Also find FSB and other stories my website
https://storiesfromthebearcave.wordpress.com/
I am a little ADD so it is hard for me to sit down and write. I will not do it if I do not get feedback. Nifty give us an outlet to write things that we cannot talk about in the real world, so donate http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html and be sure to give the authors feedback on what you think after you read their stories..
Author's note
Hey all. I have been building this story in my
head for years, and it took a pandemic to move it from my head to these pages.
This story is just made up from things I fantasized about when I was little.
There is no truth to it and any resemblance to something that may have happened
in your life is purely coincidental, although, I would love to hear about it.
I am a little ADD so it is hard for me to sit
down and write. I will not do it if I do not get feedback. authors feedback on
what you think after you read their stories.
As for me. my childhood was very sexual, and I
loved every minute of it, but you always wonder what would have happened if you
had said yes to this person or no to that one. I loved being naked in a room
with clothed men and being touched and held. I wish I could do it all again.
That being said, keep the fantasies here on these
pages. My life happened forty years ago before there was a way for men to
really fantasize about the things they would like to do with boys. What I am
saying is read about him, dream about him, look at him, but don't put your
hands on him.
ABOUT THE SCHOOL
The Founders School for Boys or FSB was founded
well over a century ago by a group called the Crossman. This group itself goes
back a lot further than that. I would not call them a religious organization
because their beliefs are not based on what most would call a religion. Yes,
they do believe in a higher power, but their beliefs are not based around an
imaginary being somewhere in the sky. No, their beliefs are around the power
each one of us has for good inside themselves. They believe that the love and
respect we have for each other should be stronger than the love and respect we
have for some imaginary being that no one can see.
They raise their children to respect themselves
and their elders from the time that they are born. As you read further and
maybe question the way this group raises their children, understand that in the
centuries that they have existed, never has a Crossman failed to support his
family or been put in prison. The Crossman are well educated and respected
members of any community they reside in. They believe in the old adage, if it
works, don't fix it, because of this the Crossman have maintained their core beliefs
when others bow to the times.
The Founders School for Boys was founded so that
the Crossman sons could be educated around boys that had the same restrictions
and guidelines that make the Crossman who they are.
About thirty years ago FSB decided to open their
doors to the outside world. In doing so they hoped that they could educate
these new students in the Crossman beliefs of fair play and respect for others.
The school already had a reputation for their students going to the top colleges
in the world, this was something that all the richest families wanted for their
baby boys. However, the Crossman would be giving deserving students from the
lower classes the opportunity to come to this school and be educated in the
same way the rich kids and the Crossman boys were. This would happen through
scholarships given through the Crossman board.
All of this required some uncomfortable changes
to the classes and of course the dress code. The real problem or so the board
thought, was the fact that this was a boarding school. How do you bring in
outsiders without having to change who they were as a community? It was bad
enough that they would have to change the curriculum and the dress code, so as
not to alienate the new students, however, housing the Crossman boys with the
others was not an acceptable situation at all.
This was easily dealt with when five of the
richest families agreed to build dorms to house the boys. The thing that was
hardest for these families to accept, was that the Crossman would not bow down
for the buildings. They would guarantee that their boys would be given a top-notch education, but the rules
set out in the code of conduct were not negotiable. If their boys failed to
walk the line, they would be removed from the school no matter what their
parents donated.
Over the next two years five dorms were added to
the Crossman House, and the admin/classroom building. Three other families, not
to be outdone by the five, donated the gymnasium, auditorium, and the dining
center.
The first issue to arise were parents complaining
about the dress code. In the days before the adjustments for the incoming
non-Crossman boys, the Crossman children never wore clothes while in the
confines of the school. To keep things comfortable for boys that were not used
to being naked in public, the board created a dress code that came as close as
possible. The board decided that a robe that would cover the boy to mid-calf,
tan shorts, white shirts, black socks, and black dress shoes would be worn by non-Crossman.
