
wasn't in anticipation of his putting a smile on her face.  His 
exclamation of, "Oh Shit," was right on.  She wasn't getting ready 
for balling by "Ferdinand."  She was assuming the universal piss 
position of the female bovine.  The unsteady bucket canted off the 
three legged stool and the entire heap of stool, boy, and bucket 
was soaked by the considerable stream of the steaming jersey 
urine.  He understood first hand the expression, "splattered like a 
cow pissing on a flat rock," or in his case a flat stool.  With her 
head locked in the stall, the jersey couldn't look around to 
appreciate the catastrophe she had caused but Donnie thought he 
heard her chuckle, a moo-heh, moo-heh, moo-ha. Donnie saw the 
handle of the manure scoop and considered giving her something 
up her insulting twat to moo-heh about but decided against it.   The 
smelly warm cow piss that was all over him was a more pressing 
matter.
 
Fortunately the pond was right behind the barn.  We are not 
talking lagoon here, just a dug out clay tank with treacherously 
steep sides.  The water was as wet as most but muddy and spotted 
with floating gardens which, on closer inspection was cow patties.  
The front was sloped and it was for this he headed.  
 
   He grabbed his splattered, overalls and tried to hold his breath 
the forty yards to the pond.  Of course he couldn't but he did 
establish he was faster than stink.  Of course the problem is you 
are only faster if you keep moving.  The bank of the pond was 
slippery in the way that mud usually is but Donnie dug his toes 
into the mud for traction and leaped into the water.  He landed on 
his belly, sending tidal waves over the floating cow turds.  He had 
been holding his overalls so he tossed them on the bank to dry 
then sat on the bank beside them.  The sun warmed him and the 
mud, and was quite comfortable as he lay on the bank of the pond 
reviewing his unsuccessful attempt at playing the family bull.  The 
warm mud oozed up between his cheeks and into his crack.  He 
discovered he was gyrating his behind which produced a rather 
pleasant sensation. No wonder potty training was such a bitch.  
Slickery shit between your butt cheeks ain't half bad.  His Mr. 
Wiggly, who had gone into shock, now ventured back out and 
was staring up at him with it's one swollen eyed smile. 
 
END PART ONE
 
 
His front side was beginning to get a little hot in the sun so he 
rolled over to warm his back.  Doing so he found Mr. Wiggly, 
now a respectable four or five incher, uncomfortably jabbed onto 
the warm mud.  Seeking a more comfortable position he poked a 
hole in the soggy bank and inserted his stiff protrudance into it. 
Whether by design or accident, he found the sensation rather 
gratifying.  The gyrations returned.  It would have been truly 
magical if he had not had to stop right at the best part to add some 
water to the mud hole.  The slick clay mud was beginning to 
irritate his sensitive member.  He finally gave up on the mud hole 
idea.  He waded into waist deep water to wash the mud off his 
complaining weenie and out of the crack of his ass.  It was then he 
made his big discovery.
 
The pond water, warmed by the afternoon sun was stimulating, 
even if Donnie didn't know the word.  He began to rub the wet 
slick mud from his responding appendage.  Not bad, he thought, 
as he gripped his rigid penis and stroked it to restore it's luster.  
Long after it was clean he continued cleaning it.  Then the miracle 
occurred and he was given sudden divine insight into the bull, 
rooster, boar, and all the other male species he observed humping 
all over the farm. It was then some creature from outer space took 
over his body.  His legs went rigid.  He was tightening his butt 
and pushing Mr. Wiggly out in front of him.  One hand was 
pressing against the hollow of his thigh while the other hand beat 
the water like an attacking school of piranha.  The attack stopped 
and he found he quit breathing.  He gulped in a long breath.  The 
bull was on to something.    
 
Donnie, an intelligent lad, figured the mud was unnecessary, as 
was the hand which had been cleaning his magic wand.  His legs 
became less stiff and slowly his toes uncurled from the soft mud at 
the bottom of the pond.  Great discoveries often come by chance 
and while this didn't rank up there with penicillin, it was damn 
close.
 
Smug in his new discovery, he extracted himself from the pond 
and pulled on his overalls, nonchalantly fastening only one side.  
Even on the farm you got to show a little style now and then.  He 
strolled along the path back to the barn, reflecting on this newly 
acquired knowledge.  He still had to let Bossie lose. 
 
Donnie was barefooted.  Without thinking about it, he 
automatically side stepped the nettle bushes that made a hell of a 
whelp and itched furiously if you bumped one.  One could piss on 
the whelp and it helped stop the itching.  There are some places on 
one's body one couldn't piss (behind your ear is kinda' tough) and 
some circumstances (like on the school buss) could be a little 
awkward.  Best just avoid the nettle bushes.
 
He discarded the cow as a love object.  She was down right 
dangerous, briefly thinking about the pigs but quickly culled them 
too.  They were not much better.  He could see himself on his 
knees in the pig lot trying to corner one of the sows.  He was busy 
wishing they had a flock of sheep to flock when the unfortunate 
chicken stepped into his path.  She was not exactly a cock tease 
but damn fetching as chickens go.  She was attempting to peck a 
grasshopper but was destined to be the peckee instead of the 
pecker.  The predator became the prey.  The more fortunate 
grasshopper got away, the less fortunate chicken did not.
 
He returned to the barn with his catch under one arm and, using 
his other, climbed the wooden ladder leading to where they stored 
hay for the winter.  It was ordinary as hay lofts go, just a wood 
floor which was the ceiling from below and the exposed tin of the 
roof. The tin was held down by nails with lead heads.  The lead 
would flatten when hammered and become water tight.  You could 
see light coming through some places where the lead heads of the 
nails had come off and allowed the nails to rust.  Actually, they 
hadn't just come off.  Donnie had pried them off, then melted the 
lead to make fishing weights.  Understandably the explanation 
given to grandpa was a little different.
 
Several inches of thick straw covered the floor.  The place wasn't 
exactly a love palace, more like the motel 6 of chicken fuckers.  It 
had a dusty, musty smell now but when they stored the fresh hay 
it would smell sweet with the newly cut clover.  Into this love 
haven Donnie brought his love chicken. 
 
In the hay loft he settled down behind a couple of bales of hay.  
These were away from the wooden doors of the loft where, in 
winter hay was thrown out for the evening feeding.  The next 
seconds were somewhat awkward.  He fumbled with the hook to 
his overalls while trying to corral the distraught chicken.  She was 
becoming more distraught the more he fumbled, no doubt already 
pissed off at being snatched away from her grasshopper.
 
At last his oversized overalls dropped to the floor. Donnie stood 
there in all his juvenile glory, overalls around his feet.  His cotton 
white ass shinned brightly except for one or two spots of clay mud 
he had missed. He stepped out of one leg of his overalls and stood 
spraddled legged, a boy warrior, ravage, rape, pillage and 
plunder.  To the victor goes the spoils, including fair damsels and 
chickens.
 
His penis was in battery and pointed down range.  He now had the 
problem of aligning the barrel of the deadly weapon with his 
target.  Everything was ready.  Donnie could now devote both 
hands to his captured fowl.  Still, he wasn't "out of the woods," 
as he had to find out where to jab his tumescent weenie.  He was 
off to a good start because he knew it had to be at the back but it 
was not nearly as obvious as Bossie's twat.  That particular twat 
had winked at him enticingly from under her swishing tail.  It took 
some more seconds to find the door to the egg-plant buried among 
the shitty red feathers.  Of course, if it had been a White Leghorn 
instead of a Road Island Red the entrance would have been more 
obvious. Donnie forged ahead undaunted. 
 
At last Donnie nudged the head of his instrument into the parted 
feathers and plunged into the startled chicken.  Later, Donnie 
would learn to hold his partner lower and tilted slightly upward, 
but being the first time he didn't appreciate the potential damage of 
flailing chicken legs.  He suffered sufficient indignities to his still 
juvenile balls that he dropped the frustrated fowl.  He was unable 
to retrieve the squawking bitty as his feet became entangled in his 
overalls.  The bird jumped from the loft.  She was to large to fly, 
but was able to use her wings to bring herself to an un-lady like 
landing against the far wall.  She staggered around, addled for a 
second or two, then the enamored bird escaped, squawking out the 
back door.  Outside, she hopped around in circles while 
rearranging her ruffled feathers until satisfied she was once more 
presentable.  Since chickens don't hold grudges it was "forgive 
and forget."  She soon resumed her pursuit of the elusive 
grasshopper from which she had been so rudely interrupted, 
promptly putting Donnie out of her mind.  He was not to be that 
easily forgotten.
 
Meanwhile Donnie had picked the straw out of his crack and was 
shaking both legs, trying to get the remaining straw to fall from his 
trousers.  Donnie was not a quitter.  Once he settled on an idea his 
pursuit became somewhat intractable.  He set off after another 
chicken, after all, there is more than one fish in the sea or hen in 
the hen house.  He considered going for the gusto, one of the hens 
setting on a clutch of eggs in the chicken yard, but had second 
thoughts.  Sitting hens are rather maternal about those things and 
have a nasty pecker, the one that would have teeth if chickens had 
teeth.  He envisioned the darting red head impaling his rigid digit 
and wisely went after a less aggressive and unsuspecting New 
Hampshire Red.  It was not that Donnie was disrespectful of age 
but he figures the fat old biddy would not be as quick as a young 
pullet.  At his age, Donnie was not prejudiced.  He would 
eventually share his experience with the whole flock.
 
Returning to the loft, Donnie was now both older and wiser, well, 
mostly just wiser.  Now he not only dropped his overalls to the 
hay but stepped out of them completely, ready if need be for quick 
pursuit.  Of course it proved more practical.  He could lie on his 
back and impale the squawking chicken up and down on his 
appreciative pecker or sit up and still hammer away.  In his 
innocence he figured he could retrieve his sweetheart if she tried to 
escape.  At any rate, it wasn't necessary and with experienced 
hands he parted the stained feathers and inserted himself into the 
warmth of the egg factory.  Donnie registered surprised at the heat 
inside the hen and considered withdrawing but his petulant pecker 
adapted quickly and soon the warm chicken was quite 
comfortable.  That is, it was comfortable to Donnie.  The chicken 
seemed anything but comfortable and was looking over it's 
shoulder, or more correctly wing, with eyes that alternated 
between curiosity and downright malevolence.
 
Donnie lay back, legs spread wide, and furiously pumped the 
chicken up and down on his appreciative pole.  Closing his eyes 
he felt the approaching ecstasy.  His cheeks tightened and he thrust 
upward so "big mama" got the full benefit of his banging away.  
He wasn't sure what to call it but it was the same as when he was 
in the pond, just before he went rigid and curled his toes into the 
mud.  It was intoxicating.  It would also prove to be habit 
forming, for him.  The chickens never seemed to get the hang of 
it.  The feathers tickled his balls as he increased the tempo of the 
rising and falling chicken, which was rapidly growing both dizzy 
and seasick.  If he would have looked into her eyes he would have 
seen something close to panic.  Mother had never told her about 
anything like this.  Donnie felt himself arching his butt upward to 
add to his penetration.  
 
By this time the stricken fowl had decided enough was enough and 
in a supreme effort raised one wing and pecked Donnie smartly on 
the middle finger.  The timing was inauspicious for Donnie's 
entrapped love object as he was not about to be interrupted a 
second time.  He merely slipped his other hand around the neck of 
the struggling bird.  In fact, he choked his chicken.  It was a 
classic example of choking your chicken while choking your 
chicken.  This expression would later gain prominence among 
truckers who regularly choked their chickens at roadside pickle 
parks.  Of course this apparent paradox was lost on Donnie.  He 
was now rigid as a two by four.  The flopping chicken, now in it's 
death throes, added immensely to the cumulative affect.
 
The climax to the climax was that Donnie improved his bedroom 
manners.  The chicken population just could not support his 
"chicken choking" habit so he forcing him to modify his seductive 
approach.  In the future he did not quite throttle the birds although 
his grandmother remarked about the abnormal offset some of the 
chicken necks were getting.  One other benefit Donnie gained was 
an unbelievable quickness of foot.  Indeed, while chickens may be 
stupid, they were smart enough to run like hell when Donnie 
approached with a gleam in his eyes.  The outcome of the matter 
was that: One, the number of chickens with fractured necks 
mysteriously increased thus adding to the chicken fat in the family 
diet and: two, Donnie would star for three years in high school 
football as "Chicken Legs Dugan."
 
END PART TWO
 
Chapter Two
 
Climbing in the van for the short drive downtown, Donnie still 
shivered, his skin adjusting to the penetrating, cold, damp air.  He 
had just gotten off work, then run by the apartment to change into 
something more casual.  Suits and ties are OK, but he still 
preferred the freedom of jeans and a pull-over.  Further hampered 
him today was the heavy leather duster.  On a practical level a 
duster was quite warm.  It also gave him creditability with the local 
cowboy mentality.  He hurried, wanting to get to city hall before 
they closed for the evening.  He had only two week ends before 
Christmas to locate his little friend. 
 
The sun had melted the ice from the streets, leaving slick spots that 
would freeze again.  Cornering would be treacherous tomorrow 
morning.  Navigating the slick streets was not a big problem, 
about the same as the muddy dirt roads he had grown up on.  
There isn't enough annual ice and snow in north Texas to educate 
drivers on how to drive in that kind of weather.  They just bang 
into each other until the weather clears, sort of like real life bumper 
cars.  Insurance adjusting was a booming business this time of the 
year.  They even closed some larger businesses when it snowed.  
It made some sense, workers either called in sick or ran over each 
other on the way to work.  Strange place, Texas.  
 
Little crystals of ice formed on the windshield winning, their war 
with the defroster.  Donnie wiped a spot in the middle of the 
drivers side, giving him a view like a knot hole in a wooden fence.  
Silently  he rooted for the defroster to win.  He couldn't see shit 
behind him but he compensated by driving faster than everyone 
else.  The streets were not particularly crowded and he had only to 
contend with the few traffic lights.  The mufflers were throaty and 
somewhat loud by adult standards.  He added the "cherry bomb" 
mufflers along with duels immediately after buying the van, some 
things you just don't give up.  He liked the staccato tone of the 
glass packs, another relic of times past.  It was a tie to his youth 
and like other such ties, he would not sever it.  The automatic 
choke kept the engine revved during it's warm up cycle, which 
wasn't likely to occur before he got down town.  He guessed he 
should have used the Vet since it was already warm, but the van 
offered certain other conveniences.  One never knows when they 
may come in handy.
 
