Jack Scribe

Warning:  The following story may contain graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such material, or if reading this sort of material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then read no further. This multipart story is primarily about romance and relationships between men. Any reference to actual persons, living or dead, is only to enhance the fictional nature of the story and does not suggest a particular sexual orientation.    

Special acknowledgement to Brad from Denver for providing diligent proofing and editing of the story. A special thanks to Ben in Florida for providing medical expertise to the plotline.

If you have any comments or suggestions for the author, feel free to write me at jack.scribe@gmail.com. I love feedback and communication with readers. Support Nifty!


From Part 21,

"Brad, I've got a special patient that could use a little cheering up. I was wondering if you and your friends would mind stopping by his room, just for a few minutes?"

"Howie, if it'll help, we'd be happy to say 'hi'. Who's the patient?"

"Young guy, 15 years old, who was admitted earlier this week. Basically, his rectum was torn badly when he was raped. The surgery was successful and he's going to be fine, but he's pretty bummed out." I didn't comment on his choice of words.

"Wow, raping a minor. What kind of animal would do that?" I asked.

"An unforgiving father who couldn't accept his son admitting he is gay. The father walked in on the kid and his friend while they were exploring each other's bodies."

"Holy fuck," I said, like a ton of bricks had hit me. I felt a little faint as my heart started beating, rapidly. By instinct, I leaned into Howie for support.

"Hey, Brent, you okay?" he asked, as he steadied me. His arm wrapped around my shoulder was almost therapeutic.

"Umm, yeah. I'll be fine." I took a deep breath and stood up, tall. I felt blood returning to my face. "Can we sit down and talk, just for a minute?"

"Let's go over to the reception lounge." Howie led me to a small room just off the nurses' station. We sat down and I looked into his concerned eyes.

"Howie, I'm going to trust you not to repeat what I'm about to say."

"I'm first a doctor. I also hope that we can become friends later. You can trust me," Howie said as he placed his hand over mine.

"Doc, I was never abused, but I know the feeling of being rejected by a father because he didn't approve of his son being gay." I paused and let that sink in.



"I was 19 and didn't expect my dad to come home. When he arrived early, dad got an eye-full. My best friend and I were really into each other." I gave Howie a fast, capsule account of my past five years, including the reconciliation with Dad.

"Unfortunately, this situation doesn't have a happy ending...yet. His name is Bryan Martinez. Nice, good looking, smart kid whose future is pretty bleak."  Howie looked down at the floor as he wrung his large, manicured hands.

"Bleak? How so?"

"The father, as I understand it, is disenfranchised from his family in Dallas. Bryan has never met his grandparents on either side. The mother divorced Mr. Martinez five years ago and moved back east. She has never asked to see Bryan since."

"Wow. That is bleak. What'll happen to the kid?" I asked.

"Depends on the police investigation. Bryan lived with his dad somewhere in West L.A. We got DNA samples of the rape. From what I understand, there is a positive match with his dad. Sounds like foster home time."

"So, he's on this floor?"

"At the end of the corridor," Howie said with a hopeful, encouraging smile.

"Doc, you go down and tell Bryan that there are a few friends that want to say hello, and I'll get the troops." We both stood and left the lounge. When I returned to the door leading to Jim's room, Howie pointed further down the corridor. I nodded and returned to the group.

"Hey, Brent, everything okay?" Doug asked as I walked into the room. I noticed everything had been put away and Jim was proudly holding court.

"The Doc asked a favor from all of us. There's a young guy down the corridor that needs a little cheer. I won't go into the details except to say that he was physically abused by his father and our presence for a few minutes could be a good psychological lift."

"Guys, I've monopolized your time," Jim said. "This has been a great evening, but sounds like this band of ten angels is needed. To all of you, I thank you so much."

"We're going to have to have a party in San Diego when you're up and about," said Dave. We've got a guest room for you and whomever you might want to drag down." Everyone laughed and Billy's face blushed profusely.

"In the meantime, take care of the young man Brent mentioned. I know a little bit about what happened. You guys will be good medicine," Jim concluded. The group said goodbye, one by one, as they filed out to the corridor.

"Okay, here's the deal," I said in a stage whisper. "The guy is 15 and his name is Bryan. I'm sure that he'll get kinda emotional, but that's where our acting comes into play. He needs us." I motioned for everyone to follow me. I saw Sean at the end of the corridor, waving and smiling.

