This story has sexual content, if this offends you,stop reading now. Sex is not the major topic of this story. If erotic stories are banned where you live, leave this site immediately before you are arrested (you were warned), or if you are deemed to be underage by your government and two young to read this then you should leave now (in either case go look up the names of these people and be sure to vote against them when you are old enough).
This story is fiction. That means I made it up. As the author I may make real life problems disappear with a sentence or two. If you think you recognize yourself or anyone you know it is pure chance, go by a lottery ticket this could be your lucky day.
Copyright 2006: str8mayb –– that means the story is copyrighted by me in 2006. Do not re-post without my written permission.
There is also sexual child abuse in this story. It is not described in detail. It is in no way meant as a turn on but as an explanation and motivation, to the characters. The author is appalled by this type of behavior and in absolutely no way condones it. Where possible the guilty do suffer, one of the perks of fiction, the bad guys lose. Although this is posted in Adult – Youth do not expect hot sex.
I hope you enjoy. E-mail to firstname.lastname@example.org
Keep reading and enjoy.
Well life was sure different for me now. I had a son and a dog. Mitch was being very good about watching Ginger, and looking for signs that she needed to go out. By bed time, she had only had one accident, and Mitch wiped it up off the kitchen floor and scolded her. He went out with her each time. By bed time the two were bonded. Mitch had made her a bed out of a box and some old towels. When he asked me if she could sleep in his room, I just couldn't say no to either one of those puppy dog eyed looks. Perhaps I had made a mistake, I was now outnumbered.
After Mitch had his lotion applied and took his medicine, he was off to bed, and Ginger followed her boy with tail wagging. I wondered how Max, was doing. After dinner, I had put a bowl of food and a bowl of water on the back porch for Max. I went out the kitchen door, and max was laying happily on a wicker love seat. His food was gone. I swear he was grinning at me. I went over and gave him a good scratch behind his ears. He licked my hand and put his head down. I didn't regret bringing him home.
When I came back in, I went to check on Mitch. As I approached his room, I could hear him talking, “...so here we are. I'm the luckiest boy ever. Mr. Harris is so nice. He hasn't even tried to get me to do that stuff, and he let me get you. You're going to love it here too.”
I took the last step through the door. Mitch was on the floor, holding Ginger in his lap. “Ready for bed?” I asked.
Mitch put Ginger in her bed, and climbed into his. I sat and we had a very nice hug. “Mitch, I love you.” I felt him tense at those words. “That doesn't come with a price, little guy. It is just the way it is. I want you to be happy and safe. I will do everything in my power to make that happen. Mrs. Thompson will help too. I've known her for a long time, and she is good people. If you need me tonight, I'll be here. Okay?”
He hugged me again. “Thanks, Dad.”
My heart raced, hearing this little angel call me Dad was better than a million dollars. I tucked him in, and kissed him on the forehead. As I left the room I heard Ginger's tags and looked back to see her curling up next to her boy. I wondered if I would have a visitor later tonight.
I had my answer when I woke up. Mitch was curled up against my back, and Ginger was nestled behind my knees. Mitch was under the covers and Ginger on top. I made my trip to the bathroom, and before I was done, Mitch was joining me and Ginger was looking on too.
“Good morning, son.” I said.
“Good morning, Dad.” Mitch replied. “What's for breakfast?”
I laughed. “How about a Lumber-Jack breakfast?”
“What's that?” he asked.
“Oh, you poor thing, never had any real food.” I was really hamming it up. “Go get dressed, and take ginger out, before she has an accident you have to clean up, and I'll meet you in the kitchen.”
By the time Mitch came back in, I had cooked the sausage links and cut them into bite size pieces, and was browning hash-brown potatoes with onions. When I stopped laughing at Mitch, he was covered with dog paw prints, big ones on his shirt and little one on his pant legs, I told him to wash up. He glared at me. I then added the sausage and eggs to the hash-browns, and stirred it all together, when the eggs were done, I grated some cheddar cheese over it. When it melted, I served it on the two plates I had set out, added a couple of pieces of toast and breakfast was ready.
