This story involves homosexuality in loving, caring relationships between boys and men, not necessarily sexual in nature yet, but it will come. If this sort of material offends you, you shouldn't really have got this far, let alone start reading this story. You've had plenty of warnings from previous pages. If you shouldn't be reading this, for whatever reason, don't get caught, because I know that me telling you not to read this isn't going to stop you (I am 18 and legal, but I do know what temptation's like)(This does not constitute me condoning this action). This is predominantly a love/romance story and not particularly incestuous in its absolute form, nor authoritarian, though slavery is used as a means to get the story moving and onto its main focus. This story is entirely fiction, and any similarity of anything to a real-life counterpart is coincidence. All spelling and words are British English and may differ to those used in America. Any such words that are significantly different will be added in a list at the end of the chapter and translated into any American English equivalent I know. This story is my work, and should not be reproduced in any way (with the exception of one electronic copy for you own personal use), whole or modified, without making it absolutely clear that I am the author. You may not demand anything that may equate to financial gain in return for allowing someone to access this work. Any quotes should be attributed to me unless otherwise stated by my own acknowledgement to someone else. Plagiarism is a Criminal Offence under any penal code I have ever come across, so please do not commit this offence. At this point in time, Nifty holds the only authorised English copy in the public domain outside my possession. Any changes in possessions shall be notified in later chapters. All copyrights are my own. Any legal aspects are governed by British Law. Enjoy!
Copyright Sable 2006 (28/09/2006)
The following word conversions are applicable to Chapter 2:
Banknote (also; Note) => Bill
Roundabout => Rotary; thanks to "Paxostuffer" for that one.
Our New Family
I wrenched the rear door open (the hospital was on our left) and was soon joined by Scott who had run round the front of the car (so as not to get hit by Mike's car, incidentally also squealing to a stop), and together we pulled Jesse out. The collected nurses and doctors ran to help Mike, as he was the only conscious person in his car, where they dragged Jesse's assailant from the back and placed her on one of the trolleys. They immediately wheeled her in while a doctor barked orders to the nurses around him. We gently lifted Jesse onto his trolley and he was whisked away in the same fashion. Scott told me to get back into the car, which I did, while longingly looking at the interior of the hospital; I wanted to follow Jesse. Scott turned all the apparatus on the car off and everything around us stopped flashing blue. We then moved off at a much more sedate pace to find ourselves a parking spot.
Chapter 3 - Recovery?
Tom's Point of View
My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts; mainly about Jesse and whether he would recover or not. I mean, he just got shot and was bleeding profusely to start with, but that slowly slowed down. Was that because his blood was clotting or was that because he was running out of blood? I was very confused as well as the very evident worry. What exactly were we going to do if Jesse died?! We would no longer have anybody that we knew to look after us in the event of his death. Would we end up back in America or would be granted asylum in the UK and then go into Foster Care? I just can't imagine a life without Jesse; we're just too dependent on him. I'm convinced that we won't be able to live 'normal' lives, should Jesse die. I could tell that my brothers were all thinking the same things as me. It just goes to show how important Jesse is to us. I wouldn't have it any other way.
We pulled away from the ambulance entrance and worked our way round to the normal parking, which was empty. We found that we would have to pay if we parked there, so Scott bypassed that parking and pulled out onto the main road again. We proceeded down the road for about 200 metres and turned right into a public car park. As soon as we stopped, everybody piled out. Adam started making off in the direction of the hospital, but Mike quickly called him back.
"You need to stay here while we lock the cars," Mike called out. "Once they're locked, we'll walk to the hospital together."
Mike and Scott took their time, making sure they hadn't forgotten anything. When they had finished and the cars beeped, showing that they were locked, I decided to ask the question that had been nagging me at the back of my mind for the entire journey.
"Mike, why did you take 'traffic cars' when you originally said 'panda car'?"
"Very observant little tyke, aren't you. Well, the main reason is that they go a lot faster than panda cars. Panda cars'll do about a hundred and twenty miles an hour at a push, but as I'm sure you saw, traffic cars'll do a hundred and fifty without too much of a problem. And before you ask, we brought Jesse here because it would take an awful lot longer if we waited for an ambulance. Their top speed is about seventy-five miles an hour. The only way we would have any chance of saving your brother was by taking him ourselves. At the moment, I would think the doctors are finding out what blood-group he is and giving him more of that same type," replied Mike.
