Date: Thu, 26 Mar 2009 14:03:19 -0700 (PDT) From: Noone Special Subject: Portraits of a Boy 2 The following is a story of complete fiction. All characters, places and events are not intended to represent any actual person, place or event. The following is just the short account of how our protagonist originally came into Doug's care. It takes place a few months prior to the boy's fifth birthday, a full year and change before the previous installment I shared with you. There is, however, no sex in this chapter. Well, okay, it's not exactly G-rated, but it's pretty tame. ------ I stared blankly at the coloring book in front of me, turning the pages every few minutes to look for one that hadn't been ruined. I didn't want to be here. There were two other kids here with me, but one of them couldn't talk yet and the other had threatened to hurt me when I'd asked him to play. The baby was sitting in her mom's lap; they'd just gotten back from the bathroom. The older boy was off in the corner by himself, a cluster of toys surrounding him, one of which he'd stolen from me when I'd attempted to befriend him. I felt lonely and bored, and I started to miss my mom and dad again. I was just starting to cry when I heard the door open, and a familiar looking man walked in. He stood just inside the door, scanning the room for a moment before he finally saw me. A smile came over his face, and he started walking towards me when the receptionist called out "Sir?", forcing his attention away from me again. He walked over to the waiting-room window, giving another look at me before talking to fat-woman. "I'm Doug McIntyre. I have an appointment with Anne Lockwood." The two settled into an adult conversation while I tried desperately to remember where I'd seen the man before. I fumbled to my feet and was about to walk over when he opened the glass door that led further inside, disappearing a second later. I knew where he was going; he was going to talk to Miss Anne, and for a minute a small gust of hope filled my four-year-old sails. She was supposed to be in charge of me, but I'd only seen her three times; when she dropped me off at the home with the noisy kids, when she brought me to my parent's funeral, and when she brought me here. I sat back down with my crayons, resuming my search for a suitable page in the torn and battered color-book as I tried to remember where I'd seen him before. I finally remembered the big picture in the den of the man and my dad standing together and laughing when they were younger. I finally found a page that hadn't been scribbled on or torn; it was a picture of a giant butterfly smiling at me. I spent a few minutes filling in the designs on his wings until I heard the door to the offices open again, this time it was Miss Anne. She gave me a smile as she called me over, and it wasn't the sad, worn-out smile I'd always seen her with before. "I have someone important for you to meet, Jimmy," she informed me, taking my hand once I got close enough. I didn't answer, but she didn't seem too disappointed. I didn't talk much anymore. I followed her blindly through the narrow halls, finally opening a door to a cramped office, the desk littered with manila folders and the walls covered with scribbled pictures. The man was sitting in a chair in front of the desk, but he stood up when he saw me. He seemed a bit nervous. "Jimmy, this is Doug McIntyre. He was a very good friend of your father's from before you were born," the woman explained. "He's offered to take care of you from now on." "Uh, hey, Jimmy. I don't know if you remember me or not," the man started, squatting down to be at eye level. It took me a little to recover from my shock. I started crying--I wasn't even sure why. I was happy, not sad. This was the first time since the accident anyone had said they wanted me. The adults exchanged confused, worried looks that ended when I dashed forward, wrapping my arms around the man's leg and wiping my tears on his pants. "I told you that you were worried about nothing," the woman chuckled. I looked up to see her smiling, her eyes glistening a little with tears of her own. "There's a little more paperwork, but the rest can wait, if you'd like to take him home." "I--yeah, okay," the man responded, his voice filled with nervousness. He pushed me back a bit, squatting to make eye contact. He brushed the remaining tears out of my eyes with his thumbs and lifted me into his arms, holding me almost the exact same way my Dad used to. I snuggled into him, squeezing him as tight as I could. "It's still not set up for children--Christ, I only got back yesterday and I haven't even gotten the maid to come by yet--" "I think you'll do great, Doug. You're already off to a fantastic start. Remember, his parent's estate has a trust fund set up for him, so if you need--" "I won't. I already told you, that money