Date: Mon, 16 Mar 2009 23:01:58 +1030 From: Caleb Nathanial Subject: The Alpha Male and Me Part 1: Impossibilities Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. It contains homosexual themes of an erotic nature, if this offends you or is illegal for you to read, please stop reading now. The views and opinions expressed by the characters are not necessarily those of the author. It is illegal for this document to be copied or hosted on other websites or be changed without the expressed written consent of the author. Author's note: This is the first story I've written, but I am planning/writing extensions to the story. I would greatly appreciate any feedback, comments, well wishes, or any other type of correspondence from my readers. My e-mail is calebnathanial@hotmail.com Caleb Nathanial is my writing name, not my actual name. The Alpha Male and Me Part 1: Impossibilities "AWWWWWW YEAH" And with that I'm pulled out of 19th century England and back in my bedroom. My hate for Eric coming back into the forefront of my mind. Why was this always such a big deal for him? I guess to be fare, when you work a dead-end job and have no real talents or hobbies, watching sporting events with your one and only friend is probably the peak of your existence. Eric is my father and looking at my room for the first time in 2 hours reminds me of why I put up with living in this house. Pictures of the campuses of all my prospective universities are plastered all over my walls and ceiling. They all have two important things in common. First, they are all respected universities from which graduation means a successful life and not one like my father's. But secondly, and far more importantly they're all very far away, so far that I'll have a monetary excuse not to come back to town during Easter, semester break, and even Christmas. Accompanying Eric's outburst over the surely amazing sporting spectacle is the deep chuckle of his friend. Hearing his voice makes the idea of going out to the living area irresistible even knowing my father is there as well. Besides, thanks to Eric, now that the sport had started any chance of me doing anything that requires even the tiniest bit of concentration has been violated by a nightstick. I take my book out with me so I can pretend to be doing something. The dinning area slash kitchen has a clear view of the television and I strategically sit in the chair that puts Eric's only friend between me and the TV. I pretend to watch but all I'm really doing is starring at the back of his head, completely captivated. I don't know if anyone is able to realize what I'm doing but when the absence of any reaction to the 'mind-numbing boringness' is apparent, it must arouse some suspicion... right? Although, truth be told, everyone here is more than accustomed to my complete emotional omission. "Caleb dear, it's so good to see you!" Eleanor interrupts me from starring at her husband. She and mother are behind the kitchen counter preparing dinner. "And you Mrs Klandinsky." At that moment he moves, probably just shifting his weight. I harbour distaste for Eleanor and not just because I'm jealous of her because of her partner. Eleanor is over the top fake to everyone, she's more concerned about maintaining social status than even her own family. I like to think the latter reason is why I dislike her, but again truth be told, it's probably the former. To sum up all her parts, she's as shallow as a baby pool; I don't know what he ever saw in her. "How is school going dear?" It's like a slow death: far better than talking to you though. "well, as always." When I talk to someone I always look straight at their eyes, letting them know they have my full attention, this has the drawback of not being able to stare at her husband while talking to her. But it does have the advantage of shortening frivolous conversations; like this one. "Any lucky girls caught your eye." My mother looks apologetically at me from behind Eleanor for the invasive question. Eleanor doesn't like the reality that my mother and not her has an intellectual child, so to make herself feel better she attacks on a weaker part of my person, sociality. "None." I answer with a smile almost matching the magnitude of fake her's maintains at a constant level. Her husband shifts again reminding me that it's not women who can catch my attention. "You know, my Duncan has a little girlfriend now, it's so cute!" Duncan, her seven year old son asleep in his bed 2 blocks away, probably doesn't grasp what a girlfriend is. With the fakest enthusiasm I can muster I chirp out "I hope it works out as well for him as it has for you." I say knowing full well that her marriage has become one of convenience, only now existing for appearances and their children's sake. It seems to have the intended effect as her smile slips for a moment and she now stops talking to me. I sigh happily as I go back to starring at her husband. The minuets pass and eventually half-time comes to