The Crossman boys were upset about the new dress code and did not want to wear
clothes at all, but that issue was dealt with quick by parents and the
Headmaster. The Crossman boys would follow the dress code with the exception of
the white shirt and tan pants. The new boys also did not want to wear the robe
and the parents complained. The board and Headmaster made it clear that the
dress code was not up for debate, and they would gladly refund the money to any
parents that could not abide by it. The complaints died down and on the first
day of school everyone was at the assembly properly dressed.
The Crossman boys all wore their robes, black
socks, and black dress shoes only. Over the last thirty years every boy that
came out of FSB went to college and came out as lawyers, doctors, finance
leaders, as well as leaders in the community and government.
The story you are
about to read revolves around one little boy named Brian Burke, he just turned
nine years old and is highly intelligent. During the story, we will give Brian
a break and explore other boys as well. The first part of this story is Brian's
to tell, so I hope you enjoy.
CHAPTER ONE
BRIAN FINDS A WAY
IN
I knew I was
different from the time I was eight. While the other boys were stealing their
dad's Playboys and looking at boobies (gross), I was looking at my brother's
Sports Illustrated. I was not then or now a sports fan, but I loved the
handsome athletes in those awesome underwear ads. I stayed to myself a lot
because of this, I just knew people could look at me and think I was some kind
of freak. I can't stand people judging me and I hate being teased. I knew that
people would make fun of me for liking boys, not even boys, but men. I am a
quiet kid and stay to myself. However, I have been in a few fights when the
teasers would not let me walk away.
I do not have any
real friends other than my brother Donny. He is two years older than me, and he
is everything that I am not. He's tall, skinny, and has the shiniest
white-blond hair that hangs straight down, the brightest gray/green eyes, is
athletic, and has lots of friends. I, on the other hand, am none of those
things. Well... I do have the same color eyes he does, but that is where the
similarities end. I am the shortest kid in my class, I am not obese, but I am
overweight. My mom called it baby fat, but whatever. Anyway, my hair is brown
and really thick and curly, I totally hate it.
I am also a total
bookworm, and I do not mean the Kindle or iPad kind either. I am a
carry-around, a real book and turn the pages kinda guy. Of course, this does
not get me picked on... (yeah right). So back to my brother Donny, he is like the
best big brother any guy could ask for. He is not only my brother, but he is my
best friend and protector. I think he knew what I was looking at in his
magazines, and as religious as he is, he never made fun of me and told me every
day how much he loved me.
Religion. This is
a word that has caused wars and so much violence in our history, and yet in
small towns like I come from, religion rules. So, here is the problem, I think
religion is a joke that our higher power has played on us. Religion is an
excuse to hate and justify our actions in the name of whatever we believe.
This belief
system of mine has caused me a lot of trouble. I went to Sunday school till I
was almost nine. I was kicked out of class because I would argue with the
teacher about what she was teaching and point out to her why it made no sense.
This caused lots of issues in my family, oh yeah, I guess I forgot to mention
that my dad is the minister of that church. My dad never gets mad at me, even
when he is trying to be, I could tell he really wasn't. He would always ask,
"How can a "C" student like you be so smart?" My mom on the other hand was so
mad, that I thought she was going to kill me, but Donny always seemed to be
able to talk her down.
Due to my arguing
and "disrespecting the good book", I was asked not to come back to class at
church anymore. They tried to punish me by making me sit through all the Sunday
services, but I would just grab the bible and read or fall asleep. My mom
asked, "Why do you read the bible if you don't believe in it?" I didn't mean to
be a dick, it just happened, which was the last straw for my mom when I said,
"How can you not like the bible? It was the first science fiction book ever
written. Seriously Mom, burning trees, words mysteriously appearing on rocks,
and water parting so some people can walk across it. I love a good Syfy and the bible is the best." This is where it suddenly
hits every kid that they have gone too far, but that knowledge, unfortunately,
comes right after the words have fallen out of our mouths. This got me sent to
my room without supper, which was not a big deal until Donny came in.
"That was very
disrespectful to mom. I have always had your back and accepted that religion
was not your thing, but just because you don't believe does not give you the
right to make a joke out of what the rest of us believe. For the first time in
our lives, I am ashamed to be your brother." With that, he left the room.