goes to his college fund." The woman seemed even happier at his response as she led him from her office. "Of course. But don't be ashamed to give me or Mr. Gallo a call if you need help with any sudden expenses. I'll bring the rest of the paperwork by after a few days and see how you're settling in." We passed through the waiting room. The older boy still sat in the corner, shooting me an angry glare when he saw me. Doug and Miss Anne continued talking their adult talk, and I just relished being held by Doug. It had been so long since I'd been shown any real adult affection, at the home with the noisy kids, the grown-ups were always so busy. Even when I was crying, the best I got was a quick hug, a pat on the back, and maybe a "kiss-it-make-it-better." "--full guardianship, but just let me know after the waiting period if you're still interested in making it official." The man stopped, readjusting his grip on me as he searched his pants pocket, coming up with his keys a moment later. "Is that your car?" Doug paused, turning to the woman in confusion. "Is there a problem?" "No, I was just surprised by the car-seat. No offense, but most bachelors in your position never would have thought of it." "I wasn't sure I needed it," the man admitted. "I stopped at Target when I got back to get somethings, and one of the sales clerks said it would be a good idea." They both chuckled as the man unlocked the door, sitting me in raised seat, struggling for a few minutes with the extra straps. They rapped up their adult- talk, and Miss Anne went back into her office building with a small skip in her step. Doug slid into the driver's seat, and we pulled away. After being alone with him for a few minutes, I mustered up the courage to ask "Are you my Daddy now?" He looked at me through the rear view mirror. "Kind of, I guess. I'm not really sure myself. According to your social worker I'm your guardian, but this situation is--" He paused, apparently remembering he was speaking to a four-year- old. "No, Jimmy, I'm not your Daddy, but I am going to try my best to be someone as special to you as your Daddy was. Your Daddy was a very special man, a man we \ both loved very much, and even though I can't take his place, but I promised him that if anything happened to him and your mommy I would take very good care of you. Does that make sense?" I nodded, a new pair of tears forming in my eyes. "I miss them." Stopped at a light, the man twisted his arm as he reached back to hold my hand. "I miss them too, Jimmy." ------ I almost nodded off sitting on the man's lap. Jerking back awake, I looked up at my new foster-father, who smiled down at me. "Looks like it's time for someone to get to bed." I nodded, turning and wrapping my arms around him as he again lifted me, carrying me through the slightly-dusty house. The man sat me down on my feet in front of my new room and looked around, apparently unsure of himself. "Um, Jimmy, I've never done this before. Do I need to help you take a bath, or do you usually just go to bed, or . . ." he drifted off. "Mom always used to give me a bath before I went to bed," I answered. He nodded and led me into the bathroom, starting the water as I undressed with all the grace of a clumsy four-year-old. He fumbled with the temperature and apparently hadn't been aware of my activities; when he turn around and saw me naked I heard a sharp intake of air. I started to empty my bladder in the toilet as his eyes studied my body intensely. I blushed a bit at his attention "Oh, uh, come here and tell me if the water's the right temperature, Jimmy. I don't know what you're used to." He shook his head a bit as I trotted over, holding my hand under the running water. Giving the affirmative about the temperature, I climbed in--pausing to remove the sock I'd almost forgotten about-- and sat in the growing pool of water, gasping just a little bit at the sudden heat. He quickly set out to clean me, crossing off the intuitive steps in his head. He skipped washing my hair, citing that he only had "grown-up" shampoo and was afraid of getting it in my eyes. He seemed a bit flustered, and I wasn't sure why. His nervousness increasing as it came time for my perineal care. He was quick yet thorough, and within ten minutes I was wrapped in a towel and his arms, resting my wet head on his shoulder. He set me on the grown-up bed in my new room--he'd told me he was planning to have my old bed brought here when he had the chance--and started searching through some of my stuff he'd brought from the home with the noisy kids. After a few minutes of not finding whatever it was he wanted, he turned to me. "What do you usually use for pajamas?" "They gave them to us," I answered, referring to the worn-out, scratchy outfits they'd made wear while I'd stayed in the home. Coming to a decision, he handed me a pair of my undies