This material is intended only for an adult audiences who wish to view it, and wherein it is legal to do so at your age at your location in your circumstances. This work is fictional and intended for entertainment only. If you find homosexual conduct offensive, are a minor, do not wish to view or read such material, or it is illegal for you to do so, WTF are you doing here? Put the browser down and back away quickly. Some chapters of this story contain explicit sexual activity between teen males ranging from 14 to 20, and these chapters will be posted here on Nifty. All character ages are based on ages of individuals from that time period in my life, and many of the events are partially or completely fictitious. The R-rated chapters are available at http://onetime.smokr.net/TheCircle.
I retain all rights and ownership of this material and grant Nifty Archive a
non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancelable license to
display the work. Nifty has been good enough to allow me to update this story in
November of 2012, another reason you should donate and help keep them up and
Toby, gone. Forever. Jeff soon to move so far away it won't matter. Sure, letters now and then, but at least I could write Jeff after he left, and Jeff would certainly write back. Tim leaving even sooner, back in three years; back and not such a loss. And we could write while he was gone. But not Toby. Never Toby again. And Tom needing to end what we're up to. Tonight I'll take care of the guys thinking he's my boyfriend!
He does so much for me. I never thought I would have a car, let alone the van! I owe Tom for that, big time! And a lot more things at that! None of the others would have, could have, done that. Tom's been more a guardian and helper than just a friend. Will that change, too? Like so much has so recently? Like so much will so soon?
Will I drive the van around without Tom? Without the guys? Go meet and hang out with other friends? Get a job and not have time for Circle meetings on Friday nights? Tom's had his license a few months, but no car and no job, it didn't mean much. He got to drive Jon's wagon some, and their parents' car a few times, but it didn't change his life any. Will it change my life any having a license and a car?
Well, without changes, life would be stagnant and boring, too dull to suffer through, I thought sadly, immediately thinking that it had been a poor choice of phrasing.
"You okay?" Jeff whispered, watching me with a strange expression on his face.
"Absolutely fine," I said loudly, trying to sound excited, or at least happy.
I was well aware that I should be happy, and was somewhere deep inside, but the feeling of things changing, of losing something that I could not even name, was too strong.
Outside, the neighborhood slid by, the loud exhaust of the old Ford wagon rumbling out a steady rhythm below "Hot Blooded" by Foreigner. I saw our general heading, and considered places we could be heading to. Soon we would be coming to Joliet Road, and I was sure we would be turning one way or the other. If we went straight, we would be heading somewhere I would not be able to anticipate, as I knew nowhere we could party further toward the south other than forest preserves.
At Joliet Road, Jon turned right, and the possibilities were set. Now several places I suspected as the most likely were removed from the list, including the twins' mansion. Now, only four places I could think of lay ahead where we could party, drink, smoke grass, or stay the night. The problem was, while we could do one, or even two of them, it would be limited somewhat, and there was no way all the possibilities were open at any of the four options.
I looked around at the guys, looking for hints, or . . . something. There was nothing but evil grins and shaking heads.
The dee-jay mentioned the upcoming Def Leppard World Tour, and again bemoaned the lack of concert dates in America. Eric chimed in, also complaining that they should have far more dates here in the States and far fewer around the world. Most of us agreed they should have more here, but the point was a world wide tour.
"I'd rather just hear Billy Squier anyway," Ryan said. "I bet after he opens, Def Lep will sound bad by comparison."
Most of the guys booed or hissed him loudly, or told him to go back to Pennsylvania. He was also pummeled by loose fists and open palms by those who could reach him. I agreed with him silently.
After several minutes, Jon turned onto the familiar Brainard street.
Now who lives out this way or farther that would let us smoke grass, have a rowdy party, and stay the night? I wondered. If it's much farther Jon would have stayed on the busy through streets, not turned onto the side streets that almost all end sooner or later. Tim lives near, just a couple blocks and a left turn, then across the one real street nearby and then a couple blocks more. But they hardly know him at all. Then there's Mike's, but he's not a great buddy, and most of the guys don't know him, and he don't even know it's my birthday, I don't think. I don't know anybody else out here. Are we going somewhere I've never been?