Mitch returned, and was delighted with his heaping plate of food. I had thought I made too much, but he managed to wolf it all down. “Poor, Ginger,” I said, “You didn't even save her a taste.”
Mitch gave me a horrified look. “I, I, ah....”
I spoiled it by laughing, I just couldn't help it. “Don't worry, Mitch. I saved some for Ginger and Max. How about getting their bowls, and we'll feed them. Both dog and puppy enjoyed the treat with their breakfast.
After getting Mitch to change, I had him let Ginger out with Max, and loaded him in the car and we headed to the Boy Scout Headquarters, which was in the next county. I was able to get his records, and we purchased a new uniform. I asked for the nearest Pack, which turned out to be about half way between home and the HQ, and purchased those numbers for his shirt. He was a first year Webelos. I got the name of the Cubmaster, and they meet on Thursday nights. Mitch was so proud to have a Scout uniform again. He was thrilled to have the khaki shirt instead of the blue Cub Scout shirt. He was so excited about the meeting coming up. I told him I would contact the Cubmaster and find out if they were meeting through the summer.
We stopped back at the same place for lunch, and Mitch ordered the Jr. Bubba this time. We had a grand time and by the time we were home again, Mitch was tired and needed his lotion. It was time to change his bandage on his arm too. I gave him, a pain pill, and rubbed on the lotion. By that time, he had a goofy grin, so I figured the pain pill was working. I unwrapped his arm. I really wanted to cry. Most of his arm was blistered on the outside, from a few inches below his shoulder to just above his wrist. Luckily most of the blisters had not broken. I carefully applied the antibiotic cream, and rewrapped his arm. A few more days and he might be able to go without the bandage. I hoped he didn't scar.
Mitch went into his room and lay down. I figured he would sleep off the pain pill. Not long after that, there was a scratching at the back door. I went and let Ginger in. Max was waiting and watching in front of the steps. He gave a little woof, and trotted off as Ginger entered the house. She said her hello to me, then was off in search of her boy.
I went and checked the messages on the answering machine. There was a message from a Special Agent Dukman of the FBI. He had some questions for Mitch, and wanted to set a time to interview him. I called Inspector Brown. He vouched for Agent Dukman, and said he had worked with him before. I called Agent Dukman, and made arrangements for him to come by Monday morning. The other message was Linda wanting to make sure everything was going okay. I called her and got her voicemail, “Tag, you're it.” and hung up.
I then got the home school manual, and began working on the lessons for Mitch. When he returned to the kitchen an hour or so later, he wanted a snack. I fixed him a sundae. (Hey, he's my kid and I can spoil him if I want to.) After that was gone, we began a review of his math skills. He was a little behind where I thought he should be, but not in terrible shape. After that, I sent him into the den to play, and I started dinner. The aroma of home made pizza soon drew him into the kitchen.
I asked what he liked on his pizza. “Cheese.” Was what I got back.
“Good, there is cheese on it, pepperoni, Italian sausage, bacon, mushrooms, onions, olives and three kinds of cheese are on it too, as a matter of fact.” I grinned at Mitch.
“I thought you could only get one topping on a pizza,” Mitch said.
“No way! Don't you remember the one I ordered the first night you were here?” I asked, and received a blank look. “When you make it yourself, you can put anything you want on it.”
“Wow. You made it?” he asked.
“Sure, next time you can help, and put on the stuff you like.” I told him.
We worked our way through the pizza. I must have been told fifty times I fixed the best pizza in the world. I, of course, ate that up.
After dinner, we sat in the family room and Mitch put a DVD in, and we watched The Cowboys one of John Wayne's best films. I was sewing on the patches on Mitch's Webelos uniform. When John Wayne is killed, I had a crying Mitch in my lap. I had forgotten how emotional that was, and what Mitch had just been through, losing his parents. I started to turn it off but he stopped me. By the end of the movie, he was cheering and then crying about them returning to the ranch.
When the movie was over, he looked at me. “I want to catch the bad men that did that to Mommy and Billy.”