Donnie was no longer into the decibel contests that required mega-
watt amps.  Bass had become the new medium of "stereo," and he 
had added two fifteen inch woofers.  It was "in" with the younger 
crowd, besides he liked it more than he admitted.  The blasting 
Heavy Metal sounds of yester-years had destroyed his auditory 
appreciation of the high notes.  Now he listen to the woofers 
kicking out the abrupt thumps of John Fogerty.  Boys and their 
toys!  He could have added extra points with the local "cow lot" 
crowd if he listened to Clint Black or Merele Haggard but he 
preferred the tunes he grew up with.  
 
Clearance Clearwater Revival was in the middle of "Rolling on a 
River" when he curbed the van in front of city hall.  He twisted the 
rear view mirror to check his hair.  The unruly and slightly curly 
locks were windblown but he figured the wind would just blow 
them again.  Taking deep gulps of brisk winter air, he hurry 
inside, his skin shivering then welcoming the warmth of the 
office.  Nothing like Christmas in Texas.  You can stand in mud 
up to your chin and still get dust in your face.
 
Christmas is always a special season but more so for Donnie, 
because each Christmas he makes a new little friend through Toys 
for Tots.  In his town the system worked by families signing up at 
City Hall.  It was a bureaucracy like all government but he was 
smart enough to work within the system, not against it.  You really 
can't fight city hall... successfully.  When the Toy's for Tots list is 
cleared with the welfare office, the list is available for 
organizations to select families to help with toys or clothes.  
Usually it is churches and such that use the list for needy families 
but Donnie found it very helpful.  With it he located deserving 
boys to help that may otherwise be in for a dreary Christmas.  The 
list didn't give a lot of information but enough to narrow the field 
to two or three families that looked promising.
 
It was about ten minutes to closing time and the pasted on smile, 
so familiar on the faces of bureaucratic receptionists, looked both 
waxy and droopy.  That was a good sign.  If she was ready to go 
home he may not get the "cluster fuck" associated with 
government agencies and she may try to help him just to get him 
on his way.  He was not interested in idle chit chat or making the 
"tour" of "you need to see Mr. So and So."  The real problem with 
government agencies is they have you by the "cajones."  They 
have a product and you have to see them or else, so manners 
become dispensable window dressing.  When you have the only 
game in town you don't have to be polite, Hell, you don't even 
have to be there.  He wasn't real sure but he thought he might have 
an attitude about government agencies.   Screwing on his most 
charming smile, he explain to the lady how he wanted to help a 
family, and if they had children the same age as his nephews it 
would be nice as "we might have some clothes our children have 
outgrown."  This wasn't exactly true, but "What the Hell," it was 
close enough for government work.  Anyway, it served to explain 
his interest only in families with boys, a topic of growing 
sensitivity.
 
He got the "Oh, how nice to think of others at Christmas" spiel 
which is OK to hear but he had more insight into human nature 
than that.  We don't do things for other people.  We do things for 
ourselves, always.  Man is selfish.  The choices that we make are 
always those choices that bring us the most satisfaction or reduce 
the guilt of some other choice.  Doing things for other people have 
the ulterior motive of pleasing ourselves, giving one the "warm 
fuzzes," or so one can hear "Oh, how nice to think of others at 
Christmas."  Donnie knew all one's actions have a personal pay 
off or we don't do them.  Fortunately most people don't look 
beyond the surface.  This doesn't make the thing bad.  It is just 
"naive," to think we ever make a decision that isn't the preferred 
choice.
 
"Thank you.  I just want to give back to society some of the 
blessings of the year.  You know, we sometimes forget how 
fortunate we are," he tells the waxy face, continuing his award 
winning smile.  He was thinking how he would like to get on with 
it, growing impatient with the meaningless social amenities.  The 
little muscles that held up the corners of his mouth were beginning 
to ache. 
 
"Here is our list Sir.  We got it back from welfare this morning.  I 
can run you copies of any names you need if you hurry.  We are 
about to close you know," more waxy, pasty smile.
 
"Oh.  I hadn't noticed the time.  I'll scan it real quick.  I know 
how things are when it's time to go home."  The muscles 
complained further as he added a little lift to the corners.  Reading 
the list he could stop smiling.  He pushed against the inside of his 
cheeks with his tongue, stretching the muscles to stop the ache.   
Reviewing the Zeroxed forms he found three families that merited 
further study.  All were single parent families and had 
predominantly boys in the younger ages.  A Mrs. Baxter lived in 
an apartment with eleven children, nine boys, sounded like a 
bigger project than he could afford and a bit awkward for his 
purposes.  There is a Mrs. Johnson living in an apartment with a 
son Jerome, and a Mrs. Barbara Brenner that lives with her twelve 
year old son in a camper trailer behind someone's house.  He read 
it again and it clearly stated, camper trailer, that's smaller than a 
mobile home.  He had used one once when deer hunting and it had 
just enough room for a bed, sink and table to eat on, not even a 
bathroom.  Sure didn't sound adequate to live in on a full time 
basis, and two people at that.  
 
Thanking the lady for her time, he took the copies of the addresses 
of three families back to the van.  He looked at them again, then 
decided there was no time like the present to narrow the field.  
 
The windshield finally cleared. Three cheers for the defroster.  
About damn time.  Now if he could only see out the side mirrors.  
Oh well, just drive fast.
 
He drove toward Will Heights addition.  The first address was an 
apartment on Center street, Hillcrest Villa.  He found the address.  
It was much like he expected, rough and rundown.  They lived on 
the second floor.  He climbed the stairs, dodging toys and trash, 
then located 221.  It was no easy chore but he figured 221 must be 
two doors from 219, the closest door with a number.  The door 
was closed but he could see through the windows that the place 
had known better times.  The TV was much to loud for adult 
consumption suggesting the mother is not home yet.  
 
Donnie knocked a second time to be heard over the "Rap" music 
blasting from the room.  He never gained any appreciation for MC 
Hammer.  Finally  a little girl sporting a black shiny face and pig 
tails comes to the door.  Opening the door, she looked up at him 
like he came to cut off the utilities or something.  Time for another 
smile.
 
"Hi Hon.  Is your mother home?  I'm from the Toys for Tots.   
Your mother signed you up for Christmas."  By this time several 
other children had gathered around and the head count was 
considerable more than the eleven listed for Mrs. Baxter.  Oh well, 
he supposed it looks good on the ADC check.
 
"Nah.  She ain't here.  She beez at work," one of the older 
children tells him," several smaller kids in diapers hanging onto 
her arm.
 
 "O.K.  You will probably be hearing from some other people," 
Donnie told her.  "I just want to check today."  
 
The Villa apartments was only a few blocks away.  He parked in 
the rear near the entrance to the poorly kept courtyard.  The row of 
numbered doors was a help as he searched for 133, a vapor trail of 
fried chicken drifting behind him.  The woman answering the door 
was either old or a high mileage model.  She patiently listened to 
his spiel about the Toys for Tots and how he was getting an idea 
what the families needed.  Their conversation drifted to the 
children and she explained they were grandchildren that lived with 
her because of family problems but should be moving home soon.  
The girl is sixteen and the boy fourteen.  "No, they are both out 
but maybe they will be here when he comes next time."  Thanking 
the lady.  Donnie made a mental note this would not be a good 
possibility.  He looked at his watch and decided there was still 
time to check out the last one.
 
It was getting late but he wanted to meet Mrs. Brenner and her boy 
if he could find the address.  The form showed she lived on a 
street he was not familiar with but it listed a neighbor's phone for 
information.  He figured the fastest way to locate her would be 
calling for directions so he stopped at a convenience store.  He 
marveled that any pay phone still operated for a dime.  He fished 
for change, deposited it and was eventually rewarded with a 
connection.
 
END PART FOUR
 
 
A woman answered and he explains about the Toys for Tots thing 
then asked about Mrs. Brenner who gave her address as a camper 
behind the house.  "Yes, Mrs. Brenner lives there with her boy.  
Yes, she is in and no, it's not to late to come over."  She finally 
got around to giving him her address.  
 
"Yes Tmam.  I think I can find it.  I'll be right over."
 
The address took him to an older part of town, dark streets and 
generally run down.  It obviously wasn't very high on the city's 
maintenance list or else they couldn't keep street lights replaced 
fast enough.   The woman had said the last house on the street 
before it dead ends.  Donnie could make out what appeared to be 
the end of the street and the outline of a building on the right side.  
There was no street light.  As he came closer he saw the house and 
dim lights through the windows, or maybe it was light through 
dim windows, either way there was damn little light.  He parked in 
front of a frame house that was definitely in it's declining years.  
There were sags in the roof and a patchwork addition on both 
ends, no outside lights.  It was kinda' spooky.
 
He flipped off the interior light, not wanting to draw any attention 
to himself and was stepping out when the thought of dogs 
occurred to him.  Shit, just what he needed, some mongrel 
gnawing his leg off.  It seemed quiet enough to walk to the porch 
but the was a knot developing in his stomach.  He left the van door 
open just in case he had to make a hasty retreat.
 
 The front door was of the yesterday variety with two glass panes 
that hadn't seen water since put in.  Hell, he thought, they may be 
older than water.  He could make out a TV going, but otherwise 
the room appears dark inside.  Well, might as well find out what 
I'm dealing with, he decided, and knocked on the door frame.  He 
doubted he could be heard over the TV but maybe they saw him 
drive up.
 
Someone stood up from a couch and moved in front of the TV so 
Donnie guessed his knock had been heard or maybe the creaking 
boards on the porch had announced him.  Between the curtain and 
dirty window pane he could see a form growing larger as it 
approached.  It looks adult size.  The woman answering the door 
is definitely farming stock.  From her looks it must have had a 
rough day.  OK.  It's show time, he thought, big smile now.
 
"Hello. I'm Donnie Dugan and I have the name of Mrs. Brenner 
and her son from Toys for Tots.  I wanted to drop by and meet 
them.  Is Mrs. Brenner home?"
 
"Yeah, wait a minute.  Barbara!  Some man here to see you," she 
shouts toward the kitchen, retreating back to the couch and the 
blaring TV.  Crotchety old fart he was thinking as he waited for 
someone called Barbara to come from somewhere.  He couldn't 
tell much about whoever had answered the door but she wasn't the 
welcome wagon lady.  He sensed the floor vibrating.  Either she 
had a weight problem or the pier and beam was about to go.  He 
involuntarily looked behind him but it was someone walking 
through the darkened kitchen.  The strobe-like light from the TV 
showed a woman perhaps in her thirties and with a lot of wear and 
tear from what he could make out. She did not have a weight 
problem, must be the pier and beams. He guessed she must have 
had a rough life and he was a good estimator of that sort of thing.  
His estimate would prove correct.
 
"Hello.  You must be Mrs. Brenner.  I'm from Toys for Tots and 
we have your name listed, signing you up with the program for 
some assistance with Christmas this year.  I believe you have a 
son.  Maybe we can help.  May I come in?"  He wasn't sure he 
wanted to but it seemed like the thing to say.
 
"Yeah, you mean Joshua, just a minute and I'll get him," she told 
him.  Ms. Brenner was no longer attractive but had the appearance 
of having been before her trip meter turned over a couple of times.  
She probably could still be but it would require a bank loan to roll 
off some hard miles.
 
She called for "Josh" and in a few seconds a young lad came from 
either the back of the house or maybe from the camper.  He was 
average height, for twelve, slender, but not much else was 
discernible in the dim light.  From the observable conditions his 
definite impression was they could use some help.
 
 "Hi, Josh.  I'm from Toys for Tots.  You are signed up for some 
help with Christmas.  I wanted to meet you and see how I could 
help.  Look, Mrs. Brenner, I know it's late but if Josh can go out 
for a few minutes why don't we go for a malt or something.  I can 
get to know him a little and maybe get an idea what he wants or 
needs for Christmas.  We can go to the Dairy Queen and be back 
in a few minutes."
 
"Oh sure, that will be OK." That she answered with no hesitation, 
almost to fast registered with Donnie.  It was a fleeting impression 
but Donnie picked up on it.  "Josh.  Why don't you go with him 
for a malt?  You would like that wouldn't you?  Be sure and tell 
him you need a coat."
 
"OK.  That's fine Mom," Josh replied turning around.  "Let me 
see if I can find a sweater or something."  He walked toward the 
back of the house or where ever he came from.
 
"Use Tony's.  We still have to get you one," she called after him, 
giving Donnie the impression the statement was more for his 
benefit than Josh's.  The thought of Josh without a coat did have 
an affect.  Donnie had grown up without many of the extras but he 
always had a coat of some sort.  He would see Josh got a coat.
 
Josh returned and Donnie guessed it must be Tony's coat or at 
least the original owner was not Josh, unless they bought it nine 
sizes to big and he had worn it since he was five.
 
Driving to Dairy Queen, the conversation was somewhat awkward 
but having been around a lot of kids Donnie kept it going, 
selecting topics he hoped would interest Josh.  They talked about 
school and motorcycles and horses.  Donnie figured out horses 
real quick from the cowboy shirt, gaudy belt buckle and Josh's 
horrible use of English.  He spoke "red-neck," reminding Donnie 
of backwoods Arkansas and Oklahoma where English was almost 
a foreign language. 
 
Although not very talkative, Donnie learned a lot about him on the 
way for malts, some from what Josh said but more from his 
mannerisms and how he conducted himself.  He was polite but 
most unpolished.  His voice was raspy one minute then one octave 
higher the next, it was a little early at twelve unless Josh was an 
early developer.  Of course he could be twelve years and eleven 
months which would be close to average. Donnie figured he knew 
about where the boy was in his physical development.  He should 
have a fair patch of pubic hair started and his juvenile dick should 
show definite signs of growth.  He should be smooth except for 
the little bush.  Donnie was feeling an immense attraction to the 
boy that would soon be embarrassing if he didn't try to rearrange 
it.     Josh was an only boy of a rather bazaar relationship.  Much 
of this he assumed.  It came with the territory.  If things were not 
"honked up" at home Donnie wouldn't be here in the first place.  
There were many possible combinations.  Father drunk, father in 
jail, run off or something and Mom up to her chin and taking on 
water.  If she hadn't abandoned ship she soon wood.  The 
dynamics seldom changed.  They produced a mother that had to do 
something with her kid and a kid who needed loving.  Donnie 
would find out later this deal was a little more screwed than most.  
For now he seemed just another poor kid whose world revolved 
around TV, a small group of friends, and dreaming of being a 
rodeo star.
 
