Date: Tue, 24 Jan 2017 09:25:32 -0600
From: Eric Trager <trager2275@gmail.com>
Subject: It Is What It Is - Chapter 34

Please don't forget to donate to Nifty if you enjoy reading the stories!

Email feedback can be sent to trager2275@gmail.com. © 2015 by Eric Trager.

Yahoo group: https://groups.yahoo.com/IIWII



CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR



The noise was Andy having fainted and fallen into the ball basket,
scattering footballs to and fro. Sean rushed to his side, patting his face,
shouting, "And! Wake up! And! Shit..." And noting that Andy appeared quite
pale.

Coach retrieved his first-aid kit from the bench, opened the smelling salts
and waved them under Andy's nose. Groggily, Andy responded, coming to and
asking, "Wha? Sean-o, what happened..."

"You fainted. Are you OK?"

"Yeah. I just feel a little light-headed, I guess..."

"OK, well, I'll help you sit up and you see how your balance feels." Sean
then put his arm around Andy's shoulders moving him into a sitting
position. "Is that OK?"

"Yeah, I guess so... Lemme be for a couple minutes and I'll stand up..."

Once up, Andy seemed to be alright although Sean noted his coloring was
still a bit on the pale side, but he supposed that is how one looks after
one faints. Andy seemed to be walking normally, and even joked that he only
fainted because it was time for practice to come to an end.

Sean wasn't so sure, but took it in stride even making sure that he drove
Andy's Cruze home, making a pit stop at the Stop-N-Go store getting Andy a
King Size Snickers bar to eat thinking probably his blood sugar might be a
little low as Andy hadn't eaten much for lunch that day. Sean kept his eye
on Andy over dinner noting that his appetite seemed good, and that some
color had returned to his cheeks. After dinner, Andy concentrated well on
his homework, bantered with Sean as he normally did and even helped John
with his work as well. When it was time for bed, Andy was tired, though,
snuggling back against Sean's larger body, taking Sean's hand in his and
falling asleep as his head hit the pillow.

For his part, Andy had indeed been feeling tired lately, but otherwise
well. Just growing pains as he'd had a little bit of a late growth spurt
hitting 5'11 ½". In any event, this close to the end of the season Andy
wasn't going to make a stink about it, figuring that he'd just mention it
to the Doc when he went in for his follow-up leg appointment. He didn't
feel as if it was anything, but at the same time he didn't want to saddle
Sean with one more burden beyond what he already bore. Not with the team
seemingly headed for the Division-I playoffs in the next couple of weeks.

That night at dinner, Joe told the boys he had some news for them.

"Guys, I heard back on the Scotch. It's been appraised, and the appraisal
run by two other guys one from Chicago and the other from Milwaukee. They
emailed their opinion to me this afternoon. The Scotch is valued in the
range of $1,500 to $1,750 per bottle. So, let's just say it's $1,600 a
bottle. We have approximately 1,600 bottles at the warehouse, so that would
make the total value to be something like two-and-a-half million
dollars. I've had it insured for the appraised value, and it wasn't cheap,
about ten grand a year. The only place I could find that would insure
something like that is Lloyd's of London."

"Well, what are we gonna do with it?" John asked.

"My advice is that we should sell it," Joe replied.

"How do you sell that kind of stuff?" Sean wanted to know.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure. I think what comes to mind first is to
contact the distillery. They're still in business over in Scotland. Maybe
they'd be interested in selling it and it can be drop-shipped from
here. Maybe they'd wanna buy it all themselves. Maybe they'll tell me to go
to hell. But, I think that's the first call we make, though..."

"Makes sense," Andy said.

"Yeah, except at that value we'd need to get with a packing-and-shipping
company that knows what they're doing and find out what the cost is because
the Buyer has to pay for that," Sean added.

"You sure you're not a Jew, Sean-o?" Andy teased.

"Who knows?" Sean replied. "But I just don't wanna get a few orders and
then find out we didn't do things right and end up with broken glass that
we'd hafta eat the cost on."

"That's correct, son," Joe said. "I'll put out a feeler to the distillery
tomorrow. I just thought you guys wanna know, though. At the end of the
day, the profit will be added to what you guys already have. I will take
care of investing it for you. I'd thought about just having it in all cash
and putting the cash in your deposit boxes, but I don't think long-run
that's a good strategy as the money won't grow that way."

"I agree, dad, but let's keep it in some fairly liquid stuff that can be
moved around if it needs to be."  Sean added.