But the questions! I asked if I had been there before with anyone, and the answer was yes. So I've been there before. But, then again, they did pull a fast one about the walking part. Shit. Still, I was there before. Jon and Tom's cousin, Terry's? I remember being out here to his house for swimming over the summer. Maybe? But where? I don't remember right where, but it was somewhere near Tim's. Got to be!
"Your cousin's house? With the pool?" I asked.
"Nope," came back at me from Tom and Jon in perfect concert.
Then Jon took a left off Brainard. There were very few streetlights in this neighborhood, mostly only at intersections. What few there were illuminated pot holes, broken sidewalks, and rows of closely built, long, narrow houses that uniformly looked run down. The entire neighborhood was built right after World War Two, and were mostly crammed tightly together on shallow lots, putting the houses less than twenty feet from the curb. Row after row of narrow, small streets, some older than the city, patches of the old red bricks showing through broken areas of asphalt, laid out closely together formed a slum of old brick houses.
I had never taken that way heading to Tim's, as I always rode my bike, taking one of the wider roads over the highway, coming up to Tim's from the other direction. Jon had taken one of the nearest and busiest roads over the expressways, with no sidewalks, shoulder, or place to walk or ride a bike across it. I was wondering about the proximity of Tim's house, when sure enough, Jon turned onto the narrower, even more pot-holed road Tim lived on.
I looked to Jon, who simply smiled and ignored me, seemingly intent on driving. Jeff only grinned as well. The guys in back returned the same blank grins of conspiratorial glee; except Todd, who seemed clueless. As Jon slowed and parked two houses up from Tim's house, I guessed.
"Tim's?" I asked, incredulously.
Everyone but Todd was nodding and smiling.
"Okay, how the hell you guys know where he lives?"
"I've known Tim longer than you have," Jon said. "I've spent more time in his basement than you have on your bike. Well, maybe not, but you know," Jon said, opening his door.
"Oh cool! And he knew it when I called over this afternoon?"
Jon nodded as he walked around the front of the wagon.
"Ahhhh. So, if I had came over this afternoon, it would have been for nothing, then?" I asked as Tom got out of the back seat and stood next to me.
He shrugged and grinned at me.
"So, okay . . . oh, Jon, you asked," I said with certainty, pointing at him.
"Nope," Jon said firmly as the last car door was quietly shut, and we gathered into a group to sneak up to Tim's basement door.
"I did, when I was talking about the van," Tom said. "He said he wished he could go to your birthday party. When I told 'em how we wanted to have one Friday night, he said how his folks were going to be gone. I said it would be cool to have a party here and he said okay."
I knew then that Tom had not let on one bit what he knew as we had played Atari and talked just hours earlier. He knew that Tim was waiting for us to come over. He knew that there was no worry about not being able to get any pot for the party.I glared at him for a short time, letting him know that I hadn't missed that fact. I doubted very much at that moment that Tim was actually out of grass.
"What's with the trash?" I asked, noticing a large, black trash bag being carried by one of the twins as we headed toward Tim's house in a hushed group.
"Surprise," Jeff offered and put his finger to his lips.
Jon tapped on the basement door, then Tim opened it and waved us in one by one. He was wearing black jogging shorts and a black t-shirt, he had sandals and socks on, and his hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He wished me a happy birthday as I walked in.
"Yeah, long time no see, asshole," I said with a grin.
"Aww. No hard feelings, I hope. Tom said I could let you ride over here if I wanted, but I'm not that mean!"
"Yeah?" I said more than asked, throwing another narrow-eyed stare in Tom's direction, who smiled and shrugged it off.
He's rapidly compounding things, I thought.
