In this chapter we'll find out what Martin's plan involved and whether it worked in practice. And we'll also get a chance to see Miles and Twitch teaching Toby something that he wasn't able to learn from reading all those encyclopaedias...
Luke went to school that Monday wondering if Martin’s plan would actually work or if he was about to make a colossal mistake. But he thought it had to be tried, because there was absolutely no way he could put up with Hamilton and Young making his life a misery for the rest of his school career. So as soon as he got to school he went up to Hamilton’s desk and said he had a proposition for him.
“Yeah? What’s that, Freaky?”
“I want to challenge you to a fight – a proper one, somewhere where nobody will interfere. If I win, you swear to leave me alone in future.”
“There’s no way you’re going to win. So what happens if you lose?”
“Then I’ll do whatever you say for the rest of the year – so I’ll carry your bag, run errands, go to the shop for you, help you do your homework if you need, whatever you want. And if I don’t do a good job you can beat me up.”
“I can beat you up any time I want now. And it’s only a month to the end of the school year. Doesn’t seem worth it to me.”
“Not the school year, the calendar year – I’m talking about doing whatever you tell me until Christmas. Including the summer holidays, if you want.”
“Bloody hell, say yes, Matt,” said Young, who was sitting beside Hamilton as usual. “You know you can beat him easily – if he does what he’s saying we’ll have a slave to have fun with for the rest of the year.”
“How do we know you’ll keep your word?” Hamilton asked Luke.
“Because I’m ready to swear it – and if I don’t, you can go on beating me up and stuff until I do.”
“Sounds like I can’t lose, then. What’s the catch?”
“No catch. We fight, we agree to stick by the result. It’s the only way I can think of to get you out of my hair. If I lose I don’t think I’ll be a lot worse off than I am now, and if I win I’ll be able to have a bit of peace and quiet at school.”
“You can have that any time you want,” said Hamilton. “Just take the freak-boxes out of your ears. But… okay, I like the idea of making you clean my rugby boots and stuff like that, so you’re on. When do we fight – lunch-time?”
“No, we can’t do it at school – someone would be sure to stop us before we got finished. I was thinking of doing it on Saturday, so we’ll have as much time as we need without parents expecting us home for tea or anything. We could use the common, where you took me last week, but even there someone might come past, people walking their dogs and stuff, and on a Saturday there might be a match on at the cricket ground across the road, and there will be too many people about. But there’s a place I know near where I live: it’s away from any road or footpath and nobody will interrupt us. We can fight for as long as it takes.”
“I don’t know, Matt,” said Young. “That sounds a bit iffy – it could be a trap. Maybe he’ll have all his mates there waiting to beat you up.”
“How many mates do you think I’ve got?” Luke asked him. “You know I haven’t got any serious friends here. Besides, if I pulled something like that I know you’d kick the shit out of me on Monday.”
“That’s true,” agreed Hamilton. “He can’t play tricks or we’ll sort him out properly next week. And it’ll be interesting to see where he lives – after all, once he’s our slave we can go round and order him to give us any of his stuff we fancy, can’t we?”
“Yeah! I like that idea – and we can beat him up in his own bedroom,” agreed Young. “That’ll be a laugh, too.”
“Okay, we’ll do it like that,” said Hamilton to Luke. “Tell me how to find this place of yours and I’ll be there on Saturday afternoon – we can check the bus timetables later to work out what time. And then we fight – you swear to accept the result?”
“I swear.”
“And you’ll do whatever we tell you until Christmas if you lose?”
“Well… not if you order me to break the law, or something – I mean, you can’t order me to murder the headmaster or to rob a bank, or anything. But otherwise, yes, I agree.”
“Cool! You’re going to be in so much shit, Freaky – we’re going to think of hundreds of ways to sort you out. And if you argue or disobey we’ll have to cane you, or something.”
“Fine. But you have to win the fight first,” said Luke, and he left them and went to his own desk. He was confident he could handle Hamilton in a fair fight but a lot less confident that Hamilton would keep his side of the bargain if he did. He hoped that Martin’s plan would solve that problem for him.