"That was my plan..."

The next week-and-a half went by without untoward events. The team was in
their last practice before the Madison West game. The game plan was laid,
and the team firing on all cylinders. Coach Slater, as always at the end of
a practice right in front of a game called the team to huddle.

"Gentlemen, I don't know what to say. Tomorrow is the Big Eight Conference
Championship game. I wish I could spend the time to talk to each one of you
individually before the game, but I can't. I've said it so many times, and
I'm sorry, but I have to say it again: you are head and shoulders the
finest team I've ever coached. Every Coach dreams of a moment like
this. All season long we've done nothing but chase perfection. Well, it's
up to you tomorrow night to grab perfection, gentlemen. I'm too old. I
can't do it for you. My job was to make your talent into a winning
team. I've done my job. I can do no more.  It's up to you. Tomorrow night
we go up against a team that is physically bigger than we are. A team that
is also undefeated. And a team that is also excellent. But, we have
advantages as well. We're faster than they are. We are more technically
proficient than they are, and in my estimation, we are more excellent than
they are. It all comes down to this. I know I'm not supposed to do this,
gentlemen, but I don't give a shit. I'm gonna do it anyway... Please kneel
down for a prayer. You don't have to pray, but don't bow your heads. Look
up so you can see the face of God while we ask his blessing in what we are
about to do."

Coach waited a few seconds and then began, "Almighty God, we humbly ask
your blessing in our efforts this year. We ask your blessing in our game
tomorrow night, and that this team comes through the game safe, uninjured
and victorious. Amen." Coach Slater then rose. "Thank you for indulging me,
gentlemen. I love you all. You are dismissed."

The next evening at old Monterey Stadium as the Cougars took the field for
their practice drills they were shocked at what they saw. Unbeknownst to
them, arrangements had been made halfway through the season for this
game. Temporary bleachers had been erected at both ends of the home
bleachers and in both end zones, increasing the home seating capacity from
5,000 to 16,000. The stands were full, and as far as the eye could extended
a roiling sea of Royal Blue and White. No provision had been made for extra
seating on the guest side of the field, and the Madison West crowd could
not have been any more than about 1,500 or 2,000. The Craig marching band,
color guard and JROTC drill corps stood at the ready.

The field clock signaled the end of warm-up practice. Onto the field
marched the band, color guard and drill corps. It was obvious they had
something special in store for the evening as well. The band and color
guard had the entire home crowd engaged in the Cougar Fight Song to a point
of volume that the crowd's thunder boomed across the Rock River, the echo
ricocheting back off the old GM plant. The band major strutted proudly
while impossibly large banners unfurled and swirled across the field with
the drill corps standing center field, flawlessly executing a portion of
the U.S. Marine Corps silent drill.

"LAAAAAAAAAAAADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" the game announcer boomed. "Welcome to
the final game of the regular season! Give yourselves a hand – we have a
record tonight! We have a standing room only home crowd tonight of 16,134
tickets sold. OK, and now the moment we've all been waiting for! Tonight we
are proud to host the Madison West Regents for a game that will determine
the Big Eight Championship! Introducing the Regents, at..."

The crowd was fairly silent as Madison West was introduced. That changed
suddenly as one-by-one the Cougars took the field. Tim and Sean decided
they'd be introduced and take the field together. They wanted the crowd in
as high a state as they could get them.

"And finally, ladies and gentlemen, starting at Quarterback for the
Cougars, 6'2" and 185lbs, Senior Tim Dickson. Calling the plays tonight
will be backup Quarterback Sean Wyman!"

Again, the cannonade of the crowd reflected in deafening echo back across
the river. The fireworks barge fired off a blue-and-white show worthy of a
Fourth of July grand finale, and the game was underway. The Cougars won the
toss, but elected to defer. As expected, the size of the West offensive
linemen gave Craig fits in the first series of downs. West employed a
conventional running attack which netted them on average five yards a
carry. Coach Slater was not displeased with that so early in the game. He
figured it could have been worse. His men did not appear nervous, nor did
they appear as if they were being fooled by any of West's offensive plays.

Nevertheless, West with their sheer size effectively moved the ball down
the field. A crucial play came at the Cougar 20-yard line with West facing
a third down and four yards to go. They had not run one passing play so
far, but this time lined up unmistakably in pass formation, their
Quarterback in the shotgun with only one blocking Back, four Receivers and
a Tight End. That still left five men on the line which would make a
defensive blitz on the Quarterback challenging. Coach Slater signaled man
coverage and the Middle Linebacker to blitz.

