DISCLAIMER
The fictional story you're about to read contains descriptions of a sexual nature that involve minors. If this subject matter is not for you then please don't read it! All characters and situations are fictional. Any similarity to real people or events is purely coincidental. Any comments, criticisms, or flames are to be sent to: create.inspire@hotmail.com
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The Ghastly Obscenities of Brady Jeston
Chapter Five


By TurtleBoy



Mark had waited several hours for Brady to accept his 'friend request' that night, and, since then, he had kept himself logged into the game for the next four days. Throughout the week, he hadn't seen Brady once, but followed Lord Ghastly, in secret, as Sir Bradium Sorre. Brady's social standpoint, game-wise, was unbelievable. He was one of the most talked about players on all the chat rooms, and he was definitely the most feared.

Although he couldn't quite grasp the game properly, Mark had taken the time to explore the Titans and Realms' world. Lord Ghastly commanded the entire side of the dark realms and was steadily climbing his way up to the realms of the Gods. Mark had chosen not to build an empire of his own though, nor did he want to join someone else's realm. Instead, he remained a drifter, quietly watching as Brady conquered lands.

"Can I play?" asked James, standing behind Mark with his hands resting on the back of his chair.

Rubbing his eyes, Mark turned his head to face his brother, realizing that he had lost track of several hours. "Yeah, sure," he agreed and stood up to stretch. "Is Mum home?"

James shook his head and took a seat in Mark's chair. "She went to pick up Dad," he explained. "said to tell you to turn the oven off in ten minutes."

"How long ago did she leave?"

"Dunno," shrugged James. "Like twenty minutes ago, I guess."

"Shit!" Mark panicked and ran out of the room, towards the stairs.

James gasped in shock. "I'm telling!" he teased, after hearing his brother swear.

Ignoring his brother, Mark flew down the stairs and ran down the hall, to the kitchen. Quickly turning off the oven, he pulled open its door. "James, you ass!" he yelled back when finding nothing inside. Hearing James's giggling from his room, Mark picked up a note that had been placed on the counter next to a casserole dish and read it.

The message had said to put dinner in the oven by five, with no mention of ten minutes anywhere. As it was already five-to, Mark decided to put the casserole in early and turned the oven back on. Then, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge, Mark walked into the living room and jumped on the couch to watch some television.

"Whatcha doing?" asked James, appearing out of nowhere and sitting next to his brother on the couch.

"Done with the game already?" asked Mark, while channel surfing.

"Yeah," James nodded and rolled onto his side, so that his head was right beside Mark's feet. "Wanna do something? I'm bored," he complained, reaching for his brother's foot and tickling his toes.

Mark kicked his foot, bumping James in the head. "Cut it out!"

"Sorry." James sat back up and rubbed the top of his head then poked his brother's knee. "So, you wanna do something, or what?" he tried again.

"Nah, I gotta watch supper right now," replied Mark, continuing his search through the channels.

With a disappointed-sigh, James rolled onto his back and kicked his legs up, and bounced them against the couch's headrest. "Come on," he whined. "Just a quick game of ball or something," he suggested, poking at Mark's leg repeatedly. "Or cards, even."

"Not right now, James. I'm trying to..."

"Drain the batteries on the control?" butted in James, as he waved his legs from side-to-side.

Mark looked over at James and couldn't help but to snicker at him. "You're a pest, you know that?"

"I wouldn't have to be, if you'd play with me." Still sliding his legs against the back of the couch, James thrust his weight upward, trying to bounce, and fell onto his side, causing his legs to crash into Mark.

"You little..." Mark rolled onto his back and grabbed his brother's legs. "I'm gonna split you in two," he threatened, forcing Jame's legs apart and lifting them into the air.

James giggled and squirmed as his brother lifted him up and off the couch, so that his head was floating several inches above the cushion. Reaching for Mark's legs, who was now standing on the couch, James wrapped his arms around the backs of his knees, holding on for dear life. "Mark, stop!" he begged, trying to shake his ankles free from Mark's grip.

"If I stop you'll fall," warned Mark, trying to lift his brother higher. "Is that what you want?"

Bending his knees, James caused Mark's body to become unbalanced, and the two fell back down to the couch. Mark's head hit the cushion first, and then his shoulders rolled over the couch's arm rest. Suddenly, he heard a loud thump and a surge of pain shot from his tailbone and throughout his entire body. His spine felt as if its discs had all simultaneously exploded, and his head seemed ten times heavier than its normal weight. Just as Mark was able to register what had happened, James burst out into laughter.