My heart was
broken, what was I going to do now? Donny was my best friend how could I go on
without him? I ran into my closet, closed the door, started crying, and curled
up into a ball. I guess I fell asleep, because I woke up in my pajamas in my
bed, and I have no idea how got there. The best part was waking up to find
Donny sleeping right next to me. He was lying on his back, so I climbed on top
of him wrapped my arms around him so tight, and
started crying again. I felt him put his arms around me and kiss my cheek. I
said, "I am so sorry Donny, please don't hate me. Please be happy to be my
brother again. I will do anything. I will go to bible study and keep my mouth
shut, I will sit in church and pay attention, anything just please don't stop
being my brother please." I cried.
Donny started
laughing. I lifted up and looked at him in the face through tear-filled eyes,
and he said, "Brian, I could never stop being your brother. I love you with all
my heart. I came back into your room before I went to bed to apologize to you
for saying that I was ashamed to be your brother. I realized later as I was
thinking about what I said that I was way out of line. I got so scared when I
came in here and could not find you. We looked everywhere, and I finally found
you under all the junk and the blanket in the closet. Dad picked you up and we
put you in your pajamas. We could not believe you didn't wake up, and Mom
cleaned the tears and snot off your face. I crawled into bed with you so I
could be there when you woke up. I needed to tell you how proud I am to be your
brother and love you so much, you are my best friend. What I should have said
and what I am saying now is that I am ashamed of the way you behaved and what
you said to Mom. There was no excuse for that."
At that moment I
heard a sniffle by my door and looked over to see my mom and dad standing
there. I climbed off my brother and ran to my mom and said, "Mommy, I am so
sorry that I disrespected you. I would never want to hurt you, I love you so
much, please forgive me."
She picked me up
and hugged me so tight, that I thought I was going to die from having all the
air squeezed out of my body. "I forgive you, baby, some of that was my fault.
Your dad and I talked about it last night and realized that you are not going
to believe as we do. We hope you find what you need to make you happy, and we
will always be here for you." With that, she put me down and I ran past her. I
had to pee, and her squeezing me did nothing to help that.
The following
Sunday I came down the stairs dressed for church. My mom told me that I did not
have to go and to stay out of trouble. With that, they all left, and I stayed
home with my book and did not do anything to make anyone mad at me.
On the following
Saturday afternoon, my dad asked me to come with him to the church. He took me
to his study and read me the sermon he was going to give the next day, and then
he asked me what I thought about it. I told him how much I liked it. He looked
at me and asked why I would lie in the house of God. He said, "Brian, because
of the way you see things, the way your mind works I would really like your
honest opinion."
We talked for two
hours, and he listened to everything I had to say and even asked why I felt
this way or that. He called me his little devil's advocate, which may not be
the best term to use in the church (giggle). After a few Saturdays of arguing
about how he presented the passage to his congregation, he told me how much
more positive the feedback was that he was receiving about his sermons. He told
me how the younger people would tell him how much they enjoyed his sermons now
that he was talking to them instead of at them.
I finally found
an aspect of my dad's job that I enjoyed, and I feel so much closer to him than
ever before. Do not get me wrong, I still don't want to spend my Sundays
sitting there. Well, I guess I would if my dad asked me to, but he knows how I
feel about it, so he doesn't.
Ok, enough about
my family. So, as I said, I really don't have any friends, so I spent a lot of
time alone. I just started the fourth grade and hated it already. During lunch
period I just take my food outside to the big tree. The tree is so big that you
can't see around it. The backside of the tree faces the parking lot, so the
kids playing in the playground can't see that side of the tree. This is where I
go every day before all the kids come out, so no one sees me. The roots on that
side of the tree come above ground so when I sit between them, it is like
sitting in a nice comfy armchair. There I eat my lunch and sit back and read my
book. This is what I was doing one day when I heard a few of the older boys
talking.
Our town was not
very big, so there is not a middle school, just the Milbourn school, where all
the kids go from Kindergarten to eighth grade, and there's the Milbourn high
school that goes from ninth to twelfth grade. That is why I easily recognized
the voices of Jeffery Voss and Mark James, both eighth graders.