The next day he gave Hamilton a map he’d downloaded from his computer with the path to the dip clearly marked, together with instructions as to where to get off the bus. They’d checked the timetable and found a bus that would reach Luke’s house a little before three o’clock, so they agreed to meet at the dip at three.
“We’ve been thinking of stuff you’re going to do for us,” Hamilton told him, grinning. “Obviously it’ll include cleaning our boots, going to the shop for us, stuff like that, like you said yesterday. And you’ll have to come to our houses and do our chores, and clean our bikes, and anything else that needs doing. And while you’re working we’ll take your plastic ears off, because we know how much you hate not being able to hear what’s going on. And if you mess up we’ll cane you in front of the whole class.”
“Naked,” put in Young, grinning. “You can show off your deformities to everyone.”
“You’ve still got to win the fight, remember?” said Luke, handing the map to Hamilton.
“Like that’s going to be a problem.”
Saturday June 14th
I’m filling this in at lunchtime because if things go wrong this afternoon I might not be able to do it later. Although I hope to have a lot more to write down this evening if everything goes according to plan.
Everything is set up: Luke’s given Hamilton details of how to find the dip and he’s arranged to meet him there at three o’clock, so we’re going to be there a bit before that. If Hamilton comes on his own I’m just going to stay out of sight, but if Young comes with him – and Luke thinks he will – my job will be to keep Young from getting involved in the fight. I think I can do that: Luke says Young isn’t very big and we’ve thought up a way to scare him into staying out of the fight. If it works Luke will be able to have a fair fight with Hamilton.
We spent the morning training, with both of us working on our strength. Luke seems to be in really good shape, and even I feel a bit less weedy than I was before I met him. I hope I’m going to be strong enough to hang on to Young if I have to.
Hamilton has spent the week taunting Luke about all the bad stuff he’s going to do to him if he loses – scrubbing his toilet at home, stuff like that. But Luke isn’t worried… well, actually I think he is a bit, even though he says he isn’t. I really hope he’s going to win this fight, because he’s going to be very unhappy otherwise. I’m not sure how he’d cope with having to do everything Hamilton tells him – and if he loses because I let him down I’m going to feel really bad about it. I’m just going to have to make sure that doesn’t happen…
Luke was waiting in a particular place in the dip at three o’clock, while Martin was hiding behind the trunk of the large tree to whose branch their rope was tied. If Hamilton arrived alone he intended to move round to the far end of the dip (where he would be more likely to remain unnoticed) and watch from there. But of course when Hamilton arrived he had Young with him, as Luke had expected. He waited where he was until they reached him and then walked a short distance past them and turned to face them, a manoeuvre that left them with their backs to Martin.
“What’s he doing here?” asked Luke.
“He’s my tag-team partner, you know that,” replied Hamilton, grinning.
“But I’m only supposed to be fighting you!”
“Who says? You never once said anything about it just being one of us – you just said ‘we’ were going to fight’ and ‘I’ll fight you’ – and as we don’t speak French or Latin, ‘you’ can be singular or plural.”
“But that’s not fair!”
“Nobody said it had to be fair. And you’ve sworn, so you can’t get out of it now.”
“So you’re afraid of fighting me on your own, are you?”
“Obviously not. I can thrash you without Sam’s help. But I don’t see why I should waste all that energy just to get to the same result.”
“But… okay, then, I suppose I did say ‘you’ and ‘we’ and so on. So, do you agree that whichever of us – I mean you and me, Hamilton – submits first has lost the fight?”
“Yes, okay. Or you could save yourself a major beating by just submitting now.”
“I don’t think so. See, there’s something you need to know.”
Martin took hold of the rope and got ready to swing.
“What’s that?” asked Hamilton.
“Well, I knew you’d probably bottle it by bringing Young along, so I thought I should bring my own tag-team partner.”
“Huh?”
And that was as far as Hamilton got before Martin swung and let go of the rope. He landed a pace behind Young – he assumed the shorter boy was Young, anyway – and used the momentum of his landing to crash into him and knock him to the ground.
“This is Mars,” he said to Hamilton. “He doesn’t go to our school – in fact he doesn’t go to school at all: they had to take him out of school because he attacked this kid and broke his arm.”