At the snap, the West Quarterback faded back to pass. The West Receivers
proved to be as good as any the Cougar Defense had faced. The line of
scrimmage was a blur, with no Cougar Lineman able to penetrate, but putting
so many receivers out left fewer men on the line and the Craig Middle
Linebacker eventually got through. The West Quarterback was now being
harassed and had not yet located an open Receiver. With no option left, he
threw the ball away bringing up fourth down, and no reasonable option for
West but to send in their Place Kicker to attempt a 39-yard field
goal. While a chip-shot for a professional Kicker, 39 yards was a bit long
for a High School team, and as the field faced North-South, there was a bit
of a cross-breeze that night.

Both teams lined up, the ball was snapped, and the field goal was good. It
only just barely went through the uprights, but that's all it had to
do. Again, Coach Slater was not displeased and at least at this point knew
the limit of the opposing Kicker. The score stood Madison West 3,
Janesville Craig 0.

On the kickoff, the Cougar run back enabled respectable field position at
their own 32-yard line. The Offense and their star Quarterback took the
field. For the first play, Sean thought he'd keep West honest. He called
the Power Sweep, and while smaller than the West Defensive line, when at
the snap the entire Craig Offensive line shifted in unison it sufficiently
confused the West Defense who were less quick to net a seven-yard
gain. Sean was happy with this as in the first play the Cougars managed to
send a message. They knew West recognized their vaunted passing attack, but
they made a statement that they could just as easily run the ball at will.

Knowing that West favored zone coverage while on defense, Sean on
second-and-three called a play designed to send out the maximum number of
Receivers allowing Tim to hit one of them at the point they changed
zones. The play would depend on the Craig offensive line being able to
provide at least three seconds of protection for Tim. For this play, Tim
would line up under center giving the impression that it was a running
play. The play worked. The superior quickness of the Craig line meant that
Tim got the time he needed to roll out and find a man open. The result of
the play was a seventeen-yard gain and a first down.

Marching down the field, the Cougars used their superior quickness, ability
to run a no-huddle offense, and their full playbook. On the final play of
the drive, which was a third-and-goal-to-go from the West one-yard line
they employed a play they had not yet run all season. For this play, Sean
entered the game and lined up at Quarterback. To the confusion of the West
Defense, Tim remained on the field lining up as a blocking back. Three
Receivers and a Tight End were on the line of scrimmage. Sean hard counted
the snap and to his surprise drew the West Defense into a neutral zone
infraction moving the ball half the distance to the goal line making it
third down and about a foot. Once, again, no-huddling, Craig was right back
at the line of scrimmage. Barely even giving the West Defense time to set,
Sean began the count.

He took the snap, faded back to pass drawing the West Linebackers to
attempt a blitz and at the last second pitched the ball to Tim. The West
Defensive backfield occupied, still thinking this was a pass play, and the
West Defensive line and Linebackers drawn in created a hole in the line for
Tim who merely ran straight across the goal line for a touchdown and the
score after the extra point now standing Janesville Craig 7, Madison West
3. The GM factory whistle sounded a long blast.

The game then settled into a defensive slug-fest. Neither team could
decisively get the better of the other before halftime, and at mid-game the
score still stood at 7-3. In the locker room, Coach Slater went around to
his starting players asking them for one, or two sentences on how they
thought the game was going and if there were any changes they thought were
needed before the second half started. Tim was the only one to offer a
suggestion.

"Coach, I've got one."

"Go ahead, Mr. Dickson."

"We get the ball to start the half. Let's put Wymo in instead of
me. They've already taken my reading and I'm the guy they'll be
expecting. If they have to get used to basically a new Quarterback it might
just confuse them, especially since Wymo's a leftie."

"Yes. I see what you're saying. What say you, Mr. Wyman?"

"Let's give it a shot, Coach. I'm ready. And guys, we're ahead. Not by
enough, but we're ahead. We got two quarters of football left to go. This
is what we've all worked for. I believe in you, guys. Let's do it."

Tim's suggestion proved sagacious as Sean managed to catch the West Defense
off guard enough of the time. The Cougars, in workmanlike fashion, moved
the ball down the field, managing to chew six minutes off the game clock
and scoring another touchdown making the score 14-3.