and left, returning just as I'd finished pulling the garment around my waist. He slid a giant white T-shirt over my head, spinning it on me and pulling my arms through. It came down over my knees and had something written on it, but I don't know what. "You think this will work?" I nodded and grinned. His old T-shirt made for much more comfortable nightwear than I was used too. He pulled the sheets back as I crawled onto the massive, unfamiliar bed, clutching tightly the stuffed zebra he'd surprised me with earlier. The sheets felt a bit cold and stiff as he tucked me in, and the mattress had definitely not been slept on for a long time. With me secure in the bed, the man stood and looked around, his face showing his thoughts as he went through another mental checklist. "I don't have any night-lights, but will it work if I leave the hallway light on and have the door like this?" he asked, holding the door almost closed, allowing a generous yet subtle amount of light in. I nodded, happy that he hadn't made me admit I was still scared of the dark. "I'll leave the my door and the door to the bathroom open too. If you need something, just let me know, okay?" "Do-Doug?" I asked as the man started to leave. He stopped, smiling at me patiently. "Could you tell me a bedtime story?" "I don't know any--" the man started, but seeing my dejected face, he smiled and came back to sit beside me. "I suppose I could make one up. What kind of bedtime story?" Giving him only a shrug to start off of, the man spent a few minutes in contemplative planning. "Once upon a time, there was a zebra named Zimmy--" I giggled a bit at the obviously well thought out name. "Zimmy was a very special zebra. He was smart and strong and cute and kind. One day, Zimmy met an older zebra named Zoug." Doug carried on with the adventures of Zimmy and Zoug, making up imaginary lions and tigers for them to outsmart as I slowly drifted off to sleep. ------ I woke up scared and alone in a cold, unfamiliar bed. I didn't remember where I was at first, but the light streaming in from the cracked open door helped me remember. When my brain finally accessed the memories from the day before, I crawled out of bed, clutching my zebra (now adamantly named Zimmy) as I dashed through the hall, searching for Doug. I hadn't had a nightmare. Quite the opposite, I wanted to see him to make sure that I hadn't been dreaming. I heard his voice coming from a slightly opened door. He was grunting and panting, and when I looked in I saw him laying naked on his bed. His hand was wrapped around his pee-pee, which was huge! And it was standing up on its own as his hand slid up and down. I stared in slack-jaw wonderment. I'd never seen a grown-up penis before, and I had no idea they were so big! I also had no idea what he was doing. I was afraid he was hurting himself, but he kept going. If he were hurting himself, he'd stop, wouldn't he? I'd only been watching for a couple of minutes when he started grunting louder. Something came out. Great, white, gooey globs that splattered onto his hairy chest and belly. It was dark and I was tired, and at first I thought he'd peed on himself. He gasped heavily, like he'd just finished running, his hands falling to the side. I was so surprised and confused by what I'd just witnessed. He reached to the bed-stand, and then he saw me and froze, tissue in hand. "Jimmy! What are you doing? I thought--you're supposed to be asleep!" I bolted, dropping Zimmy behind me as I ran back to my room. Desperate to hide but unsure where, I dove under the covers, pulling them over my head. I'd ruined everything! Doug was going to be mad at me for snooping and he was going to send me back to the home with the noisy kids. Sobbing noisily into the sheets, I heard Doug come in just a few minutes later. "Jimmy, are you okay?" "Please don't send me back!" I cried when he pulled away the covers. "I'm sorry I was snooping, I--" "Jimmy, stop. You didn't do anything wrong, and I'd never send you away." I looked up at him, my heaving chest calming a bit. "Promise?" "Yeah, Jimmy, I promise." I latched onto him tightly, realizing only a minute afterward that my cheek was pressing against a wetness that wasn't from my eyes. He'd cleaned up and thrown on a pair of shorts, but his belly and chest still had a sheen of the sticky seminal fluid. I pulled back, calmed but filled with questions. "What--what were you doing?" His face scrunched up in thought, and for a second I thought he was going to get angry, but he must have sensed my fear 'cause he gave me a happy smile. "I was masturbating. It's something almost everyone in the world does when they get older. You're still a bit young, but in a few years you'll probably be doing it yourself." "Really?" I'd never thought of doing anything with the dangling little organ between my legs but peeing. "Why?" Doug