the arbitrary 'kick this certain ball a certain way' which is the signal for dinner to start. Eric lets out an exhale and gets up and heads toward the dinner table. I have to cease starring because he is closely followed by his only friend, and the object of my attention, Mikaihail. "Good game hey Mike." Eric addresses his friend with his shortened nickname. Mikaihail is a Russian name which he inherited from his grandfather. Though now his family is third generation Australian and without hearing his real name you wouldn't guess his genetic heritage. He makes his way over to the light of the dinning room setting and acknowledges me "ah Caleb." His deep voice coupled with it being directed at me sends emotions of adoration, through me. Mikaihail is much bigger than everyone else in the room, in fact I only come up to his chest. He is wearing black dress pants and a white long-sleeved collared shirt with the sleeves pulled back to below his elbows, the remainder of the suit he wears to work. Not only tall but he is thick with muscle; his arms, shoulders and chest bulge out with each muscle able to be clearly seen through his shirt. His body does not narrow at his waist and stays the same width to his feet. His short hair is the most enticing shade of deep reddish-brown which stands up at the front and frames his face with his chiselled jaw. His eyes are large and an enamoring deep brown. Historically Klandinsky was an artist and, if they had been related, Mikaihail would have been his masterpiece creation. "Mikaihail." I nod and genuinely smile at him. I was the only one who persists in calling him by his full name. He said I could call him Mike but, after telling him I preferred Mikaihail, he let it go. Such a large person is very imposing, however everyone else seemed to be inoculated to his presence, but somehow the emotion I feel when around him never even shows the slightest bit of wither. And that unfortunately included a less than PG-13 attraction to him which a growing in my pants would not allow me construe in a more wholesome way. The dinner dragged on with me stealing looks at him when he spoke, but never saying anything myself. This was the best part of my week sitting in such close proximity to him; I couldn't help but feel happy even with Eleanor and Eric sitting with us. I was caught off guard when he spoke to me "So Caleb, how is business class going, still number 1?" I only took Business Management to have something to talk to him about (he is a HR manager at his business) and I try to do well out of respect to him. The school introduced streaming rankings so as to foster a competitive edge in the students, making it easy for me to track of my position. "Yep, still there." I said with a little pride. I started starring at him like I do with all my conversation participants. However, he does it to me too and seems to be the only one unaffected by my steel gaze. "Any assessment coming up?" He asked with genuine interest, his voice and proximity making it hard to think straight and remember. "Yes actually, we have to write a paper on how we would motivate employees." I managed to remember. "And how are you planning to do that?" "The obvious ways: dock pay, threaten dismissal, weekly performance appraisals." I said jokingly. He voices a deep chuckled, no one else seemed to notice the humour but mother smiles at me. "Well if you need any help with that, you know I'd be glad to." He offered generously. "I might take you up on that" I said smiling at him, happier than I had been in months. These moments with him are what make life here bearable. So that's me. My name is Caleb Nathanial, I'm 15 years old and completely hate my life and almost everyone in it. In case you have a learning deficiency and missed it, I'm gay. Not curious, not bi, no glimmers of hope, I'm 100% homo. It makes it difficult to live in my world, especially since the guy I love is 42, over twice my age, married with kids and hopelessly the most heterosexual man I have ever met. *** Sports class is the worst part of the hell that is school. Don't get me wrong, I'm a decent athlete, though I may not look it. I'm average height for a 15 year old, slim build, no body hair, smooth facial features, short brown hair and blue eyes that are pale enough people often mistake them for grey. I am capable individually; I just don't play team sports well with the people who populate my class. Theory lessons are usually quite alright, but today's lesson is especially unpleasant as it's our first day of sexual education. The particularly immature children in the class laugh whenever genitals are mentioned and I can only hope these people don't need to use this knowledge because I cringe at the thought of their offspring populating the next generation. I find it ironic that Mr Stevens is teaching us about responsible behaviour as he looks like he has a few problems of his own. Mr Stevens is quite good-looking: he has short light brown hair, some muscle