West came back scoring a touchdown of their own, but abandoning their
passing game. Not having the ability to run a no-huddle offense and the
stinginess of the Craig Defense meant that their touchdown came at the
expense of using up a lot of the game clock. So much so, that by the time
their touchdown was scored the game was in the fourth quarter.

Coach Slater put Tim back in at Quarterback letting him know that the best
thing to do would be to take the ball down the field as quickly as possible
both tiring out the West Defense and using the clock to their advantage
given that even if West scored on their next possession it wouldn't be
enough and at that point the Cougars with any luck could run out the clock
when they got the ball back. But, he also let Tim know that this strategy
depended on scoring a touchdown on this possession. Sean was advised that
he had the green light to call any play in the arsenal as he saw fit and to
use any player.

In an awesome demonstration of everything they'd practiced all year long,
and all the advice, coaching and talent they had, Tim did exactly as Coach
Slater hoped. In a possession where the Cougars were only in a second down
situation three times and never in a third down situation, the ball was
hurled down the field, and a Craig touchdown scored. The score was
Janesville Craig 21, Madison West 10 with seven minutes left to go in the
game. Coach Slater reminded his team that for an opponent like West, seven
minutes was more than enough time for them to win the game, or at least
throw it into overtime.  "Make them work for every inch, gentlemen!" was
Coach's final admonishment to his Defense.

And make them work for every inch is exactly what the Cougar Defense
did. On the few plays where West attempted to pass, the passes were either
wide of the mark, or batted down. They were sentenced to use their running
attack. They managed to score a touchdown, which Coach Slater was not
alarmed at for in doing so they had done exactly as was hoped, expending
precious game time. When Coach Slater's team got the ball back after the
kickoff and with the score 21-17 there remained but 1:57 on the game
clock. All the Cougars had to do was run 37 seconds off the clock in plays,
and then take two knees until time ran out.

For the final play of the game, Coach sent both of his Quarterbacks in with
Tim under center and Sean in the offensive backfield. The time ticked away,
finally running out, and the hometown crowd at the venerable stadium were
in paroxysms of glory as a deafening thunder of fireworks shot from the
barge in the river combined with the blast of the GM factory siren.

The team could hardly believe it. By the score of 21-17 they had hung
on. They had won their Conference. Madly jumping, fist-bumping, reveling in
the sheer testosterone of late teenage male victory, they collected
themselves, took out to the field and shook hands with their vanquished
opponents. As a final salute to the crowd, the entire team together with
their coaches and managers lined up center field facing the home stands and
took a bow as the Big Eight Conference Football Champions. Tears filled
most of their eyes, not least of which was Coach Slater who was seen wiping
his eyes.

In the locker room, the mayhem continued until Coach Slater entered blowing
his whistle.  "Congratulations, gentlemen. You are the champions. You
worked for it and you earned it. Be proud of yourselves because I'm damn
proud of you. Damn proud. That is all I have for now. On Monday, we shall
begin going over our playoff strategy. Have fun tonight."

Rather than busses, the Fire Department sent down four of their hook and
ladder trucks to transport the team back to school. Entering the parking
lot was a massive crowd overflowing onto the school lawn and into the
practice fields north of the school. A stage in the middle of the parking
lot beckoned, and Coach Slater took the stage. Someone handed him a
bullhorn. Coach stared at the bullhorn for a few seconds, looked out over
the crowd, then back at his team.

"Thank you, Janesville," Coach began. "We're delighted to bring home the
Big Eight Championship this year, and we're doubly delighted to have done
it here at home. As a crowd, you were our twelfth man on the field tonight,
and that means so much. I'd like to invite the team up here right now, the
whole team. And when they're all up here I want you to give them a huge
round of applause. I've told these men all season long, and I'll tell you
now the same thing: they are the finest team I've ever had the privilege to
coach. Period. I mean that. For a guy like me, it's a once-in-a-career
team. It would be for any coach. Please give them a hand, they earned it."

On the stage, Coach handed off the bullhorn to Tim who didn't want it,
getting rid of it like a hot potato to Sean. Sean judged it unright that he
address the crowd as he was only the backup Quarterback so he handed it off
to Cunns. He knew Cunns with his innate swagger wouldn't have any issues
addressing a crowd.

"Evening folks!" Cunns gamely chuckled into the microphone. "I guess the
two Quarterbacks are a little shy tonight! Well, don't let that bother
ya. They gave me the mic because I'm ten times as annoying as they are!
Anyway, this is your night folks. We brought home a trophy that next week
will be presented to our school and that's how it should be. Now, it's on
to State and we're gonna need good luck and good wishes there, for
sure. Please believe in us! Thanks again!"