“I just wanted to see how the joint worked,” said Martin, who was having no trouble keeping a winded Young flat on the ground. “See, I wanted to find out why the elbow joint only works one way. It was a simple break and it would have healed fairly quickly, so I don’t know why they made such a fuss about it.”
“They don’t like using words like ‘psychopath’ for kids our age,” said Luke. “They call him ‘severely autistic’ or something, which is pretty unfair on autistic kids because really Mars is a nutter who doesn’t know right from wrong. But he’s my friend and he volunteered to help me.”
“Do you know how easy it is to kill someone?” Martin asked Young, conversationally. “It’s pretty easy, really: see, this pencil is only made of wood, but if I push it into your left ear it’ll keep going, skewering your brain, and if I manage to push it in straight it’ll come out of your right ear. I wouldn’t even have to push it very hard.”
“Get him off me!” shrieked Young, flailing uselessly: he really wasn’t a lot bigger than Martin, and now that Martin was on top he was managing to stay there quite easily. Hamilton took a couple of paces towards them, but Luke quickly moved between them.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “He won’t use the pencil as long as Young keeps still and stops struggling – will you, Mars?”
“But he’s struggling now,” said Martin, putting the blunt end of his pencil about a millimetre inside Young’s left ear. Young immediately froze.
“See?” said Luke. “Now we can have our fight fair and square. If you win I’ll keep my word, and I swear I’ll call Mars off, too. If you lose… well, I’ll expect you to keep your word, too. Now let’s move over there a bit so that we don’t trip over these two: if we did we might jog Mars’s pencil hand.”
Hamilton was at a major disadvantage here because he had never envisaged actually having to fight Luke on his own. But he was a bit taller and heavier than Luke and he wasn’t going to back down, so he squared up to him and swung a fist that, had it connected, would have finished the fight before it even started. But Luke swayed back and let it fly past his nose, and while Hamilton was still off-balance he hit him hard in the ribs. Hamilton grunted and stepped back a pace, but he came in again, and this time he managed to hit Luke on the shoulder. It was Luke’s turn to step back.
The fight went on: Hamilton kept swinging wildly, trying to hit Luke in the head, while Luke concentrated on hitting Hamilton again and again on the body. Realising that he was getting hurt a bit too much Hamilton closed and grabbed at Luke, trying to switch from boxing to wrestling, but Luke drove him back with a couple of well-aimed jabs to the head.
Finally Hamilton gave up all pretence of fighting a conventional battle and kicked Luke hard on the shin, and Luke cried out and dropped to his knee. Hamilton yelled in triumph and threw himself at him, but Luke managed to roll as they hit the ground and so ended up on top – and that kick had made him angry. He punched Hamilton hard several times and then rolled off him, stood up and kicked him hard on his thigh.
“You want to fight dirty?” he said. “Fine, let’s do that.” And he kicked him again.
Hamilton pulled himself to his feet and Luke piled into him, hammering him with punch after punch until Hamilton was just trying to cover his head and back away. Luke pursued him, landing punches more or less at will, until finally Hamilton fell over again.
“Submit?” asked Luke.
Hamilton shook his head, so Luke jabbed his toe into Hamilton’s ribs.
“Good,” he said. “I owe you a lot more than you’ve had so far, so the longer you go without submitting, the better I like it.”
Somehow Hamilton managed to get up, but Luke knocked him down again fairly quickly. Hamilton struggled up again but then dropped to his knees.
“No more,” he said.
“Do you submit?”
Hamilton said nothing.
“Stop playing for time. Submit now or I’ll have to hit you some more.” And Luke stepped forward and raised his fist.
“Okay! Okay, I submit!”
“Good. Now, for some reason I find it hard to believe you’re going to keep your word not to beat me up on Monday, so we’ve thought of a way to make sure you do keep it. Last week you thought it was pretty funny making me strip, so today it’s your turn. Get your clothes off.”
“Fuck off, Sinclair!”
Luke thumped him again. “I can keep this up all night if I have to,” he said. “You’ve already submitted, but if you don’t do what you’re told I’ll just keep hitting you. So get your clothes off.”
