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
[ create(dot)inspire(at)hotmail(dot)com]
Please do not publish this story anywhere else without the authors consent.




The Ghastly Obscenities of Brady Jeston
Chapter Eight


By TurtleBoy



James screamed in terror and jumped out of the pool, unsure of what else to do, as Brady dove forward after his friend. From the surface of the three-and-a-half-foot deep pool, all James could see was a single, blurred entity surrounded by bubbles. Within seconds, as Brady was pulling Mark out of the pool and onto the grass, Peter was at his son's side. Pushing Brady away on instinct, he fell to his knees and placed his ear to his unconscious son's chest. "Brittany! CALL A MEDIC!" he demanded, his face red and tears beginning to stream down his cheeks.

Looking at Brady, Peter reached and grabbed the boy's shoulders. "What happened?!" he asked, shaking Brady's body.

"I don't know!" pleaded Brady, afraid that Peter was going to hurt him. "He just started to freak out -- is he okay?"

Grabbing his boy behind the knees and neck, Peter lifted Mark up from the grass and ran as fast as he could toward the house. "Open the door! OPEN THE DOOR!" he shouted as he approached the patio.

Brady followed directly in behind Peter as James ran towards his mother. Natalie darted for the door, managing to get it opened just as Peter passed through it, and grabbed James as the boy tried to run inside to his mum. "Stay here, Sweetheart, all right?" Unable to speak, James threw his arms around Natalie and held her tight.

Carefully placing Mark on the couch, Peter looked behind him for his wife, still on the phone, and then Brady. "Did you see how it started?" Brady shook his head and pointed at Mark. Following Brady's gesture toward his son's shorts, Peter's jaw suddenly dropped. "Brittany! SHIT! Brittany! He took my pills!" he bellowed, punching his fists against his forehead repeatedly, in anger.

Hanging up the phone, Brittany rushed into the room. "What pills?!"

"The one's in the bathroom; OUR bathroom!"

As her husband's words processed, Brittany stared blankly. In what felt like the longest three seconds of her life, her eyes bulged from her head, and her face became flush. "FUCK!" she yelled, stomping her foot. "I told you not to put those things in that bottle!"

Just then the sounds of sirens could be heard in the near-distance. Fortunately, the fire and paramedic station was only a few miles from the house, and for once, the frequently imposing noises brought relief. In anticipation powered by fear, Peter grabbed his son and ran for the front door. Brittany, rushing in behind him, yanked open the door and followed her husband outside.

By the time Brady had made it to the front step, the ambulance was already parked outside and two paramedics poured out from within. While one ran to the back for a stretcher, the other ran directly toward Peter. "Sir, can you place the boy down, please?" the man directed with authority, pointing to the grass. "What happened?"

Placing his child on the lawn, Peter's face reddened. "I think he took one of my Viagra," he admitted in guilt, half-expecting the medic to laugh. Not wanting the medic to think it was his son's fault, Peter quickly added, "I kept them in an Advil container."

"I need you to step back sir," said the second medic, pushing the stretcher. "Let us do our job."

In what seemed like both an eternity and the mere blink of an eye, the paramedics had loaded Mark into the back of the truck, leaving Peter on his knees, as Brittany forced her way inside with her son. Completely speechless, Brady stood at the front door, unsure of what to do. James remained clutched to Natalie's side, just like a Koala's young, as Peter struggled to lift himself to his feet.

"I need to get to the hospital," announced Peter, staring back at the crowd in the doorway.

Natalie stepped forward. "You're in no state to drive, Peter. Let me take you," she advised. "Where are the keys?"

Unable to think, Peter stood aimlessly. Feeling pathetic and foolish, he blindly attempted to recall where he left the car keys. "Never mind," decided Natalie, who then looked over at Brady, beside her. "Watch James for a minute," she instructed as she jumped off of the porch and ran down the driveway. "I'll be right back!"

