Date: Mon, 22 Dec 2003 10:32:41 -0800 (PST) From: chirs s Subject: Reiny Summer This story is of course completely fiction, whatever disclaimer you choose applies. If sexually related stories is illegal where you are, or offends you, go away. If not, this is my first attempt at writing, let me know what you think! I also retain all rights to this story. Reiny Summer By C. Miles Chapter 1 I felt a ting of excitement when I looked out the front window of our house and saw a moving van lumbering down our street. I also felt a little dumb that such a minor event would excite me, but the way my summer vacation had been going since school let out three weeks ago, it seemed like a major event. I lived with my mother in a large house we inherited from my grandparents, as I had all of my thirteen years on this earth. It was at the end of quiet, dead end street on the edge of town. The only house within sight was the one across our street, that was even bigger than ours and had not been occupied for over a year. Between these houses and civilization were a series of vacant lots, and even if you got to the other houses up the road there were no kids living in them. Even though it was somewhat boring, in some ways this suited me, especially this summer. I never had been a very popular boy at school, and as I attended a private school on the other side of town none of the few friends I had lived nearby, not even within bike riding distance. Although I was officially a teenager, and was about to enter the sophisticated world of Junior High School, I looked much more like an eleven-year-old than someone of my maturity. I actually looked a little famine, and caught more than my share of teasing from my classmates. Right before school I was struck with one of the most horrible afflictions that could befall a teenager, Orthodontic braces. Of course my mother sought out the most evil dentist available to take me to. Not only did he glue huge steel blocks on all my teeth and fill my mouth with shinny wires, but he fitted me with what he called a Headgear. It looked for the world like a horse bridle. A huge bow shaped metal bar hooked onto my back teeth on top and stuck out of my mouth, held in place by thick nylon straps that went just above my ears and wrapped behind the top of my head, along with an even thicker elastic strap that went around the back of my neck. The dentist was kind enough to give me dark blue straps, which stood out like a spotlight against my golden blond hair. He even put a little timing devise on the straps, so when I went to have it tightened he could see how many hours a day I had worn it. Although I was suppose to wear it a minimum of fourteen hours-a-day, he also said to wear it 'as much as possible'. Mom, who worked at home, picked up on those words right away, and every since school let out I had been stuck in it pretty well full time. With my immature, almost girly appearance, and now stuck with a car bumper sticking out of my mouth, I rarely dared risk going outside for fear of being seen, so the isolated location of our house worked to my advantage. The only time I really left the house was the few times I could sneak away from my very protective mother to explore the woods and fields around our house, something that got me into deep trouble every time she caught me. I had been watching workers come and go from the vacant house for the past couple of weeks, painting it, installing burglar bars on the windows and a high wooden fence in the back yard, and generally fixing it up inside and out. But now it appeared I would finally find out who was going to live there. In a way I hoped they had kids about my age, even if I could only see them during the brief times Mom let me out of my bridle. I didn't have to wait long to find out. The workers from the moving van had just begun pulling out their ramps and dollies from the truck when a fairly new minivan turned into the house's driveway. Shortly a lady that looked about Mom's age climbed out of the driver's door, walked around the van and opened it sliding side door. He heart jumped in my chest as she helped a boy out of the van. He stayed so close to what I was sure was his mother that I couldn't get a very good look at him, but he seemed to be a year or two younger than I, maybe better put he looked about the same age everyone thought I was. I could see he too had blond hair, probably a little redder than mine, almost strawberry color. When they walked across their front porch noticed he was wearing a tee-shirt and a sort of weird looking pair short legged overalls, but they disappeared into the house before I could see any more. I watched out the window for several minutes hoping to get a better look at him if he came back outside, but he didn't. The lady reappeared a couple of minutes later and began talking to the movers, but the boy never did. I started to go outside and try to see him again, but remembered my headgear. 