Hamilton had taken as much as he could handle, and his shoulders slumped. Painfully he started to get undressed. Luke stood over him making sure he was going as fast as he could and not just trying to stall while he got his breath back, but it seemed that Hamilton really was beaten, because he kept going until he was naked. Martin couldn’t see what he looked like because he was still busy keeping Young under control, though Young had stopped struggling as soon as he felt the pencil in his ear.
Luke went to his bag and pulled out a camcorder, and that was enough to galvanise a little more resistance from Hamilton.
“No way!” he said, huddling down into a ball.
“Yes, way. Look, Hamilton, this is simply insurance. I swear nobody is ever going to see this except the four of us unless you break your word and get heavy with me again. And I don’t break my word, okay? So it’s your choice: you can stand up and walk towards me with your hands at your side, or I’ll just have to start beating you up again.”
Hamilton didn’t move, so Luke sighed, put the camcorder down and walked towards him, raising his fist. Hamilton made a half-hearted effort to resist, but he was already in too much pain to offer any serious resistance and Luke only had to hit him once to make him promise to co-operate.
Luke picked up the camera again and pointed it at Hamilton, who somehow forced himself to get to his feet and walk towards him, keeping his hands at his sides. Luke made him walk as far as the two branches that grew out of the bank and then bend down over them, and Luke set the camera down, still running and pointing in Hamilton’s direction, while he walked across and tied the other boy’s wrists and ankles to some tent pegs he had hammered into the ground earlier that day. Hamilton found himself immobilised, his body at full stretch and his legs apart.
“Are you going to cane me?” he asked, nervously. “Please don’t – I’ve already agreed to do what we agreed.”
“Right, but in an hour or two you’ll have stopped hurting, and then you’ll decide that I’ll be on my own again on Monday and ready to get beaten up again. So I have to make absolutely sure that isn’t going to happen, and just filming you naked isn’t going to be enough to do the trick – there’s nothing wrong with you, after all. I could probably give you some scars to match mine, but I guess that would get me into trouble. But I have to make sure neither of you will ever raise a finger against me again. Okay, Mars, let’s get Young ready.”
He walked over to where Young was still lying frozen underneath Martin’s body. Martin got to his feet and Young relaxed a little, though not for long.
“Stand up,” Luke ordered him, getting the camcorder ready once more. “Do what you’re told and I won’t have to beat you up; mess about and I’ll let Mars play some games with his pencil. So stand up and get your clothes off.”
Young had seen most of what had happened to Hamilton because his head had been facing the fight, and he knew he wouldn’t have a hope if it came to a fight between him and Luke – and he certainly didn’t want the loony doing stuff to him with that pencil. So he stood up, faced the camera and began to get undressed, and once his pants were off he stayed obediently facing the camera.
“Okay, Mars,” said Luke, “do you think you can get him stiff?”
“I expect so,” said Martin. He put his pencil away and stepped up behind Young, pressing his body against the other boy’s back and reaching round to touch his genitals lightly, the way that Miles had taught him.
“It’s okay, Young,” he said. “You can relax – nothing bad is going to happen to you. I wouldn’t want to damage you – Luke made me promise I wouldn’t.”
It took Young a while to relax, but gradually what Martin was doing to him began to have an effect and his penis started to harden. Eventually it was as hard as it could get, throbbing and jerking slightly as Martin caressed it. It was quite thin and completely hairless but a decent length, probably not a lot less than five inches.
“You’ve got a nice big one,” Martin told him. “It’s really hard, too. Let’s get it even harder.”
He took Luke’s little jar of Vaseline from his pocket and anointed Young’s erection with it, smoothing it in and making Young groan and gasp in pleasure.
“And now for the big finish,” said Luke. “Follow me.”
He backed away towards the branches, still filming, and Young followed him.
“Now all you have to do is stick it up his bum and fuck him,” said Luke.
That got a reaction from Hamilton in the form of a lot of shouting, swearing and useless pulling against the string tying him down. Young just stared.
“I can’t do that!” he said.
“Yes, you can. You’ll probably enjoy it, even.”
“But he’ll kill me!”
“He bloody well won’t, not unless he wants the film to end up on the net. From now on he’ll be nice and polite to me, and he won’t give you a hard time over it, either. And, like I said, as long as he keeps his word nobody will ever see this.”
