The following is fiction. It contains some scenes involving gay sex. If reading such material is against the law, please do not read this story.
I have been enormously gratified by my readers’ response to my first two stories, 8th Grade and Prom. Your comments to me have been exceedingly generous and deeply appreciated.
I have had several requests asking for the location of my two previous stories. They can be found as follows:
8th Grade: Nifty Archives, Gay Male, Young Friends, April 1, 2005
Prom: Nifty Archives, Gay Male, High School, May 15, 2005
What explicit sex is included in this story is intended to further the story; I do not write gratuitous sex scenes. The story is not principally about sex, and if your objective is to read about sexual activity, you will find this story disappointing and uninteresting in the extreme.
Those of you that have read my first two stories know that I like writing romantic tales of young teens learning who they are. This story has a somewhat darker and more troubling theme, and may have a message that is objectionable to some. I think the majority of you will enjoy it, but I’ve been known to be wrong in the past. Please be forewarned.
This story is copyrighted by the author. All rights are reserved.
I love hearing from readers. It’s the reward I get for writing these stories. Any comments will reach me at email@example.com
T I M
I vaguely heard my mother wailing, “Shawn. Shawn,” as I reached the front door and threw it open. I stumbled outside, my head still foggy, my thinking blurred, all emotion and no reason. I had no thought where I was going, just that I had to be away from that house.
It was dark outside and the houses on our street, lighted and inviting, seemed out of place to me. They appeared to be safe and friendly and warm havens, while what I was running from, my present reality, was turmoil and insanity. It somehow seemed wrong they could look so normal.
I left our front porch and unconsciously walked to the sidewalk in front of our house. My heart was beating furiously and I was lightheaded. I turned and moved without thought up the sidewalk, then realized I was in front of Jed’s house. Without even thinking, I turned and walked up to his front door, then just stood there, not knocking, not ringing his bell, just standing at the door. How long I stood like that, I don’t know, but after a while I began recovering, becoming less dazed. My mind seemed to be clearing and I was getting a little better grip on myself.
Eventually, I rang the doorbell.
The door opened, and Mr. Tuckman stood looking at me. I don’t know exactly what he saw, but the expression in his eyes changed dramatically very quickly, and then I found myself in their living room, sitting on their couch without even being sure how I’d got there, with Mrs. Tuckman sitting beside me, her hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes and saying, “Tim, what’s the matter?” Concern and worry were evident in her face and manner.
“I hit Shawn. I left,” I muttered. I was still feeing spacy. I couldn’t seem to get a firm grasp on anything.
Mr. and Mrs. Tuckman looked at each other, then Mr. Tuckman turned at walked towards the door as Mrs. Tuckman put her arms around me. I melted into her hug. The warm, loving human comfort felt indescribably good.
Jed came into the room at that point. He saw me sitting on the couch with his mother holding me, and his eyes got big. He didn’t know what was going on, and truthfully, I’m not sure I did either. All I knew was, my whole life seemed fucked up right now.
“Mom?” What’s happening? Is Tim all right?”
“I don’t know, Jed. Your father went next door to find out what’s going on. He should be back in a minute.”
Jed looked at me, I looked back at him briefly, then dropped my eyes. I felt tears forming. I began shaking again, and I guess Mrs. Tuckman felt that because she held me tighter.
“Can you get a blanket and a pillow, Jed? Tim’s really upset. I think if he lies down it’ll be better.”
Jed quickly left the room. I wasn’t feeling good at all. I think it was too many emotions all at once, overwhelming me.
Jed came back and laid the pillow on one end of the couch and handed the blanket to his mother. She stood up, told me to lie back, then draped the blanked over me. I felt silly and embarrassed and like crying. I shut my eyes and just laid there, exhausted and not knowing what to do.
I heard the front door open and close, then Mr. Tuckman was in the room. I didn’t open my eyes.
“What’s going on, Dad?” I heard Jed ask him in a worried voice.
“I don’t know. I knocked on the door, but no one was there. One of their cars is gone. I don’t know what to do. Tim seems all right physically, I guess, just shaken up. I think we should wait awhile for Marge or Sam to return. Tim said he hit Shawn. Maybe they took him to the Emergency Room. That’s the only thing I can think of. Tim didn’t seem in a state of mind for us to be questioning him.”
No one said anything for a few minutes. I guess they were all thinking. Finally, Mrs. Tuckman said, “Jed, I think we should plan on Tim staying here tonight with you. We’ll let him rest on the couch for now, and maybe in a while he can go upstairs with you. Why don’t you straighten up your room and put fresh sheets on the bed. Is you homework all done?”