'Well, Mom usually goes to the Post Office right after lunch, I can sneak out of my bridle, and maybe meet him while she's gone,' I thought. I almost jumped out of my skin when something cupped my shoulder from behind. "Well, I see we have new neighbors!" Mom bubbled as she bend down and looked out the window with me. "Put some shoes on, and let's go welcome them!" I flashed her a grin and started to my room before reality struck. I threw my hand up over my mouth and the thick facebow sticking out of it as I turned back to her. "But, Mom, well, can I take this thing off? Please?" I tried. "No Clay, you know your doctor said to wear it as much as possible," she smiled. "But, Mom, I, I cant go outside, I cant let them see me in this thing, I look totally dumb! Please Mom please?" I cried. "Come on sweetie, you don't look dumb. And they're going to see you wearing it sooner or later." 'No Way Lady, I don't care what you do to me, I'm NOT going to let anyone see me in this THING!' I thought. "But Mom! I look like a total dork! I'm NOT going to..." I risk. "Clayton Francis O'Riley, did I ask you to do something?" she snarled. The threatening glare she was giving me told me I was much, much closer to death than I wanted; that I had only one chance at survival. From past experience I knew that when she used my full name it would be a slow, painful death. "Yes Ma'am," I whimpered, and slithered up to my bedroom. Thankfully my horse bridle attracted less attention than I had expected as my mother escorted me into our new neighbor's front yard, her hand cupping my neck. I felt some of the movers eyes drilling into my face as I tried to hide under her arm, but they kept on working with just a few chuckles. The lady that I had seem get out of the minivan stepped out the door as we approached her porch. "Good morning, I'm Clare O'Riley, welcome to the neighborhood! And this is my son Clay!" Mom bubbled as he drug me from my hiding place behind her hips, my hands covering my mouth. "Thank you, I am Susan Coreday," the lady answered with a thick accent. "It is a pleasure to meet you Clay," she added, offering her hand out to me. I felt my face blush with heat as I stared up at her, but when my mom's grip tightened on my neck I reluctantly moved my right hand away from my mouth and shook her's. 'Why cant I just die, and disappear?' I wondered as the two women babbled on and on. I did find out that her accent was because she and her son were moving here from Brittan, and that she like Mom was single. "Please excuse the confusion from the movers, but you must meet my son Peter!" she announced, I think mainly to me a couple of minutes later. 'Yeah, great, let's display the metal mouthed geek of the Americas to him! He's gonna get a great laugh over me!' I silently groaned, but realized I didn't have much choice considering the death grip Mom had on my neck as she lead me inside. Peter was sitting on the floor in a corner of their front room, reading a book propped on his knees. I prayed a thousand different ways that God would strike me dead when he looked up at us and his face blushed even redder than his hair, his eyes bulged out like they were going to pop out of his head when he noticed us. 'Yeah, I'm a dork,' I silently groaned. "Peter, this is Mrs O'Riley, and her son Clay, they live across the street." his mother announced. His face flashed ashen then bright red again, his eyes dashing around the room like a frightened animal as he whimpered something I couldn't understand. His face and neck turned every color of the rainbow before he closed his book. My eyes almost popped out of my head as he sat the book on the floor and straightened his legs. He was wearing a light colored tee-shirt a pair of dark blue gym shorts, both much tighter fitting than anyone wore here, instead of overall shorts, and what I had thought was the bib of his overalls was a set of straps going around his chest and shoulders. I was sure I was seeing things as he slowly stood up, and I noticed a cord running from behind him to a closet door knob next to where he was sitting. "Hello," he whined, his eyes locked to the floor. His face made me cringe, as embarrassed as I was about my mom publicly displaying me in my headgear, I shuttered at how he must have felt. Ever so slowly he raised his eyes to meet mine. "Oh my, you've done wonders with this room!" Mom exclaimed. "Thank you so much, may I show you around?" Mrs Coreday beamed. Peter and I continued to stare at each other as the two ladies wondered into the next room, both of them cackling like hens. I tried to divert my eyes from his embarrassed face, but they landed on the mass of straps encasing his chest. It looked a lot like the harnesses I had seen toddlers being led around on a few times, but much more substantial. Leather straps, each about an inch and a half wide, went around his chest just below his armpits and about the bottom of his rib cage. A pair of slightly thinner straps, about one inch wide, were connected to the two belts and went over his shoulders. The cord attached to the door knob was a thick leather strap, and clearly connected to the harness in back. "What'ch reading?" I managed to stammer a minute or so later. "H-Harry Potter," he answered. His voice was weak but he pronounced it exactly like Professor McGonagall did in the movies. "I've got all his books, uh, and both movies," I whimpered. "Me too." he whined. "My mum knows Miss Rollins." He bent down, and when he reached to pick up his book I noticed a steel ring attached to the bottom belt of his harness, directly below his armpit. He straightened up and opened the book before continuing. "Here, have a look, she signed it." he offered with a slight grin. I stepped closer and read 'To my dear friend Peter' followed by a scribbled signature. "She signed all of