"I saw my
cousin Chris this weekend, he goes to that boys' school over in Clayton. You
will never guess what he told me," said Jeff.
After a pause,
Mark asks, "Are you going to tell me, or are you just being a jerk?"
Jeff laughed and
said, "Of course, I am going to tell you. Keep your pants on. So, at this
school, there are these dorms where the boys live. Each dorm has a name and is
considered a house. Chris's house is called Baxter House after the family that donated
the money to build it, I guess. Chris said that there is this one called
Crossman House, and that's where he says all the fags live."
"What are
you talking about? You mean if they find out that a kid is a fag, they get
moved to this Crossman House?" Mark asks.
Jeff responds
with, "That's what I asked Chris, but he says that he has never seen any
of the fags get moved out of the other houses into that one. He says that there
are a few boys that he knows are fags in the other houses, but that no one
messes with them, because you never know who their parents are, and you may
need them someday."
Mark came back
with, "So if it is no big deal, then why did he bring it up to you?"
"Because he
says that the boys don't have sex with each other, they have sex with men that
the school brings in" responds Jeff.
"I call
bullshit on that. If your cousin knows about it, then everyone knows about it,
and if everyone knows about it, the cops and press would be all over it,"
says Mark.
"Chris is
fairly sure about it, but I guess you're right, how can a whole house full of
boys be having sex with men and the school still be open? I guess you're right,
it must be bullshit," says Jeff. Just then the bell rings and everyone
starts heading in. I wait till I am sure that I won't be seen and then I go in
as well.
Over the next
week, I could not stop thinking about what I heard. In fact, it is almost all I
thought about. If what Jeff said is true, I wonder how I will be able to get
myself into this school and more importantly into this Crossman House. I knew
what I had to do, I had to get to Clayton, and to the Founders School for Boys
as soon as possible.
My town of
Milbourn lies dead center between Clayton and Lake Town, each about an hour
away by train in the opposite direction. Most of the people that live in my
town take the train in one direction or the other every day for work, so it was
going to be easy getting to Clayton, I have been there lots of times with Mom
and Dad, but never alone. I was a little nervous but knew that I had to do it.
I found out that Wednesday was a teacher planning day, so I planned on going
then if things worked out, and they did.
My mom announced
that she had a ladies' club meeting in Lake Town and would be gone all day, my
brother was doing a church group function, and my dad of course was going to
work. Mom and Dad would both be out of the house by six-thirty, so if I timed
it right and took some shortcuts, I could be on the seven-thirty train to
Clayton. My mom asked what I was going to be doing, and I had to do something I
hardly ever did, I lied. I told her that I would be heading over to the park to
read and get some fresh air. I told her not to worry, and if I needed anything
I would go to Dad at the church. That seemed to make her happy and she moved on
to other things.
I barely slept
Tuesday night and acted like I was asleep when Mom came and kissed me goodbye.
As soon as I heard my mom and dad drive away, I jumped out of bed and got
dressed in a pair of nice jeans and a button-up shirt. I packed some regular
jeans and a tee shirt in my backpack and headed out the back door to the train
station. It took a little maneuvering on my part, but I made it to the train
station just in time to buy my ticket and hop on the seven-thirty to Clayton
and what I hoped would be the start of my new life and not a disaster that I
would have to face my dad with. Yes, I know what you are thinking, "If this
stupid kid somehow has managed to actually be right about this school and he is
accepted, how is he going to let his parents know how he did it?" All I can say
is, come on people, I am nine years old, do you really think that I thought the
rest of this through? As I am sitting on the train on the way to Clayton, it
hits me, I really did not think this through (giggle). No, really, suddenly I
realized that I didn't have a plan for the rest of this. All I was thinking
about was getting there, not what I was going to do when I got there. My only
saving grace was that I could think fast on my feet, how else do you think the
minister's son can get kicked out of bible study (giggle)? The trip was
uneventful, I read and tried to come up with a plan but just couldn't get
there.