That was when I noticed that the entire basement was transformed. There were party streamers running from wall to wall, and colored lights were in different corners, throwing multicolored flashes from a disco ball hanging over the coffee table. Several table lights were arranged around the room to brighten the basement up as well. The several old kitchen chairs that usually were covered with junk or random items were cleared off and moved to a circle around the coffee table.
"Bit's and Pieces" by The Dave Clark Five played on the stereo, and I knew Tim was going to piss off some of the guys playing that kind of music instead of what they would have liked, but I was going to back up Tim's taste; it was my party after all, and I liked older rock and roll too.
Tim closed the door solidly behind the twins and threw the lock on the door loudly.
"As a result of your achievement in reaching the ripe, old age of sixteen, I shall no longer use the term, 'little man' for you, Sir Alex," Tim said with the air of authority of a lord making a proclamation as we took off our coats and threw them onto the old chair by the door.
Tim took the garbage bag from Brent and walked toward the center of the basement with it.
"Furthermore, I offer you the honor of firing her Purple Majesty, as she awaits your pleasure yonder," he said, gesturing to the three foot tall, purple, acrylic bong sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch.
"I thought you said you was out?" I asked mockingly as I noticed the considerable piles of pot around the bong.
"Indeed, I did so inform you, m'lord, however t'was merely a ploy. As you can see, yon table is well stocked and provisioned for your head needs, sire."
Tim's affected medieval speech was interesting. I knew he was a bit of a fan of old fantasy movies and such, and could fake a decent English accent, but that was the first time he was doing so in such a setting, and with my friends.
"Twas no need for you to exert your efforts to travel yon great distance, when indeed, your needs were anticipated and filled anon."
Jon and Jeff positioned me directly in the center of the couch, right in front of the bong. On the table was a large pile of grass, cleaned and apparently ready to smoke. As I looked closer, I saw that there were actually three piles of different weed. One was clearly green, another showed a bit of red and copper colored hairs, and a third, smaller pile was obviously a far superior strain; red, gold, yellow, even cinnamon-colored hairs apparent.
As I wondered which to load into the bong first, Todd said, "Time to call the parents," in a sing-song matching the Dunkin' Donuts commercial. He waved for silence as the all-important phone call was made. He dialed my number and handed me the phone.
"Hi, were here, mom" I said when she answered.
I was asked if there were decorations, and if the adults were around. I said the uncle was putting a tape in the VCR and his wife was in the kitchen, just as we had planned. She asked to speak to one of them and I handed the phone to Jon, covering the mouthpiece and miming, "You're up."
Jon grinned at me most evilly, setting my nerves on edge. Then in an exaggerated manner, he slowly handed the phone to Tim.
What happened to Jon playing the uncle part? I worried. He'd been practicing!
Tim said, "Hello," in a reasonable baritone and told mom, "The kids will be fine. The wife is in the kitchen working on pizzas and the boys and I will be watching movies." After a pause he said, "If they get up to any hanky-panky, we'll hear them." After more small talk, and assuring he had her number if anything happened, he said goodnight and then passed the phone back to me.
"He sounds like a nice enough man," mom said.
"Yeah, I think he's okay. They got the new Atari fifty-two-hundred and some new movies and lots of music and stuff," I informed her. "We won't be bored."
She sounded satisfied and said to have a fun birthday party and a good night. I said goodnight and handed the phone to Todd, who hung it up with a flourish and his evil grin.
"So what happened to Uncle Jon?" I asked, wishing I could reach either Jon or Tim.
"Hey, I might've fooled her, sure, but she knows my voice. Tim said he'd never talked to her, so he said he could do it, so I said okay. Okay?" Jon explained.
"You could've told me! I about died when you gave the phone to Tim!"
"Yeah, you looked like you were about to hurl!" Jon said, laughing.
Next was Todd's turn to call his mom. Tim did another great job as Uncle Jon. Once the call was over, Tim retook center stage.