The Dairy Queen parking lot was almost empty when they pulled 
in.  Most of the kids hung out at the "Sonic" but Donnie 
intentionally avoided a crowd tonight.  He wanted a little more 
privacy.  At the Sonic he was too well know and a bunch of kids 
who knew him would come over to talk.  Josh might be 
uncomfortable with that.  It was a cool place to hang and he 
figured he and Josh would go there after their relationship was 
farther along.  For now the Dairy Queen would serve their 
purpose.
 
The bright neon lights shown through the windshield giving them 
a better look at each other.  Donnie saw a boy five foot or so, 
slender body and probably wiry but not skinny.  His hair looked 
dark blonde in the neon light and it was difficult to tell the exact 
shade of his blue eyes.  He was, or could be, handsome as hell.  
Instead he was trying to be a twelve year old "Marlboro" man and 
was having trouble pulling of the rugged look.  Still, he would 
make a hell of a pubertal Tom Sellek. With a little spiffin' up and 
new duds the kid would be border line bodacious.  If it worked 
out he would get a closer look tomorrow when he tried on clothes.  
Yup, this definitely was his "project" kid for Christmas and maybe 
more.
 
"Pick us out a table Josh, I'll get the malts.  I'm gonna' get 
chocolate.  What do you want?  You can have a burger or 
something to eat if you want."
 
"Yeah.  Chocolate is fine for me too.  I'm not really hungry," and 
again the delightful crackle in his voice.  Donnie smiled and like a 
mirror, Josh smiled back.  It was not a calculated smile, like 
Donnie so often used, but spontaneous and open, the kind that 
warms you up inside.
 
END PART FIVE
 
 
Waiting at the counter, Donnie glanced back to look at Josh.  He 
was sitting with his hands crossed on top the table and watching 
Donnie.  Josh grinned again when he noticed Donnie looking.  
Donnie looked away, not wanting Josh to feel he was being 
appraised, like a side of beef, but Josh's did not seem embarrassed 
at the attention.  He knew boys liked and needed adult approval 
and Josh would respond well to his attention.  He concluded 
correctly.  Josh had little contact with men in his daily routine and 
would soak up acceptance like a sponge.  
 
To be calculating is not necessarily to be cold.  Donnie was 
certainly not cold about Josh, to the contrary, quite hot, but he had 
a goal in mind and the faster he understood Josh the faster he 
would get there.  He was a good observer, adding up bits of 
information, accumulating a profile of Josh Brenner. 
 
Donnie inclination was to sit beside Josh where maybe a random 
movement would let them touch.  To Soon, so he elected to sit 
instead opposite him.  This wouldn't permit much touching but 
would let him search Josh's eyes and expressions.  Across from 
someone is more formal and in some settings, like business, 
considered confrontational but to sit beside Josh at such a small 
table would imply a familiarity they had not established.  Had it 
not been public Donnie would have chanced it but better wait.  It 
was hard.  He wanted to touch the boy.  Instead Donnie sat across 
the table but leaned toward Josh to make their conversation more 
personal.
 
Donnie was not the only one accumulating data.  Josh too was 
sizing up this man that had suddenly showed up at the door but 
with less sophistication than Donnie's more analytical assessment.  
Josh, like all kids operated on feeling, an intuitive sense of like or 
dislike, and he was drawn to the big man.  He did not question 
why someone would help a kid at Christmas.  He was gonna' 
help, the why was not important.  The guy was not like the church 
folks that wanted to exchange their gifts for you coming to church.  
He even dressed like Josh, well better of course, but still he wore 
jeans like regular folks.  He wondered how it would be to live like 
regular folks.  It was a thought he often had.  
 
Josh had more than one experience with people showing up to 
"help."  It seemed as far back as he could remember there was a 
string of people with some interest in him and his mother.  His 
mother got a check from the welfare folks which was a license to 
meddle in everything they did.  Anytime they needed something 
they had to go "begging."  He hated that.  He hated the woman at 
the welfare office that always managed to make him feel like he 
wasn't a good person because he and his mother needed help.  It 
wasn't their fault.  His mother couldn't help it if she couldn't find 
work and always wound up fired.  He also hated the men that 
hung around his mother,  he guessed they gave her money because 
she would have money sometimes and she wasn't working.    He 
envied other boys that went places with their daddies and had a 
real family, could shop at real stores and pay with real money 
instead of food stamps.
 
Josh had watched with a some envy as Donnie stood ordering the 
malts.  Some day he'd have a leather duster and ostrich boots.  
Someday he would have a money clip and pay for what ever he 
wanted.  He wondered about the man sitting down across from 
him, like the rest he guessed.  He had seen them come and go.  
They would show up each year from somewhere and take him out 
a time or two and then, when it seemed he had found a real friend, 
they stopped coming.  Now he was more cautious about showing 
his feelings.  They all had different names.  He guessed this year 
they were called Donnie.
 
"Here you go big guy," Donnie said.  "One chocolate malt.  It will 
probably have to melt some before the straw will do any good.   
Say, do you like fishing and stuff?  Maybe when it warms up we 
can try out my boat, maybe even ski some.  It's gonna' have to 
warm up a bunch to ski unless you are part Eskimo.  Have you 
fished before?"
 
"Yeah.  I go with my grandpa some," Josh replied, poking his 
straw into the malt.  Well, he's not really my grandpa but I have a 
rod and reel.  What kinda' boat you got?"   Donnie saw the shine 
in Josh's eyes he was hoping for?
 
"It's a combination bass and ski boat with a one fifty horse `Black 
Max.'  Maybe you and I can get a chance to try it out.  Tell you 
what, how about we go shopping tomorrow... get some dinner 
while we are out and talk about what we like to do.  We can look 
for a coat and get to know each other better.  I heard your mother 
say you don't have a coat yet and it's already December.  Do you 
think it will be all right with your mother?"  At this point Donnie 
was making conversation.  He knew damn well it was OK with 
"Mom."
 
"Sure," Josh replies, stirring his malt with his straw.  "I'll ask but 
I know she won't care. She lets me go 'bout anywhere and 
overnight and stuff.  I been using Tony's coat, he's my cousin, 
and he keeps wanting it back.  Sometimes I don't wear a coat to 
school but it's not to bad.   It's only cold until I can get inside the 
school.  It's really cold on the mornings I have to walk or when it 
rains."
 
 Donnie thought he caught an edge of embarrassment in Josh's 
voice or it could have been the crackle from his "in between" vocal 
cords.  Josh looked at his hands as he continued, running a 
thumbnail under the edge of his index finger.  Donnie had 
broached a subject he probably was self-conscious about, maybe 
even kidded by the kids at school.  Donnie dropped the subject but 
added it to his accumulating list of information.  It was a small 
thing perhaps but it gave him additional insight into Josh.  It 
would be a useful predictor.  Josh may act like it didn't matter but 
there was pain he tried not to let others see.
 
"Come on Josh," Donnie said as he stood up.  "I'll take you back 
home.  You have home work I bet, and I have work tomorrow.  
We don't want to worry anyone by us being out too long and it's a 
school night.  Bring your malt, we'll finish them in the car on the 
way back."  
 
"OK," Josh told him, "but you don't have to worry about nobody 
worrying."
 
The drive back was better.  Josh had loosened up and was more 
spontaneously, mostly talking about school.  Donnie still cringed 
occasionally at Joshes use of English.  It was worse than the 
worse episode of "Beverly Hillbillies."  It reminded him of a horse 
auction he had gone to.  He had gone with a friend that was 
looking for a horse for his daughter.  They had stood in the 
audience with the other buyers and he listened with astonishment.  
They almost spoke another language.
 
Their driveway was hard to see at night so they pulled across at a 
place where the ditch appeared to stop and the dirt yard start.  The 
van lights swept across a lawn mower with the motor off and 
weeds growing up through the hole in the frame.  Donnie really 
wanted to sit and talk but was reminded himself to be patient.  It 
was only their first meeting.  It could be a major mistake to move 
to fast.  You have to let them adjust to you, which for kids, is a 
sensing process rather than a thinking process.  Too much, too 
quick, becomes too scary.  
 
Josh's mother was watching TV when they walked in and got up 
to meet them just inside the door.  Donnie asked about him and 
Josh going shopping the next evening.  She quickly agreed to the 
shopping trip and again the impression she was pushing the boy 
off.  Donnie made a mental note.  Most mothers are more guarded, 
more protective.  It was agreed Donnie would pick him up after 
school, around five o'clock.  The entire arrangement at the 
BrennerUs seemed strange.  Donnie was hard pressed to put a 
finger on it, nothing he could see, more like a premonition.  
 
OK time to go, Donnie thought.  Not much else I can do tonight.  
I'd better do a nice guy routine.  "Mrs. Brenner it certainly was 
nice meeting you and Josh.  It's always sad to see such nice 
people down on their luck.  Maybe the new year will be more 
prosperous for you.  How would it be if I get him around five 
tomorrow?".  
 
"Oh that's just right," she beamed.  "He will have time to come in 
and clean up."  She was pleasant enough, not very talkative, 
which suited the hell out of Donnie.  As he turned to leave she told 
Josh to "walk him to the car so he wouldn't step in any holes."  
Donnie figured they had progressed along enough to put his arm 
around the boy.  In fact he had the definite feeling not only that 
"Mom" was watching but approving.
 
Driving back to the apartment Donnie reviewed the evening with 
satisfaction.  Three possibilities had been narrowed to one.  Josh 
was his Christmas project.  It was obvious the boy needed some 
help with Christmas.  Josh hadn't mention any men except a 
grandpa but that conclusion was tenuous since it wasn't even clear 
who was family.  There was the mother, some other woman and 
grandpa.  Irregardless, Josh did not have a father figure and there 
are times when a boy needs a man to talk to.   Donnie figured he 
could help in that department. Living in a camper trailer was a 
strange arrangement too.  Why not live in the house?  Tomorrow 
should be interesting.  Between shopping and eating dinner he 
planned putting some of this together.  
 
At the edge of sleep that night, where things are surreal, a wispy 
puzzle of Josh drifted together in various combinations, reaching 
out to him. Id was very creative.
 
END PART SIX
 
 
Josh too had a maze of thoughts free-falling through his mind.  He 
really liked the man that took him for a malt.  He would probably 
be like the rest, gone faster than the Christmas candy they always 
gave him, but Josh could not help the hoping.  The men first 
started coming when he was real little.  Some came once, others 
several times but after Christmas they were the same.  They never 
came back.  Now, he no longer expected them to come back, but 
the little hope would not die.
 
Josh slept with his mother.  There was only one bed in the camper 
so he guessed it made sense.  He had slept with her as long as he 
could remember and was only aware it was different when a friend 
teased him about it.  He learned not to let anyone know, especially 
his friends, but he felt a sense of comfort with someone in bed 
with him.  He slept naked and that too was as long as he could 
remember.  He learned to leave his underwear on if he slept over.  
He liked naked better. 
 
The bad dreams didn't come as frequently but they would still 
wake him up sometimes.  He knew monsters in your dreams can't 
hurt you but you only know that when you are awake.  They were 
mostly the same, Freddie Kruger types chasing him and he hid, 
usually in a cave but always somewhere dark.  He would stay 
there, in the dark until his father rescued him.  It was always his 
father rescuing him but not always the same man.  Sometimes it 
was a coach at school he liked a lot.  Sometimes it was a stranger 
that had been nice to him.  In his dream he would become more 
and more terrified until he was rescued or woke up choking with 
fright, usually finding he had wet the bed.  It didn't seem to 
happen as much as it used to.  At least the bed-wetting part.  
 
He had never had one, a dad that is, not a real one that lived at 
home, but sometimes he imagined he did.  Supposedly his dad 
lived up north but it wasn't his dad.  I mean he didn't fuck Josh's 
mother and make Josh.  He just fucked her and agreed to get his 
name on the birth certificate.  His real father was his uncle which 
explained why they lived with his grandmother.  But his real father 
didn't want him 'cause he was married and had children he really 
wanted.  Joshua was just a fuck that got screwed up.
 
Chapter Three
 
There was an unusual amount of things to take care of at the office 
but there always was when you are trying to get on to better and 
more exciting things.  It was his own office and his own business 
but Donnie was aggressive and did not put off work that was 
waiting to be done.  Finally Donnie was loosening his tie on his 
way out the door  He asked Janet to lock up then stepped outside.  
The afternoon sun had warmed the pavement and only little 
puddles told the recent rain and ice.  Donnie had driven the van to 
work so, when he picked Josh up, it should be warm.  He stayed 
at the apartment only long enough to change out of the tie and grab 
a casual jacket.  
 
Josh's house by day was as depressing as by night, maybe more 
so.  There were weeds over most of the yard, at least where they 
weren't worn away to dirt and mud.  It was an old house, hard to 
date, but probably older than Donnie and not nearly as well 
preserved.  It had the structure of houses built during the 
depression, long open porch across the front supported by posts 
and a roof with a sag like a swayback horse.  The remnants of a 
couple of old cars stuck up above the weeds behind the house.  A 
garage or shed was stuck off to one side.  It wasn't the age of the 
house that struck him as much as the obvious lack of concern of its 
dwellers, either folks who had given up pride in their person or 
whipped down by society to the point of not really giving a shit.  
 
 Donnie has seen it many times and suspected Josh's perspective 
of the world was like the rat trying to keep from drowning.  It's 
hard to remember you came to drain the swamp when you are up 
to your ass in alligators and the little guy was definitely up to his 
ass in alligators.
 
In the light Donnie noticed a part of the ditch did have a culvert 
with some dirt pulled across it.  He hesitated before pulling into 
the muddy driveway then decided to pull only part way in, leaving 
the rear tires on the gravel.  Stepping from the truck he picked his 
way across the puddles.  Once on the porch he noticed mud on his 
shoes and stomped it off before knocking.  Knocking really 
wasn't necessary.  His stomping should have got everyone's 
attention.
 
The door opened immediately and he put on his best smile again.  
"Hello.  I'm Donnie Dugan.  I came by last night and Josh and I 
went for a malt.  We were going shopping this evening.  Do you 
know if he is ready?"
 
