Copyright 2011, 2012 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, “In His Father's House” is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at

In addition to numerous articles on the problems faced by juveniles incarcerated in adult prisons - especially those sentenced to life sentences without the possibility of parole - the author is especially indebted to three books: Santos, Michael G., Inside, Life Behind Bars in America (New York: St. Martin's Griffin edition, 2007); Parsell T. J., Fish, A Memoir of a Boy in a Man's Prison ( Cambridge, MA; Da Capo Press, 2006); and Gagnon, Robert J. 053803, Life at Fifteen, updated ed. (N.p.; Robert J. Gagnon-Paperback, 2006). Echoes of each will be heard in my story that follows.

If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, please respect yourself and those around you by practicing safe sex.


(Revisiting Chapter 4)

The judge asked Jeb to rise, joined in the Supreme Court's condemnation of sentencing juveniles to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole and, in light of new evidence and the Attorney General's pleading, overturned his murder conviction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Nevertheless, I tend to agree with the Gold Star States Attorney on several counts. Legally, you are still a juvenile. Given the fact that a young child was savagely murdered, a wound still bleeding in the community, it does not seem unreasonable that I require you be released to one or more adult members of your family. I recognize that there are problems in this regard. Hence, I am assigning temporary custody to a representative of this county's social services. I require that this matter be speedily resolved and that Social Services report directly to me."

(Continuing Our Story: The Children's Refuge)

Although it frustrated the legal community's desire quickly to dispose of a dangerous situation, Jeb's immediate family still adamantly refused to have anything to do with him. The savage murder, the continuing rumor of sexual involvement, the determined opposition of the powerful Taylor clan, and the fact that the "death bed confession" file had been temporarily closed by a California court gave them a great deal of cover in the strongly conservative Gold Star community.

The fact that a state Superior Court judge was interested in the case and constantly prodded Social Services to act did eventually result in Devon Taylor's younger brother being identified as a possible supervisor for Jeb. Something of a "black sheep" in the family - for reasons that (evidently) few knew and no one would discuss - Henry (Hank) Taylor did reluctantly agree to make the long trip downstate. He remained uncomfortable during his overnight stay, and his interview with Jeb did little to suggest a good match.

During the week, two telephone conversations between man and boy led to some softening of earlier positions. Innocently, Jeb let on that he had been hurt by the fact that only one member of the family wanted to have anything to do with him. Hank grunted that he understood. As a matter of fact, he admitted, he had received so much pain at the hands of the family over the years that he wondered why anyone would conceivably open himself to more. Snickering, the two agreed that an ex-con and a marginalized black sheep kinda deserved each other! (Jeb knew full well, of course, that he wasn't really an ex-con. It's just that his emotions hadn't quite caught up with his intellect!) For both of them, it was a deeply buried value on family that seemed to prevent a complete separation. Within the week, each had notified the Director of Social Services that this arrangement was acceptable.

The Director arranged an information session and a exit-physical for the time of Hank's second visit. The information session made sure that all bills were paid and, in the case of the Refuge, sought contributions to support providing greater numbers of the county's youth with medical care, food, recreation and, for many of the children, basic clothing. The exit-physical was really a defensive strategy. In the past, too many parents and other guardians had filed post care complaints about the physical condition in which their children left a Refuge center. Jeb was older, but the Director directed that the same rules would be followed. Hence, Hank was directed to an area that had full view of the examination room through one-way glass, plus cameras and other equipment.

Jeb was brought into the room by an intern who directed him into a curtained area where he was directed to remove all clothing, jewelry, etc. When finished, he was directed to return to the main examination area where a doctor, a nurse, and the intern awaited him. As he pushed the curtains aside and entered the room, every single staff member - plus Hank Taylor - gasped. Jeb's body looked as if it had come straight out of an art book focused on Classic Greek sculpture! Quickly regaining their equilibrium, the staff completed taking his vital signs which the intern charted for the medical record. (At 17 years and ten months of age, Jeb's height was recorded at 5'11", his weight at 181 lb.)

There he stood in all his glory, relaxed and, given the prison experience, without self-consciousness. Vibrantly handsome, as well as appealingly youthful, there was little of the "pretty boy" about him. Rather, his beauty was more that of the iconic "young man". His flawless, glowing skin neither showed adolescent imperfections nor (other than as stubble immediately above his genitals) was it obscured below the eyes by his bright golden hair. As the doctor joked with him, his blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and youthful vitality. The lad's forearms were muscular and particularly well-shaped, the muscles of his upper arms prominent and solid even without being flexed.

Jeb's wide shoulders and muscular torso were clearly the creation of the great Olympian Hephaestus, the Greek god of fire, metalworking, stonemasonry, and the art of sculpture. Moving down from his powerful, athlete's neck, one immediately noticed the depth of his chest - and the solid pecs with their manly nipples that gave them substance. Below, Jeb's lower torso was a veritable plain of muscles. Hardened, sharply defined upper abs gave way to a flat stomach wall formed of layer after layer of muscle. The wall was such that it could take many a vicious punch without causing Jeb to gasp - or even to change the determined expression on his face. His high-slung butt was of the same order...without flaw, with firm beautifully rounded cheeks that curved sensuously into a hairless crack before flowing into long, muscled, well-proportioned legs. Between Jeb's upper and lower bodies lay his "Apollo's Belt," a heavy band of cartilage that attractively separated his muscular torso from powerful thighs, calves, and feet.