[Does he read minds?]
"I thought all blood was the same," I responded.
"That's not quite true," answered Scott this time as we started to walk down the road. "There are four main groups; A, B, AB and O. You also have to worry about the person's rhesus. This is either positive or negative. Each blood cell is built in the same way, but different blood groups have antibodies to different antigens that may be present on the surface of a blood cell. In this way, blood-group A has antigen A, but has antibodies to antigen B. Group B has antigen B, but antibodies to antigen A. Group AB has both antigens and no antibodies and group O has no antigens but both antibodies. Therefore, a person of group O cannot receive from group AB, because their body will not tolerate either antigen and will create a mælstrom of antibodies against the antigens. AB can receive O because the body cannot reject what isn't there; O doesn't have any antigens. The new antibodies can be ignored because there are so few of them that they don't make much of a difference. There are also so few new white blood cells producing their own antibodies, that they cannot produce their own antibodies quick enough and are often destroyed themselves."
"So..., blood-group A cannot receive B, because their antigens are different?" I asked timidly.
"Correct, and the patient would reject them. If the blood is rejected, it is very dangerous for the patient, because the body goes into overdrive and reacts as though it were having an allergic reaction, which, as I'm sure you know, can kill people. Therefore, they have to be very careful. The other factor, the rhesus factor is even more important. This time, there is another antigen that is attached to the outside of the cell. There are two types and are known as positive and negative. This time they are so different that if the body doesn't recognise it, the allergic reaction is so much more violent. In the early days of blood transfusion, many people died in the middle of one, because we didn't know about rhesus yet. We later found out that this was because they were given the wrong rhesus. There are other factors governing blood transfusions as well. It is very easy to transmit diseases between people by transfusing blood. One of the nastiest is HIV/AIDS. Therefore, every donor is tested for diseases before they can give blood. If they have a dangerous disease, they cannot give blood."
"How can they be sure they are giving the right blood?"
"The donor and the receiver are tested for their blood group and rhesus. If the rhesus factor matches, the blood groups are compatible and the donor has no dangerous diseases, the donor can give blood to the receiver. The donor's blood is often received in a place where it can't be used immediately, so the package the blood in bags and label them to indicate the blood group and rhesus factor. That's all there is to say, really."
"It is if you don't use the system, but after a while of using it, you start to see how it works and then it seems really simple," concluded Scott.
We walked into the hospital, bypassed reception and walked straight up to the doors of resus, where we stood, ogling through the door at the now almost naked form of Jesse on his trolley.
Jesse's Point of View
Scott and Tom lifted me onto a trolley and I was jerked as the trolley rattled into motion. The doctor standing on my left started barking orders at those standing round him.
"He's totally soaked in blood, so let's get a milligram of adrenalin, get me a line in and get the saline moving. We need a blood test and six units of blood. We could do with another line in......"
I blocked the rest out because it didn't make for very pleasant listening. I heard doors being swung open and was greeted by the beeping of monitors as they recorded the heart rate and whatever else they do. I was wheeled into one of the unmarked bays and had all the leads and lines attached to me in minutes. The nurses prepared one of my arms and very soon, there were 3 lines going into my arm. I just can't bear to look at needles as they go in. It always seems to be just so..., how shall I put it..., icky. One was connected to saline and the other two were left unconnected for the time being. Another nurse approached me from the other side with a butterfly needle.
[Shit, don't these medics ever do anything other than play with needles? This had better not hurt, or I might just have to 'damage' someone or something.]
My head snapped to the left so that I didn't have to see the needle go in. At least with this needle it didn't hurt so much, possibly to do with the fact that this one is so much sharper than the rest. I'm assuming she stuck it in my arm and took a blood sample for analysis before removing it again. I certainly didn't watch as she did this.
"We need to get his clothes off him now so that I can see what I'm doing."