them," he proclaimed. He gave the doorknob and strap a dirty look and added, "I'll show you, later. If you want to see." "Why do you got to wear that?" I blurted before I realized it. He flashed an embarrassed grin, this time showing a full set of braces on his teeth. "My mum wants me to stay out from under foot. Of the movers." He pulled on the belt going around his ribs and continued, "She's afraid they will drop something on me." Our eyes met, and I couldn't help but be fascinated by his face. Like mine his face was thin, but accented perfectly by the long bangs of his pageboy haircut. I found myself attracted to his soft complexion and features. His bright red lips, little button nose and headlight bright emerald green eyes were hard to look away from. We were the same height, and his tight fitting clothes showed that he was as thin as I was. His shorts stopped at the top of his golden thighs, and I suddenly felt a strange attraction to him; a feeling I had never experienced before. "I've one of those," he softly said. "Your night brace," he added, touching his fingers to his lips. "Yeah, I hate it. My mom never let's me get out of it," I told his mouth. "You talk funny," I added without realizing it. "I mean, well, neat. You talk like the people in the movies. Like Ron and Harry," I blushed. His face turned a little red as he looked down and shuffled his feet. "Thank you," he all but whispered. "You are very nice." he looked back up, directly into my eyes. "You are the first American boy I have ever met. I was taught that Americans are rude and hateful, but you are nice." made it my turn to blush. We both seemed to recover a little and as we began to chat. I found out twelve, was from London, and had been in the US about two weeks. I was a little lost when he told me he was in 'first form in his studies', then a little surprised when he said he was home schooled. "Well, I see you two are getting on," his mother's voice rang from behind. I somehow felt my heart sink a little when my mother continued, "But we have to go, I have to get back to work and Miss Coreday needs to work with the movers. "But, I've invited them to join us for lunch, you guys can get to know each other some more then," brought a smile to my face. "Come on Clay, let's go home." Peter and I exchanged smiles before I turned and followed my mother toward the front door. Just before I stepped out of the room I turned back. Peter was staring after me, his tethering cord pulled taught against the doorknob as if he started to follow me. We waved at each other and I followed Mom outside. Neither Mom or I spoke as we walked across the street. We were almost to our front door when Mom commented, "You and Peter seem to get along with each other, maybe you guys can become friends. You'll have someone to play with." I couldn't help grinning a the thought, somehow if felt compelled to be around him. "Why's he got to wear that thing, that leash thing? Is something wrong with him?" I asked. "Have to, not got to, young man." she corrected. "There's nothing wrong with him, the English use them over there, they call them reins," she said. "I've never heard of a boy Peter's age being kept on one, but." she paused and turned me to face her. "Susan, Miss Coreday, is a long way from home, in a new country, and I'm sure she just wants to keep her son safe. "Go play, I have to make some phone calls, and get lunch ready," she told me before disappearing into her home-office. I wandered around the house for a couple of minutes looking for something to do before going upstairs to my bedroom and began playing a video game on my computer. I played for five minutes or so, losing my tail at games I was usually good at before giving up. Every time I tried to concentrate Peter's wonderful face and his beautiful voice and accent rang back into my mind, as did the sight of him shackled to the wall. I drifted to my bedroom window and stared out at his house, hoping to get another look at him. As I did I somewhat drifted off as I wondered how it felt to be stuck in a harness like his and be tethered in place in the corner of a room. I was in the middle of what had to be the weirdest daydream of my life, that I was holding Peter's leash and walking him around, when the loud roar of the moving van's engine coming to life snapped me back to reality. 'Wow, maybe they're coming soon!' I thought. Without thinking I jumped up and arranged all of my video games, then picked up my bedroom, something I only did once every three months or so under threat of death from my mom. As soon as I finished cleaning my bedroom I pealed off my baggy t-shirt, grabbed a sleeveless cut off tee that only covered my chest and left my stomach and waist exposed, and rushed into the bathroom. 'What are you doing?' I asked myself as I carefully brushed my teeth and even risk removing my headgear straps long enough to wet and comb my hair. Still on automatic I rushed downstairs and perched myself at one of our front windows. "Are you anxious for your guest to arrive?" Mom's voice snickered. She kissed the top of my head, actually my headgear straps and hugged my shoulders before I could answer. "They will be here soon," she told me. "Mom, maybe if I can let me out of this thing? Just for a little?" I tried, pointing at my headgear. "Just while..." "No sweetie, you need to wear it, and Peter and his mother have already seen you..." 