but it's overshadowed by his extra weight, though he body carries it well (it also gives him podgy facial features). His problems look drug related with the large red rims around his eyes and his aversion to sunlight early in the mornings. Even as a sports teacher he's a failure, I don't think I could think of anything he would be good at, luckily his job requires no skills or intelligence. "The legal age to engage in opposite sex relations is 16" Mr Stevens announces like its supposed to have an effect on us. Laws like that were made up under the idea that younger people wouldn't be mature enough to know what they want and also to police the prostitution of youth. I mean it's not like policemen check the ages of people having sex in their cars or anything of the sort. The class moves along with more laughter and useless information. Then with some hesitation Mr Stevens starts talking about condoms. This is the first year our religious school is teaching anything besides abstinence. This issue was spearheaded by my mother, a city council member, and even with the priest's objections condom education was quickly inducted. I am proud of my mother and pity her for having tied herself to such a failure like my father. "Condoms are very effective at reducing the risk of pregnancy" Mr Stevens continues. With that Jeremy shouts "Caleb won't need condoms, he can't get pregnant." Gay jokes are the in thing these days, Jeremy doesn't realise that I actually am into guys. Mr Stevens, instead of intervening, smirks at the remark. Mr Stevens doesn't like that I treat his class like a joke. My 14 in the overall ranking is an underestimate thanks to Mr Stevens's class, when sport is optional next year I won't be clumped with the idiots of this school. "Jeremy, you won't need condoms either, your personality is a much more effective means of birth control." I rebut with a mocking smile. The classroom becomes full with laughter at Jeremy's expense and I look away with a smug smile. I can't help but to look back so I can commit his face to memory. But as I look back his fists are clenched and he is stalking towards me. I get out of my chair quickly and try to defend myself but I'm too late and he punches me in the head which ricochets and hits the wall. It hurts like hell and in response I throw a punch in his jaw and he's knocked off balance and falls over, his temple colliding with the corner of a desk. As he lifeless body hits the floor the feeling of victory quickly washes away and the reality that a may have killed him sets in. As it turns out Jeremy didn't even lose consciousness, but after a talk with the principle we were both to be sent home for the rest of the day. I don't think Principle McKneely accepted my self-defence story but he wasn't going to suspend a student of my calibre, especially if my parent is a council member who has already interfered with the running of the school. Jeremy and I are both in sickbay, he on lying on the bed and I leaning against the wall. I am not going to let myself look more injured than him. His parents soon come to collect him and stare death at me while I stare calmly back. All I can do now is hope that mother and not Eric will be the one to pick me up; I don't need his third degree. "Caleb darling, your ride is here" Mrs Coin, the receptionist, informs me. I make my way toward the reception while pleading with the cosmos that it's not Eric that is waiting for me there. I almost can't stand as the feeling in my legs goes when the person waiting to pick me up is Mikaihail. He obviously came from work to be here as he is in his full suit, coat and all, and looks even more amazing and imposing than ever before. In the interest of not falling over I remain fixed in my position. He notices and starts to walk over to me. I try to read his face to see if he's annoyed or angry for being put out of his way and having to pick me up. But I don't understand his expression, and with his increasing proximity my mind starts to muddle and I can't even try to figure it out. "Are you okay Caleb?" He asks in his deep soothing voice. Concerned? Is he concerned for me? The very idea sends a new flood of emotion through me. It's all I can do to nod at him. He smiles and turns to the receptionist to sign me out of school. I fight to remain upright while he's turned away and I seem to be winning the battle. He finishes with Mrs Coin and turns to me once again and the emotions flare up again. "Do you need some help?" he notices that I haven't moved... great. He begins to extend his hand to me but I know that if he touches me I really will need that support. So I shake my head and he leads the way from the office. It takes all my mental capacity to regain control of my legs and follow him. We walk to the car park in silence, he seems sure I'm going to fall and looms over me to make sure the gravel doesn't get the best of me. He beeps his BMW X5 (I've heard Eric mention it on more than one occasion) unlocked