One of the nurses left and returned almost immediately with a pair of scissors. She proceeded to cut my top off and the doctor had me lifted slightly so that the remnants could be pulled out from underneath me. The nurse continued onto my shoes, which she unlaced and pulled off. My socks were soaked in blood, so she cut those off as well. She then proceeded to cut my trousers off me, but kept my wallet in a personal possessions compartment next to my trolley. She flicked through my wallet and found no medical warning cards, but she did find my name. She was considerate enough not to strip me naked in front of all the ladies, which pleased me no end. At this point, another nurse came to my bedside and strung a bag of blood up and connected it to one of the needles. The area around the needle tingled, but about 30 seconds later, it started to feel refreshing as it reached my core. The nurse who had collected my personal effects spoke to the doctor:
"His name is Jesse, doctor."
"Thank you. I'll start a thorough examination now."
He looked at my front and my legs but could find no injuries. He had me turned over, but nor did he fond any wounds there.
"OK, we need to get those boxers off him; it's in there somewhere," he said as he walked to my head. "OK, Jesse, we need to get your pants off so that we can see the extent of your injuries. Is that OK?"
I mumbled a feeble 'OK', much against my personal wishes, but knowing its medical value. The nurse returned with the scissors and proceeded to cut my boxers off me. At this point, somebody barged into the room, the door slamming into the wall behind it and shouted:
"Hey! You can't do that; Jesse's not a slave!!! What are they doing to you, Jesse!?!"
It was one of my brothers. I would've explained it all to him, but I just didn't have the energy or the control of my body to do that yet. I couldn't even blush with embarrassment at my own nakedness!
"Get him out of here, officer, and explain it to him," barked the doctor.
One of the twins came in and dragged my brother, kicking and screaming all the way through the door. Before the door closed, he had started to explain, but I heard no more than the first few words. By now, I was long since totally naked and the doctor started his most intimate examination.
"We have a bullet wound in the pubis. Right, let's get him turned over so we can see if there's an exit wound."
I felt myself being rotated and my penis flopped over my right thigh.
How about we get onto the bit I'm sure most of you have been waiting for; an intimate and detailed description of my goods. Well, as you already know, I'm uncircumcised and my foreskin is long enough to cover my entire glans with no excess when I'm flaccid and standing vertically. When I'm lying down, my foreskin overhangs the end by just a little bit. My foreskin is thick and covers my arrowhead shaped glans, which itself flares out to the same width as my shaft. When erect, my foreskin barely retracts far enough to expose my meatus. I'm about 5 (1/2)" flaccid, but don't get that much longer when erect; just a mere 5 (3/4)". While my length isn't very impressive, I more than make up for it in girth. I have what I would call a 'square' penis, because the circumference of my erect penis is also 5 (3/4)". The shaft is of an even thickness all the way up when I'm erect. My pubic hair isn't a veritable forest, but what I find æsthatically pleasing. The hair doesn't spread up the shaft, but stays at the extreme base, with a light dusting on my scrotum. I would describe my testicles as 'average', though I've never really compared them to anyone else's. For a more detailed description, I'm afraid that you'll have to examine it yourself, but I'm not letting anyone I don't know anywhere near it, so tough. For the rest of my features, I'd say that I look a lot younger than I actually am; many have guessed my age as 16, though I am 18. I have a thick, dark red mop of hair that covers half my forehead and have clear, almost deep blue eyes separated by what other people have described as a shapely, but masculine nose. Underneath, I have deep red lips, which are neither thin, nor outrageously large. I have very little hair on my body and have generally been mistaken as being totally hairless, except for the patch around my penis. I do in fact have a light dusting on my legs and forearms and a slightly more substantial treasure-trail. Overall, many would probably describe me as 'boyish'. I stand around the 1.80 metre (5' 11") mark and have a reasonably defined body, which I attribute to my hobby of swimming with my now ex-highschool swim team, though I never took part in any meets.
I suppose I could also describe my brothers for you. While it is true that they are 13, they are still prepubescent (though not preadolescent) and as such, have no body hair whatsoever. They stand around the 1.20 metre (3' 11") mark, and, like me, have the body of those who dabble in the hobby of swimming, but this time at junior-high. They have jet-black hair in the same format as mine. In fact, their features are almost identical to mine, their hair being the only difference, really. The similarities stretch all the way down their bodies, with only one obvious exception; their penises. Bearing in mind that they are still prepubescent, they have what I would honestly have to say just above average endowments. Their foreskins were like mine, though they covered much smaller glanses. As you might expect, their shafts were also much smaller, a reasonable 2" flaccid, stretching to a reasonable 2 (1/2)" when erect. Nobody could possible not realise we are brothers; after all, they are just like miniature me's with jet-black hair. I was perfectly happy being round them and being seen with them. We aren't like some other siblings where they hate each other's guts. We are the exact opposite of them, and we are proud of that.