'Hey Bitch, you gotta say okay! You're NOT gonna get embarrassed AGAIN!' I thought. "But, Mom, PLEASE!" I begged. "Clayton!" told me not to push any further, unless I wanted to face immediate, painful execution. "Would you mind setting the table? For four, and set out ice tea glasses." Although it sounded like a request I knew it was an order, and groaned 'Yes Ma'am' as cheerfully as I could muster. I had finished setting the table, and was surveying it to be sure I hadn't missed any thing, that it was up to Mom's standards when our doorbell buzzed. Mom had answered it by the time I made it to the entry hall, and I was completely shocked as she ushered our guests inside. Peter was still strapped into his harness but was being led by his mother on the same thick leather cord that had secured him to the closet door, that now was a leash. But he was also wearing a headgear almost identical to mine, his face so bright red it seemed to tint the steel bow sticking out of his mouth. Somehow I felt the urge to rush over and hug him. "Do you promise to do as we discussed, and nothing else?" his mother asked him. "I promise Mummy," he whimpered in his wonderful accent. She grasp one of his shoulder straps and turned him around so his back was to her. After folding the leash in half she fed the loop handle that had been on her wrist through a steel ring at the back of his harness that the other end of the leash was connect to, then tucked the loop end under the upper wide belt going around his chest. I did a double-take as I watched her tug on the buckles securing the harness on him, and noticed keyholes in them, as well as a keyhole in the clip connecting his leash to the ring. We stared at each other for a second, his addicting, beautiful emerald eyes locking onto mine, his face as red as his lipstick colored lips, before my mother hugged him and suggested I show him my bedroom, and computer. His wide eyes told me he agreed, and I darted up the stairs, my new friend right behind me. "What did you have to promise your mom?" I asked as we entered my bedroom. He blushed slightly and look away for an instant. "That I would stay with you and do as you say." I tried to digest what he meant, but let it go. "Did your mom make you get in your headgear?" I asked. "No, I wore it because I knew you would have yours on," he grinned. "You have a ace computer! That's a huge monitor!" he exclaimed. I couldn't help but gawk as he rushed across the room and I watched his leash bouncing off his round little biscuit butt. When I sat down in my chair he stood next to me, grabbed my mouse and began looking over my system. A couple of mouse clicks told me he knew his way around computer as he investigated my programs. He was much more relaxed than I expected, the leather harness encasing his chest all but totally distracted me, but he seemed to forget he was wearing it. I was still self-conscious about wearing my bulky headgear around someone I had just met, but he seemed right at home. "Here, look at my games!" I suggested. Without thinking I put my hand over his on the mouse. When I realized I had I lifted my hand slightly expecting him to pull his away, but he didn't, so I laid mine on his and made a few clicks on the screen icons. "Brilliant, totally Brill! Don't tell my mum you got all of these, please!" he exclaimed as he continued to explore my system. "You don't have one?" I asked. "A computer?" "Yes, but it's in our study, and my mum wont permit games on it." He clicked the mouse and opened a game menu. "This is totally ace!" he hooted. Before I realized it he had squirmed onto my thigh, and pushed his body into my lap. I instinctively sucked in a breath of air as I felt the back of his harness push into my chest. I was trying to decide what to do with my hands, if I should keep them at my sides or reach out around his lathe little body to the keyboard, when he opened one of my high adventure games. He let out an excited squeal and squirmed in my lap, and without thinking I wrapped my arms around his chest to steady him. When I did both my hands landed on thick leather straps. I couldn't resist my urge to rub my fingers over them and hold them. A minute later he let out a soft snicker and wiggled even further into my lap. "You've got a stiffy!" he giggled. I almost died when I realized my now rock hard boyhood was pushing against his butt-crack. "Me too!" he added with his silly laugh. I shifted nervously in my chair, but couldn't resist leaning over his shoulder; his tight gym shorts were indeed tented. "Uh, maybe we better, well," I mumbled. Not sure what to do I started to cup his chest, but instead grabbed the sides of his harness straps and started to usher him off my lap. "Please?" he cried. "It feels good here, please?" before I could answer he grabbed by hands and wrapped them tightly around his thin chest, seemingly intentionally pushing them against his harness. Without realizing it I began exploring the harness, and his lathe little chest with my hands. His only reaction was to lean into me even more. "Do you got to wear this thing all the time?" I almost whispered a couple minutes later. "No," he moaned. I was about to ask why he did now when he softly continued, "I have some that are made from cloth that I usually wear. My mum bought me this one just before we moved to America." It took a few seconds for what