“There are some good people working to do just that. As a matter of fact, there is an FBI special agent coming tomorrow, to talk to us.” I informed him.
“Why would those men want to hurt Mommy and Billy?” he asked again.
“There are bad people, Mitch. I don't know why things happen sometimes the way they do.” I hugged him for a minute, and then decided to test the waters on another subject. “Twice you asked why about your mom and brother, and not your father.”
“Step-father,” he corrected quickly.
“Okay, why not him?” I asked again.
“Oh, ah, well, I can understand why someone would want to kill him.” Mitch's voice had become chillingly calm and monotone.
“Could you tell me more?” I asked.
“Well he wasn't very nice. He ordered us around all the time, and Tuesday nights...” Mitch trailed off and began to shake.
I wrapped my arms around Mitch, and held him as he worked his way through whatever it was. “It's okay now, Mitch. That is over.”
He looked up at me and seemed to be debating something. “Tuesday nights Mommy went out. Father would make me play 'The Game' even though I didn't want to.” He was obviously reliving something very unpleasant.
I gently stroked his back, “its okay now.”
“He made me take off all my clothes, he, he, did things and, and...” Mitch's tears started and he cried and cried.
My heart was breaking. My boy was hurting, and it was so hard to be unable to take his pain away. My mind was racing with images I didn't want to have in my head. If his step-father were still alive his life would have been in serious danger. Mitch and I cried for a good while.
When we recovered, he touched my wet cheeks, “Why?”
I knew exactly what he meant. “It's because I love you, and when something hurts you, it hurts me too.”
Mitch wrapped his arms around me, and hugged me. He gasped when his right arm pulled against his bandage, but kept right on hugging. When he relaxed I realized he was asleep. I wished I could carry him back to bed, but instead I laid us both down on the sofa. And spread a light blanket over us. Ginger was sitting right by us on the floor. I patted my leg and she joined us and curled up by my feet.
I became aware in the morning of being watched. I opened my eyes, and was staring into Mitch's eyes. “Good morning, little one.”
“Morning, Dad. I didn't dream last night. What's for breakfast?” Mitch crawled over me, and headed for the bathroom.
I stretched, and got to my feet. Ginger jumped down and followed me to the kitchen door. Max was waiting and the two ran off together. A quick visit to the bathroom, and it was time to fix breakfast.
When we were eating I asked, “Did you go to church, Mitch?”
He paused, “Sometimes. Mom liked to go, but my step-father almost never went.”
“You want to go today? We could try the church where the Scouts meet.” I suggested.
“Do you think I look okay?” he worried.
“Sure, just your arm is bad now. We'll get that re-bandaged and get dressed.”
We got ready, and headed over to the Presbyterian Church. We missed Sunday School, but we both enjoyed the service. The church seemed very kid friendly. There were lots of kids, and several came up and introduced themselves to Mitch. One of the boys was a year older than Mitch, and was delighted that Mitch was coming to Scouts Thursday night.
“I'm glad we went,” Mitch stated on the way back home. “Now I know another boy in the Pack. Brian said I would have lots of fun.”
When we got home, I fixed a quick lunch and we settled to do some school work. We had just finished an English lesson when the phone rang. It was Linda, and she wanted to know how we were doing. I invited her over for dinner.
I decided on baked pork chops, and Mitch helped me as I prepared the sauce and side dishes. When all was prepared, we let Ginger out, and followed. Mitch hadn't been out back, so I gave him a tour. The dogs stayed right with us. Mitch was fascinated by the old barn.
“Can I ride on the tractor, Dad? Can I drive it? What's that for? Wow, look at all this stuff. This is so kewl!” Mitch was just about bouncing from one thing to another.
“Slow down there, guy. I can't drive the tractor anymore, but I'll ask the man that does, if you can ride along with him. Okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, great. What is upstairs?” he responded.
“The hayloft. There isn't much up there. Haven't had cattle or horses here for years.” I explained.