The doctor examined my butt, but found no wound.
"We have a problem now; there's no exit wound, so the bullet could be anywhere inside. Call neurology and surgery, please."
That did not sound good. I continued to feel more reinvigorated as the blood transfusion continued, but the doctor noticed another problem.
"He's still oozing quite a lot of some sort of liquid, though the bleeding stopped quite a while ago. Does anybody have any idea as to what it might be?"
All was quiet for about a minute. Then one of the nurses said, "Does anybody smell that?"
Everybody stayed quiet, so the nurse elaborated; "I think it smells of urea."
Everybody took a quick sniff, and heads started to nod all round. How embarrassing!
"Call urology, please," asked the doctor while returning to my head. "It seems that the bullet hit your waterworks somewhere along the line, but seeing as we have stabilised you and you're not bleeding any more, we can wait for the experts to come down and have a look at you. In the mean time, we will allow your visitors standing outside to come in. You must, however, conserve your energy, so that you are well enough to go into theatre as soon as possible, understood?"
I barely nodded.
Do you want us to cover you up?"
It hurt, but I managed to shake my head in the negative (I was way past embarrassment by now), but the doctor interpreted it correctly and walked to the door, opened it and invited my brothers and the twins in. My brothers charged my bed and were soon jostling for the best positions, while the twins followed at a more stately pace. While my brothers were exuberant at being allowed to see me, I immediately noticed the uncomfortable looks on the twins' faces as they approached. I removed my oxygen mask and turned my head to face the twins.
"Do you want me to get the doctor to cover me up?" I managed to rasp out.
They shifted uneasily before mumbling "No need." I understood, however, that they were merely being polite and trying to respect my wishes. Well, I was having none of that.
"Davey, would you ask one of the nurses for a sheet, please," I croaked.
He bounced off and soon returned with my request. I tried to unfold it, but I just wasn't strong enough, so Mike and Scott came to my rescue and completed the task I had begun. A few flicks of the wrists later and the sheet settled on my naked body from my feet to my navel. The twins immediately looked less uncomfortable and quickly brought chairs over and sat down, one on each side of me. My brothers saw this as a great opportunity to relieve their legs of their own burdens and soon Mike and Scott could barely see me for all the boys sitting on their knees. We were mostly silent, mindful of my need to recover, but we did discuss what would happen now and when our application would be back on track. It turned out that our applications would be dealt with as far as possible while I was in hospital, but that the finalities would be left until I was better. I did make one more request of Scott:
"Scott, could you get the Servants' Tribunal to freeze our dad's assets so that the Federal Administration doesn't get them, please?"
The twins promised me they would sort it and looked at each other for a few seconds before Scott got up, pushing my brothers off his knees, and left. Just then, the specialists turned up and my remaining visitors were asked to wait outside. The examined me and performed some tests before they determined that there was no neurological and that there wouldn't be any sympathetic damage. The urologist wasn't quite as happy with the situation and said that my bladder had been damaged. He did say that he would do as much as he could to counteract this, but that he could offer no guarantees as to the outcome. The surgeon examined the wound and poked around a bit, which was uncomfortable, though not painful, as I had been given plenty of painkillers (I believe I was given diamorphine, though I wasn't quite with it at the time). He decided that it would be difficult to remove the bullet as it was tucked behind my pubis. He did say, however, that while it would take longer, but it would certainly be possible to remove it. I was happy when he said that there was also a theatre free at the time. He went to the phone and alerted the anæsthetist that his services were needed. 10 minutes later, the anæsthetist called back and said he was ready. A nurse and 2 porters were called and I was soon being wheeled out the door, towards the elevator. As I came out of resus, my visitors crowded round me and asked the specialists where I was going.
"We're taking him up to theatre so that we can remove the bullet and repair the damage to his bladder," informed the urologist.
Mike looked a little upset at the last and my brothers didn't seem to know what a bladder was, as they just looked confused at the terminology. Personally, I wasn't delighted by the damage either, but what could I do about it?
[What am I going to do if the urologist can't fix it?] flashed through my head.