The woman at the door was old and weather cracked, definitely 
grandma material.  She either didn't have or didn't believe in false 
teeth. The inward gaping orifice under her nose looked vaguely 
familiar and it took him a couple seconds to place it.  It had been 
under the tail of a jersey cow, his first love.  He wasn't sure what 
he expected, but it was some response instead of the blank 
expression.  He started to repeat himself, thinking he had not 
registered, when she mumbled something and went away.  He 
decided her barrel was a pickle short.  Not invited in, he waited by 
the door.  Someone called out for Josh and Donnie could feel the 
floor vibrating again.
 
Donnie stepped back as the door opened and Josh came out on the 
porch.  Donnie's smile was genuine as he greeted him.  The boy 
looked great.  His clothes were well worn but clean and he had 
tried to shine his old boots.  He wasn't crazy about the cowboy hat 
but he looked super in his jeans and cowboy shirt.  Josh returned 
the smile and some curls of blonde hair were visible from under 
the hat.  Josh certainly gave the expression, "good enough to eat 
new meaning."  Instead he suggested Josh tuck in his shirt tail, 
trying not to show undue interest as the big cowboy belt buckle 
unhooked, and he flopped open the top of his Levis.  His shirt tail 
tucked in, Josh pulled the belt back together and hooked it, 
looking up at Donnie for approval.  "Hey much better Big Guy," 
Donnie told him.  "You really look slick today."
 
"I tried to shine my boots," Josh said, "but they just won't take 
any polish.  Grandma had washed my pants and shirt but I ironed 
them just before you got here."
 
 "Come on," Donnie told him, walking toward the Van. "Let's go 
shopping and get something to eat while we are out.  Anybody that 
looks as good as we do needs to be seen. What do you want to do 
first, shop or eat?"
 
Josh waited until he had climbed into the other side before 
replying.  "Let's go shopping first.  I don't usually eat supper this 
early.  Where are we gonna' go?"   "I know where there is an 
outlet for Lee jeans and shirts, lot of cowboy stuff.  Lets go there 
first and see what they have.  We can probably find what we want.  
They have all sort of western stuff.  I figure that's what you like.  
Looks like your hat needs steaming and blocking.  They do that 
too."
 
Donnie was a practical person, sometimes to the extreme, still his 
tendency to be cautious had left him with a degree of financial 
security.  He had made real estate investments and over time had 
done quite well.  He was not lavish in his taste but usually bought 
quality which ultimately gave him better service.  The Western 
Outlet was a good example.  Many of his friends would not dream 
of shopping anywhere but the Western Store with the much higher 
prices but Donnie was very content to save the extra fifty percent 
from the outlet and still wear the same labels as his friends.  He 
was a practical man, at least most of the time.  He was also a 
schemer.
 
The outlet was on the other side of town.  Traffic was typical for 
the time of day, clogging the few blocks that had been widened to 
two lanes.  Even so, the town was small so heavy traffic here was 
a walk in the park after driving in Chicago and 'Frisco.  Donnie let 
the conversation take it's natural course, feeling no need to select 
the topics.  There would be plenty of time to fish for needed 
information.  Josh was "jamming" and although it was louder than 
he preferred, Donnie understood the value of tolerance.  It was not 
the time to sound like a parent.
 
The outlet had gone in where a warehouse had closed.  It was 
large and open, with racks and racks of clothes.  He knew to 
inspect the material for seconds but also that many showed no 
evidence of flaws.  He was careful to pick these and as a result 
always god good value for his money.  
 
He led Josh back to the rear of the store where they had the boys 
section and separate dressing rooms.  To keep down overhead the 
store was mostly self-help which suited Donnie fine.  He had 
become accustomed to helping himself.  Donnie and Josh sorted 
through clothes with Donnie slowly getting an idea of what Josh 
liked.  He checked the label on Josh's Levis, size twelve slim.  
The shirt should be a twelve also.
 
 At times like this Donnie was frequently given to excess so he 
cautioned himself not to over-do things.  If he and Josh were a 
good match they could always come back.  They decided on a 
couple pair of pants, two shirts, socks, and of course underwear.  
The underwear figured in most importantly in Donnie's plans.  
Josh would have to be butt naked to try on underwear and this 
Donnie intended to see.  Finally, clothes over their arms they 
headed toward the dressing room, Donnie's pulse rate increasing 
slightly in anticipation of at last seeing Josh naked.   The dressing 
stall was small but there was room for both of them provided they 
stood.  If one of them bent down they would almost surely touch.  
Donnie's mind arranged, and rearranged possible events.   He and 
Christmas boys had been here before.  It is called situational 
correctness.  He knew people would perform behavior in one 
situation that was totally unacceptable in another.  He had found 
this phenomenon even more profound with hypnosis, where it 
became necessary only to suggest a situation and the appropriate 
behavior became acceptable.  What was more natural than 
undressing in a dressing room?  Josh might be a little 
uncomfortable but all the pressure would be for him to undress.  
After all, isn't this a dressings room?  Donnie would make it very 
casual, helping him get his jeans off, hanging them on the peg, 
checking the fit, the sort of things a man would do if helping his 
son.  Patting and touching was to be expected.
 
END PART SEVEN
 
 
"Try these pants on Josh," Donnie told him, hoping the excitement 
didn't show.  "I know what the label says but I learned a long time 
ago not to go by the labels.  Lets be sure they fit.  Here, let me 
help.  Take your shirt off, we may as well see how you look in 
your new shirt and pants."  
 
Donnie moved to give Josh some extra room but did not offer to 
leave the booth.  Busying himself with unbuttoning Josh's shirt, 
Donnie did not appear interested in the proceedings.  Josh began 
unfastening his pants.  When Donnie had his shirt undone pulled it 
over his head with out hesitation.  He showed no concern with 
being naked, at least from the waist up. 
 
Donnie had figured no underarm hair and he was right.  Josh was 
smooth.  There was some definition of chest and arms but mostly 
he was smooth and slender.  His nipples were rouge color, 
becoming buds that caused one's mouth to water Donnie wasn't 
aware he was staring until Josh looked up. 
 
"Here, let me hang up your shirt.  We might as well try everything 
on, slip out of your pants, too."  
 
Josh unhooked his belt and Donnie watched as he twisted the top 
button of his pants, pulling them apart.  He unsnapped the top and 
began working his way down, exposing more and more of his 
white jockey shorts.  Finishing, he pulled them over his buttocks, 
bending over to pull them off.  At this point he was having some 
trouble as he had not taken off his boots and the jeans were to 
tight.
 
"Sit down Josh," Donnie told him, indicating the corner bench.  
I'll help you with the boots," and Donnie moved in front where he 
could get a hold of Josh's boots.
 
 Josh sat down on the bench and pulled his knees up toward his 
chest so Donnie could pull the boot from the heel.  He repeated the 
process with the other boot and soon Josh was sitting with his 
pants past his knees.  Josh had held on the bench seat to keep from 
being pulled off and could not help when his pants came most the 
way off, pulling down his underwear in the process.  Donnie tried 
to be nonchalant about the sudden unveiling of Josh's private parts 
but it was impossible not to stare at the exposed appendage, 
flopping around, as Josh fought to keep from falling off the 
bench.
 
Josh looked at Donnie seeking a clue if he was suppose to be 
embarrassed or recover his underwear, cover himself or what. 
Josh was not embarrassed for himself but did not want Donnie to 
think bad about him.  Donnie figured acknowledging Josh's dick 
was better than acting like it was something not to talk about.  
"That's a dangerous weapon you are carrying around between you 
legs," Donnie said letting a note of admiration creep into his voice.  
"Don't pull that out in the cow lot or you'll make the bulls 
jealous."  Josh looked pleasingly embarrassed.  "Come on.  You 
need to try on the underwear anyway.  Just hold on and I'll help 
you off with the pants."  Donnie was tugging on the pants leg 
before Josh had time to think about it.  Josh was holding on to the 
bench with Donnie pulling at the Levis.  Josh's circumcised semi 
erect cock flopped around in his lap as they struggled with the 
pants. The bed of pubic hair was pretty well developed at the base 
of his dick but was a fairly new development.  Josh's juvenile 
cod's were less developed, pink, and hairless.
 
His pants at last free, Donnie took the underwear the rest of the 
way off so Josh was able to stand.  Donnie unwrapped the 
underwear and handed Josh a pair of semi-bikinis.  They were 
silky with a cute cup for a boys dick and balls.  Josh pulled them 
up and looked at Donnie for comment.  They were a good fit.  
Josh filled them out perfectly.
 
Donnie knew at this point he had to touch it.  He was gonna' die if 
he didn't get his hands on it somehow.  "They look good, Josh.  
Maybe a little to tight.  Underwear that is to tight will cut off the 
circulation.  I don't guess we want your peter turning blue and 
falling off," and with that he slipped his hands inside the leg band 
of the underwear.  Moving his fingers in the pretense of checking 
the band, Donnie rubbed the boys balls and dick.  It was a sip of 
wine for a wino, a tiny morsel for a starving man and Donnie's 
mouth fairly watered in expectation.  "Nah, these are all right.  We 
can get the baggy kind, like you were wearing, if you prefer but 
these look better.  Turn around and let me see how they fit 
behind."  The blue silk cloth encased his cute ass like a second 
skin.
 
 "I'll wait for you outside," Donnie told him, suddenly aware he 
was hot as hell.  "You finish dressing and step out so we can see 
you in the big mirror."
 
"These are OK. I like these underwear fine," Josh replied, looking 
down at himself.  They just feel kinda' of funny.  I never had any 
like them before but some of the guys at school wear them.  I seen 
them at P.E.  I'll keep these if it's OK," but Donnie was already 
outside.
 
Donnie went out of the booth and stood by the full length mirror 
waiting for Josh.  Donnie checked himself out in the mirror.  Not 
bad if I do say so myself.  The fellow he saw was well built, a 
carry over from football days.  He didn't have the muscle bulk he 
carried then but kept himself toned.  He had an engaging smile and 
soft eyes which he used to good advantage.  He patted his stomach 
and turned sideways to check... yes he still had tight hard buns.  
The only bulge was one he had developed in the booth with Josh.  
He reached in his pocket and rearranged it.  If he was going to 
have a hard on it could at least be comfortable.
 
Josh came out to stand in front of the mirror beside Donnie.  
Donnie moved behind Josh, his hands on his shoulders, and 
appraised the boy.  Damn but he looked sharp in his new duds.  
When he looked at Josh's face the boy was smiling, obviously 
happy with his new clothes but something else too.  They looked 
at each other in the mirror, each was grinning, but they were also 
struggling with messages that passed within deeper levels of their 
ego's.  There were no words but their eyes spoke of friendship 
and admiration.   What or whoever orchestrates the path's of men 
and of boys had brought them together.  Chance. Fate.  They had 
found their split apart
 
Donnie blinked when he realized he was starring.  Each had been 
momentarily mesmerized.  Donnie squeezed Josh's shoulder.  
Josh, too, looked away, aware some intimate knowledge has 
seeped out.  He looked at the reflection of his socks in the mirror, 
a small boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
 
"Terrific Josh, Donnie said, breaking the spell.  "You can hang out 
with me anytime.  Go put on your boots and grab your stuff.  
We're out of here."  As Josh turned to go, Donnie slapped 
affectionately at the departing behind.  Playfully Josh arched 
forward, giggling, as Donnie's hand slapped the air where Josh's 
butt had been.  "Meet me at the belt's when you come out," 
Donnie called out, "an extra belt won't hurt," and he headed 
toward the front of the store where he had spotted belts on the way 
in.    By the time Josh had joined him, Donnie had picked out three 
or four belts he thought Josh would like and in the right size.  
They decided on a black one with some cowboy stuff on it but 
without the extra big metal buckle.  Donnie knew Josh would like 
the one with a big rodeo buckle but it was just to much for Donnie.  
 
They agreed on the black belt with a round silver buckle.  It looked 
nice and was still western.  Donnie passed the plastic to the sales 
girl and she rang everything up.  He considered it a hundred 
dollars well spent, an investment if you prefer.  Donnie knew he 
was on firm footing.  It was something a player learned to sense.
 
Later, sitting in Western sizzling, Donnie felt pride in the 
youngster.  He was moving the boy toward his image of a son and 
companion.  Although Donnie was capable of more analytical 
work, he rarely dug into his own psyche.  He knew who he was 
and what he was and used his considerable intelligence to meet 
those needs in the safest manner possible.  There was always a 
best way.  He felt a strong and growing attraction for Josh and 
knew it was mutual.  For the moment, his had the greater sexual 
content but that would change with his help.  
 
Donnie had ordered his steak rare.  He noticed Josh had ordered 
his rare also, probably imitating Donnie.  When the steaks arrived 
he could tell Josh was not real pleased with the red juice seeping 
out and so Donnie sent it back for another few minutes on the grill.  
The waiter brought it back nicely charred.  Josh showed a 
teenagers appetite as he consumed everything along with two 
cokes and dessert.  How can he have such an appetite and be slim?
 
Leaving the restaurant, Donnie put his arm around Josh, resting 
his hand on the boy's shoulder.  Josh looked up acceptingly 
without interrupting his story about something that had happened 
at school.  They walked to the van, each happy with their evening.
 
Donnie took Josh home and they agreed Donnie would call over 
the weekend about a show or something.  He gave Josh his 
business card and told him it would be all right for him to call if he 
wanted both at home or at the office.  Maybe they could work in a 
short trip somewhere Sunday afternoon.  Donnie did not realize he 
would see him sooner than Sunday afternoon.    
 
Chapter three
 
(Modern theories of Personality structure have not really improved 
on Freud.  The idea of libidinal energy bubbling up from an Id, 
therefore, childhood sexuality, fell from grace because society 
didn't want to face the idea of children having a sexual nature not 
because it was wrong.  There is an Id and Donnie's Id wasn't 
about to roll over and play dead.)
 
Id chuckled, not a sadistic chuckle, more a chuckle with a gentle 
hint of success.  It had been a good day.  Sometimes Donnie was a 
little stubborn about promptly satisfying Id's urges but today was 
most rewarding.  He had felt Josh's heat in the small dressing 
room, smelled his boyness, had the visual stimulation of looking 
over the boy's slim firm body and even managed to fondle his 
cock... all serving to make his libidinal juices boil.  Id rubbed his 
immaterial hands together in satisfaction.  He was pleased 
indeed...Hum, yes, Progress.  Not a bad piece of work.  He was 
still breathing deeply from the heat of proximity to Josh in the 
dressing room.  The image of Josh's semi-tumescent appendage 
was pure energy, feeding Id's insatiable thirst for stimulation.  Id 
had sent strong signals to be more direct, to handle the semi-
erected rod, to take it physically.  Instead, Super-ego had shouted 
a caution, and won the ensuing contest for influence of Donnie's 
actions.  Id had surrendered, but only after Super-ego promised to 
satisfy his demands soon, very soon.
 