he had said to soak in. "Why do, uh, do all kids have to wear them in England? Kids our age, even?" slipped out. "Not very many. Some primary kids do, and some boys like us when the are on holiday." He squirmed into my groin and took a deep breath. "My mum is, Mum babies me some." I tried to decide if I understood him or, not; did he say it as if he liked being babied or if he was stuck? At the same time horrible images of having to endure all your relatives stare at your harness during holidays like Christmas or Thanksgiving flooded my mind. "Do you wank?" caught me further off balance. I tried to figure out what he was talking about then felt my little pea brain heading for overload when he again wiggled in my lap, and at the same time reached down and rubbed the front of his shorts. "What is wank, what do you mean?" I asked. "You don't know how to..." "Peter, Clay, lunch is ready!" his mother's voice echoed from downstairs, cutting him off. "Bloody bitch," he groaned. "Oh, please don't tell that I said that?" he whimpered as he threw his hand up over his mouth. I couldn't help but snicker, and ran my fingers over his straps a final time. "Come on, we better go." He gave my hands a squeeze and squirmed off my lap. As he did I noticed that the loop handle end of his leash had slipped out of the steel ring and was hanging down behind him. "Here, let me put this back," I suggested as I reached down and grabbed the handle. Just a I did he started walking across the room, and the leash went taught pulling him back. "Or, do you want to hold it?" He flashed me a cagy grin before adding, "Please?" his soft voice seemed to add a little extra accent as he did. I felt a strange surge of heat that I had never felt before build in my stomach, and rush down into my groin as he turned and slipped the handle onto my wrist. 'Wow, is this really happening?' I thought. I had to reach inside my shorts and adjust myself before leading him out into the hall. Both our parents gave us strange looks when I led him into the dinning room. "It, uh, fell off." I whimpered. I could feel my face burning, and added, "I, I was afraid he'd trip on it." "That was quiet thoughtful of you Clayton." his mother smiled. I stood motionless while she gently pulled the handle off of my arm and ushered her son to sit in one of the dinning room chairs, but felt my head start to spin when she wrapped the leash around one of the rails in the chair's back and hooked the end of it to his harness. I'm not sure how I found my chair, but a couple of bites of food seemed to revive me. When I looked around Peter was sitting next to me on one side of the table, Mom and Mrs. Coreday on the other. Although he was eating more politely than I was used to, one hand under the table and carefully patting his mouth with a napkin, my new friend seemed unfazed by the fact that he was helplessly chained to his chair as he munched his way through two sandwiches. I felt a little embarrassed as I watched him sip on his soup, holding his spoon somewhat daintily. Everyone was almost finished with their meal when Mom turned to me. "Clay, a little later, would you mind doing Susan a favor?" 'Oh great, what have you gotten me into THIS time?' I thought, knowing I didn't have any choice, that her statement wasn't a request but an order. "I'm waiting for two conference calls this afternoon or I'd go, would you mind going with her and show her where Albertson's is? She needs to stock up on groceries, and you know how to get there." I gave my headgear, sitting on the table next to my plate a dirty look and wondered if I dared try a little negotiation, but Peter's hand squeezing my inner thigh just below my crotch distracted me. That strange warm feeling in my stomach returned as I thought, 'Yeah, I hope he's going!' "I would be in your debt if you would Clayton, I am frightfully horrible at reading maps." Peter's mother began. "I would be honored to buy you two a soda while we are about." A glance at Peter's bright face told me headgear or not, I was going. "Yeah, that would be, I mean yes Ma'am, I'd be happy to." I felt my heart sink when his mom informed me, "It will be an hour or two before we leave, I want Peter to unpack his belongings before we depart." "Can I go help Peter unpack, Mom?" I blurted before I realized it. My eyes almost bugged out of my head when he slid his fingers even further up my leg, right into my crotch. The next grope of his fingers seemed to squeeze "Please?" out of my lungs. "That is very generous of you, your mother should be very proud of you!" his mom bubbled. "Of course you MAY!" Mom's eyes told me she wasn't mad, but rather pointedly was correcting my grammar. I reached under table and grasp Peter's hand, hoping to stop him before my tool ripped my shorts open and knocked the table over. "But, Susan, Mrs Coreday and I ask one other thing of you." Mom continued. The two ladies somewhat nervously glanced at each other. "Mrs Coreday, we, want you to wear reins when you go with her, so Peter doesn't feel, out of place." My jaw dropped into the empty soup bowl below me, then my face melted into it as her statement, clearly not a request, sunk in. I's sure Peter squeezing my hand, and pushing our fingers between my legs under the table was thing that kept me from fainting as I stared at my mother's face. Should I continue with this? Let me know! cmiles_21@yahoo.com