"For you older blokes," he declared loudly, "I offer cold ales in yonder magic crate of wintery weather, and bubbly, sweet water for the younger squires. Snackable delectables await you all as well. The magic box of moving images there has the Atari spell upon it, this one here," he said of the larger one in front of the couch and coffee table, "plays a wide range of moving images and strange visions contained in these magic black boxes. But first! The garments!"
With a flourish he tore open the plastic garbage bag and dumped a pile of white sheets onto the chair. He shuffled them by lifting them by the armful and dropping them, letting them roll off his arms. Suddenly he laughed and said, "Oh! Shit! Yes, Jon, get this!" He dropped the sheets into the chair and put his hands on the back of the stuffed chair, leaning onto it theatrically. "I hear from a reliable source, Jon, that Alex's parents think he has a boyfriend."
I had been close to finishing filling the bowl on His Purple Majesty, but those words stopped my hands instantly.
Jon shrugged and said, "So. Know that," as several of the guys snickered, proving it wasn't new news.
He did? I wondered. How? Did Tom really tell him about that? Did he tell all the guys? I can't be mad, I did tell Tim.
"But did you know," Tim said very slowly, "that Alex's parents told him that, right in front of who they thought was his boyfriend?"
I can't believe Tim is doing this! I only told him as a joke during the phone call earlier. I hadn't meant for him to tell everyone!
Not everyone there was ready to hear that about me, let alone that my folks thought Tom was my boyfriend. I felt a flush of anger rise, but I pushed it back. He hadn't said I was gay, only that my folks had thought Tom and I were. All of them should be able to understand that mistake, I felt. I also began to worry that Tom might get very angry, but considering it more, I saw that I was going to say much the same thing when I made my big speech later, anyway. And this would make me do it, and I could get it out of the way early. It was awkward and shocking having it introduced that way, but I could turn it around and use it.
Jon looked puzzled for a moment. He leaned a bit forward and looked down the couch to Tom. His eyes grew a bit narrow as he said, "Tom didn't say anything about Alex's parents thinking he was his boyfriend."
"No, he didn't, did he?" Tim said, his voice dripping with his intent.
A small, familiar groan from Tom told me exactly what position Tom was taking and exactly what his expression was.
"Tom is not my boyfriend," I nearly shouted. "Like was said in the van Tuesday!"
Jon's face did not change expression, but it was still clearly obvious that his thoughts had shifted. It could have been the way he nodded slowly. He cleared his throat, getting the attention of nearly everyone there, subliminally directing them to Tom with his own stare.
"So, lil' bro, I hear Alex's folks thought you were his boyfriend . . ."
Tom looked pained, as if he had been pinched too hard. He had long ago blushed. By then, most of the other guys were giggling, trying not to laugh outwardly. At least, not yet; Tom's and my own reactions had yet to be determined.
He replied flatly, "Oh, you guys are pricks."
He was serious, but not angry. His anger was removed by the laughter of everyone else. Tom tossed me a lighter and said, "Get hittin'. And enjoy that one, you got your own comin', ya know."
I was smiling, and embarrassed, but having Tom so blatantly remind me of the impending dooms he and the others were so greatly anticipating laying on me kept me from laughing out loud.
As I finished filling the bong with the good looking stuff. I said, "Tom, I only told him because I needed something to lighten the mood during the phone call earlier."
"Oh great. So only everybody knows, now," he said, throwing his hands up in mostly mock anger.
The bong made the rounds as Tim shuffled the sheets, and I prepared for what I had earlier hoped to delay until later. Small talk and jokes about me and Tom bounced back and forth for a while before I could get myself set, stoned enough, and ready.
"Uh, look, guys. I know you all think Tom and I are, are, um, you know, like, together or something." I was already feeling humiliated, and dreaded finishing now that I had started. "It's just, well, like Jeff said, none of your guys business anyway. But, we ain't like that. Not even close. Tom and I mess around is all. Like all you guys have," I said, knowing I was about to shock Tim. "All you guys have messed around, and you all know it, too. Even you, now, Tim."