When we arrived at the open door, Sean announced, "Dr. Bragman, would you tell Bryan that he has some visitors?"

"Hey, guy. A few people want to come in and say, 'hi'. You okay with that?" Howie asked.

"If you say it's okay, I'd like that," a young, baritone, male voice replied. After Sean nodded, I entered the room. Following behind was the entire group. One by one we surrounded the bed. Before us was a handsome, young teen with short, dark hair, a fair complexion and large brown eyes.

"Hi, Bryan. I'm Brad and these are some of my buddies. We were visiting a good friend, a few rooms away, and the Doc said that you might like some company," I said with a low, soft tone.

The crew followed up with variations of an upbeat greeting. Each smiled and waved.

"Hi," he squeaked as his eyes got larger. His head slowly turned and studied each face in his line of sight. His mouth dropped open when he made it back to me. "Is this some sort of dream? I recognize some of you from the television. Is someone pulling my leg?" he asked meekly.

"Some of us work on TV, Bryan," Billy said. "But tonight we just want to be friends. We know you had it pretty rough, guy. I'm here to tell you that there are good days ahead."

"Sez who?" he asked politely with a hint of defiance.

"Sez me, big guy," Howie answered. "I wanted you to meet these guys and let you know that there are plenty of people pulling for you." He smiled and put his big hand on Bryan's shoulder.

"And someone from this group will visit you every day until you mend," I said. "I'd like to get to know you better."

"Yeah, sure. A big star like you is going to see me," he answered, a little mockingly.

"If you'll have me, I'll be here, Bryan. I work and also go to school. But I'll be here. Is that okay?" I put out my hand for him to grab. Reluctantly, he took my hand and we shook. The others around the bed murmured approval.

"I take a handshake seriously," Bryan said. His grip was strong and his hand was warm.

"So do I, buddy." We locked into each other's eyes and nodded.



We were closely wrapped together, spooning, with my chest up against Brent's back, my flaccid equipment parked against his butt, and my hand resting firmly on his stomach. He was deeply breathing, still zonked out, as the early Sunday morning light entered the bedroom window. I had been awake for a while, replaying the last scene we experienced at the hospital before coming home.

Knowing the details of Bryan's abuse, I realized that the young man in the hospital bed had emotionally touched Brent. He gave Mike, Dave and me the sordid details when we drove back to the condo.

"Mornin', babe," Brent mumbled as he touched my hand and wiggled his behind into my crotch.

"How are ya doing?"

"Except for a pee hard-on, pretty good. Excuse me for a sec," Brent said. He eased out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Earlier, I had left the mouthwash out for my buddy. We had both concluded, years ago, that Sunday morning loving was a special time. Moments later, I heard a flushing sound...two, actually...and smiled, knowing that our house guests probably had the same plan in mind.

"Feeling better?" I asked as my personal 'stud muffin' returned to bed. He smiled, joined me and pulled up for a fresh, morning kiss.

"Much better." Brent moved closer, our awakening cocks touching. He strongly hugged me while his tongue, freshly minted, explored my oral cavity.  

"Love ya, champ," I mumbled as we took a break, tongue-fucking each other.

"Love me, hard." Brent looked into my eyes, intensely, as he ground his crotch into mine. The overcast, gray, morning light was becoming brighter. Without much effort, I moved Brent over on his back. Both of our cocks had grown to their full, excited size.

"Your wish shall be granted," I replied with a lustful smile. Getting on my knees, I straddled my lover and leaned down for another kiss while I started massaging his pecs and lightly pinching his nipples. I wasn't surprised when this produced a pleasant groan.

"Oh, yes, Hon. Ahhh," he uttered as I started nibbling on his earlobe and laved his ear. After kissing him one more time, I moved down to tongue his armpits, chest, aureoles and six-pack structured torso. I momentarily pecked at his navel before taking the knob of his prized manhood into my mouth. Tonguing his sensitive dickhead kept Brent in overdrive while I rolled his orbs around in his scrotum with my hand.

"One for the 'Gipper' I said after I left his throbbing, drooling cock. I sucked his balls while my fingers found their way to his perineum and beyond.