chuckled to himself, patting my back. "I can't believe I'm having this--" seeing my still puzzled face, he sighed, apparently deciding the best way to end my curiosity was to sate it. "There's a lot of reasons. It feels really good, for one, but it also--god, how the hell do I explain it." I crawled into his lap, snuggling up to him as I waited patiently for him to continue. "Have you ever had a really bad itch that you couldn't scratch?" I nodded fiercely, recalling the unpleasant experience. "I got chicken-pox, and mom taped gloves on my hands to keep me from scratching." "Well, sometimes older boys and grownups get a kind of itch that makes their penises get hard. It's not a bad itch, but it can be distracting and annoying. Masturbating makes that itch go away." His hand started rubbing my thigh. I didn't notice it at first--I'm not sure he realized he was doing it. It was comforting and nice and I didn't mind, so I just followed up with the next question. "Master-kating makes you pee?" "Masturbating," he enunciated. "And that wasn't pee, Jimmy, that was sperm. Has anyone ever told you how babies are made?" The light switch flicked on. "Oh! That's the stuff that goes in a girl!" "That's right." His hand continued to travel higher on my thigh, but when it touched my crotch, I think he realized what he'd been doing and he stopped. He started to pull his hand away, but I rested mine on it and he just left it there. "See, when you get older, you start making sperm in your testicles so that you can put it inside a girl and make a baby. But the sperm gets made whether or not you want a baby, and it keeps building up, which gives you the itch I was talking about." He held me like that for a few minutes. I liked that--just being held. I rested my head against his still moist chest and he rested his chin on my head, and I started to get tired again. "Um, Jimmy, there's just one thing--could you keep it a secret what you saw me doing tonight, and what I told you about it?" I nodded and yawned deeply. Doug chuckled, giving me a kiss on the top of my head. I liked that too. "I think it's time for you to get back to bed." He started to lift me off of him, but I stopped him, looking up at him with unconsciously puppy-dog eyes to ask him the question that had originally gotten me out of bed. "Doug, could I--could I sleep with you tonight?" The man took in a sharp breath and I heard a barely audible "Christ!" escape his lips. The fear that I'd been rejected flashed across my face, which melted his apprehension. "Just for tonight, okay?" I nodded, hopping off the bed and following the man to his room hand in hand, picking up Zimmy on the way and already planning to break my promise now that the precedent was set. ------ I awoke the next morning curled against the man's leg, using his thigh as a pillow. It had been warm, and between we'd apparently kicked off the covers. Not an inch away from my head I saw the man's erection standing tall and proud out of the fly of his boxers. I just stared at it for a few minutes, amazed by the size. Glancing at the man's face, I determined that he was still sleeping soundly, and so I reached out tentatively, my curiosity overriding my better judgment. I poked it, and then again, giggling at how it bounced back and forth. Glancing up again to make sure the man was still asleep, I wrapped one hand around it. My fingers just barely touched my thumb. I just held it like that for a minute, moving my hand up and down just a little like I'd seen him doing to himself the night before. "Jimmy, you shouldn't be doing that," the man stated calmly. My hand snatched back as though the rod had suddenly turned red-hot and I looked up at the now conscious man, my face awash with embarrassment and fear. "I'm sorry!" I yelped. "I was just--" "It's okay, Jimmy, I'm not mad," the man interrupted, his voice a very calm, even tone. "I don't blame you for being curious. Most little boys are, but you shouldn't touch other people's body without their permission." Relieved but still confused, I sat up, the implication that he might want me to touch it 'with' permission completely over my head. He took the opportunity to slide himself back into the boxers, although all that did was cause the fabric to tent out in front of him in a way that made me giggle despite my inhibitions. He started chuckling too as he pulled the sheets over him. "Don't you have to pee?" I'd almost completely forgotten about nature's call. Spinning out of bed, I landed on my feet and sprinted out of my new caretaker's bedroom. I dropped Zimmy in the hallway and doubled back for him just in time to hear Doug talking to himself, whispering "Clean thoughts, Doug, Clean thoughts. He's just a kid. Get a hold of yourself." Confused and hoping the man wasn't mad at me, I picked up my stuffed zebra and continued my dash to the bathroom.