On the journey up, I decided that I wouldn't think about it, unless it became a reality, which I personally thought wasn't that likely. A few minutes later, I was in the prep room, being prepared by the anæsthetist. God, how I hate needles, but I needed to have this operation, so I didn't let on and purposefully turned my head away when the anæsthetist returned, needle in hand. At least he didn't give me a load of crap about it being a tiny prick. Whenever they say that, it always seems like such a big deal. The anæsthetist jabbed me in the arm and started to count quietly out loud.
"One, two, three......"
By the time he got to twenty, I was no longer able to concentrate on listening, and I'm assuming that very soon after that, I was wheeled into theatre. I would describe what the theatre was like, but I was unconscious throughout the entire time I was there. It was probably as on those medical programmes they show on TV. I should probably hand over to Tom again, so that he can describe the time I was in theatre.
Tom's Point of View
What's to describe about the time Jesse was in theatre? Well, we had to seriously improvise as to what we could do, seeing as Scott was absent, and Mike wouldn't let any of us out of his sight. I'm convinced that he had his reasons. For the first 2 hours, we had to stay inside and behave properly, which didn't sit well with any of us. Once Scott had returned, we were allowed to spend time outside. We went back to the car park and walked straight through and out the other side. There we found a playground and playing fields. We were let loose and we stormed the playground and began to climb everything we could see.
After 10 minutes, we started to think once more about the predicament that Jesse was in. Suddenly, climbing just didn't seem as interesting anymore. We were back inside quickly, seated at a table in the hospital cafeteria. I could still not think of anything other than what was happening to Jesse. I could just picture it now;
He's lying on his back under a powerful light 'projector' lighting up his body as it lies on the table. There are four figures surrounding him, looking at the great big hole they've just cut into him.
Let's not go into any more detail than that, as the rest is something I'd much rather not think about. I desperately tried to think about something other than the operation Jesse was going through, but it took a long time. After that, my mind would still on occasions go back to its unwanted conjectures. We spent around 2 hours like this in the cafeteria, with all of us getting hungrier with every passing minute. After the first 90 minutes of sitting there, we just couldn't hold out any more, and we all stormed the caterers for what seemed like everything they had. We returned to our seats holding the food like it was gold and fragile before placing it on the table, sitting down and attacking the food as a starved wolf pack would.
Jesse's Point of View
Some indeterminate time later, I woke up in what I would guarantee to be Recovery, with what felt like infinitely loud bells clanging in my head. Hardly surprising, really. It was a plainly decorated room with monitoring equipment everywhere. There was a nurse standing between the only two patients in the room; my neighbour and I.
"Ah, finally, you've woken up. Being in a room with two unconscious blokes is hardly riveting entertainment. How do you feel?"
"Physically fine, but hoarse and I have a splitting headache," was my grating reply.
"I can sort the headache, but it's nil by mouth at the moment. However, now that you're awake, I can call the anæsthetist and the urologist, either of whom may remove the restriction. I'll see what I can do.
[Drat, if it takes as long as last time, I won't be getting any water for about an hour.]
The nurse turned to the phone and made a few phone calls. They were here as soon as the nurse had given me godsent painkillers.
[Much better timing!]
"Right, let's see what we can do for you now," started the anæsthetist.
"Much better, now that I have painkillers. My throat still feels hoarse, though."
"Let me run a quick response test. Could you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?"
He presented me a finger.
"Good. Now, could you follow my finger with your eyes, please.
I did as I was asked, while both specialists looked on intently.
"You're all well mentally, but let's see about your wounds, shall we?"
The urologist stepped forward, removed my sheet and peeled the bandage off to have a look at my wound.
"That's all fine, so we can remove any restrictions, which I'm sure you'll be glad to know. We can also get you moved to HDU" (High Dependency Unit) "where you can have your visitors again, and where we can also have a more private chat."
And with that, I was handed a cup of water and was on the move again. Just to let you know, HDU is not as bad as ITU (Intensive Treatment Unit) or resus. It's a place where you are put when you first come out of recovery, ITU and resus, just to make sure nothing goes wrong. Barely five minutes later, my brothers were jostling each other, vying for the best positions around the bed. I noticed that Scott had returned; so that made seven people trying to crowd round me. The remaining specialist, the urologist, continued proceedings.