Suddenly Max took off barking, and Ginger was right behind him, trying to keep up. Mitch and I followed at a walk. Max was at the fence next to the garage. Linda must have arrived; Max was certainly a good watch dog.
We met Linda at the gate, and introduced her to our newest family members. After appropriate licks and scratches we went inside.
Linda settled in the den, and I brought in sodas for all three of us. “Well, Mitch, how are you doing?” she asked.
“Everything here is good. Dad is helping me with the school stuff, and Ginger is the best.” He gave me a big hug.
“Lee, how are you doing?” she then asked me.
“Well, other than forgetting I shouldn't pick up my son, pretty good. Now that he has remembered the night of the fire the nightmares have stopped, and we are both sleeping through the night.” I said and tickled Mitch carefully on his left side.
Linda laughed at our antics. Ginger barked, and we all had a good time laughing and barking. When Mitch left to go to the bathroom, I said to Linda, “Mitch told me a few things, and I'm sure his step-father was abusing him.”
“Oh, God, Lee. I had no idea. I usually can pick up on that. Are you okay with that?” she asked.
“Hell no! I'm pissed as hell, and if the son-of-bitch wasn't dead already, he would be when I got through with him.” I fumed. “You want to know if it changes how I feel about Mitch? I love that little guy more than ever, and will do whatever it takes to protect him.”
“Okay, down boy. Chill. I can get him counseling if you think that will help. Right now we need to be sure he is secure. I'm glad you don't hold what some sleaze did to him against him.” she said.
“Linda! How could you think that of me?” I was stunned.
“Lee, when it comes to stuff like this, you can't predict how people will react until they do. I hate when the negative reactions come, but they are a part of being human. I've seen something like this tear good families apart.” Linda told me.
“Well it's not tearing us apart. I just wanted you to know what was happening. Mitch is safe here, and he is loved too.” I told her.
Mitch came back into the room, and the conversation turned to our going to church this morning. Mitch told about meeting a boy that was in the Webelos and how I had gotten him a uniform yesterday. He was so excited about that, he was still talking about it when dinner was ready.
After Dinner, Mitch went in to watch TV, and Linda and I stayed in the kitchen, having a cup of coffee. I filled her in on Mitch's dream, and the FBI agent coming the next day. She was concerned that there was so much interest in Mitch. She gave me a name and address of a man in the next county, said if things got too hot here to go there for a safe haven.
Linda left, and I joined Mitch on the couch. He cuddled up to my right side. “Thanks, Dad.” he said softly.
“You're welcome, for what?” I asked.
“For still letting me stay, after I told you how bad I'd been. I heard you tell Mrs. Thompson, and thought you were going to tell her to take me away. Then you said you loved me.” He buried his head in my shirt and cried.
I waited for his sobs to calm down. “Mitch, I need for you to listen to me, really listen, okay?” he nodded. “You didn't do anything wrong. Nothing at all. You step-father did wrong things, and he was bad, but you are just a child, you did what he told you to.”
“Not just him,” Mitch whispered.
“You still, didn't do anything wrong.” I repeated.
“They punished me, saying I was a bad boy.” he was crying again.
“You don't have to tell me. You were being used by them. It's okay now. I love you, Mitch.” I hugged him and he cried.
“They made me get naked, then they spanked me, and then they rubbed my thing and made it get stiff then laughed when it got all hot and burned. The last time they put the stuff in my butt, and it hurt me bad and they laughed and laughed. I wish that other man was dead too.” Mitch was sobbing and breathing like he had run five miles.
I had a bunch of questions, but didn't think he was in any condition to answer, so I just held him and let him cry. Ginger had jumped up and was cuddled up to him with her head in his lap.
“That other man came on Tuesday nights after Mommy left. He came four times. Each time he hurt me more. Father let him do whatever He wanted to me. He told Father that after the trial, they would be even. Father laughed and said they would be more than even after he, he, fucked me.” Mitch was confessing just above a whisper.