“Don’t you fucking dare, Sam!” yelled Hamilton.
“If you don’t we’ll just have to pound the shit out of you,” threatened Luke. “And maybe Mars can think of a few more holes to stick his pencil into…”
That was enough for Young. His penis had flagged a little while he was contemplating his options, but Martin soon got him back up to full size, and with very little trouble (once Martin had added a dab of Vaseline to Hamilton’s entrance) he was able it line up and push it in.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Now you give him one – pull it out and push it in again, and then just keep going.”
Young got the idea fairly quickly, and before long he had forgotten that this was something he was being forced to do: soon he was into a rhythm and enjoying the sensation immensely. It took him quite a while to come, and before that happened Hamilton was gasping and groaning too, though Luke didn’t think it was in pleasure. Luke filmed the whole thing happily, making sure he got the expression on Young’s face at the moment of orgasm.
“Okay, take it out and clean yourself up,” said Luke. Martin handed him the roll of kitchen towels, and Young did his best to wipe himself down.
“You can get dressed,” Luke told him. “Mars, you’d better go before I untie Hamilton. Make sure your phone’s turned on – you know what to do if you don’t get my call.”
“Okay,” said Martin. He took the camera from Luke, put it into his pocket and ran off.
Luke waited a couple of minutes to make sure that Martin was far enough away and then took his knife out.
“Now,” he told Hamilton, “you might be mad enough to try to get me when I untie you. That would be a massive mistake, because as soon as Mars gets home he’s going to copy the film to a DVD, and if he doesn’t get a certain phone call from me he’ll also upload it onto a website we’ve got ready. It’ll be encrypted, but the next stage will be to send the key and the site address to every kid in our form whose mail address I’ve got – which is about half the form.
“But if you’re sensible I swear to you nobody will ever see it. And I won’t say a word about the fight, either: I’m not going to tell anyone I beat you in a fair fight, so nobody will take the piss out of you for getting beaten by a scarred deaf freak.”
He cut Hamilton free, and Hamilton stood up, rubbing his wrists.
“Why not?” he asked. “I’d have thought you’d want everyone to know.”
Luke shook his head. “If I did that I’d have a load of other kids wanting to try to take me just to prove I’m not so tough. And I didn’t do this to score points off you or make you look stupid, either: I just want you off my back, that’s all. If you’re sensible we can just draw a line here and forget the whole thing.”
Hamilton took a piece of kitchen towel and wiped himself and then, once it was clear that Luke had no objection, he began to get dressed again.
“Okay, I’m off,” said Luke. “The bus stop going back isn’t opposite the one where you got off: you have to turn right at the main road. The bus stop is fifty yards along by the phone box. I’ll see you on Monday.”
He went back home, waited twenty-five minutes until the bus went past, just to make sure that Hamilton and Young were out of the area, and then phoned Martin to tell him that it was safe to bring the camera over. Martin said he would be there in ten minutes.
Saturday June 14th (evening)
Everything went perfectly. We’d been pretty sure that forcing the bullies to mate with each other on film would make absolutely sure they left Luke alone in future – after all, I’d hate it if anyone saw a film of me and Luke doing that. Of course we won’t know until Monday, when Luke sees them at school, if it has definitely worked, but I’ll be amazed if it hasn’t. Luke says they were completely docile after he untied Hamilton, anyway.
It was sort of interesting, pretending to be mad. Because I’m not very big or strong I thought I’d have to find another way to intimidate Young, and pretending to be dangerously insane worked really well: he was too scared that I’d really push the pencil into his brain to risk struggling. And I was proud of the rope swing that landed me on top of him, too: all that practice was definitely worth it.
I was amazed by how well Luke fought, but he told me this evening that he’s got an uncle who used to be a boxer, and he’d had some lessons from him. He’s smaller and lighter than Hamilton, and his left arm doesn't work quite as well as it should, but even so it was obvious that he was a far better boxer. I was really proud of him.
The film came out pretty well, too. Luke says he’ll edit out the bits where you can see my face, just in case he has to actually show it to anyone, but apart from that it doesn’t need anything much doing to it: you can see everything you need to see, and when they’re mating it’s obvious from the film that it’s real: Luke got close enough to film Young’s penis actually going in. I think if anyone ever saw it Hamilton would die of shame.