I don’t even remember his answer. Their voice were just wafting over me. I think that was when I fell asleep.
=========== ============= ================
The next thing I knew, Dad was shaking me. “Tim, wake up. Tim?”
I opened my eyes, saw his worried looked, and rolled around so I was sitting. Glancing at the clock the Tuckmans had on the mantle, I saw I’d been asleep for probably a little less than an hour. I still felt a little shaken, but I was recovered from the emotional overload I’d been it.
“How do you feel, Tim.”
“I’m all right. I’m glad you’re here.”
“What happened, Tim? Robert says you told them you hit Shawn. Why would you do that? And the house is empty. Do you know where they went?”
I looked down into my lap. Thinking about it, I was embarrassed. I didn’t go around hitting people. In fact, Shawn was the first person I’d ever hit. I’d never been in a fight, and I had pretty good control of myself. I let my talking do the work if I was in any sort of scrape at all. This time, I’d let my emotions control me, and I never had done that before.
“Dad, let’s go home. We can talk there.” I stood up, and turned to look at the Tuckmans.
“Mr. and Mrs. Tuckman, thanks for helping me. I think I’ve been a lot of trouble for you lately. All I can say is, I really appreciate what you’ve done for me, for being there when I needed you to be.”
Mrs. Tuckman hugged me again, and said, “Tim, you’re loved here. Come whenever you want to, or need to.” And she smiled at me, a mother’s smile.
After a moment, I gently pulled loose from her embrace, even though it felt so good and I needed it so badly, and my father and I left.
When we got home, no one was there. I told my dad just what had happened, told him what had been done, and what had been said. He looked as unhappy as I could ever remember him being.
“I probably shouldn’t have left, but I thought she’d calm down if she didn’t have me to focus her anger on. I was wrong, and I’m sorry, Tim. I didn’t know, but I left you to take her anger. I’m so sorry.”
“She’s the one who should apologize, Dad. She’s the one who got mad, started throwing things, and then telling me I was horrible and making me pray with them. Why does she hate me, Dad? Why has she changed so much? She was never like this before. She said such terrible things about me. She said I was evil. Why would she think I’m evil? It hurt so much, the things she said. I thought she loved me, and she said all those things, and it felt like I was being whipped. Every awful thing she said, it felt like I was being whipped. Why, Dad? Why does she hate me so much?”
Dad just looked at me, and shook his head. He didn’t even try to reply for awhile. I think he wanted to tell me she didn’t hate me, I expected him to deny that, but he didn’t speak. His eyes got a really distant look in them, and then got really moist, although he didn’t cry. I thought he might, from the deeply wounded and sad look on his face, but he didn’t. What he did do was walk over and pull me into his chest. He held me, just held me, and I think I started feeling a little better then, I started to really heal for the first time since when Mom had started her vicious verbal attack on me during that time we were supposedly praying. For the first time in what seemed liked forever, some of my fear started to go away. The fear, but not the hurt. I somehow knew the memory of those words, and the pain of them, would last a long time, and I would think back on them again and again. That pain, and that memory, weren’t going to go away any time soon.
At that point, we heard Mom’s car pull into the driveway and saw her lights briefly flash across the front window. They had returned.
When they came into the house, the first thing we saw was a large white bandage taped across Shawn’s nose. I winced when I saw it. I felt badly for him.
Then my mother walked in behind him, and immediately went on the attack.
“Tim! Look what you did. You broke Shawn’s nose. You broke his nose! What’s the matter with you? How could you hit him like that? You’re going to be punished for this, and I’ve decided, from now on, you’re coming to church whether you like it or not. Do you hear me, Tim.”
Well, yes, I certainly did hear her, because by now she was yelling, almost screaming, and had turned red.
She took a quick breath of air, and in that short pause, Dad jumped in.
“Marge! Stop it! Haven’t we had enough anger for one night. Look where it’s got us! We have one son with a broken nose and another who was so upset he had to run to someone else for comforting. We need to talk, not yell at each other. We have to sit down and talk like a family. Come into the living room. Tim, come with me. Shawn, are you all right, son? Please come and sit on the couch with me. We have to talk.”
When he said this, I immediately turned away from them and went into the living room. I hated seeing that bandage, and I even more hated Mom yelling at me again. It shook me up when she did it. I went and sat down in a chair, feeling a little shaky again and hating the feeling.
When we were all seated, Mom in a chair and both Shawn and Dad on the couch, Dad asked Mom what happened after I’d left.
“Shawn was bleeding, bleeding terribly, and crying with his nose all broken. I scooped him up, got him in the car and drove him to the hospital emergency room. I was so worried about him, and he was hurting so much.”