END PART EIGHT
 
 
DONNIE
Part 9
 
Id smiled again in self satisfaction, not a smirk mind you, just 
satisfaction  Unfortunately Id had no real imagination.  He had 
been just as satisfied with the chicken in the hayloft.  Tonight, 
when Donnie slept, Id would be free to replay today's events on 
the big dream screen of Donnie's mind, unfettered by reality.  He 
would experience Josh in unbounded pleasure, giving Donnie a 
super "Boner," which Id always got a kick out of.  If it was really 
a super "hard on" Donnie would have to whack off before going to 
work.  Donnie always got an erection when Id vicariously 
entertained himself in Donnie's unfettered dreams.  Id thought 
he'd start off with Josh for the early dreams then progress to the 
chicken with a little variety thrown in.  He'd save the surrealistic 
stuff for late morning.  Just a little of the content would seep out as 
Donnie would wake up, exclaiming, "Shit! that was the weirdest 
dream I've had yet.
 
Id was a schemer, and very dedicated to the proposition that 
gratification of self was the prime and primal directive.  Since he 
didn't need sleep he was free 24 hours a day to plan his strategies.  
He was unrelenting in his search for ways to satisfy himself.  Not 
having a body of one's own was a certain handicap, still one must 
do with what one has.  If he had his very own body he would be a 
dynamo of pure energy, rampaging in search of self gratification.  
As it was he had to use Donnie's body and, unfortunately, he was 
not in complete control anymore.  When Donnie was very small it 
had been easy. He just told Donnie what he wanted and Donnie 
obliged or screamed until some adult got it for him.  He 
particularly enjoyed fondling his penis, or "peanut" as he called it 
but parents and late grandparents had become insistent he not do it.  
Once again Id and Super-ego had negotiated a truce.  Donnie could 
masturbate but only in the tub or in bed and of course later in the 
hayloft, actually any damn place he wasn't likely to be caught.  He 
was free to satisfy Id when it didn't prove a problem for Super-
ego.  Old S-E could be a pain in the ass.
 
In the triangle of players, each had become quite sophisticated in 
getting their way.  Donnie learned to manipulate events to satisfy 
Id and keep S-E out of trouble.  Id learned new persuasive 
techniques and S-E was on the brink of throwing in the whole 
damn towel.  Of course it was a game of sorts.  Donnie really 
enjoyed feeding the urges of Id.  Satisfying Id was, in fact, quite 
pleasurable even if he did experience occasional "boners" at most 
inopportune times and S-E kept beating him on the head about 
guilt and social responsibility.  Donnie was real excited about Josh 
but suspected Id had his hand in the matter.  In fact Id was already 
clamoring for a monster boner and a JO session.  
 
Chapter four
 
Because of the abrupt awakening, Donnie was acutely aware of the 
naked youth in his dreams and a most unusual, hermaphrodite 
chicken.  "Shit!  That was the weirdest dream I've had yet," 
Donnie thought.  Id chuckled.  "Still," thought Donnie, "if chicken 
peckers were really peckers they really could do that."  The ringing 
of the phone burst his bubble just as he was about to find how a 
chicken could...what was it now?  The willowy threads of the 
dream were already dissolving.  Oh yes, the phone.  He glanced at 
the clock and saw it was six fifteen.  Who in the hell is calling at 
this hour.  "Hello," Donnie said, trying to sound awake.  "Do you 
know what time it is?"
 
"Mr. Dugan.  It's me, Josh.  I'm in trouble, well, me and my 
Mom both are and I don't have anybody to call on.  They were 
coming to get me this morning and I ran away but I don't know 
where to go and you said you wanted to help me and I really need 
help and I got nobody to call..." "Wait a minute, It's OK. Calm 
down.  Look! Is someone after you?  Are you safe?  Where are 
you? I'm gonna' help so calm down and tell me the trouble."     
Josh was to excited to make much sense but I found out no one 
was trying to physically hurt him and he was at a phone booth 
close to his house.  "Look you are OK.  Just stay there and I'll get 
you.  It'll take me about fifteen minutes.  OK. Just hang up and 
wait by the phone booth."
 
 He threw some cold water on his face and ran the brush through 
his hair for the sake of appearances before grabbing the keys to the 
van.  While pulling on pants he had dropped by the bed, he 
grabbed at his jacket.  He slipped on his shoes without socks.  The 
socks wouldn't help that much and the coat would be enough 
when it was zipped up.  The van was cold but he didn't give it it's 
customary warm up.  Instead he dropped it in drive and made a U-
turn, heading for the phone both and a little boy who sounded very 
upset.  It was less than the fifteen minutes Donnie had promised 
when he pulled up to the pay phone.  Josh was standing by the 
booth like he had told him.  He ran to the car as soon as Donnie 
pulled up, fumbling at the door which was still locked.
 
"Get in Josh," but the invitation was hardly necessary.  Josh was 
already slamming the door and talking to fast to be understood.  
"Wait a minute.  I can't understand you," he told him, trying to 
reassure him but also follow the story.  "We'll drive back to the 
apartment and have some breakfast and you can tell me about it.  
You are safe.  Nobody is going to bother you.  Does you mother 
know where you are?"
 
"No!  I didn't tell nobody. I just ran out the door after Nicky called 
and I heard Mom say the were coming to get me."
 
"OK, we'll have some breakfast and figure it out.  Aren't you 
cold?  You don't even have on a coat."  "Yeh, I am kinda' cold but 
I'll be all right till we get there," Josh replied, but you could hear 
his teeth chattering.
 
In the apartment, Josh sat on the couch while Donnie started some 
hot chocolate.  Sitting beside Josh, Donnie put a hand on his knee, 
hoping it would reassure him.  At least Donnie felt like it was a 
comforting gesture.  "Now tell me what's going on," Donnie 
asked, handing Josh a cup of chocolate.  "Nobody knows you are 
here so you are OK.  Who is after you?  Just Calm and slow, from 
the start."
 
Josh slowly calmed down and between sips of hot cocoa Donnie 
got the story.  It seems Nicky was a policeman Josh's mother was 
dating.  This didn't improve her any in his estimation.  Anyone 
who would date a cop had reached the bottom of the barrel as far 
as he was concerned.  Cops are just small, insecure, little creatures 
with their dick's in a holster... Crooks with a badge.  It takes one 
to catch one I guess.  Maybe this one was a notch above because 
he had at least called Ms. Brenner in time...maybe.   Nicky had 
called Josh's Mother about five thirty, as he was getting off his 
shift to say he saw some papers waiting on the day shift to serve 
her.  It was a court order initiated by the Welfare office to take 
Josh for negligence.  He didn't know the details but apparently 
Josh was to become a ward of the state because of some trouble, 
negligence probably.  Anyway, she had waked Josh to tell him 
and he had run off, scarred as hell.  Running away is not always 
the best solution but sometime it gives you time to find the best 
solution.  We needed the breathing room.  He began thinking 
about who he knew that could intervene.  Josh sipped his third cup 
of hot chocolate.  His eyes watched Donnie, not apprehensively 
but with a tinge of fright for what he considered a hopeless 
situation.
 
He wasn't sure what he could do but he damn well knew he was 
going to do something.  He ranked the welfare folks right along 
with cops.  They would carry their dicks in a holster if they had 
dicks.  He patted Josh on the knee again, not sure if it was to 
reassure himself or Josh.  "Listen Josh," Donnie finally said.  I 
have to get dressed for the office and when I finish dressing I'll 
have figured out what we are going to do." 
 
"Josh.  We'll work this thing out.  What you have described is not 
an arrest warrant.  The are not going to arrest you but if the find 
you they will take you to county, more likely place you in a foster 
home temporally until they can do a home study or something.  
Since you are not a criminal they aren't going to spend a lot of time 
looking for you but if they run across you they will take you.  I'd 
rather work on it before than after so don't go to school today.  I 
know your mother will be worried but don't call her.  If she 
knows where you are she might tell or they might scare her with 
obstruction of justice or some other bullshit.  You stay here and 
watch TV or something.  I have to go to the office but I can work 
on it from there.  There is stuff to eat in the fridge, cokes too.  
Don't go outside or answer the door for anyone but me, on second 
thought I have a key so don't even look out.  Here is the number 
to the office.  Call is you want, just tell the secretary it's Josh.  
I'll 
tell her put your call directly through to me.  I have some friends I 
think can help.  At least they can find out what we are up against."  
It's a big people problem and I'm a big people so let me worry 
about it.  You have done nothing wrong and so you haven't 
anything to worry about."
 
He gave Josh a parting wink and smile as he went out the door.  
He got his first smile of the day and even a little wave, but not 
with much enthusiasm.  Josh was scared and Donnie was not sure 
how much reassurance he had been.  Yeah, it was a big people 
problem but he hadn't told the boy how most little people 
problems were just bog people shit that splattered on the innocent 
little guys.  He deserved a better shake than the door to door 
treatment they were setting up for him.  Josh had stirring up a lot 
of emotions for Donnie, childhood emotions.  Things one 
couldn't, or wouldn't, put in words, just a package of emotions to 
be carried around. 
 
 Business at the office was good and he had taken in two graduate 
students who were exceptionally sharp.  He seldom had to get 
involved with the hardware anymore or most of the software.  
Janet, the secretary handled most of the ordering so he worked the 
bid sheets and did PR.  Things flowed smoothly whether he was 
in or out of the office so he could close the door to his office so he 
could work on the Josh thing without worry about routine 
Business.  He told Janet to put through any calls from Josh and 
that he would be busy with phone stuff most of the morning.  
When he had poured a cup of hot coffee, he settled at the desk and 
began to think through the problem.
 
END PART 9
 
DONNIE
Part 10
 
He stared around the office absently.  He had decorated it to his 
taste which was not opulent but comfortable.  There was a black 
leather sofa, which he knew was excessive but one should permit 
an extravagance now and then.  His desk was not neat but there 
was orderly disarray or at least he knew the order.  He looked at 
the picture he had taken of a little friend that had passed through 
his life.  Jeff was 15 when Donnie had found him hitching on the 
Interstate.  He was past due for a bath, oily stringy hair, and the 
odor of unwashed boy met you before he did.  The boy had 
thumbed Donnie down and Donnie almost didn't stop but his 
youth showed somehow in the headlights.  Jeff had a hang dog 
expression that reflected a haggard soul.  Donnie had taken this 
picture of him as he sat in a swing, shoulders slumped as though 
the worlds weight was all his.  In the picture Jeff was looking 
away with a focus on infinity, vacant, with the saddest expression 
Donnie had ever known.  If there were thoughts Donnie never 
knew them.  It was not like Jeff was a private person, more like an 
absence of a person, an emptiness.  Jeff stayed eight days, then 
was just gone.  Donnie drove for miles looking, parks, highway 
roadside stops, everywhere, but there never was a sign of Jeff.  
The only evidence that there ever was a Jeff in Donnie's lifer, was 
this picture.  Donnie enlarged it and hung it in his office over the 
inscription "Jeff.  I never knew you."   
 
People asked and he would say he found the picture in a garage 
sale.  He knew there was a curiosity about the picture but it held so 
much emotion, personal content that linked him with what he had 
projected into Jeff, that it would be unthinkable to get rid of it or 
even hid it.  "Not a second time Jeff," Donnie spoke.  "Not 
again."  
 
He took a deep breath, as one does when something is decided.  It 
was time for to be a little analytical because he was about to 
commit himself to something he couldn't easily back away from.  
What did he want out of the deal?  He damn sure wanted more 
than he had managed to do for Jeff.  What did he expect to gain, 
an "attaboy," a little self satisfaction... What?  OK, he wanted 
Josh.  Yeah, an "attaboy," at a boy.  "God dammit Donnie," he 
told himself, "deal with it."  "Because Josh needs a home," he said 
to himself and immediately recognized his own bullshit.  He was 
doing this for Josh.  Yeah, and he was doing this for Donnie.  
"Yes Josh needs a home and all that stuff but the fact is I want 
Josh, completely, socially, legally, psychologically, physically, 
and sexually.  If you want the kid go get him," Donnie spoke 
audible, as if hearing his own words would make it happen.  "Just 
don't bullshit yourself in the process." 
 
If the order was a county order it most likely came from Judge 
Lineburger.  Judge Paul Lineburger was one of the "good old 
boys" and had been in office since Moby Dick was a minnow.  
Donnie knew him socially and served on the school board with 
him but wasn't sure this was something to go direct to him about.  
"The welfare "turds" might have some reservations about placing 
him with me," Donnie thought.  Still it wouldn't have to be an 
adoption just some kind of temporary thing.  "What about a 
conservatorship or a guardianship or some other legal maneuver," 
he thought.  He finally decided he needed legal help and reached 
for the auto-dialer to phone his attorney, then hesitated.  "I had 
better get the horse back in front of the cart and see what Josh 
wants to do."  
 
Donnie punched the auto-dial button, then six, and waited for Josh 
to answer.  He was beginning to get worried when Josh picked 
up.  "Hello," Josh said, and Donnie could tell the youngster was 
not sure if his instructions not to answer the door also applied to 
the phone.
 
"Hi Tiger.  It's just me," Donnie told him, trying to sound 
reassuring.  "Did you fine the cokes OK?"
 
"Yes sir," Josh replied, sounding more relaxed.  "I found them 
OK.  I'm drinking one and watching TV.  Do you know what they 
are going to do to me yet?"
 
"Not yet but I'm working on it right now.  Josh look, we can try 
to do one of two things.  I can try to get it OK for you to stay with 
your mother or I can see if you can stay with me.  Josh I'd like 
you to stay with me but it's more important where you want to 
stay.  Of course you mother has something to say about it if the 
court doesn't make the decision for her.  I know this is sudden but 
I really have to know before I can do much.  I have to know which 
way to go.  Do you want some time to think about it?"   There was 
only a slight pause before Josh answered.  "No Sir.  I want to stay 
here if I can.  I didn't think you wanted me enough, I mean a kid 
around the house, to let me stay but I wanna' stay with you if I 
can.  Mamma don't care.  She can't take care of me anyway and 
says I'm more trouble than I'm worth and I guess she's right.  See 
if I can stay here Donnie, with you, I mean if you really want me 
too."   "I really want you to Josh," and Donnie didn't have to fake 
the sincerity.  "I think you are about he neatest kid I have ever 
known. You remind me of someone I think about a lot.  Anyway. 
let me get to work on it Tiger.  There is a lot of stuff we have to 
find out.  Will your daddy agree?  Who has custody?  Is the 
Welfare folks going to fight us on this thing?  It may not be easy 
Josh, but I'm gonna' get started as soon as I hang up."
 