but opens my door for me. Luckily he doesn't persist to make sure I get into the car unharmed which gives me a chance to strap the hardening in my pants to my waistband, a result of his constant proximity. The expensive car and its smell compliments his suit and stature. But the car only made the proximity problem worsen. Being inside the car seemed like a separate environment from the outside world, one where only he and I existed. The situation seems new and novel to me and I tried to remember the last time we had been alone. But I couldn't remember it ever having occurred, in fact it may never have. Every movement he makes is pronounced and salient; to me, they all seemed to be of immense importance. After restraining my emotions, which was made harder every time he changed gears and his hand came closer to me, I realised a didn't even understand why he was here. "Mikaihail" I initiate the conversation. He raises his eyebrow and tilts his head to me to indicate his attention. "Why didn't mother come to pick me up?" I try to say without betraying my inner turmoil, but it comes through anyway. I can't lock my eyes on him as it would surely send me over the edge. "She's inspecting a property with the council for a joint project. Didn't she tell you?" He says in his voice which makes thinking a great difficulty. Truth be told she probably did, I probably wasn't listening. I continue to try and clarify why he was here with me. "And Eric?" My voice still obviously off its normal pitch. "He's tied up at work." "There must have been some pretty important bricks to lay. Or there may have been a lunch break he just could not miss" I say sarcastically. My hatred for Eric helping me regain my composure. "You should give your dad a break." He says in a slightly disapproving manner. "He pulled the head of Human Resources of a major company out of his job to pick up his son. Because he was 'tied up' bricklaying. I don't think a break is what he deserves." Mikaihail gives up on the point and I feel a sense of logical victory. There is a prolonged silence before he speaks again. "Why did you get into a fight?" He asks with that concerned tone again. I had completely forgotten about anything that didn't exist in that car and I take a little while to remember the events of the afternoon. "I only punched him back." I try to cut the explanation short. "This could be bad for your mother." He changes the subject. I reply defeated "I know." In a quieter pitch. I slump a little more into the passenger seat and turn my head further away from him. Of course I know only too well that being the son of a politician demands constant socially acceptable behaviour. This is one of the main reasons why I'm more civil to people than I'd like to be. Unexpectedly he puts his hand on my shoulder. A severe shot of emotions surge through my body and I can't help but smile a little. His physical contact is like nothing I've felt before and his hand on my shoulder accentuates the very large difference in our body sizes. He leaves his hand on my shoulder and I realise what I should of have said at the beginning of this conversation. "Mikaihail" I turn back towards him. "Yeah." he once again turns his head slightly towards me while still watching the road. "Thank you." He turns his head to look directly at my eyes and smiles warmly. Then he turns his head back to the road, pats me on the shoulder twice before returning his hand to change gears. We pull up outside the house and I feel a sense of remorse that the trip is over and I am back to the slow torture that is my reality. He gets out of the car quickly and I open my door before he can open it for me. He hovers near me as I get out and grabs my bag before I can. We walk together, I unsteadily, up the stairs and to the front door and he opens it with a key I didn't know he had. I suppose it makes sense, he and Eric are close friends. We walk into the main living area and he goes to the kitchen. I feel a relief from the constant overwhelming emotion, but quickly miss them and the associated presence. He comes back shortly with a glass of water and hands it to me, though I don't much trust myself with a glass in this state. There is a short silence before he speaks. "Have you given any thought to what you want to do after school?" he inquires. My ears perk up at this question because there is only a single thing I have given more thought to than that. I wave for him to follow me to my room. As he enters my room he seems slightly astonished by the myriad of universities plastering my walls and ceiling like wallpaper. "University then." He summarises. "No" I correct him "Leaving." He seems to give my statement some discerned thought before he talks again. "Drink up" he commands. I notice the glass of water is still in my hand. His closeness and voice make it difficult for me to refuse him. I finish the glass in one breath causing my head to get lighter from the lack of oxygen and I almost lose balance. He