"Bingo. Fuck me...love me...now." I looked into his eyes and read the familiar expression of sexual anticipation on his face. He smiled when I grabbed the bottle of Wet and dribbled a generous portion of lube on my hand. After coating his hard cock and mine, I started to work on his puckered opening. At this stage in our partnership neither of us needed much more that an initial stretching to prepare the anxious anus. He twitched as I entered with two fingers and found his 'spot'.

"You gorgeous man. I love you," I said as he moved his legs to my shoulders and I positioned my cock at his back door. His butt eagerly moved to receive me.

"Urmph, oh...I love you, too," he quietly moaned as I slowly moved in, only stopping once my pubes brushed against his buns. Knowing what my 'other half' liked, I started a variation of long-dicking, followed by short, probing jabs aimed at his prostate. Brent grabbed his hard cockhead and started a focused manipulation with his thumb and forefinger. Neither of us wanted to 'get off' fast.

"Babe, strangle my cock with your asshole, ahhh...oh, yeah...take it, fucker," I yelled as I sped up my strokes after several moments of tender loving.

"Slam it home, you beautiful cocksucker...Kee-rist, ohhh," Brent yelled. I felt his sphincter tighten the same time my balls started tingling.

"I'm cumming, Brent. Shoot your jizz...I...ahhh...oh, shit," I shouted.

"Houston, we have contact," Brent retorted with a contorted smile as I plunged into him for a few, defining, final stokes. He erupted and shot cum up his chest and torso while I flooded his chute. He eased his legs down and I gently lay over his slick, sticky, warm body while my dick slowly wilted to its normal, flaccid form inside Brent.

That was, indeed, a good morning," Brent said, as I literally slid up for a final kiss. "But the top guy has to clean up." Brent winked and nodded.

"Hold that thought." We both knew what I meant as I slid out of him and off the bed. I trotted to the bathroom and took care of my messy business before returning with two towels: a warm, moist towel and a dry one. I lovingly cleaned him before placing a dry towel under him.

I smiled with him as we heard, "Fuck me," being yelled from the guest bedroom.

"Score two points for the good guys," I said with a laugh. He smiled before I leaned in for another kiss...this time a soft, tender expression of love.

"Babe, can we talk for a few minutes?" It was only about 7:00 a.m. We had promised to meet Mike and Dave in the kitchen around eight for some breakfast before they returned to San Diego.

"I think I know what's on your mind. It's Bryan, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's Bryan and where his future is headed. I worry about his placement into a foster home. It can be a real crapshoot. He seems like a nice kid and I'd hate to see anything negative happen to him."

"Why don't we...I emphasize 'we'...get to know Bryan better this week. I can certainly get over there after a day at the studio. And we could both go over there this afternoon?" I suggested.

"That's a good plan. He needs some adult role models right now; gay males whom he can look to for advice. I need to tell him about myself, Doug. To come out to him."

"Wow, that is a statement of commitment."

"I need to do it, for him." Brent looked at me with a sincere urgency.

"I'll support whatever you decide. I have a funny feeling that we'd better get our home addition finished soon," I said with a laugh.

"Let's figure out where his head's at and what our roles might be, first. I want to help Bryan, but I'm just not sure what we can do," Brent said with a shrug. "Enough of that right now. We need to get cleaned up."

We proceeded to take a shower and shave, together. Brent and I carefully shaved each other in the shower. After throwing on sweats and a tee, we padded out to the kitchen, made coffee and started putting together a breakfast.

"Good morning, guys." From behind we heard the familiar voices of Dave and Mike. Turning, I smiled at the radiant, just-got-fucked, facial glows each emitted.

"Hey, yourself. Brent and I are getting ready to make breakfast: juice, scrambled eggs with diced ham, and English muffins. Grab yourselves some coffee.

"I can get into that," Dave replied. As he poured coffee for both, he continued, "That was quite an evening. Kind of a double-hitter. I felt really good to help boost Jim's morale. But neither of us was ready for the impact of the visit with Bryan. What a shitty hand the kid has been dealt."

"Bryan is really a nice boy. It appears that he is getting a good education. I mean he doesn't come across as some wise-ass, street kid," Mike said as he sipped the coffee. All four were standing around the kitchen while Doug was cutting the ham.