"You don't have to worry none about Daddy," Josh blurted out.  
"He don't care.  My real daddy lives here in town with another 
woman and their kids.  I mean he's my daddy but he is not on my 
birth certificate or anything.  The daddy on my birth certificate 
isn't my daddy.  He just agreed to let mamma put his name on 
there so it would look better.  Mamma said they just lived together 
for a little while and then he went back to Illinois.  I think Mamma 
knows where he lives but he won't care any.  They don't want me 
Donnie.  If you want me they will give me to you.  Just call them.  
They don't care," and Donnie could hear the tightness in his voice.
 
Donnie could tell from the boy's unsteady voice he was dealing 
with some deep emotions that were about to leak out.  Good, but 
not now, not on the phone. They would deal with it but when 
Donnie could hold him, shroud him with reassurance and 
understanding.  "It's OK Josh.  I'll get started right now but I'll 
tell you one thing.  If want you, not charity Josh, I want you to 
live with me like my son.  If they won't give you a home you'll 
damn sure have one with me.  You watch TV or take a nap or 
whatever you want, just stay inside.  I'll bring us some burgers 
for lunch, around one o'clock.  I'll have some news by then.  
Hang tough Tiger.  I'll see you at lunch."
 
Settling back in the chair, he pondered the situation.  What Josh 
had described was a real fucked up deal.  He had a daddy who 
lived in the same town but was not on his birth certificate and his 
father on the birth certificate was up north and just did it as a favor 
to Josh's mother, who he was fucking at the time.  Custody had 
been given to the mother according to Josh so they shouldn't have 
to deal with more family.  Maybe the judge could declare him 
abandoned and let his mother have full custody.  If that was the 
case he could probably deal with her or if the court was favorable, 
do it by force.  He had his marching orders.  Now where the hell 
to go from here?  Maybe the screwed up situation was a blessing 
in disguise.
 
Donnie put in a call to Mort Sharp, his attorney, and outlined the 
problem.  Mort was both a friend and attorney and switched 
fluidly between the rolls.  Mort asked a few questions to satisfy 
himself that Donnie had given it serious thought, explaining it was 
not the same as getting a pet from the animal shelter.  The return 
policy was a lot stiffer.  This had a permanent ring to it.  Satisfied, 
he said he would call the judge and see what he could set up, 
adding he thought a temporary stay might not be a problem.
 
Hanging up the phone Donnie thought Mort was closer than he 
knew.  It was a hell of a lot like getting a pet from the shelter.  
Donnie called Josh and told him he had his attorney working on it 
and would call him back soon, then he settled into some office 
work.  By noon he still had not heard from Mort.  He told Janet to 
forward any calls from Mort to his house then headed for Mickey 
Dees for their burgers.
 
Josh was watching something on TV when Donnie walked in.  He 
pushed the mute button then looked at Donnie with questioning 
eyes.  "I'm still waiting on Mort to call.  He said he thought he 
could handle something for now."  He sat on the couch beside 
Josh and put the sack of burgers on the coffee table.  "Say, how 
about some burgers?  You open them up and I'll get us some 
catsup.  The catsup they throw in the bag is only good for catsup 
fights."  Donnie spoke the last few words over his shoulder as he 
retrieved the catsup from the fridge.
 
They devoured their lunch as Josh gave him his life history in 
twenty minutes.  Josh's long version was little different from what 
he had described on the phone.  Reading between the lines, 
Donnie figured Mom was not to picky who she slept with and 
somewhere alone the line Josh had popped up.  She was knocked 
up by some local cowboy and when she explained the problem he 
said not to worry he loved her and every thing would be all right. 
What was the three famous lies men told women... "I love you, 
the checks in the mail, and I won't cum in your mouth.  Now add, 
"and everything will be all right.  She didn't fish Josh out with a 
coat hanger and when it was put up or shut up the guy said he was 
sorry but he really couldn't be tied up like that.  
 
Mom had the baby at cowboy's mothers house with a midwife and 
she and Josh still lived there.  The old woman he had seen when 
he picked Josh up was in fact Josh's grandmother, on both the 
fathers and mothers side.  Ironically Josh got screwed out of a set 
of grandparents.  She was on social security and Josh's ADC 
check was what supported Mom and Josh.  Daddy on the birth 
certificate dropped by if he was in town to bang Mom and cowboy 
stopped over occasionally and banged Mom.  There should be a 
turnstile or a traffic light or something.  There was a string of 
"Josh, this is your uncle" who passed through so Mom picked up 
a little change on the side.
 
END PART 10
 
DONNIE
Part 11
 
 Josh was an extra piece in the puzzle.  He didn't fit anywhere but 
was not very disposable, so he was shuffled around at first but 
later they didn't even bother to do that.  This was the picture 
Donnie had as he drove back to the office.  He was aware it was 
colored by Josh's perception and his filling in chunks from 
supposition but he would have bet it was pretty close.  He hoped 
Mort would be able to add to it.
 
Donnie was much to fidgety to wait patiently and called Mort's 
office three times by four o'clock.  The secretary said Mort was 
out and she would give him the messages if he called in.  "He 
doesn't always call in real regular," she told him, "especially if 
he's with the judge."  Mort's call came at ten to five as Donnie was 
getting ready to leave his office, go sit in front of Mort's and 
pounce on his ass at first sight.
 
"Donnie! Mort here."  Donnie was encouraged by the sound of 
Mort's voice, but what the hell, didn't attorneys practice that.  "I 
think I've got something worked out, at least for now.  I talked 
with Judge Lineburger and explained I was working with you and 
we were already talking with Ms. Brenner about a private 
placement for Josh.  Fortunately the Judge was due in court so he 
didn't have time to question me to much.  Judge Lineburger called 
welfare while I was still in his office and talked to the case worker, 
a Ms. Gibbs,  They agreed to hold off a few day's on the 
condition Josh was out of the home.  I don't think she was hot on 
the idea but since it was the judges idea and she didn't have 
anything better to offer she pretty much had to go along.  I 
promised her you would go by for Josh's things and he would be 
well cared for until I could meet with her next Monday.  She said 
they had investigated after receiving a complaint last month that 
Josh had been assaulted by a boyfriend of Ms. Brenner.  I should 
be able to get more information next week."
 
"Yeah I know," Donnie interrupted.  "I have pretty much the same 
story from Josh less the assault.  Was Josh raped?  Holy Shit!  He 
hasn't mentioned this at all.  This sounds like it could get sticky."
 
"No facts Donnie," Mort told him.  "You now know as much as I 
do but I don't think there was rape, or rather they don't think there 
was rape, or they would be jumping down our throat to get at the 
boy.  I really think we are covered temporarily."
 
"Oh Man, the kid may have actually been raped.  Shit!  Even if he 
was he won't be helped by this legal bullshit.  They will be so 
excited over the headlines and stories and patting each other on the 
back, he'll just be a show piece to be dumped when they have got 
all the mileage out of him.  I'll find out and if he was I'll take of it 
on a personal basis.  Let's shut this thing down if we can, 
notoriety won't help us on this.  I think you can defuse it, or at 
least pull the legal plug.  Suppose his crazy grandmother was 
pissed at Josh's mom or maybe at the boy friend, anyway she files 
the complaint out of spite.  The cops and welfare don't have shit 
for a complaint.  They didn't get to talk to anyone but crazy 
grandmother.  Pull their teeth Mort."
 
"Maybe," Mort replied.  "Just to early to tell.  Anyway you know 
how those assholes at welfare are.  Still, they gotta' take orders 
from the judge and for the moment he is listening to us but he 
won't if it looks nasty and votes get involved.  That bitch at 
welfare, Gibbs, said Josh had to be removed from that 
environment until they completed the investigation.  When the 
Judge suggested the boy stay with you that settled it unless she can 
dig up some more shit.  Anyway, shouldn't be anyone bothering 
the boy until the judge hears the parties and orders something."
 
"OH.  Thanks again Mort.  I talked with Josh a little at lunch. It 
works for him.  I'll also talk to him about not talking to anyone, he 
doesn't have to does he?"  
 
"No he doesn't Donnie, neither you nor he have to say anything, 
just say your attorney has advised you against talking about the 
case."  
 
"Mort, I didn't know about the assault but I'll see if he'll discuss it 
with me.  I'll also go by for his clothes.  What should I tell the 
mother?  She probably needs to keep her mouth shut too."
 
"Just tell her like it is.  She is in deep shit if the assault charge is 
true or probably even if it's not.  Welfare takes something like this 
in their teeth and plow ahead.  I think she will loose the kid either 
way.  We'll approach her with a private placement and we have to 
do that pretty fast.  If welfare get her parental rights terminated she 
can't consent to shit.  I'm hoping they are so snowed down there 
they will have hotter fires to put out.  I'll see Gibbs Monday 
afternoon and see what I can sniff out.  We may need to see the 
Brenner woman Monday too."
 
"OK, Mort.  Guess we are covered over the weekend.  I'll get the 
things for Josh.  Anything else he needs I can pick up at the store, 
also try to get more facts about where we really are.  None of this 
has been discussed with her, at least by me, but I think she will go 
along, her alternatives aren't exactly good.  It may solve two of 
her problems, what to do with Josh and also get her tit out of the 
ringer on the assault thing.  Of course welfare could go ahead on 
that anyway but I don't think they have anything solid.  What time 
do we meet Monday?"    "I'll have the secretary set you an 
appointment and call you.  We'll  compare notes and see where we 
are."   "Thanks again, Mort.  Glad you are in my corner.  I'll see 
you Monday."  Donnie was serious about Mort.  Frankly attorneys 
were a pretty sorry lot in general but a necessary evil.  When you 
needed one you damn sure wanted a good one.  Mort had proved 
more than once his friendship was genuine.  
 
Before leaving the office he called Josh and told him they were OK 
for the week end and he was going by to pick up some things from 
his house, toothbrush and a change of clothes.  He also called Ms. 
Brenner and brought her up to date, sort of.  She knew about the 
pick up order from Nicky and had found out about the reported 
assault.  As bad as he wanted to, he avoided getting into that issue 
on the phone.  He told her if Josh stayed with him over the 
weekend they wouldn't serve any papers and that Monday he 
wanted to come by with his attorney to see what they could do.  In 
the meantime don't talk to anyone about the assault.  "Don't let 
anyone bully you into talking about it Ms. Brenner.  Just tell them 
to see your attorney and say nothing else."  She seemed happy 
someone was going to help her.  She didn't ask about Josh.
 
Reassured that all the bases were covered, at least temporarily, 
Donnie headed back to his apartment.  Hearing Donnie's key in the 
door, Josh got up from the couch to meet him.   When Donnie 
came in, he first hugged he boy, hoping it reassured him.  They 
talked during the evening without saying much, Donnie avoiding 
the assault thing.  Donnie hoped Josh would voluntarily bring it up 
and gave the lad time to do so on his on.  
 
Johnny Carson would have been entertaining if Donnie could have 
gotten into it.  Seemed he and Josh both were elsewhere, each 
waiting on the other to start.  "Come on Big Guy, lets turn in," 
Donnie told him, flipping off the TV.  The boy may still mention 
it, Donnie thought, after all some things are best brought to light in 
the dark.  
 
They walked into the bedroom and Josh was fidgeting like he was 
waiting for Donnie to tell him where to sleep.  "OK.  Let me 
explain our possible sleeping arrangements, namely, there is the 
couch or the bed...  Either way I take the bed."  Donnie pointed 
out it was king size so there was plenty of room. "If you want to 
sleep in here we'll hardly be crowded.  I can get extra cover and a 
pillow if you want the couch but frankly, I think you will be more 
comfortable in the bed," his preference indicated by pointing to the 
far side of the bed.  
 
"Do you want some pajamas or something, Josh?  I don't think 
your mother sent any and I sure don't have any to fit you but I 
might have a long t-shirt or something."
 
 "It's OK, Donnie.  I don't have any pajamas.  I can just use my 
underwear if it's all right.  I sometimes don't even use that at 
home," Josh replied, then paused like he wasn't sure if that was all 
right to say or not.
 
"Yeah, me too Josh," Donnie said.  "I never did get used to 
pajamas.  Actually I usually sleep with out my underwear too.  It 
really is a lot more comfortable."
 
"Really.  Me too.  I didn't think grow ups did that.  Mom says 
they cut off the blood.  She say's pajamas were invented to have 
something to sell and it's natural to sleep naked."
 
"Well let's sleep like we usually do," Donnie said, liking this 
arrangement much better.  Donnie undressed and place his clothes 
on the night stand.  He considered turning his back but figured that 
would suggest it was embarrassing, the very thing he wanted Josh 
not to feel, so he stood at an angle to Josh.  For the most part his 
dick behaved, swelling but not quite to the point of erecting.  
 
Josh did like wise placing his clothes on the dresser.  Neither said 
much but there were furtive glances with Josh watching Donnie 
for clues.  Had Donnie shown embarrassment Josh would have 
picked up on it immediately.  Donnie watched the lad's juvenile 
cock and smooth ass then wished his erecting dick would quit 
erecting.  Donnie couldn't tell if Josh was getting a hard on or not.  
Hell at their age they kept a hard on.  Josh glanced at Donnie's 
cock then away but seemed to have an erection problem of his own 
and hurried to get into bed.  When Donnie got the lights off Josh 
was already under the cover.  The last thing Donnie saw before the 
light went was a little tent where Josh's lap should have been.  
 
Laying between the sheets Donnie was aware his breathing was 
rapid and shallow.  In the dark, the after image of Josh's cock 
burned brightly.  "Let's get some sleep Josh.  We have a big day 
tomorrow," he said but he knew it was a stall.  He needed to 
think.  He was feeling excited.  He had completely lost his battle 
with the erection.  He was boned to the max.  He took a deep 
breath, trying to get composed.  "Shit Donnie," he thought, you 
can't fight human nature, yours anyway, so at least be subtle.
 