Tim nodded, not seeming as surprised as I had anticipated, nor as angry as I feared.
"So, Tom is not my boyfriend! Not even close. He lives next door is all. Get it?"
Nearly everyone was silently watching me and Tom. Tom's eyes were locked on my own.
"I really like Tom, a lot, but not like that. He's my best friend. I see him everyday, ya know? There ain't no boyfriend stuff between us at all. Just forget that bullshit."
Now sweating, shaking a tiny bit, and feeling rather sick, I lit the bong and took a massive hit from it. Nearly everyone shrugged and seemed undisturbed by what I thought was a major revelation. I was certain that they simply didn't believe me. The thought of making the declaration that I was actually gay ran through my head, but I didn't feel ready for that.
"I'm serious!" I challenged, smoke curling out as I spoke and passed the bong.
"Yeah, we know you are. We don't care. I never thought so, anyway. Anyone?" Jon asked of the group.
Shrugs and shakes of their heads proved they weren't thinking such a thing. All except Eric.
"I thought you guys was."
Once again his next statement was "UNCLE!" from underneath Jon.
I explained, "We're not. He just lives next door and we see each other everyday and sometimes we mess around. Tom likes girls! We're not boyfriends or nothing."
I had nearly said, 'Tom likes girls, not like me, I'm gay.'
Jeff nodded and seemed saddened, surprising me. I suddenly worried that I had ruined whatever small chance there was that he would still want to be friends. The thought that he now would want to get away from me and the party suddenly occurred to me as well. I didn't see hatred, or fear, or revulsion on his face, only what seemed a bit of sadness being hidden by his fake smile.
Tim turned down the stereo and said, "Before our guest of honor refills the bong, we need our first garmentier," and lifted a single sheet from the pile. He examined it closely, turning it over and over. He found the tag on one corner and seemingly read it.
As he did this, Jon went to the fridge in the corner and brought a handful of beers back with him, placing them on the coffee table. When I reached for one, Jon slapped my hand, saying, "Not yet!"
Tim said, "Jeff," apparently reading the name from the tag on the sheet. He then wadded the sheet up and tossed it to Jeff.
Everyone went, "Ooooo," together: Todd the loudest, Jeff refraining entirely, instead looking mortified.
And except for me; I was perplexed, to put it mildly.
There was no logical reason for Tim to be throwing a sheet at Jeff after calling his name while reading the tag, unless his name was written there, I thought. That lead to the question of why Jeff's name would be on the tag of a sheet. Which lead me to wonder why a garbage bag of sheets was even brought, let alone why at least Jeff's name was on the tag of at least one of them! And that asked the questions of what Jeff's name was doing on at least one of those sheets, why everyone oooo'd when his name was called, and why he looked so horrified as he held the sheet.
As I ran those thoughts through my mind, Jeff stood up and walked around the coffee table to stand next to Tim. I had restarted refilling the bong's bowl, but my hand was stopped again, a pinch of weed in my fingers again, as Jeff kicked off his shoes and began to pull off his shirt. Most of the guys made whistling or hooting noises. Jeff blushed furiously as he tossed his shirt - my shirt - to Tim.
I sat dumbstruck as Jeff opened his jeans. My jeans.
Jeff was watching me, only me, as he dropped my borrowed jeans. He didn't rush, much, and was at least a bit excited, it seemed. He was wearing white briefs, just a tad tight, and I knew they were a pair of mine. Jeff was crowded into the briefs, his mild, or well contained, excitement obvious as it swayed and bounced as he pulled one then the other leg out of his jeans. My jeans.
Jeff was just past seventeen, and well developed. I had glimpses before, and I knew Jeff was filling out nicely all over. Jeff's chest had widened and was taking on manly dimensions. His sides were solid, the Nordic ancestry making itself readily apparent in his shapes. His waist was wider than mine and his legs were strong and shapely, the muscles visible, flexing on his frame as he removed the jeans, standing on one foot then the other.