Brady was barely able to nod before his mother had darted across the street to their house. Disappearing for only a moment, she exited the front door and jumped into her car. Never seeing his mother so clear-minded before, Brady found himself awestruck at her ability to prioritize so efficiently. It was like she had transformed into a completely different person.

"Get in!" said Natalie, who had managed to start the car, pull out the drive way, cross the street, and pull into the Dawson's driveway before Brady could even sort his thoughts.

Peter quickly got in on the passenger's side, but Brady and James stood still and stared at the vehicle. Natalie honked the car horn, to shake the boys out of their thoughts, and waved in urgency for them to get in. Finally, Brady snapped out of his trance-like state and grabbed James by the arm to direct him into the car. Without any expressive response, James followed obediently.

The moments after pulling out of the driveway, up until they reached the hospital, were a blur, like driver and passengers were nothing more than packages in the back of a dark, cold trailer. Dropping everyone off at the main entrance, Natalie went in search of parking, leaving the other three to fend for themselves.

James, surprisingly, was first to step forward. Peter seemed to have become overwhelmed by some unseen force, leaving him frozen where he stood, in a near-catatonic state. Although Brady couldn't be completely sure as to what was going on in the man's head, he too was experiencing the most intense emotions that he had ever felt. They were similar to how he had felt when his father died, only this time his thoughts were clouded with a new form of sympathy. When his father died, Brady had only thought of himself, but now things were different. Even though he, without a doubt, cared greatly for Mark, he was also concerned for the rest of the family. This new, expanded perspective was something Brady hadn't stopped to consider, even once, after his father's drowning, and because of this new-found view, he felt selfish and cruel for the way he had neglecting his mother's feelings during such a hard time.

A sudden tugging at his wrist caused Brady to temporarily sever himself from his thoughts, and he looked down to see James waiting for him to follow. The boy also reached for his father's hand and guided the two inside the hospital, pushing Peter towards the admittance desk. Peter stumbled over his feet, almost falling, and his throat gurgled an incoherent sound. The secretary, seated behind a tall, glass barrier, crooked her neck and looked at Peter as if he were mad. "Excuse me, Sir? Can you repeat that?"

Shaking his head to try and regain some form of lucid speech, Peter leaned in toward the glass. "I'm here for my son, Mark Dawson. He came in an ambulance?"

The secretary hummed in thought as she inappropriately straightened her hair, as if she were trying to portray superiority, and tapped at her keyboard several times. "You said Dawson?" she asked, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder and flashing her nails like she were trying to impress someone.

Peter scowled, becoming annoyed and impatient, and slapped his palm down against the granite-topped reception desk. "Yes! Spelled: D-A-W-S-O-N."

The woman, looking offended, raised her hand out in front of herself and lowered it slowly, as if to tell Peter to calm down. She then looked at her computer once more and stood up. "He's in trauma room two," she announced, leaning forward to look down the broad corridor. "Follow the green line to the elevator, go to the second floor, and then follow the blue line until you reach the waiting room." Sitting right back down, the woman began to tend to her nails as Peter grabbed James's hand. Grumbling every word of profanity he ever learned, he led the boys down an impossibly long hallway and into the elevators.

When they reached the second floor, the moment the doors opened, they could see Brittany pacing back and forth in the hall. James immediately ran toward her while Peter and Brady attempted to show restraint. Although they were both anxious to hear the news, they were also afraid to find out. Due to their equally conflicting thoughts, they nervously and slowly followed the blue line to the waiting area.

The moment they arrived, James was already cradled in his mother's arms. The size of the boy made the visual awkward, but the fact that James was getting too big to be carried in such a way was not something on anyone's mind.

"How is he?" asked Peter. His eyes were red and watery and his face was wrinkled, making him appear much older than he was.

Brittany rocked her weight upwards and dipped her knees so that she could adjust the grip she had on James's embrace and sighed a deeply stressed huff of air. "They're pumping his stomach," she finally said. "The doctor believes it was an overdose, but they won't know until they get the tests back."