END PART 11
 
DONNIE
Part 12
 
"OK Donnie.  I guess I am sorta' sleepy.  I got up to early this 
morning.  What are we gonna' do tomorrow," Josh asked.  
Donnie wasn't sure but he thought he felt a movement to the bed 
that wasn't his, and it definitely had a rhythmic quality.    "We'll, I 
hadn't thought about it a lot," Donnie answered, glad for 
something to say.  "There are some things to take care of.  How 
about we have a good breakfast here and you can call a friend and 
go to the movies or something."  No. Yes, the little fart was over 
there whacking off.  "No one is going to bother you over the 
weekend.  We'll find something for us to do in the evening," and 
Donnie stroked his blue steeler.
 
Silence, then, "Yeh, that's OK...Donnie?"
 
"Yeah, Tiger."
 
"I'm glad your let me stay with you.  I'll try not to be any 
trouble."
 
"Josh. If I have my way you will get to stay a long time but there 
is some things we have to do for that to happen."  
 
Donnie finally gave up.  (Id was having a shit fit.  A naked boy 
not two feet away and " he says goodnight.  Shut up S-E.  I'll 
knock fire from your ass if you fuck this up.)  "Come here Josh.  
We really do need to talk." 
 
Donnie could hear the sheets rustle as Josh slid across until their 
arms touched.  Josh stopped, maybe unsure of himself.  "Come 
on over.  I want to hold you," and Donnie moved his arm under 
the boy's head, pulling him closer until Josh's head was on 
Donnie's chest.  Josh rolled onto his side and extended his knee 
over Donnie's leg and between his knees until his leg was 
touching Donnie's balls.  Josh's body excited every inch of their 
touching.  Donnie could feel the heat of Josh's leg pressing 
upward into Donnie's balls.  The boy's cock rested in the hollow 
of Donnie's thigh.  He reached around Josh and pulled him even 
closer, kissing his forehead.  Donnie didn't want to break the 
spell.  He never felt more alive.  A super nova was developing 
between his legs.  His dick actually throbbed with hardness.
 
"Josh.  There seems to be another problem too," Donnie said, 
feeling Josh's breath on his chest.  Donnie absently moved his 
fingers over the small waist, "something to do with your mothers 
boyfriends or at least one of them.  It has to do with why they 
want to take you away," Donnie said, stumbling over the words.     
"What the hell is he doing," ID screamed to no one in particular  
"What the hell is he talking about, `something to do with your 
mothers boyfriend.'  JHC, fuck the boy.  If you don't our dick is 
gonna' explode and we'll bleed to death if we both don't drown in 
cum first...  "Do you know what I'm talking about Josh," Donnie 
continued.    It was quiet for several seconds.  He was sure Josh 
knew what he was talking about and would answer in his own 
time. He let the pressure of the silence linger, waiting for Josh, yet 
not minding as he explored the boy.  At some point he had to 
discuss the assault thing but he preferred Josh to be willing in the 
matter.  It wasn't something he wanted to try to drag out of him.  
Donnie knew this was important but his mind kept wandering 
away from the subject... now what was the subject.  Why did he 
feel his dick was going to explode and drown them in blood and 
cum?  
 
"Maybe if I offer an edited story of my own," Donnie thought.  
"Josh.  There was something happened to me one time when I was 
a young boy.  I've never told anyone but if you can keep a secret I 
will tell you. ("Don't forget to tell him how much I liked it Id was 
screaming again.  You always leave that part out.")  It was kinda' 
scary and for a long time I didn't want to think about it.  ("Yeah 
but I thought about it a lot," ID harped.)  Later when I was older I 
realized it was not my fault and I had nothing to be ashamed of.  
Still I never told anyone but now I know if I had talked to 
someone I could trust and someone who would have understood, I 
would have felt better."
 
"I was spending the night with one of my friends and after I had 
gone to bed his older brother who was nineteen came into the 
room.  I guess I was scared or something 'cause I didn't say 
anything as he got into bed with me.  He really scared me because 
I didn't know what he was doing.  I was so embarrassed I left 
before breakfast the next morning and never went over to my 
friends house again because I was afraid I would see Phil.  What 
he did was wrong.  It was wrong because I didn't want him to do 
it.  It was wrong because he scared me.  What I'm trying to say 
Josh is, it wasn't my fault.  I didn't do anything to cause it.  He 
forced himself on me."  I think I would have felt a lot better if I 
could have talked to someone.  Has something like that happened 
to you?"
 
There was a pause of several seconds before Josh spoke.  "Yeah.  
You know about it don't you.  You know why I'm in trouble?"  
Donnie wasn't sure but he thought he felt a wet spot on his chest.  
A tear?  If Josh could just talk about it, the hurt could be put to rest 
maybe.  It could also be a psychological block that slowed down 
development of their physical relationship.   "You are not in 
trouble," Donnie told him.  "Someone else is in trouble but 
because of what he may have done you and your mother have a 
problem, and yes Josh, that has something to do with why they 
were coming to get you.  It wasn't something you did but the 
welfare folks think use the excuse of protecting you.  They say 
they would protect you by taking you away.  We, you and I, are 
going to see that you stay here.  To do that I need to know what 
happened."  Momentarily at least, Donnie was back on track.  Id 
was having a total sexual breakdown in the background.
 
"Can they put me in Jail," Josh asked, real fear in his voice?  The 
unknown being the most fearful of all.  
 
"No," Donnie reassured him, hugging him.  "They might try to 
persuade you to talk and if you don't they may even threaten you 
but you don't have to say anything, and you shouldn't.  I hope we 
can beat them to the punch.  What happened Josh?  I really need to 
know."
 
There was a deep sigh then he started his story.  "I guess they are 
talking about when the man got into bed with me and my 
mamma," Josh said at last.  "We had gone to bed and I was 
already asleep when they  woke me up.  This man was beside the 
bed arguing with Mamma.  He had his pants down and they were 
calling each other names." Josh's words were slow at first but as 
he talked it was like he was reliving the episode, his voice ridden 
with emotion.  It seemed the boy was talking to no one, just 
reading along from a script in his head.
 
"He called Mamma a whore and she hit at him.  She was still in 
bed but was getting up.  I think he had been drinking and kinda' 
stumbled but he didn't fall.  Then he hit her really hard, with his 
fist, and she didn't do anything, just fell back onto the bed, toward 
me.  She just lay there.  I may have screamed, I don't remember.  
I guess it was then he noticed me.  He stared at me, at my dick, 
then smiled.  When I saw he him looking at me, I got out of the 
bed to run but he was between me and the door and grabbed me by 
the arm when I tried to run by.  I hit at him but couldn't get loose.  
I bit his arm but he just cussed at me and grabbed me around the 
chest and throat."  
 
Donnie pulled the boy closer to him, feeling his responsive 
squeeze.  He slid his hand down the curve of the slender waist and 
around the taunt buttock until it was on Josh's leg.  He squeezed it 
reassuringly pulling the leg deeper between his own.  Josh was 
now rolled almost on top of him, their cocks only inches apart.  
Donnie felt Josh move his head and in the dim light could see the 
boy looking at him.  He bent forward and kissed him, first on the 
forehead, then on the cheek and last the lips.  Their kiss was not 
passionate but tender.  Josh returned Donnie's kiss with equal 
tenderness, then pressed his face against Donnie's cheek.  Donnie 
moved his hand to the boys neck, cupping the back of his head, 
stroking his cheek.  "Then what happened Josh?"
 
"He carried me back to the bed and forced me down onto it, on my 
face.  He grabbed me by the hair with one hand and was fumbling 
with his pants with the other.  I knew what he meant to do and 
was afraid he would strangle me.  I was still kicking at him.   I 
heard him spitting into his hand and he stuck his finger in me, you 
know, in my butt hole.  I almost got loose but he grabbed my 
thing...my dick and he squeezed my balls, telling me to `shut up.'  
He kept squeezing until I quite fighting.  He kept whispering in 
my ear to be quite or he would hurt me and my mother.  He was 
hurting my balls a lot but when I quite fighting he quit squeezing 
so hard.  He turned loose of my balls and pulled my legs apart.  
He said if I made any noise he would squeeze my balls off.  I 
couldn't see what he was doing but he was moving around.  He 
put his finger in my butt again but with something wet on it.  I 
guess I started crying.  I tried not to but I couldn't help it."
 
Donnie wanted to tell him crying was OK and was himself on the 
verge of tears.  It was personal.  The son of a bitch did it to his 
boy.  The tears for Josh were checked by the rage he felt that 
someone hurt Josh.  It was not the fucking, it was the assault on 
the defenseless.   As much as he himself wanted the boy, the idea 
of rape was unthinkable.  Donnie wanted to say something to 
soothe Josh but was afraid to interrupt.  Josh was not really 
talking to him, just letting out his hurt and fright.
 
"He put his hand behind my neck, pressing me into the pillow.  I 
turned my face so I could breathe.  I could feel his other hand still 
rubbing between my legs and on my butt.  He was up between my 
legs and had his, you know, dick out.  I think he was trying to get 
his pants off when grandma came in.  She was screaming and 
cussing him and saying she had called the cops.  She must have 
scared him pretty bad 'cause he turned loose of me and ran.  The 
man knocked her down as he ran out the door.  I put on my 
clothes and we helped mama up.  Mama said not to tell or the man 
would kill her.  Her and grandma told me not to say anything to 
the cops or we'd be in trouble."
 
END PART 12
 
DONNIE
Part 13
 
"When the cops came Mamma wouldn't talk to them and they got 
mad at her and said she was in bad trouble."  Grandma has told 
them on the phone they were attacking me too and they said, `they 
could make me talk.'  They tried to talk to me but Mamma hollered 
at them and told them they couldn't talk to me either.  The cops 
finally left but said some other people would come back and she 
couldn't stop them from talking to me.  I thought maybe nothing 
was going to happen till she woke me up this morning and said 
they were coming to get me."
 
Even in the dark Donnie could tell by Josh's voice the boy was 
looking at him.  He couldn't see his eyes but he knew the fright 
was back.  It was not just the fright from his attack but now there 
was the fright of being taken away.  Now he was being attacked 
again but this time he didn't know who it was or how to fight 
back.  There was a little knot of pain growing in Donnie's chest.  
Donnie knew who the attackers were and now they were his 
attackers too.  He also knew government agencies were cold and 
hardened, heartless, bloodless son of a bitches.  In the long run 
people were just statistics to them, numbers to publicize, numbers 
to get them a promotion or more funds to fuck over more people.  
God but he hoped Mort could help.  The legal battlefield was the 
only place you had a chance of scoring.  It would take money and 
"juice" at city hall.  The winner had nothing to do with right and 
wrong.  Winning had to do with power.  He hoped he had 
enough.
 
Touching is a most powerful emotion and Donnie wanted to touch 
his boy, touch him all over, anything to let him know he cared and 
understood.  Josh must have felt his movement because he had his 
arms around Donnie's neck and he could feel the jerking of the 
little body as Josh fought to keep back the tears.  Donnie couldn't 
say anything.  He could only tell him, "it's OK, it's OK," but he 
wondered if it really was.  He could feel the moisture on his 
shoulder as he stroked the back of Josh's head.  They lay like that 
for a long time and gradually he could feel the tension in the boy's 
body relaxing.
 
"Josh," Donnie finally managed.  "It's scary when you are twelve 
years old and the rest of the world seems nine foot tall.  Even 
when kids are as big and brave as you they have to have help 
sometimes.  Especially when the guys on the other side are a lot 
bigger.  I won't tell you not to worry because we don't have a 
switch to turn that on and off with.  I will tell you are not by 
yourself and the guys on your side are just as big as the other 
boys.  I am on your side, my attorney is on our side and we are 
going to get some other guys too.  I really believe it's going to be 
OK.  We are going to make it.  It may be tough for a little while 
but we are going to keep on until it turns out all right.  Let me do 
some of the worrying for you.  I'll take on the big guys and you 
handle the little guys.  I want you here and you want to be here.  
That's the way it is going to be."
 
Donnie continued to hold him even after he went to sleep, their 
bodies sweaty.  There were tiny, involuntary, jerks in Josh's arms 
and legs as he drifted off.  He felt the perspiration between their 
bodies and threw off some of the cover.  His eyes now adjusted to 
the dark, Donnie could see the body still pressed against him, 
outlined by the soft glow of the street light through the blinds.  
Somehow he looked smaller.  Donnie was aware of the boyhood 
pressing against him and it's sweaty slipperiness.  It was a soft, 
undefined, just a lump of flesh but he found it sensual and stirring.  
He shifted his body to create a space between them then for the 
tubular appendage that could be the source of so much pleasure.  
His fingers grasp around it's length, the flaccid stalk conforming 
to his grasp, it's semi-firm head pressed into Donnie's palm.  He 
groped between Josh's legs for the scrotal sac of testicles.  The 
oyster like balls held promise of great gobs of juicy white seminal 
fluid but for now were in the throws of prepubescence.  He 
visioned taking this budding manhood into his mouth, feeling 
Josh's juvenile organs swell with engorgement, and sucking them 
until the boy spewed his first drops of pure primal nectar.  
 
He could feel himself hardening and chastised himself.  He longed 
for the time and place but this was not it.  His primal self 
bombarded his brain with a hundred reasons to take the boy now 
but reason prevailed.  In time perhaps but it must be natural and 
mutual, a spontaneous sharing.  The boy's passion must match his 
own.  He carefully unwrapped his arms and slid out of bed.  
Looking down at the sleeping boy he saw what Michael Angelo 
must have had in mind as he chiseled away at his David.  He was 
beautiful.  The smooth curves of his back and buttocks were pure 
art form, half moon of light and shadow.  The gates of heaven 
could be no more beautiful or offer more to he who entered, two 
dunes who shielded paradise.  
 
He fought at the thoughts that were arousing him but knew they 
would continue unabated until he relieved himself.  Donnie went 
instead to the bathroom and watched himself in the mirror as he 
masturbated.  His eyes took in his cock as he jacked it off, his cut 
but ample foreskin sliding over his glands, glistening in the 
bathroom light.  Two balls swung with the rhythm of his stroking, 
slapping against the inside of his thighs.  Donnie closed his eyes, 
and immediately there was the golden body of his Josh, offering 
his body, spread wide, a pink puckered flower in the center, then a 
reddened ring, then a brown darker ring all seemingly smiling 
beneath his two walnuts.  Josh contracted, bobbing his dick, his 
knees like the rear sights of a rifle.  Donnie bent over the boy.  He 
pressed his cock inside, exploding on entry, forcing groans of 
pleasure from Josh. 
 