Jeff's chest had hair, but it looked almost bald due to how light the hairs were. His legs, though, showed a light covering of light blond hairs. Under his arms, the shadow of his light hair proved he was well into puberty and nearing manhood; as if the shapes jiggling around in my white briefs left any doubt.
My own erection shot to full mast with Jeff standing there in just my too-tight, white Fruit-of-the-Looms. Jeff took the sheet and folded it, pulled it over, around, and ended up with a good fitting toga. Tim pinned a large, round, blank, white button on the toga as Jeff posed.
Jeff sat down next to me, grinning and obviously not able to look at me. I knew he must be nearly humiliated. I was painfully hard in my pants, and knowing that Jeff was next to me, nearly naked under that sheet, made sure that was going to be.
I realized that I hadn't heard anything during Jeff's changing. I knew for a fact that they had been whistling and hooting at the start, and I doubted that they stopped, but I could remember hearing no sounds as Jeff had changed. I wondered what I had missed, and wondered if anyone had noticed that I hadn't joined in the catcalls. The fact that I had stared silently open-mouthed the entire time didn't occur to me. What did occur to me was that it was now quiet - too quiet.
Looking around, I saw that they were waiting for my reaction. The fact that they were waiting to see my second reaction, my conscious reaction, didn't occur to me.
I swallowed. I remembered to breathe. "Toga party?" I asked.
"We have a winner!" Jon declared. He reached for one of the beers, opened it, then handed it to me, demanding, "Chug it!"
I took a long drink as everyone chanted, "Chug! Chug! Chug!". I got over half of it down before I had to breathe. I was chanted through the rest of the beer in one go. I slammed the empty can onto the table to their cheers and smiled widely.
"COOL! Who's next? Does everyone have to change like that?"
I had wanted at first to ask, 'Do I get to watch everyone change like that?' but had changed my phrasing at the last moment. I wasn't totally fried yet, and I didn't want to sound that way to my friends, even if I was thinking it, and was thinking of telling them that I was.
I was answered with affirmatives, much to my delight, which I tried to keep muted somewhat.
Jeff was a vision in that moment.
So like Toby, I once more thought. Not in the way he was, but in the way he seems. Jeff don't act like Toby, looks just a bit like Toby, is about the same age Toby was, caused a lot of the same feelings of protectiveness and joy that Toby did. Maybe I do love him. But why do I have to love guys I can't have?
Jeff's strong chin moved up and down a bit as he swallowed his beer, and my eyes followed the movements.
He's just a rock, is all. So solid, firm, rounded and, just, what? Studly? Stockily studly? Hot!
Tim picked another sheet from the pile. He found the tag, read the name: Ryan.
Ryan, the shyest of the group, took center stage, already as red as an apple. Tom prodded me to finish filling the bowl that I had completely forgotten.
I was amazed they had come up with such an idea. Changing in front of each other wasn't that unusual between all of us. It had even been done during Friday sleepovers before, when someone had been out with family or some event, or would be as they left, just never as a game. Done as such, it was a daring game; one at a time, purposely, up in front of everyone.
I was delighted. Only two or three of them knew I was gay, even though they had all done something alone with me at least once. The fact that Tom and I were playing around more than any of the others was no longer a secret, to Tom's dismay. I had done what I could so far to prove Tom wasn't gay, so I shrugged, deciding now was not the time for that.
Ryan kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned his dress shirt and folded it before handing it to Tim. There were several comments on lactation and breast feeding, resulting from Ryan's swollen nipples. His were not the first I had seen take on such large dimensions. Tim's large, dark nipples were often hard, and Tom's had gone through much the same swollen stage for a few months. I remembered a short time that Jeff's had also done so.
Ryan flipped the bird several times, then unclasped his slacks and slid them down. He was wearing white boxers with blue checks. He obviously had been enjoying the show so far, as he tented his boxers just a bit, near the fly, off to his own left. He tried to hide it as he folded his pants, until he handed them to Tim, who exchanged them for the sheet.