My stomach clenched into a knot. I now understand the expression of seeing red with rage, 'cause I did. I guess Mitch felt my reaction, because he began to cry harder and tried to pull away. I held him to me. “I'm not angry with you, little one. I'm angry with your step-father, and this other man. As I said before, you haven't done anything wrong, they have.”
Mitch cried himself to sleep. I sat there holding him and fuming, wondering just what I could do to heal my son. When I looked up, the news was on the TV. I got Mitch moving to get ready for bed. He settled in his bed with Ginger.
I went to bed, after taking some of my pain meds. All this emotion was causing tension, which was not good for my back. I drifted off, debating with myself whether or not to tell the FBI agent about this newest information.
I was not in good shape when I awoke in the morning. My back was not happy. When I opened my eyes, Mitch was standing there looking at me. “Good morning, son.”
“What's wrong Dad? You were groaning.” Mitch said.
“I'm having a bad back day. Could you help me? I need that cane over there.” I told him, and he retrieved it for me. I made it into the bathroom, and relieved my bladder. A quick shave and then shower and off to the kitchen to fix something for breakfast. I needed the cane and hand rails. It was a rainy day, and that explained a lot.
When I got to the kitchen, Mitch had put every box of cereal on the table with the carton of milk, and bowls and spoons for both of us. I don't know when anybody ever did such a nice thing for me. “Thanks, Mitch. This is really nice.” He beamed with pride at my remark.
“Just a good turn, Dad,” he replied.
“It certainly is.” I gave him a hug and he didn't tense up. He was recovering from the burns.
After breakfast, I had him strip and took the bandage off his arm. Most of his body was pretty much healed. There was some skin still pealing on his right leg, and his right arm was seriously pealing, but the blisters were no longer so red and nasty looking. I rubbed some lotion on his right arm and leg, and told him to go put on some shorts and a loose T-shirt. He was back before I had managed to stand and cross the kitchen. He told me to go get in my chair and he would clean up the kitchen.
It sure felt good to be in the chair with its supports for my back. Mitch came in and brought his math lesson book. We sat there, and he worked through a whole weeks worth of assignments. He was so excited that he understood, with me explaining the concepts. About ten o'clock, I heard Max start barking, and then Ginger joined in. A minute later, the doorbell rang. I picked up a small control, and pressed the talk button, “Hello.”
“Mr. Harris, this is Special Agent Dukman,” came the reply.
“Just a minute.” I started to get up, but Mitch told me to stay put and he and Ginger went to the door. They escorted the wet FBI agent into the den. Mitch, please take his raincoat, and hang it over a chair in the kitchen. Sorry I can't get up, but my back is very bad today.”
“Quite alright. I just want to verify the boy's story. It doesn't seem like he can add much.” The agent said kindly. He then took out a small tape recorder, and gave a few details of who he was, and who we were and the date and time.
For some reason I liked and trusted this man. “Well, There is some new information.” Mitch returned at this point. “Mitch, I would like to tell Special Agent Dukman what you told me last night. If you want to go to your room it's okay or you can stay. I think he needs to know about the man, and he may even be able to make him pay for what he did to you.”
Mitch froze in place. I knew he had trusted me enough to tell me, but now I was asking to tell a stranger. I could tell he was really scared about this.
S. A. Dukman said softly, “I don't know what this is about, Mitch, but I can tell you, it will be okay. Your foster dad thinks this in important, and I don't think he would want to tell, if it wasn't. I can promise that I will not think you were bad. Bad adults try to make their victims feel guilty about what was done to them. If this was a sex case, I would guess they played with your penis and when it quite naturally, without your wanting it to, got hard, they told you; you wanted it and you were bad.”
Mitch broke down and crawled into my lap. “That sob, is, sob, what they, sob, sob, did.”
S. A. Dukman said under his breath, “God damn perverts.” The look he gave me let me know he felt about like I did. “Mitch? Please look at me, son.”
Mitch slowly turned and looked at the agent.