"I'll give the father credit for providing for Bryan. Apparently he is a chef in a West Hollywood restaurant. Doctor Howie told me that the guy is infamous for making gnarly, homophobic comments to the waiters. Then he comes home and finds Bryan...well, you know." Brent looked down at the floor, briefly, unable to complete the obvious thought.

"So much for being a father," Dave said. "From what I understand in pre-law, his actions just pre-empted that position, permanently."

"And that's the rub. No family. The mother hasn't seen Bryan, or hasn't cared to see him, since she left. In that the father works at night, the boy is an unusually positive example of a successful 'latch-key kid' situation. I guess he loves school," Brent added as he put the English muffins in the double toaster. "Guys, pour some juice and sit down. Chow's almost ready."

"We're going to see Bryan this afternoon and see where his head's at," Doug said. He poured the egg mixture into a large, hot skillet and started the scramble.

"Sounds like you're going to have a young'n in your lives, too," Mike said.

"Too?" Brent and I asked, together.

"Yeah. A guy who is 15 and coming to terms with being gay," Mike said. For the next 10 minutes he and Dave related how they met and bonded with Justin Palmer.

"So, I guess at this point we're his unofficial big brothers," Dave said. "Mike and I are really concerned about his grandma's health. But Justin is in Minnesota at school and really isn't a burden on her."

The rest of the morning was devoted to random conversation shared with best friends. By 10:00 a.m., Mike and Dave said goodbye and left to return to San Diego. Brent and I did a few loads of laundry and straightened up the condo. We walked into the recently constructed doorway that led to our soon-to-be master bedroom and entertainment center and discussed how best to accelerate the renovation. Brent promised to call the designer first thing in the morning. His first class wasn't until 11:00 a.m.



Sean Fitzgerald arranged with security to issue a special two-week pass and gate card to the underground hospital entrance. Doug and I arrived around 2:00 p.m. and went up to Jim and Bryan's floor. We first stopped by and said 'hi" to Jim. He was in great spirits. Billy had brought over study guides from Jim's professors so that he could make every effort to keep up with classes until he returned to campus.

Our next stop was at Bryan's room. Just as we were about to enter, an unfamiliar voice said, "I'm sorry, Bryan, how this all turned out. I still like ya, buddy."

"You haven't said anything at school, have you? I mean..."

"Absolutely not. I've got just as much to lose as you if the guys found out about the stuff we were doing. I told everyone that you had an appendix operation. The gang expects you back at school in a week or so."

"Phew. Thanks, Jimmy."

"I gotta go. Mom's picking me up in a few minutes. Bye, babe." We heard a familiar sound of a kiss before a tall, lanky, blond kid bounded out of the room. He excused himself as he almost ran into us and went on.

"Hi, Bryan. I'm baaack," I said in a pretty crummy Jack Nicholson impression.

"Bryan, my buddy is not very good at impressions," Doug said with a laugh. After Bryan got over the shock of having two faces from last night in his room, he let out a giggle. "You remember Brent, AKA Brad? And I'm Doug."

"You came back," he said with a surprised expression in his voice.

"We are men of our word. If you want, we'd like to get to know you better and be friends, maybe?" I added.

"You don't want to be friends with a queer." Bryan looked down at his sheet-draped body and grimaced. He was trying, unsuccessfully, to hold back a tear.

"I prefer the term 'gay' or 'homosexual'," I replied. "To answer your question: yes, we want to be friends, gay or straight." He slowly raised his head and looked at each of us. He wiped away the tears and turned on a small, tight smile. Bryan was a handsome lad. Genetically, it appeared that his father was probably more Spanish than Hispanic in heritage. We knew his mother was Caucasian, from a farming community in Ohio.

"Well, Dad found out that I'm certainly gay. I didn't want him to ever find out, knowing how he feels out que...gays. Now I'm really fucked, in more ways than one." He looked at us and let out a nervous laugh.

I sat down and took his hand and said, "And a young, gay guy with a sense of humor." Doug and I joined in laughing at his awkward icebreaker of a joke.

"Um, I know you're an actor, Brent. What do you do, Doug?"

"When I'm not picking up after this guy at home, I am a struggling film director."

"Struggling, my ass," I said. "Whoops, maybe not the best choice of words." This brought another laugh from Bryan.

"Home?" Bryan asked as the laughter subsided.

"We share a condo. Plus a few other things," Doug answered. This drew a puzzled expression from the teen.