Ryan was well into fourteen and puberty. No chest, underarm or body hair yet, but a growing libido to match the growing manhood and accoutrements. He had always been the shiest of the twins, and the entire group. He was also the most reserved, and possibly the smartest of us all.
Ryan had a rounded face, unlike his brother, and soft features with gold-rim glasses. He was classically cute, like an urban, white-boy poster kid. He still had the kid fat in the usual places, though he looked a bit older than the fourteen he was.
A few whistles and cat-calls greeted the nearly naked Ryan, who blushed even more. He didn't try to hide his erection much after he handed his fancy slacks over to Tim, letting it push out the front of his boxers as he wrapped the sheet around himself, eventually getting it right. He struck a pose momentarily as Tim put one of the large, white buttons on his toga, then he sat down in the large recliner with his brother again.
Oh, damn! I won't be able to take it if they all change like that! I worried.
I finished the second beer in a rush, hoping to dull the horniness before it got out of control. As I reached for a fresh one, Jon slapped my hand away again.
"Not yet," he said, smiling.
"Damn! The Beer Bitch is on guard! What the hell? Savin' 'em for what?"
"You'll see," was the only answer I got, again, beside his evil grin.
"Now, time for some bets!" Tim said, shuffling the sheets.
"Bets?" I asked.
"Yup. Who's next? Winners choose drink or bong, losers get skipped a round."
Everyone offered guesses, Jon making note of them. Tim theatrically pulled a sheet from the pile, found the tag, smiled.
"Well?" came from several mouths.
"You won't believe the coincidence!" Tim said.
"Brent!" everyone yelled.
"What are the odds of that?" Todd asked loudly.
"Well, about eight to one, I'd say," I quickly offered.
"He's still doin' math! He needs more beer!" Eric laughed.
"He lost, though, so he's skipped!" Brent said evilly, walking around the table and kicking his shoes toward Tim.
"Hey, I'd claim since it's my party I could drink if I wanted, but that's fine!" I exclaimed.
"That's fine, alright. Since I won, I pick you to drink my drink!" Tom said, laughing.
"Drink" Jon demanded, handing me a new beer.
"I won't need it," I said to Jon and the fresh beer.
"Not drinks, BEERS!" Jon explained.
"Not beers!" I cried; I wanted to get drunk, but not unconsciously so first thing!
"Down the hatch!" I was told by Jon, who apparently was in charge of the beers and the bets as he opened the next one for me.
I'm going to get plastered, alright! I thought as I was chanted through the first beer. Jon handed me the second one as I let out a near-record belch. Breathing a few times first, I downed the second one to more chats of "Chug!"
Brent began his change. Fourteen, like his twin, Brent had no body hair, but his shoulders were widening and his baby fat evaporating. His nipples, like his brother's, were puffy and red, looking like they were going to turn into girls breasts. His arms and legs looked athletic and trim, but strong and curvy. Brent's best physical feature was easily his butt. Brent had been blessed with a solid, curving, luscious set of cheeks.
There were several more comments on lactation and breast feeding.
Unlike his brother, Brent's face was narrow and angular. His sharp chin and bucked teeth made him resemble the stereotypical country bumpkin. His freckles didn't help avoid that comparison. Also unlike his shyer brother, Brent poked his erection through the fly of his blue shorts and laughed, waving it at Eric who had made the most and loudest comments about his nipples and lack of length.
"Right here! You wanna prick-feed, bitch?" he dared, waving it with movements from his hips.
Eric shot back with, "Ain't enough there for my baby sis when she get born!"
Brent turned red, started to say something, obviously changed his mind about it, then viciously flipped Eric off with one hand, cupped and tugged his privates at Eric with the other. Tim handed him a toga and Brent wrapped up, accepted Tim's help and a button, and took his seat next to his brother.
Brent's definitely the more outgoing of the twins, I thought at that moment. Too bad he got the 'short end of the stick' so to speak. Brent's just half the size of his brother in that department, and I bet most of his daring and bravado comes from the need to make up for that shortcoming.