"How long -- do you know?" Peter further enquired, sliding his hands into his front pockets.

"I'm not sure; they didn't say," answered Brittany. "I doubt it'll be long though. If it's not an overdose it could be something worse, like a blood-clot, so I'm sure there's a rush on it." Brittany slowly rocked to the left, to face the rows of chairs in the waiting room, then back toward her husband. "Where's Natalie?"

"She's finding a place to park," Brady piped in.

Brittany smiled and rocked herself in Brady's direction, lightly bumping into him. "How you holding up, Luv?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Brady lowered his head and, following Peter's example, tried to slide his hands into his pockets, only to be reminded that he was still in his swimming shorts and not even wearing shoes. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he crossed his arms over his chest and began to shiver. "I'm okay," he finally said.

"Look at you, you're freezing," Brittany realized and she immediately approached the nurses' desk. "Nurse, would it be possible to get a couple of blankets? My boys here are about to catch a chill."

Brady's attention was driven toward Brittany's words, with how she had referred to him as one of her boys, and he found it oddly comforting. It was like he was suddenly one of the family, and somehow that made him feel closer to Mark. He couldn't begin to explain the feeling, much like he couldn't come to terms with the correlation of emotions between his father and Mark.

"Here you go, Brady," said Brittany as she wrapped an itchy, wool blanket around his shoulders.

Brady smiled up at her in appreciation. "Thanks," he said and pulled the blanket tightly against himself as Peter directed them all into the waiting area.

Just as everyone had sat down, Natalie appeared from around the corner, and coincidentally, so did Mark's doctor. "Mrs. Dawson?" said the doctor, looking down at Brittany.

"Yes?"

"Mark's going to be fine. He's resting at the moment, but you're welcome to go in and see him," he explained with a smile.

"Was it an overdose?" asked Peter as Brittany rushed to Mark's room.

The doctor shook his head. "Not exactly, no. From what the tests show, the only thing wrong with Mark was a high blood pressure, though he was very close to an overdose. He must have taken at least three Ibuprofen before the enhancement pill. From how Mark explains things, it seems to me that he experienced a panic attack as a result of the unexpected effects that the Viagra had on his body."

"So he's definitely going to be fine?" asked Peter, refraining from asking for the man's statement in writing.

"Yes, Mr. Dawson. He'll be right-as-rain in a day or two," the doctor assured him. "Because we pumped his stomach, though, make sure he only eats soups and easily digestible foods for a few days. He should also stay away from soda and any drinks containing citrus. Give him lots of milk, too. That seems to speed the healing process."

Peter nodded and shook the doctor's hand and thanked him, just before the doctor was called away. Never in his life had Peter wanted to hug another man so dearly before. In immediate retrospect though, the thought seemed creepy and desperate, which caused Peter to feel insecure, even disgusted.




* * * * *



Brady timidly entered the room where Mark was being kept. He had expected Mark to be asleep, but he was wide awake. The sight of his friend with an IV attached to his hand and a tube wrapped around his face, tucked underneath his nose, wasn't nearly as intimidating as he thought it would be. The real fear was Mark's pale and gaunt looking face. He seemed so fragile and ill that Brady could barely take it. Unable to relate or even imagine how Mark must be feeling, Brady found himself, per usual, at a lack for words.

Seeing Brady standing at the door, Brittany motioned for him to come in. James had positioned himself so that he was standing between his mother's legs and leaning against her chest with his blanket wrapped snugly around his shoulders. Still unsure of his presence, Brady forced himself to move forward. Thankfully, as he reached the foot of Mark's bed, Natalie entered the room and stood right behind him and placed her hands on Brady's shoulders, allowing Brady to feel a little less like a third wheel.

"How is he?" whispered Natalie as she wrapped her arms around her son and lightly kissed the top of his head.