"Bryan, can I tell you some things that need to go no further than this room?" I asked.

"Um, yeah, I suppose."

"Let's put it this way. If you were a kid, I'd say 'cross your heart'. As a young man, I want you to shake on this deal." I extended my hand and, unlike last night, he eagerly grabbed it. After we shook hands, I put my other hand over his and looked into his curious eyes.

"Deal," he said.

"I'm not going to even imagine what is was like for your father to rape you, Bryan. I can only imagine the physical and emotional hurt you experienced." He nodded his head and placed his free hand over mine. "Six years ago, my dad walked in on me and another guy. I won't go into the details except to say that it was heavy-duty gay sex, and we were really getting into it."

"You mean..."

"Yep, I'm gay. Was and am. My dad couldn't deal with it and literally tossed me out of his house." 'Hmm,' I thought, 'I said "his house" and not my home.' Interesting. "The big difference is that my dad never physically abused me." Bryan's mouth was open as he digested what I had just said.

"When Dr. Howie told us about your situation, Brent became quite concerned," Doug said.

"It hit too close to my experiences." For the next ten minutes, I told Bryan about my life after being kicked out. Doug smiled and placed his arm around my shoulders when I brought him into the picture.

"So you guys are together?" Bryan got the big picture.

"We've been partners for over three years. Because of the nosy press, we keep it very quiet," Doug answered. "If it was legal for two guys to get married in California, we would have been first to the altar.

"If I could ask, how do you feel about what your father did to you?" I looked into his eyes. He immediately pulled his hands up to his face and started sobbing. "I'm sorry, buddy, I guess I shouldn't have brought this up."

"Naw, no, it's okay." Bryan let out a big sigh and wiped his face. "It's just so friggin' painful. I don't mean back there. I'm healing. I just can't get over that he threw me onto the bedroom floor and attacked me."

"Only tell me if you wanna," I said.

"Brent, I want to tell somebody. I think you'll understand."

"You want me to leave?" Doug asked.

"No. I mean you guys are like, married. Right?" We both nodded. "I guess I never looked at him as anything other than someone who provided for me. My mother didn't love me. In fact, I think that having me was never in the cards for either of them. I kinda just happened."

"Maybe that he took care of you was his way of demonstrating his love for you?" I said. "You know the saying, 'love has mysterious ways'."

"Fuck mysterious...whoops, sorry guys. I mean, he never once told me he loved me. Barely ever touched or hugged me. Never even spanked me. Until what he did happened, I think that respect is all I really felt. Now that's gone."

"So now..." Doug started to ask.

"I don't hate him. But I don't respect him. I plan on putting both him and what he did into my past and get on with life." Bryan looked at us intently and added, "Dr. Bragman and another doc have been helping me with this." I picked up on Bryan's use of the pronoun 'him' and never 'dad' or 'father'.

"Sounds like you're getting good advice. The big question is where do you go from here?" I asked. "Dr. Bragman says that you're ready to be released in a few days. From what I understand you don't have any relatives."

"Yeah," he said in a small, tentative voice, "that's the rub. The guy who was leaving as you came in is my best friend. But he said I couldn't stay with him."

"If this isn't too personal, could I ask if this was the guy your dad caught you with?" Doug said. Bryan slowly nodded and started leaking tears, in spite of his struggle not to cry.

"Hey, buddy. That's okay. Let it out," I said, leaning in. Bryan automatically reached for me, hugged hard and buried his wet face into my chest.

"There's a lot of legal mumbo-jumbo that I'm going to go through," he said after the last of the tears and sniffles subsided. "I understand that I'll be assigned to a foster home. What a bummer. I mean, who wants a gay, teenage guy?"

I looked at this lost young man, whose only misstep had been to physically love another young man, and felt my stomach tighten. I turned to Doug and our eyes immediately locked into one-on-one focus. Telepathically, we communicated while reaching into each other's souls. He moved closer and nodded with a small smile.

"I know people who might be interested," I answered. Our eyes immediately locked into one-on-one focus.

"Yeah?" Bryan asked, skeptically, as he started a rapid blinking.

"Yeah. You're looking at them," I said. "If you want, we would really like to talk with you about maybe coming to a new home...ours." Doug walked around to the other side of the bed, sat down and quietly placed his hand on Bryan's shoulder.