has his hand on my arm before I see it move, in an attempt to stabilise. The emotion that comes over me with his physical contact makes my legs lose feeling. He grabs my other arm with his free hand, it's too much for me and I lose my sight for a second. I quickly regain my vision and I notice I'm in my desk chair and he's on one knee looking at me, our eyes level. I see the concern in his eyes again and while it makes me happy, I have to diffuse it. "I'm okay, don't worry." I plead with him "If you lose consciousness I'm going to have to take you to hospital." He says with the concern slowly fading from his face and relief recolouring it. "You're parents will be back soon, so try to hold out till then for me?" he says smiling at me. The thought of my dad trying to parent me with his ridiculous ideologies makes me immediately want to leave. Mikaihail is looking at one of the poster as I get up off the chair and start towards the door. He quickly blocks my path. I try to walk around him but he adapts to my change in direction. "You see why this isn't working right?" Unaffected by my words he continues to stand in my way, so I try another tactic. "Okay, once you're done pretending to be my father I need to leave before my actual father gets here." A say in the least offensive tone I can muster. Again he doesn't move out of my way. He smiles at me mockingly "I'm not going to leave my friends most likely concussed son unattended." The idea of Eric's concern for me is laughable "I'm sure he won't hold it against you. And besides I'm not concussed so you can let me go." If he wasn't here I wouldn't be tripping over myself and looking like a klutz. Despite my words he doesn't move, so I try another tactic "You can make this easier by not trying." He says triumphantly. I slump my shoulders and exhale. Then I turn to the window and begin to open it. From behind me he grabs my wrists and quite effectively hinders my escape. "This is the second story you know?" his constriction sends emotions ripping through me and the heat I can feel from his much larger body only intensifies my inner emotions. I fight to remain upright but my leg loses its footing for a second and I stumble backwards onto his body. I sometimes had imagined what it would be like if I over-affectionately greeted him with a hug; the thought was always so pleasurable, it was shudder worthy. I always threw these thoughts out of my mind because it was depressing to think of things that could never be. But standing here leaning against his body for support, the feeling was so much more than I ever imagined. His hands were still constricting my wrist which meant his arms were around me, the feeling of being between them was like a blissful heaven I could never have imagined. My head landed resting between the indent of his pectorals which were very obvious even in his suit. My shoulders and upper back were touching the muscles in his torso. But by far the most prominent thing I am feeling is his penis pressing against the small of my back. My own could not be harder than it is now. I know that this isn't appropriate but I have an excuse, I'm concussed, and I'll do or say anything to make this moment longer so I can commit it to memory and always return here. I expect that at any moment he will get me on my feet and there will be an awkward 'too much male contact' moment. Instead he hurls me on my bed face down while still holding my wrists. My head hits a pillow and, while over the top of me, he shoves my hands under it. He grips them both with one hand and retreats his other. A thousand things are running through my mind, none of which I can make out with the almost unbearable feelings racing through my body. I hear what sounds like a belt unbuckling, I must be hearing things: wishful hearing. Another sounds of a zipper unzipping, I'm certain my imagination is toying with me. But then there is a hand around the back of my waistband that rips my pants down, and finally I'm sure this is real, the thing I've wanted most in my life for so many years is unbelievably happening. I can feel something pressing against my ass and then his chest comes down on top of my head pressing the side of my face into my pillow. As I try to come to grips with reality it happens, he shoves his tool inside me. The pain, a hundred times more intense than anything I've ever felt is accompanied by the ecstasy of having what I want. I want to shout out in pain and pleasure but it's muffled by the pillow, though I can easily still breathe. He moves his penis quickly deeper in and back repeatedly. He was always so much bigger than me, but I've never thought of him as bigger than I do now as I feel what must be several sizes too large for my hole forcing its way inside me, stretching the walls to their limit. I couldn't move even if I wanted to, the pole of a penis and his chest hold me forcibly in place for his pumping, though I could not be more receptive of him. The way he has mounted me is