And I learned something else from the film too, something very important. In the first bit, where Hamilton has to walk towards the branch naked, you can see that there is some hair at the base of his penis. His penis and testicles are quite small, smaller than mine or Luke’s and definitely smaller than Young’s – he has quite a long one – but the hair is there. So of course I made a comment to Luke about Hamilton having Monkey Disease. He asked what I meant, so I told him what Miles had told me, and Luke thought that was really funny. When he stopped laughing he explained that it’s normal to grow hair there when you reach puberty – it happens to everyone, he said. He seemed interested when I told him I had had a little bit but had got rid of it so he wouldn’t think there was something wrong with me.
‘Let it grow,’ he told me. ‘I’d like to see it. And you don’t have to hide stuff from me – even if you had something seriously wrong with you I’d still want us to be friends.’ And I thought that was really good, so I’m going to let the hair grow – if it does grow back properly, of course.
When I got home I took Miles to my room and told him I’d found out the truth. And he said he’d been pretty certain Luke would tell me sooner or later, but that he thought it was a really good tease. ’And you really believed it, didn’t you?’ he added, and I admitted that I had. He said it didn’t really matter, because he thinks I look nice either with or without the hair, and I suppose that’s nice to know. I told him Luke has asked me to let the hair grow, and he said that in that case I should. He asked if he could check me every few days to see how fast it grows, and I said I wouldn’t mind that at all – in fact I suggested that I could share his bed at least once a week, and because I sleep naked he’ll get a chance to see me without any clothes on every week. He said that would be really good, so we’re going to do that. It’ll be interesting to see how quickly the hair grows…
Miles thought that in one way it was a bit of a pity Martin had found out that ‘Monkey Disease’ didn’t exist: it had been fun teasing him about it. But in another he was glad that Martin had found out, because he thought it would be interesting to watch what happened to his brother’s body as it went through puberty – after all, the same thing would be happening to him in a year or two. And he was really pleased to hear that Martin was fully prepared to let him observe the changes.
Toby and Twitch came round to Miles’s house the following afternoon as they had arranged. They arrived within a couple of minutes of each other, which meant that Twitch was still saying hello to Miles’s mother downstairs when Toby arrived, once again wearing his ‘meeting new people for the first time’ smart clothes. His parents came in with him to meet Miles’s mother and to arrange what time he needed to be collected, and as soon as they had gone Miles took his friends upstairs. Before they retired to his room they went to say hello to Martin, who was lying on his bed reading.
“Hello, Noel,” said Martin. “And you must be Toby. Miles has told me all about you.”
“Good stuff or bad?” asked Toby.
“Good, mainly. I mean, he did explain why you annoyed everyone, but mostly it was about what had happened to you lately. Why are you dressed like that? It isn’t Miles’s birthday or anything.”
“It was my parents’ idea,” Toby told him.
“Oh. Okay, then.”
They left him to his book and went to Miles’s room, shutting the door behind them.
“I thought you said your brother was weird?” said Toby. “He seems okay to me.”
“He was deliberately trying to be normal today, I think. He does that sometimes just to confuse me. So… you’re trying to show us up with those posh clothes again. I think we ought to do something about that.”
“Oh, no, not this time!” said Toby. “Today if you want to get my clothes off you have to do it fair and square. You said we could play a proper strip game, so that’s what we’ll do. If I lose, fair enough, but if not I get to keep the posh clothes on.”
“That seems fair,” agreed Miles, getting a pack of cards from his cupboard. “What are we going to play?”
“Can we play poker? Only I’ve never played Strip Poker and I’d like to do it properly.”
“Okay by me. Twitch, do you know how to play?”
Twitch nodded, so they agreed on three-change draw poker (which was the only version any of them knew), cut for deal and Miles shuffled and handed the pack to Toby to cut. Toby hesitated.
“These cards aren’t marked, are they?” he asked.
“No. Though if I’d thought I could have borrowed Graham’s pack… No, we wouldn’t do that to you, even to make you take those shiny shoes off.”