Much has already been made of the young man's genitals which had attained nearly 90 percent of their adult size by the time he was fourteen years old. The present examination found little new growth. His genitals still merited the term "huge," though they possibly appeared somewhat less...staggering on his larger frame and heightened musculature. A relatively smooth, pale nutsack still stretched well down between his long thighs. Two massive, plum-sized testicles weighed it down to the point that it swayed back and forth as he moved from one examination station to another. His thick, uncut cock hung down a good seven inches over the sack. Hard, it now approached a bit less than nine and one-half inches! Awestruck, the doctor cupped Jeb's heavy balls in the palm of one hand while fully retracting the foreskin from his moist, rosy glans with the fingers of the other. It was perhaps forgivable that a wide smirk spread across his face as well as that of the young man and, most assuredly, that of the uncle in whose hands he had decided to place his trust!

Try as they might, the young doctor and his staff were unable to point out any imperfection in Jeb's body, let alone discover an aesthetic or physiological problem that might have prevented his receiving comments of the highest order.

(Going Home)

Jeb stood at the end of the covered walk that led to the parking area. The teeming rain made seeing anything until it was right on you almost impossible. Suddenly, he spotted Uncle Hank's car that he had described when they had spoken by phone last night. Carrying one sack, bent over as he leaned into the rain, the young man trudged out to meet the one relative who wanted anything to do with him. After having been caught up in the bureaucracy of the Refuge Center, he was seven weeks short of his eighteenth birthday. Given the dark skies and the muscle put on over nearly four years of adolescent growth and serious exercise while in custody, however, he could just as well have been in his early twenties.

As his uncle opened the trunk, Jeb disposed of the sack with a grunt and headed for the passenger side of the car. Not particularly aware of the other, the two men settled into their seats and wiped the worst of the water off their faces. Turning towards his young nephew, a quietly smiling Hank Taylor reached out an arm to... hug him, shake his hand, pound his upper arm...whatever. (At that point the older man probably didn't know himself. God knows, he hadn't scripted his welcome!) In any case, as he touched the youngster's arm, he felt a sudden stiffness through Jeb's light jacket and the slightest movement of his body towards the car door. Abruptly, he backed off. The boy sat as if petrified for a moment before turning and staring intently at his uncle from under the visor of his baseball cap. Hank could have interpreted the look as an adolescent challenge...or worse, but he had lived enough years to recognize that the chief element in the lad's gaze was simply discomfort mixed with a little old fashioned fear.

"Sorry, Jeb. It's just that I was serious when I said that I really wanted you to come and live with me. That's the way I feel. In fact, over the last couple of days, I've found myself getting more and more excited. Glad you're sitting next to me, son. Again, sorry if I came on a bit strong."

"Naw, Uncle Hank. I'm the one who owes the apology," Jeb managed to mumble. Taking his cap off and gesturing in the direction of the prison some miles distant, he continued in a stronger voice. "It's just in there, you're real suspicious of any suggestion of friendship, and you sure don't take kindly to being touched." Grinning wanly, he added, "I thought I had told myself that this was different, but I guess I didn't yell loud enough!" "Fair enough," his uncle added. Taking the bit firmly into his mouth, he then added, "I just hope that the problem isn't my reputation as the 'family queer'." "Well, I'll tell you, Uncle Hank, I don't hold to many of the family's ideas," Jeb responded seriously. "If it's ok with you, I'll draw my own conclusions!" With that, he grinned youthfully and relaxed into the comfortable bucket seat.

It was a long nine hours. Naturally, Hank stopped at a couple of local troughs and fed him well. Talking companionably, Jeb finally noticed that they were not heading directly for his uncle's house in Abington, a town about 50 miles from Gold Star and in a different county. "Not going directly home, sir?" he asked. "Nope," Uncle Hank replied. "The cabin is far enough up in the hills that curiosity seekers...and the rest of the family...may leave us alone!" "Cool..." Jeb grunted, pulling the visor of his cap back down over his eyes and scrunching back into the soft leather.

Aware that they were climbing rapidly, Jeb shook himself awake as the car smoothly took an extremely tight curve. Had it not been for the giant moon, the wild landscape outside would have been pitch black. The moon rising over the great forest, shining through the conifers, glinting on a distant lake, and turning the whole landscape into a fantasy in silver and midnight green was uniquely beautiful.

About five miles further on and after a rather bumpy ride on an unpaved access road - during which time Jeb didn't see another dwelling - they pulled up in front of a magnificent log structure. The lad snickered to himself. Any relationship between Uncle Hank's "manor house" and the log cabins constructed in early America was strictly coincidental! Attempting to get out of the low-slung sports car, Jeb nearly fell flat on his face. Uncle Hank caught him, giving him a sharp hug as he held him upright. "Been a while since you had to do that, right, youngster?" Jeb looked at him with something of a scowl, turned a bit pink, and then broke into a grin. Hank felt the crotch of his trousers tighten a bit as he enjoyed the combination of the incredibly handsome, boyish grin and the muscled physique!

After they hauled their personal gear into the house, Hank fixed him a hefty sandwich, placing it on the counter together with a cold bottle of a very nice lager. Beyond that, they had both had it for the day. His uncle showed him to the bedroom that would be his. Everything...bed, towels, etc., etc....had already been prepared for his arrival by the staff. Noting that his room was just across the hall, Hank suggested he take a hot shower and then hit the sack. Lightly raising his hands to the sides of the youth's face, the older man murmured, "It may take you a while to believe it, but I love you...very much. Good night, son." Quickly, he returned to the hallway as silently as he had entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

(To Be Continued)