"Now, to have that chat we discussed. Would you like everyone else to leave?"
"That's not necessary," I replied.
After all, I shared everything with my brothers and I owed the twins my life.
"As you wish. OK. To start with the operation. The operation went fairly well. You shouldn't have any lasting superficial damage, other than a small scar, however, the damage on the inside was more extensive than we had anticipated. This complicated matters more than we would have liked. In fact, the bullet was lodged partially inside your bladder at its lower end, which decimated the valve that regulates your urine flow. This gives rise to the problem that while you can still retain some urine in your bladder, it is a very small amount, essentially rendering you incontinent. Now, before you start panicking, the problem is not as bad as it may sound. Medicine has not yet advanced enough to be able to give you a new valve. The main reason for this is the extent of the damage to your bladder. There are many adults around who are incontinent, either through a medical condition, accident or personal preference."
[Personal preference? What does he mean by that?]
"There are ways that the problem can be dealt with. It is possible to have a permanent catheter inserted, however, there are not many people who choose this, for the simple reason that it is not possible to have sex when catheterised. It is theoretically not even possible to have an ejaculation when catheterised, though there are some reports of it happening. I don't recommend that you try it, as it would almost certainly be very painful. The other, most popular method is to wear nappies. Many balk at the prospect at first, though most see the advantage of them after a time. I think the biggest advantage to you would be that you can still have sex. If you don't drink too much beforehand, you should be able to perform perfectly well. I don't suggest that it is an option to go running to the toilet every five minutes because you have to pee, so it will have to be one of the two options I've already mentioned."
I have to say, my first reaction was shock and disgust at the news. Evidently, my visitors had the same sort of thoughts as me, because their mouths fell open and they stared wide-eyed at the urologist.
"I'll......I'll have to think about it," I stuttered.
"Currently, you're catheterised, because you're in hospital, but that is purely for our convenience, so don't be swayed by that. I will leave you to think about it and return this afternoon to see if you have made a decision. Don't be tempted to rush a decision, because it will ultimately affect your future lifestyle. I will give you all the time you need.
And with that, he was gone once more. We all stayed silent for around another 30 minutes, absorbing all the information. After that, my brothers started to become restless.
"Mike, Scott, could you take the boys outside to dissipate some of their energy, before thy get kicked out, please?"
Mike turned to the boys and hustled them out of the door, while Scott took a chair and sat on my right. He tentatively started a conversation.
"I don't know how to start....... That wasn't good news, was it? Any ideas yet?"
"None whatsoever, and I'm not expecting any anytime soon. It'll come to me when it does."
"I did as you asked me; your father's remaining assets have been frozen as much as possible by the Crown. We expect the Federal Supreme Court to contest this, but we have abided by International Law, so I don't think we will have a problem."
"Thanks, at least we will have some form of starting capital for our new life. I don't imagine dad had anything worth much."
"I wouldn't know anything about that, seeing as I have no access to any such records."
"Well, you can only do your best. I never really expected you to be able to freeze my dad's assets. What's the time?"
"Erm..., it's near enough ten o'clock," answered Scott after a quick glance at his watch.
"Right, I hope the next two hours pass quickly; I'm starving!"
We fell silent and about five minutes later, the boys came back looking much more relaxed. When Mike had sat down again, the Quadruplets once more took their places on the twins' knees, much to the twins' disappointment, I'm sure.
"I have a message for you, Jesse; the judge reviewing your case has decided to complete as much of your application as possible while you are in hospital. This means that you should expect her to visit later on today."
"Great, doesn't the invalid get any respite? My head's about to explode because of all this effort."
"Nope. The judge is also no-nonsense, so you'll need to be alert when she gets here."
"Ugh," I moaned, before closing my eyes to think everything through in Morpheus's refreshing world.
Here ends Chapter 3 of Our New Family. This is the first story I have written for non-school purposes. I hope to see you in the next part! If you have any comments or suggestions, please feel free to e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org. Please include 'Nifty' and the title in the subject, as otherwise it will probably get lost; I use filters.
Please consider supporting Nifty financially. If you can't, like me, consider contributing in another way. This is my way of contributing.
Nappy => Diaper
Pants => Underpants
Toilet => Bathroom
Trousers => Pants
Wallet => Billfold
Waterworks => Urinary Tract