“Were you worried about Tim, too, Marge? When he ran outside, disturbed and scared?”
“I was worried about Shawn. Tim had attacked. Viciously. I got him to the hospital, and they saw how bad it was and took him right away. They felt his nose and said it was badly broken. They had to get a doctor to set it. Look at the bandage. Look what’s happened to my precious angel!”
Dad looked at her, then, not speaking to her or commenting on her account, turned to Shawn and asked him, softly and gently, “Shawn, are you all right, son? Are you hurting? Did they give you any pain killers? Do you need some aspirin or did they give you a prescription? Tell me how you’re feeling, Shawn?”
“It hurt, Dad, it really hurt. I’ve never felt anything like that before. Tim hit me right in the nose, and I just fell to the floor. It felt like my face was on fire. Mom rescued me, she took care of me.”
I shriveled up in my chair. I felt awful.
“We’re going to have to work this out. All of us. Tim was upset, and I know he didn’t intend to hurt you. He told me so, he told me he was just striking out at all of the emotion he was feeling, at the things that were being said. He couldn’t handle it and struck back. But he didn’t want to, or mean to, break your nose, Shawn. Tim? Do you want to say something to him?”
I hadn’t even thought about that, about apologizing or anything. Now I did think about it, and at first, I didn’t think I did want to apologize, thinking back to what had happened and how I’d been feeling. But then, I thought about Shawn hurting, and realized I was actually sorry I’d hurt him. And I knew I could say that honestly.
“Yeah, Dad, I do. Shawn, I am sorry I hit you like that. I didn’t mean to break you nose. I was really upset, you were holding on to me, and I just blindly swung my fist. But I wasn’t mad at you, and I’m sorry I hurt you so badly.”
Shawn just looked at me. I couldn’t read anything in his eyes. They showed no emotion, nothing. He was a mystery to me.
My mother took the silence as an opportunity and jumped into it.
“Sam, while I was there, in the hospital, while we had a doctor there, I thought about all the things that have been happening, everything that has been said. I had spoken to Shawn about those things on the drive to the emergency room. I thought of the awful lies Tim had been telling, and all the trouble he was going to get people into, good people, all the damage and hurt he has been causing. So, while the doctor was there, I thought I might check myself, like you did. I thought I might check what Shawn had told me, the truth this time, not Tim’s lies. So I had the doctor check Shawn, and he told me that Shawn’s anus showed signs of sexual penetration. That confirmed what Shawn had told me. Shawn has indeed been having sexual intercourse. And it will stop from this point on. From not on, Tim will no longer do that to Shawn. Not any more.”
I jerked my head up and looked at first her, then Shawn, then her again. I knew I’d heard her, but the words didn’t make any sense. No more than her words when she was saying how horrible I was.
Dad was looking at her with total shock on his face.
“Marge. . . ,” he began, but she cut him off, her anger easily overwhelming his surprise.
“We’re going to have to do something about Tim. That’s why I said he’s going to have to go to church. Reverend Ellison has a program for youth sex deviants, and we’ll keep it as private as we can, but Tim needs help, and we must protect Shawn. Shawn has been terribly hurt by this, you can see it in him, he’s been affected by this in ways that it may take a long time to heal, but if we work with both boys, if Reverend Ellison works with both of them, privately of course, they can both be healed. I’ve already spoken to Reverend Ellison. He says he’s worked with lustful boys before and he has ways to cure them. He can cure Tim, working alone with him. We’re going to start this tomorrow.”
Dad and I looked at her with our eyes as wide open as they could get. I looked at him briefly, wanting to see his reaction, but his eyes were fastened to her. She was going to go on, but he jumped to his feet and lashed out at her, finally as angry as she was, and his intensity filed the room.
“What the hell are you talking about, Marge?!” he shouted. “Tim hasn’t been having sex with Shawn, and Shawn never told you that! It’s obvious what you’re up to here. That you’re trying to protect your Reverent Ellison, but, but you’re willing to sacrifice your own son to do that?! Marge?! What the hell has happened to you?! You’ve gone crazy, Marge?! And even you know you can’t get away with this, because your other son, bless his heart, will eventually admit that Reverend Ellison has been fucking him for a couple years, not Tim! How can you even dream of trying this?! You’re sick, Marge. You’re honest to God sick! And what you’re doing here is sick. Your Reverend has been screwing your son, so you’re going to give him your other son? Marge!”
Which was when Shawn said, singsong voice strong and clear, “Tim has been doing sex with me. Reverend Ellison has not. Tim has been putting his penis in me. He’s been forcing me to do it with him. I don’t want to and he makes me. I’m going to tell the police tomorrow. It’s all Tim’s fault.”
End of Part 2