The sudden pain had caused Mark's eyes to redden and water, though he didn't cry. Instead, he sat and tried to collect himself, while trying to determine how his sudden flip off the couch had happened. Realizing that his brother wasn't laughing with him, James peered over the edge of the couch and placed his chin on top of Mark's head. "You okay?" he asked, draping his arms around Mark's neck.

"Yeah," replied Mark's shaky voice, while his body overwhelmed him with adrenaline.

"You don't sound okay," James pointed out. "Want help getting up?" he asked and quickly slid off the side of the couch.

Without waiting for Mark to reply, James ran in front of him and offered out his hands. Mark stared up at his brother and reached up to him. Grasping onto the boy's shirt, Mark shrieked in pain as his little brother struggled to pull him to his feet. Reaching as high as the arm rest, Mark sat down and cautiously tried to turn his body, so he could slide himself down to the cushion. "I think I screwed something up," he explained then, losing his balance, fell backwards to the couch. "Ahh! Shit!" he screamed, trying not to move.

James panicked and tried to pull his brother back up, but Mark only screamed louder. "I'm sorry!" James began to cry and folded his arms, so that he wouldn't be tempted to help his brother again. "I didn't mean to," he said, feeling guilty, as he stared at his brother in fear.

"It's okay. It's not your fault," said Mark, noticing the tears in James's eyes. "We were being dumb; it was an accident."

"Are you paralysed?" worried James, as he nervously pulled at his shirt.

Mark chuckled at his brother's concern and, bearing the pain, reached out his arm and guided James closer to him. "No. I'll be fine, silly. If I was paralysed I wouldn't have been able to stand up to get on the couch," he explained, and pulled his brother against his chest to give him a hug.

"What's going on here?" asked Brittany, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She stared down at her sons on the couch, one crying and the other looking as if he were about to scream. "What happened?"

Immediately, James jumped to his feet and ran across the living room and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I'm sorry!" he pleaded. "I broke Mark's back!" Burying his face into his mother's shirt, he sniffled and rubbed his nose against her stomach. "It was an accident, I swear!"

"Mark, what happened?" asked Brittany, trying to pry her other son from her body. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he lied, trying to force his voice to sound cheery. "I just fell off the couch, that's all."

"I threw him, Mum!" James admitted as his face reddened with guilt. "I made him play and he didn't want to, but I made him anyway," stopping to catch his breath, James wiped his nose with his wrist. "I'll never watch wrestling again!" he promised, knowing he wasn't supposed to watch it anyway. "I swear!"

Brittany had to force James to let her go, and then walked across the room to kneel beside the couch. "Can you sit up, love?" she asked. "Where does it hurt?"

"It's better now," Mark lied again.

"Just sit up and quit pretending you're invisible!" demanded Brittany, as Peter walked in from the kitchen.

"What's going on?" he asked curiously. "Everything okay?"

Brittany glared up at her husband and shook her head. "Mark bashed himself up, again. Does he look 'okay' to you?"

Biting into an apple, Peter glanced at Mark and then over to James. "Looks fine to me -- no tears at least. That's good, isn't it?"

"Mark, if you can't sit up then we're taking you to the hospital," she said, trying to provoke him with a threat.

Annoyed, Mark sighed and tried to roll onto his side. "I'm just stiff, that's all," he tried to reason as he slowly pushed himself upright. "See? I'm fine."

"You're not fine," decided Brittany. "You're a bloody idiot!" With caution, she helped Mark onto the floor and made him lie on his stomach. "Just sit tight," she instructed. "I'll go fetch you some ice."

As Brittany walked into the kitchen, James dropped to his knees and crawled towards his brother on the floor. He stared into his eyes, trying to decide if he was lying or not, and then dropped down to his belly. "Does it still hurt bad?" he asked sincerely, with his face only inches from Mark's. "I bet it does."

"I feel like a beached whale down here," Mark replied, causing James to giggle.

"Nah, more like an otter," suggested James.

Peter crossed the living room and took Mark's place on the couch. He stared down at his boys for a moment and took another bite of his apple. "Too bad your back's hurt," he said as he stuck out his legs and hovered his feet above Mark. "You'd make a lovely footrest."

James instantly bounced up onto all fours, grinning from ear-to-ear. "You can use me, Dad. "I'm not a beached whale!"

"I was joking, James," Peter chuckled as he pressed his foot against James's shoulder and pushed the boy backwards. "Go give your Mum a hand, would yuh?"

Just as James had jumped to his feet, he dropped right back down again and poked Mark on the nose. "I almost forgot, someone added you to their friends list."