Actually none of them had played a proper hand-by-hand strip game before and they all found it exciting, teasing one another as each hand was lost and another garment had to be removed. They found that Toby had an unfair advantage: not only was he still wearing his tie when the game started, but they subsequently discovered that he was wearing a tee-shirt underneath his shirt, too.
“Too late!” he said when they complained. “You should have asked how many things I was wearing before we started playing. Though… since we’re friends I won’t count my watch. How’s that?”
Miles and Twitch were both wearing watches, so they thought that would at least reduce the imbalance a little.
The game went on. It was very even, with nobody getting too far ahead, and Miles thought that made it really interesting: every time he lost an item the other two taunted him, telling him he was going to be naked soon, and every time someone else lost he did some taunting of his own.
Soon they were all down to their last one or two items, and then it was really exciting: Miles knew that if he lost one more hand he would be naked. But it was Twitch who was the first to lose his underpants.
“Now what?” said Twitch, standing up to remove his underwear.
“Now we get to examine you,” said Toby, cupping Twitch’s balls in his hand. Of course, pretty soon this had the obvious effect.
“Wow, that’s really interesting, the way your skin rolls back as it gets hard,” said Toby, stroking the erection and trying unsuccessfully to get the skin back over the knob. “Don’t you think so, Miles? Does yours do that, too? Mine doesn’t.”
“Not does mine. But I think it looks nice like that – and I like the way one of his balls hangs lower than the other one, too.”
“Yes, that is strange,” agreed Toby, lifting the lower one up so that it was level with its partner and then letting it drop back. “And his thing is really hard, too. Do you mind us touching you like this, Twitch?”
“No. I wouldn’t like it if it was someone else doing it, but I know I can trust Miles and I reckon I can trust you, too – besides, if you did hurt me I think Miles would kill you for me.”
“That’s true,” Miles confirmed. “Of course, I could decide to hurt you myself, and then you’d be stuffed.”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t.”
“I suppose not. Come on then, Toby, shall we carry on to see who comes second?”
“Okay,” agreed Toby at once: he was now wearing only his tee-shirt and pants, while Miles was down to his boxers. Toby lost the next hand, and now that his tee-shirt was out of the way it was obvious from the state of his briefs that he had an erection. And when he lost the next hand as well he confirmed it by pulling the briefs off and throwing them on top of the rest of his clothes.
“Our turn,” said Twitch, who was still naked, and he began to caress Toby’s big balls. Miles started work on the short hard penis, and soon Toby was wriggling about in enjoyment.
“I reckon your balls are as big as mine and Miles’s put together,” said Twitch.
“Yes, but his willy is only about one-tenth of the size of mine,” added Miles.
“That’s not true!” objected Toby. “Come on, Twitch, let’s get his pants off so we can prove that he’s lying!”
“Okay by me,” said Twitch, and they shoved Miles onto the bed, pinned him down and forcibly removed his pants. Miles was stiff and so his penis did look big, but obviously ‘one-tenth’ was a complete exaggeration. To prove it Toby went and got the ruler from Miles’s desk and held it alongside his own erection.
“Mine’s just about six centimetres,” he reported. “That means yours would have to be well over half a metre long to be ten times bigger – and I don’t think it is, somehow. Keep still and I’ll find out.”
Miles let him measure. “Eleven centimetres,” said Toby. “That’s not bad, but it isn’t exactly ten times bigger, is it?”
“Suppose not. It’s nearly twice as big, though.”
“So what? I’ve got bigger balls. Now let’s see how big Twitch is.”
The ruler was applied once more. ”Just under nine centimetres,” Toby announced. And then he flicked the ruler against the tip of Twitch’s erection, making him yelp.
“Now you’re in trouble,” said Twitch, grabbing Toby and pulling him onto the bed. “Come on, Miles, help me.”
Between them they got Toby onto his back, and they lay down on either side of him to keep him there. Twitch took hold of Toby’s erection and squeezed it gently.
“Shall we find out what happens if we rub this?” he asked Miles.
“Go on, then,” Miles encouraged him.
So Twitch started to rub it steadily.
“What are you doing?” asked Toby, not struggling very much. “That feels… well, sort of nice, to be honest.”