“When I was a boy, I had an uncle who did that kind of thing to me. He made me afraid to tell anyone, and when he put his penis in my rear, he tore me so bad I was bleeding, and he had to take me to the hospital. He told them I had been trying to do myself with a beer bottle. I was so humiliated. The doctor didn't fall for it though, and called the cops. My parents sided with him at first, but then the doctor chewed them out, and made them realize a little boy would not try anything like that especially to the point of tearing and needing stitches. Besides beer bottles didn't shoot semen. My uncle spent 12 years in jail, and he knows to stay away from me, 'cause I'll never forgive him for what he did, and tried to do.” The anger and emotion were so raw, this had to be true. Wow, God must have sent this man.
It was like a dam burst, Mitch told the whole story, and answered all the questions. Agent Dukman went out to his car and returned with a briefcase. He showed Mitch a series of pictures. The sixth picture got a reaction. Mitch screamed, “THAT'S HIM!”
“That's real good, Mitch. You have been a huge help in this case. This explains some of the things the new prosecutor has found. I'm sure we now have the motive for the murder. I will be keeping a watch on you.” He gave each of us what looked like a small walkie-talkie, and a wristwatch. “If something strange goes on, press the blue button on the walkie talkie and the red if you feel in danger. Wear the wrist watch it will allow us to track you if necessary.” He clicked off the tape recorder, and was soon out the door.
Mitch returned from letting him out, and climbed into my chair and cuddled. I was amazed at this turn of events. After awhile Mitch got down and started playing with the PS2. After an easy lunch of coldcuts and chips, we worked some social studies. Mitch was a quick learner. I wondered why his grades had not been better.
After the lesson, Mitch wanted to go out with Ginger. It had stopped raining, so I let him go. I tried to figure what to do about his experience. He seemed to be handling it okay, but I wasn't sure how he was doing inside. Maybe some counseling would be good, but it meant another adult had to be told. I tried to put myself in this situation, and I don't think I would want any more to know than did. If I had someone I could talk to, that was what was important.
When Mitch came back in, he and Ginger were covered in mud. I happened to be in the kitchen when they arrived. I backed them both into the laundry room. I told Mitch to strip, and put his clothes right in the washer, then started it. I got Ginger and put her in the washtub sink. I sent Mitch to shower, and I quickly washed Ginger. She was not a big fan of the bath but a couple of Milk Bones, and she did fine.
Mitch returned, nice and clean. Ginger was fluffy and they went into the den. I was feeling a lot better now that the weather was improving. I fixed diner and we ate.
Mitch cleaned up, and we went into the den. I sat in my chair and Mitch climbed into my lap. He cuddled and began talking, “I'm glad I told you. I was so afraid at first that you were going to do those things, then I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore when you found out. I feel so good that you know and still want me.”
I had tears in my eyes, “I'll always want you. Mitch, you are my son now. I will keep you as safe as I possibly can. I love you, son. I really love you.” We stayed like this until bed time.
I hope you are enjoying FIRE. Let me know your thoughts email@example.com
I continue to be impressed at how Str8mayb can capture the deep feelings in the characters in his stories. During the time I have been editing his work, I have come to love all of the people he has introduced to us. Well, maybe not all of them. I wasn't too fond of that Sheriff, or the prosecutor. You know what I mean. I wanted to say that I have already fallen in love with Mitch, and I know that Lee will take good care of his new family. The depth of feelings portrayed in Str8mayb's stories is just plain fantastic. Am I laying it on to thick? I wonder if, maybe, he would consider giving me a raise?
I really need more capitol letters; I'm really running low right now.
By the way these non union characters are doing a great job.
Author's Reply: CAPITOL LETTERS? THEN PEOPLE WILL THINK I'M YELLING!
Fort Chief Editors Notes:
RR you don't need a raise I just gave you a triple raise so you are set for awhile. Non Union or Union Characters I don't care I love the new characters this is a great new story. Please keep up the great job.
For those not following the Short Compound at http://www.jeffsfortboard.us/ there was a strike of fictional characters and Neal from my story, Haven, was one of the ringleaders. Well it was very nice to have out of my head for awhile, but then Mitch entered and since he had never heard of the CSU he was happy for me to write his story. Now you know the rest of the story.