What a coincidence, I thought, seeing the two boys change so near each other. Their legs are covered from mid-thigh up, but with plenty of slack, making glimpses up those togas and smooth thighs quite a possibility. Stop it! There you go again! Turning everybody into sex objects! Fucking quit already!
I realized that I had to pee, badly. Standing, I said I had to use the john and walked toward it to comments about 'getting relief' and 'save some for later.'
I said, "I'm just taking a piss!" as I closed the door.
I hope I can just take a piss, I thought, unzipping and fishing out my hard-on. God! What a tease! That's so hot! They have to know! Don't they? Why do this if they didn't? Who thought of it? If they are all gonna do that I won't be able to take it! I'll have a stroke!
And that view of Jeff! Shit! Wearin' my shorts! Oh, shit! He's so fucking hot! And he changed first! Then the little guys who aren't that hot, but that leaves all the older guys and just Todd to go!
Man, I really blew things with Jeff. I shouldn't have done so much with him! But it was hot! His butt is definitely the best! That thing is round! And all that big stuff he has down there! I was so close! We did it so much that one night! I'm glad we did it so many times! But maybe that was part of why he's so freaked?
But I deserve being shut off from it. I really do. I don't deserve Jeff's friendship. He's way better than me. Some chick is gonna be so lucky when he picks her. I bet he has the cutest kids! And how lucky am I? Best bunch of buds anyone's ever had!
I sighed as the urine finally started flowing. I knew I was going to be using the john a lot, with the beers already and the ones I intended to drink yet.
I'm gettin' shit-faced! I don't have to worry about nothin', or nobody, and I'm gonna just get plastered! I thought as I zipped up and flushed.
As I stood back up from reaching down for the toilet lever, I weaved a bit and put a hand on the sink.
Wow! Damn! Well, I did just down three beers! And all that powerful grass!
I shook my head, tentatively, hoping to clear it. It didn't help, if anything it made the dizziness more prominent. The throbbing of the cut was pounding again, each beat of my heart making it pulse pain through my entire skull.
Don't get sick! I thought worriedly as my stomach roiled and I belched wetly.
I breathed deeply, in through my nose, out my mouth, hoping to quell the queasiness. It worked after a few more breaths, and feeling better, I stood straight and checked myself in the mirror.
Who's gonna want that? I asked with disdain. I'm so plain! Brownish-reddish hair that won't do anything but curl just enough so it won't do what I want. Plain old white skin, a bit too pale and a bunch of freckles. Boring brown eyes. Glasses. No lips. Big ears. Gah! No wonder I can't find a gay guy to be with!
But now Jeff was probably never going to be as close again. He's going to move away and not want anything to do with the fag he left behind. He'll probably be glad to get away from me before I soil his soul even more. I never ever thought of Jeff not thinking that about me and Tom! I assumed he did, like an idiot. Now he does know how close Tom and I were. Are. Now he probably does think we're gay together! I probably made everyone think I was lying to cover the truth, saying it like that! Fucking idiot! Instead of making things better, I made them worse, and mostly with Jeff!
Don't worry about that, now, dude! I warned myself. Think about your buds out there! Giving you this great party! And the rest still have to strip!
Man, how can they not know? That toga-changing, they gotta know! I mean, what's the chance Jeff was first? Come on. But then why the twins next? Man, they're gonna be so hot in another year or more. So cute. Can't believe what happened three weeks ago. That might be the best time yet. Man!
As my thoughts filled with the events at the twin's house three weeks ago, my pulse picked up and I felt light-headed. I weaved on my feet, then reached out to grasp the sink. My other hand went to my forehead as waves of dizziness rolled through me. My vision blurred, then darkened.
I saw the bathroom floor coming up at me, so I stretched my other hand toward it. I didn't know that the hand on the sink was all that was holding me upright. The bathroom floor was suddenly coming up at me, until everything turned dark.