“Haven’t you ever done this before?” asked Twitch.
“Obviously not. You know I haven’t had any friends… until now, anyway.”
“Then you’re going to find this kind of interesting.”
Twitch kept rubbing, and of course Toby found it more and more interesting, until he was thrusting up against Twitch’s hand and breathing hard.
“There’s something happening,” he reported.
“Good,” said Twitch, keeping going.
Toby kept thrusting and gasping, and then his toes clenched and his groin muscles went taut – and suddenly the tip of his penis was wet.
“Bloody hell, Toby,” said Twitch, slowing down but keeping hold. “You can do it.”
“Do what?”
“Make sperm. That’s what this is, look,” and he drew out a thin colourless string of liquid from the tip of Toby’s penis. “Okay, I suppose it isn’t really proper sperm yet, but you’re on the way. It means you could make a girl pregnant if you fucked her.”
“Ugh, no thanks!” said Toby.
“It’s good, though,” insisted Twitch. “I mean, considering that you’re only eleven, your thing isn’t very big and you haven’t got any hair yet, it’s pretty impressive to be able to produce sperm already. Me and Miles can’t do that yet.”
“Really?” said Toby, looking pleased. “You mean I’m better than you two at sex?”
“Well, I suppose you could say that,” admitted Twitch.
“Brilliant! I’m better than you are, I’m better than you are, nah-nah-nah!”
So they flipped him over and spanked him (though not too hard) until he apologised.
“Come on, let’s get dressed and do something else,” he said, once they released him. “Maybe we can play that again later… only I’d better get dressed because I need a pee.”
So they all got dressed and Toby disappeared to use the bathroom.
“I didn’t think he’d be able to do that yet,” said Twitch while he was gone. “I’d have thought you’d be first – okay, you’re the youngest of us, but you’ve got the biggest thingy. Still, I suppose it made him happy, and that’s why we asked him round, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so. But next week I want you to come round on your own, at least once. There’s some stuff we need to practise, and I don’t think I’m ready to do it in front of Toby just yet.”
“Suits me. Of course, if we go camping with your brother and his friend in the summer we’ll be able to do what we want every night, as long as we have our own tent.”
“True. We’re definitely going to have to arrange that.”
Toby came back and Miles suggested they should go out for a walk, so they did that.
“It’d be nice if I could find a partner,” Toby mused. “Then we could play some proper doubles games, like we did at half-term, but without the audience and without the bad forfeits. I mean, you two are obviously a proper team, so I need to find someone to partner me.”
“What about Jamie?” asked Miles.
“Well, he’s nice enough, and he obviously meant it when he said sorry for cheating – I think he really did feel bad about that. But he admitted himself that he wasn’t much good at cards. Of course if I can’t find anyone else I’ll ask him, but I’d like to try to find someone new. There has to be someone in our class who can play cards and who doesn’t totally hate me.”
“I don’t think anyone totally hates you, not even Graham and the others.”
“I know. But I’d still like to find someone who wasn’t lining up to beat me. Perhaps I’ll ask Kevin if there’s a massive brain in his class who’s brilliant at cards and who wants to help me show up a couple of idiots I know.”
“I wouldn’t bother. If you do find someone like that they’ll never get an invite to my house,” Miles told him.
“Or mine,” added Twitch. “Or we’ll teach Miles’s genius brother to play on our side – you might not realise it to look at him, but Mars makes Professor Hawking look like a thickie.”
“Well, not quite,” said Miles. “But he is quite brainy. So no hiring in geniuses from outside our school, okay?”
“I suppose so,” said Toby. “Actually, I don’t mind if I don’t win very often, if that’s what happens to me when I lose. That felt really nice. You won’t mind doing that for me again sometimes, will you? Please?”
“As long as you don’t mind doing it for us sometimes, too.”
“Of course I won’t! Thanks, Miles!”
So that was settled, then.
So life is definitely getting better for Toby, and maybe it will for Luke as well from now on. And finally Martin has found out that he doesn't really have Monkey Disease. I bet that comes as a relief.
Here's the address once more: gothmog@nyms.net – feel free to use it!
Copyright 2009: all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part of it anywhere without my written permission.
David Clarke