Mark glared at James, wanting to be angry at him, but couldn't help smiling at him. "Thanks James," he said with a groan. "But I don't think I'll be sitting at the computer tonight. What was his name?"

James shrugged and jumped back up to his feet. "Can't remember, I don't think. Lord Ghosty or something."

"Don't even think about it, Mark," warned Brittany, returning with several bags of frozen vegetables. "Peter, can you pull up his shirt for me?" she instructed.

Both Mark and Peter groaned as the main slithered off the couch and onto his knees. "Mum no!" begged Mark. "It's too cold without a shirt!"

"Quit being a baby. I'm just checking for any bruising," she explained.

"Check my ass, then," Mark sarcastically suggested. "It feels like its been pressed in a clamp."

"Eh! Watch you mouth, or you'll be tooting bubbles for a week," Brittany warned.

"Nuthin' here," blurted Peter after glancing at Mark's back.

"I said to check his back, not his head," chuckled Brittany as she lowered to her knees, beside Mark. "Where's it hurt the most?"

"I told you," chuckled Mark, instantly regretting his reply the moment a bag of frozen carrots was dropped on his tender rump.

Brittany studied her son's back carefully, and James pretended to do the same. After feeling satisfied that Mark hadn't seriously injured anything, she placed three more bags of vegetables along her son's spine. "Just sit there for a while. I'll go find you a tablet for the pain."




* * * * *



Staring at his computer screen, Brady fiddled with a pencil in his hand. He already hated himself for ignoring Mark for so long, and now he hated himself even more for expecting Mark to be on the other end of the computer waiting for him. Of course, he didn't know for sure it was Mark who had added him the other day, but there wasn't much of another explanation for the name Sir Brady-I'm Sorry, or at least that's what it sounded like.

He had battled his thoughts all week trying to think of what he'd say to Mark, but the more he thought about it, the less he felt ready to talk to him. When the name had first popped onto his screen, he was too afraid to accept the request. Sadly, he didn't realize that leaving his thoughts to simmer would just make things harder to deal with. Finally, however, Brady decided to just get it over with. Even though his instincts told him that 'Sir Bradium Sorre' was just a trap so that Mark could ridicule him, he couldn't help but feel guilty for not allowing him that pleasure. He couldn't explain it, but he felt he owed Mark the moment to tell him how sick and disgusting he was. Now, though, as he waited for Mark to reply, he was regretting his decision.

"You should just go over there," suggested Natalie, who had crept up behind her son and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she spoke.

"What?" asked Brady, attempted to sound like he didn't know what she was talking about.

"Hm, still pretending I don't know, huh?" Natalie kissed Brady on the top of his head. "Whatever you two got in a fight over, it's not worth losing a friend over." Realizing that Brady wasn't going to respond, Natalie sighed and backed away from and walked towards the door. "You guys will make up tomorrow at dinner," she said, reminding Brady of their invitation. "I'm not going alone, and I'm not cancelling either."

Just as Natalie was about to leave the room, Brady turned around in his chair. "Hey Mom?" he said, waiting for her to turn back around. "It's Friday," he reminded her.

"Movie's downstairs," she replied with a smile. "But I ordered Chinese instead of Pizza... I'm sick of that stuff."

Brady gave his mom a smirk and turned back to log-off of his game. "I'll be right there," he told her, hovering the cursor of the mouse over the "Quit" button as he waited for her to leave.

Instead of logging out right away, as soon as he heard his mom's footsteps on the stairs, Brady clicked on his friends list and searched for 'Sir Bradium Sorre'. What his mom had just told him inspired Brady to step out of his usual character. Right-clicking on Bradium Sorre's name, he selected 'Send Message'.

Brady was more nervous than he had felt all week. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins as he typed, causing his hands to become shaky. It wasn't a long message, nor was it at all complex, but it was the hardest words that he had ever written. In his mind, he was going to press send before he had time to think, but as he read the words, asking Mark to meet in his backyard at midnight, his finger refused to press the button.

Just then, the doorbell suddenly chimed, causing Brady to jump in his seat and he spun around in guilt, as if he had just been caught looking at a dirty magazine. Realizing it was just the delivery man, he turned back to his face his monitor just in time to see a notification box pop-up saying 'message sent'. Brady didn't know what to think. Although he was relieved that the message seemed to have sent itself, at the same time he regretted even writing it. Now he was going to have to talk to Mark face-to-face and risk the chance of taking a beating.

Before Brady could allow his imagination to fully take over his fears, he heard his mother calling for him from the living room. Grateful for the distraction, Brady quit his game and stood from the chair. "Coming Mom!"





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