He opened his eyes to watch great puddles of cum gathering on the 
towel.  His rotated cods shot again and again, unbelievable 
quantities of the creamy stuff, more than a handful.  The amount 
and force of his cum was legend.  He could squirt the length of a 
bed.  He milked the remaining drops from his cock head.  Taking 
a deep breath, he felt the tension leaving his body, the angle of the 
dangle rapidly decreasing.   His hardened member softened as he 
struggled to piss.  At last it softened, it's yellow stream splattered 
into the bowl.  He swung it up and down several times, searching 
for the last drop that always waits till it is back in your pants.  
Satisfied he had drained himself, he returned to bed.   With Josh 
now on Donnie's side of the bed, he went to the other side.  He 
lay a long while, his mind a potpourri of residual physical 
yearnings and emotions.  Whatever it takes, Josh will be mine.  
Events were taking on a personal tone and Donnie had always kept 
the scoreboard even.  As points piled up there would be scores to 
settle.  Donnie always believed one good fucking deserves 
another.
 
 Chapter six
 
If Id had a color it would be reddish purple, the color of an 
engorged dick head.  At the moment Donnie's ID was gagging, 
with semen backed up to his back teeth, figuratively of course, and 
the fury of another missed opportunity.  God dammit, jacking off 
was a weak second.
 
"Damn!  I hate it when he does that," Id was saying to no one in 
particular.  If Id had a physical tongue it certainly would be 
hanging out.  Perhaps Donnie was to busy to notice, what with his 
do-gooder shit and Super-ego screwing everything up with that 
paternal crap he was shoveling out but Id noticed.  Even as Josh 
was pulling off his underwear Id was re-living the excitement, 
watching his little prepubescent pecker hanging between his legs 
as he put on his underwear in the dressing room.  One might say 
he was drooling if an Id could actually drool.  Damn Super-Ego!  
You shmuck!  You said you would work something out and here 
he is in bed, naked for Christ sake, and you start that "Poor little 
kid.  Look what he's been through crap."  Have you considered 
what I've been through?  The kid's the most physically perfect 
specimen I've ever seen, rubbing his absolutely delicious stalk of 
boyhood all over me so I'm about to choke in my Id-iotic saliva 
and you tell me cool it. 
 
I am so horny I could honk.  The dick I don't have has had a 
perpetual hard on for a month.  What happened to the good old 
days when you didn't fuck things up.  I almost wish we were back 
chicken-fucking again.  I admit looking at a flock of chickens 
don't do much for me but at least it took the pressure off for 
awhile.  Look S-E, you are going to have to figure something out 
or I'm going to raise hell with Donnie.  
 
 So see here dick-head.  I can only handle so much with this dream 
shit.  I can sparkle off some of this stuff that has built up but I 
don't need sparklers dude, I need a twenty-one gun salute.  We've 
got cum backed up to his ears.  He could fertilize half of Texas and 
I'll be damned if I'm gonna let him drown in this stuff.  Care to 
guess how many million sperm I have penned up?  Shit.    OK.  
Let's try a rational approach.  That's rich.  Id's don't have a 
rational approach.  I wish you would try to see my side.  I know 
you want to be socially conscious and have a good reputation, and 
you have this religious thing you are hanging onto but man, I'm 
the juice that run's this whole fucking ship.  SE, old chum, ain't 
you or he either one "shit" without me so you better get your ass in 
gear and get me some relief before my cork blows and I don't 
mean another "Ho Hum" jack off session.  I pull the stopper on all 
this shit I got bottled up and your boy is gonna' splatter.  An Id 
can only take so much.
 
Did you feel that hot little bod all over me.  I guess not since you 
are "above that sort of thing."  You were to busy with that 
emotional caring crap.  Well, let me tell you, while he was rubbing 
his frilly dilly on me I thought I'd go nuts... and I did in a way.  
These two testicles which I am so proud of and, you hardly notice, 
were in over drive.  I have enough "joy juice" built up to service a 
brooder house.  Yeah, I know, it's a carry over from chicken-
fucking but I'm speaking figuratively.  I know it's been awhile but 
I gotta' do something with all this "jurgens" I got on hand. 
 
Yeah.  I know.  You two are gonna' sleep on it while I run the 
show.  Stay tuned for the late show SE.  What you guys wouldn't 
take care of earlier I'm gonna' run on the big screen about four 
o'clock.
 
END PART 13
 
DONNIE
Part 14
 
Donnie's Id was a crusty old fart and certainly lacking in the social 
graces but he was a man of his word.  In the wee hours of the 
morning, while Donnie slept and the total energies of his 
unsleeping brain was at Id's disposal, he had visions more erotic 
than a waking mind could imagine and an orgasm like he hadn't 
had since he was fifteen.  In three dimensional, technicolor, smell-
a-vision, Donnie welcomed the nude Josh's into his bed without 
Super-Ego mucking up the show.  
 
When Donnie awoke he had indeed puddled.
 
 Chapter seven
 
Saturday morning had started off great.  He discovered Josh was a 
snuggler and had awoke to find the youngster snuggled against 
him.  He grabbed tissue from the night stand and cleaned up the 
mess between the sheets.  Damn, he couldn't remember making a 
mess like that since he was fifteen.  
 
He studied the sleeping boy at some length.  His hair was 
disheveled and several locks were almost in his eyes.  He was 
completely relaxed in sleep, breathing through his slightly opened 
mouth.  His lips were full and curved back in a manner that would 
be flattering to a young girl.  The teeth he could see were even and 
white.  His eyes were closed, covered by lids with long dark 
eyelashes.  Donnie knew these soft subtle features would soon be 
changing as his body was sculptured by increasing hormones but 
for now it was a beautiful face that could belong to either sex.  
 
The red light of the digital clock registered fifteen after eight as he 
eased himself carefully out of bed and slipped on a robe.  Crossing 
to the bathroom he started the shower running, pushing the faucet 
lever to the top which adjusted the water to a lukewarm mixture. 
Donnie was not the macho type that like to cook first then freeze in 
a two minute cold shower.  They say it invigorates the skin.  He 
found it was just damn hot then damn cold.  He would take care of 
the three S's and start breakfast before waking Josh.  He 
considered letting Josh sleep and leaving a note but decided against 
it.  He didn't think Josh familiar enough with Donnie or the 
apartment to leave to him wake up alone and with no idea where or 
what was going on, besides he wanted the boys company at 
breakfast.  
 
Donnie was into his second cup of coffee and had eggs and bacon 
about ready to come off the stove when he went back to rouse 
Josh.  He crossed the bedroom and adjusted the blinds.  They cast 
ribbons of light across the bed, illuminating the sleeping boy and a 
bed with disarrayed cover.   Josh had thrown off most of the cover 
and lay on his side facing the bedroom door.  Although Donnie 
made no noise as he walked across the carpet Josh sensed him or 
maybe it was just time for him to wake up because he opened his 
eyes as Donnie was sitting on the edge of the bed.
 
"Hey, Tiger.  Did you sleep OK," he asked, involuntarily reaching 
to rub the boy before giving him an affectionate pat?  There was a 
moment of confusion before Josh remembered where he was.  "I 
slept good," he answered, turning to look at the other side of the 
bed.  "Why am I over here?  I went to bed over there."  Josh was 
unaware or unconcerned that he was naked and uncovered and 
made no move to pull the cover from below his knees or hide his 
morning piss hard.  Donnie almost changed his breakfast menu.  
 
"I think you are part night crawler," Donnie said, having been 
snapped out of his trance by Josh's question.  "You went to bed 
over there then came over here and so I moved over there and 
when I woke up you were over here again.  It's OK.  I don't mind 
if you don't.  How about some breakfast?  I have eggs and bacon 
about ready and I'm going back to start the toast.  Come on, let's 
have breakfast and we'll figure out what we have to do today."
 
Josh joined him in kitchen.  Josh had put on his pants but was 
shirtless and barefoot.  Donnie was both pleased and troubled at 
Josh's lack of modesty.  Still, it seemed more an expression of his 
comfort around Donnie than a not knowing when to "button up."  
He decided it was not an issue that needed to be addressed at the 
moment.  He didn't mind at all Josh's display of himself but if he 
was as casual with everyone it could pose a problem.  He 
wondered too about the origin of his charge's liberation from 
modesty, was it he simply had never to be ashamed of nudity or 
had he been taught to be so free with his body?  
 
Breakfast went smoothly.  He discovered Josh preferred 
scrambled eggs but also had an appetite that devoured almost 
anything.  They discussed retrieving Josh's clothes and decided it 
was best for Donnie to go without Josh.  Josh was familiar with 
the Nintendo and there were movies for the VCR so he would 
entertain himself while Donnie went back for the clothes.
 
Donnie telephoned ahead so Ms. Brenner was expecting him.  He 
had asked her to pack Josh's clothes so he could pick them up.  
They sat on Ms. Brenner's front porch swing for privacy and 
discussed the predicament Ms. Brenner and Josh were in.  He 
listened to the story of what had happened and felt some sympathy 
for the woman but he was not overwhelmed by it.  Problems of 
adults was problems for those same adults to solve.  It was 
unfortunate the woman was not socially, educationally, or 
financially equipped to handle the real world but he had no 
intention of being her savior, unless it was a byproduct of his 
prime directive.  She had fucked around and now she had her tit in 
a wringer.  To get Josh he would probably have to save her bacon 
too.   
 
He showed the proper concern and even patted her hand in 
reassurance.  It was not an empty gesture but was still done 
automatically.  He needed information and carefully asked 
questions to get specific details.  He thought the situation was 
recoverable.  The grandmother had signed the complaint but had 
not witnessed any actual attack, just heard the commotion.  Neither 
Ms. Brenner or Josh had made a statement but had agreed to see 
the police the next day.  It was a typical police SNAFU (Situation 
Normal, All Fucked up) that no one came back to see her but a 
copy of the original report was forwarded to Social Services who 
had to do something to justify their existence so they got an order 
to move Josh pending investigation.  Hopefully it was also 
FUBAR (Fucked Up Beyond Recognition).  Oh well, FIDO (Fuck 
It, Drive On). Social Service workers, at least the child protection 
type were what Donnie affectionately called, "ass halves."  It took 
two of them to be an asshole.  
 
"All right Ms. Brenner," he told her, nothing else would be served 
by staying.  "Josh has to stay with me for the time being, that was 
the deal to get them to hold off.  You call this attorney, Mort 
Smart, and tell him you want him to represent you.  I'll call him 
also.  If you can get word to the guy who attacked you, tell him to 
call Mort also.  Friend or not, his being drunk will not work as an 
excuse, at least not at this point.  If the cops get to him and he 
admits to attacking you, and particularly Josh, we got a problem.  
Frankly I don't like helping the "son of a bitch" but I have to help 
him to help you.  I need for us to meet with the attorney Monday.  
We have to move fast.  Can I pick you up at nine thirty and we 
will go to his office?  I'll see Josh gets to school."
 
"Yeah.  That's OK.  I'll go get his clothes."  She returned with 
three Kroger sacks of clothes and sat them beside him on the 
swing.  "You know Mr. Dugan, Josh ain't had much life here.  
Maybe it'll turn out for the best," and she turned and went back 
inside.  He felt a momentary sadness for her.  She was his mother 
and he guessed there must be a mothers feelings.  Well, maybe he 
wondered, but then Josh had seemed to feel differently.  By the 
time he left he thought he could see the light at the end of the 
tunnel.  He would need Mort, of course, but the pieces fit.
 
Donnie's house was part of a four-plex arranged so each house 
shared a common wall but was still like a house.  Each house had 
it's own front yard but being built like a huge square there was no 
back yard to speak of.  The place was new construction and for the 
little town was considered modern.  Donnie kept things mowed 
and trimmed, usually hiring a neighborhood kid to do the work.  
Donnie had his own mower and edger, all the stuff, but didn't 
particularly like to get all sweaty doing yard work.  He did like the 
see Marcus, a black kid, stripped to his shorts, glistening like 
polished ebony, pushing across the yard.  Marcus, it seemed knew 
he was appreciated and mowed with more flamboyance than one 
would have thought possible.  The huge oak tree was special to 
Donnie.  He often sat at the picnic table under it, sipping his 
coffee, and admiring it's strength and endurance.  It had to be the 
most pruned tree in town as Donnie had Marcus climbing it to look 
for dead limbs almost every time he came. That was how he came 
to know Marcus wore no underwear and had a enormous cock 
only a inch short of the legs of his cut offUs.  
 
Lately he had been offering Marcus cokes and some snacks inside.  
The black propensity to hold their dick was increasingly obvious 
as was the fact Marcus's handful was noticeably hard of late.  
Next trip or two he's offer a shower, "to cool off" and he had a 
feeling Marcus was ready for the shower and more.    
 
Pulling in the drive he parked to the right side away from the oak 
tree.  Even though it was winter the tree managed to keep enough 
sap that it spotted the car if parked under it.   Naturally he had a 
"wash and wax" kid too.     The floor plan of the house could 
easily have provided two or even three additional bedrooms but the 
had bought the house in early construction and had no immediate 
plans for a family so he built only two bedrooms.  All the rooms 
were large and a game room was built instead of the extra 
bedrooms.  He liked wall paper and one wall was papered in the 
bedrooms, in masculine patters.  In the den the wall with the 
fireplace was all brick.  There was very little about the house 
Donnie would have changed.  It very much reflected his 
personality.
 
He opened the garage door and entered, listening for Josh.  At last 
he heard the TV in the game room and felt relieved.  "Just because 
you are paranoid doesn't mean they are not out to get you," he had 
read somewhere and he certainly believed it.  Passing the kitchen 
he stopped, remembering he had not cleaned up after breakfast but 
not seeing any of the dirty dishes.  An inspection of the 
dishwasher showed Josh had put everything in it, everything, 
garbage and all.  Damn, he thought, a kid that cleans up after 
himself.  Strange behavior for a twelve year old but a good sign, if 
it lasts.  He rearranged the dishwasher and started it.  Fortunately 
Josh had not figured out the controls.  He was still feeling pleased 
with the kid's initiative as he headed for the game room to bring 
Josh up to date.
 
The rest of Saturday and Sunday were uneventful.  He and Josh 
went to a show, played miniature golf one evening and rented a 
couple of movies, mostly spending time getting comfortable with 
each other.  He called Mort to relay his meeting with Ms. Brenner 
but had to settle for leaving a message on the machine.  He 
mentioned the meeting for Monday morning and asked Mort to call 
him early at the office.
 
END PART 14
 
-----------------------------
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