so primal and I know that there is no chance of me getting out of this until he is finished, the thought adding to my overwhelming elation. Every muscle in his body is working his penis deeper inside me and as he begins to go deeper the feeling only intensifies my ecstasy. Ever pump of his penis sends new shockwaves of pleasure through me, my breaths become laboured as my body can almost handle no more pleasure and I can feel myself climaxing. As he continues to thrust his mighty, much too large, tool into me I open my mouth in pleasure as I cum onto my bed. I doubt he notices as his incessant and seemingly insatiable ramming doesn't change. I try to push my ass up towards his thrusting and it seems to give him more leverage as he starts to pump harder and somehow even deeper. With every new inch of me he invades, I cannot believe my body has room to take anymore of his erection. I couldn't tell how much was in me but it was more than I thought possible. I realised then that his pelvis was not reaching my butt and that there was a whole lot more of him that wasn't fitting. I begin to feel my penis becoming hard again, wanting to relieve itself a second time. At that moment his pounding motion becomes impossibly fast and he begins to moan, a sound so deep it's almost like a roar. He begins to moan louder and I can feel the vibrations from his chest making it sound even more like a roar. He gets even faster and then with a roar much louder than the others he thrusts he cock as deep as it will go and he explodes inside me as I come a second time with him. His body convulses as he shoots his cream, it feels like a hydrant firing inside me. My penis stops but he continues to fire and the feeling of his essence filling me up inside is like I am a part of him now. His constant firing begins to waver until he finally stops and drops on top of me. The moment is pure bliss, a connectedness I never thought I would get to share with him. He lies there for a few seconds inside me. I don't want this to end, but that feeling quickly changes as I hear the front door opening. He obliviously notices it as well as he quickly exits me and jumps off the bed. All I can do is stare at his back as he awkwardly walks to the door while doing up his zipper and belt. He closes the door as he leaves and never once makes eye contact with me. I can hear his footsteps and then the faint voices of him and my parents. "Oh Mike thank you so much for helping us. How is he doing?" My mother inquires. "...He's a little disoriented but otherwise fine." Mikaihail replies with a hesitation that I don't think my parents would pick up on. I am a lot of things right now, but fine doesn't even come close to describing any aspect of me. "We'll have to make it up to you and Eleanor sometime" Mother offers. "I've got to get back to work but I'm sure we'll see each other again soon" he says a little faster than his normal pace. "Sorry about this Mike, he doesn't care about other people's lives" Eric adds. I know I should be filled with hate for Eric at that statement, but I was still in shock, pain, and pleasure from what had just happened and I couldn't feel anything else. "I don't mind Eric, he's a good kid." Mikaihail rebuts. I hear the front door open again as he leaves. The next thing I hear is footsteps coming up the hallway. I realise that my pants are still down, so I begin to reach for them. But when I move my pelvis a shot of pain tears through my body. The footsteps are getting closer so I pull the sheet, the half I'm not lying on, over myself. The door open and mother comes in and looks at me caringly. She moves to my bedside and kneels down at my face and clasps it in her hands. I can see Eric, arms folded, leaning against the door "You're sweating Caleb, are you alright?" She says in a slightly frantic tone. I'm in such physical pain I cannot move, but on a high much greater than I even thought possible. "I'm okay, just a little tired" I say while smiling weakly at her. Careful not to betray my inner climate. She smiles back at me "If you need anything, you just ask." She offers while stroking her hand through my hair. There is a silence and she continues to stroke my hair for a moment. "You shouldn't be picking fights with kids at school" Eric says firmly. In the 10 years I've been at school I have never once gotten into a fight, or even had detention. But the first time a do get into a fight the only explanation that occurs to him is that I picked it. "I was defending myself. " I say while looking at him steely. "We'll talk about it when you feel better. You just get some rest now." She overrules Eric and motions him to leave the room when she does; he finishes by closing the door behind him. My mind cannot comprehend what had just happened. It should be impossible on so many levels and yet it did happen. I cannot stop thinking about it and replaying it in my head. Despite it being so early I quickly fall in unconsciousness, my ever thought of him.