"He's fine," Brittany smiled appreciatively. "The doctor said we can take him home in a few hours. They just want to keep an eye on him for a while. Well... that and to make sure we fill out all the paperwork."

Natalie nodded sympathetically. "Can I get you anything?"

"No thanks, Luv. I'm fine." Brittany sighed as she scratched at her forehead, "I suppose we'll have to continue the barbecue another day, huh?"

Natalie smiled, "Just as well. It looked like Peter needs a few more days to get that barbecue put together."

"I told him he should have gotten a charcoal one," Brittany sighed again, this time in amusement. "Boys and their toys, I suppose."

Mark shifted his body in discomfort, trying to sit up. "Did anyone turn off the hose?" he asked as Brittany reached and placed her hand on Mark's chest to prevent him from getting up.

"Rest up, silly. Don't worry about it," said Brittany. "How are you feeling?"

Taking a moment to tally all of his aches and pains, Mark groaned and scratched his head in frustration. "Sore, mainly. What happened?"

Peter's face flushed with guilt and he silently walked out of the room, allowing everyone a brief giggle. Brittany reached for Mark's head and ran her fingers through his hair. "You popped one of your father's Viagra," she told him with an awkward looking grin on her face.

Unexpectedly, Mark blushed and covered his face. "Oh God!" he moaned. "Seriously?"

"Seriously..." replied Brittany, as everyone giggled again.

"Did I..." Mark stopped to think, his face becoming even redder, as he glanced over at Brady. "Did it...?"

Brittany nodded, also embarrassed. "It's okay. We kept you well covered."

Mark grumbled in humiliation and pulled the blankets up and over his head. "God, Mum. That's so disgusting!"




* * * * *



By the time Mark was released from the hospital it was already after nine. The doctor would have let him go sooner, but he wanted to make sure that Mark's "blood-pressure" went down first. Fortunately for Mark, he was too spacey, at the moment, to feel any embarrassment regarding his "standing" problem.

While Mark was being escorted to the car in a wheel chair, by a male nurse, Brady followed closely at his side. Ever since he heard that the doctors were going to release Mark that night, Brady couldn't help but feel apprehensive and paranoid. The entire ordeal had happened so fast, and all things considered, especially after Mark having his stomach pumped, he couldn't help but fear for him.

When Mark was helped into the car, Brady made sure to sit next to him in the very back of the car. With Natalie in the driver's seat, and Peter silently staring out the window next to her, they quietly drove home. Everyone was over-tired and drained of all emotion. Their non-expressive faces stared out at the street emptily, with the exception of James' who had fallen asleep on his mother's lap. Brady, on the other hand, hadn't felt more alive. Mark was fast asleep with his head leaning on Brady's shoulder for support as Brady rested his cheek atop Mark's hair. He could smell him, and he could feel him; he even had his right hand sitting on Mark's bare, left knee. The feeling Brady was experiencing wasn't sexual even though he had never been more aroused. It was something more; something that hurt his insides with every taken breath. It was like that feeling a person gets right after being scared half-to-death: that gasp for air, that increased heart-rate, the soreness in the muscles, and the immediate relief and amusement when you realize you're not going to die after all.

"Brady? Are you all right?" asked Natalie, peering back at her son from outside the opened door of the vehicle. "We're home, Hun. Are you coming?"

Brady nodded and stretched, feeling like he had just been woken from a deep sleep, then unbuckled his seat belt. "Where'd everyone go?" he asked, realizing that everyone had disappeared.

"I just dropped them off," explained Natalie. "Don't worry, Brittany said she'd give us a call tomorrow to let us know how Mark is doing."

"Okay," Brady replied through a yawn as he slid out the car. Seeing his house in front of him immediately made Brady realize how hungry he was, and in remembrance he recalled the Frisbee pancakes he had cooked in the morning. "I'm not cooking supper too, am I?"





Contact TurtleBoy