The crowd roared their approval. The entire team waved, soaking up their
newly-won glory but also knowing that with playoffs looming this was not
the end. Not even close.

Later that evening, most of the team reveled in a huge party thrown at a
large farm on the edge of town. The party was raucous with just about the
entire upper class of the school there, or at least those that had access
to vehicles which pretty much weeded out the Freshmen and half the
Sophomores.  There was a band, the party-goers happily paying the $5.00
cover charge. The boys strode in to universal accolades. Tim and Andy were
exuberant, Brett smiling, John quietly observing and Sean, ever the
showman, with his aw-shucks smile.

Making their way around the crowd, it looked like there were a fair number
of people from out-of-town.  Even a few of the Madison West players,
perhaps those who might have relatives in Janesville, were seen at the
party. Unlike their cross-town rivals at Madison LaFollette, the West
payers were sportsmen, congratulating the Craig players on a game
well-played and wishing them well in the playoffs. The West Quarterback,
Kevin Masterson, and Sean had a particularly friendly conversation, noting
that as both were Juniors they'd see each other for a rematch next
year. Sean demurred, letting his opposite-number know that with
graduations, the Cougar team that he would likely Captain in his Senior
year most likely would be an order of magnitude less strong, letting
Masterson know, "This is our one shot. This is it."

Andy who was in on the conversation as well excused himself to use one of
the Port-A-Potties set up in back of the barn. "Be back in two
shakes... Well, you know what I mean," Andy said as he squeezed Sean's
shoulder. "Nice to meet you, Kevin!" Andy said as he sauntered off.

"Who's that guy?" Masterson asked.

"My boyfriend," Sean answered matter-of-factly.

"No kidding..."

"Nope."

"You the only gay guy on the team?"

"Nope. There's a few of us. I won't tell you who they are, though. I mean,
you seem like a nice guy to me and everything, butcha gotta understand,
it's not my place to give out information like that..."

"Oh, I know, and I wasn't askin' ya to. It's just that I'm gay, too and no
one else on the team knows about it. I'm in the closet. And I don't have a
boyfriend. My secret's safe with you? I mean, I know this is stupid, but
I'm just kinda scared about it all..."

"Yup. Your secret's safe with me. I mean, who would I tell anyway? I don't
know anyone who knows you... Tell ya what, if you can get away from home me
and Andy will invite you down sometime, maybe for a weekend, or
something. That is, if ya want..."

"That would be awesome! I have my own car and my mom and dad won't care as
long as they know where I am. Wow! How about after the playoffs? That
good?"

"I'd say so. There's a guy, or two I could maybe introduce you to as well
if you think that would be good... I mean, I'm not trying to play
matchmaker, or anything..."

"That would be fucking awesome! I mean, well, I um...I never had sex with a
guy before. Or even a girl.  Just my right hand," Kevin sheepishly laughed,
extending his right arm with hand palm up. "I never had a boyfriend,
either. I'd really like to, ya know...like maybe someday..."

"OK, well, then, just between us? What are you scared about, anyway?"

"Just between us..." Masterson nodded at Sean. "Well, see my family knows,
and that's not it..."

"Your family knows? So, what is it, then?

"Well, it's just really weird. See, I was planning on coming out at school
last year, but here's what happened. There were a couple of other guys, and
they came out and everything..."

"OK, this is as clear as mud so far..."

"Just stay with me here... So, these guys come out but they decided they
didn't wanna join all the gay clubs at school and shit. They're not even
really clubs, anyway. They're just political crap and they just weren't
into that. One of `em was a Senior on the football team and the other guy
was a basketball player. I mean, nobody on the teams cared, that's not it,
but since they didn't play Little Mister Conformist with all the busybodies
around school they were called all kinds of names, stupid shit like
"self-loathing," "Neanderthal," and a shitload of other words that all
those people throw around like they're all holier-than-thou, or
something. They got treated like shit. Like every day. One chick would
follow them around saying they weren't really gay and yelling `Keep your
hands off my uterus' at them.

"What?" Sean guffawed. "That's too funny, keep your hands off my uterus..."

"Yeah, she yelled it at them like she was a fucking PEZ dispenser, or
something. It was annoying as fuck. I saw what happened, so sorry, but not
sorry, I'm not goin' down that road. I mean, I got nuthin' against those
people if they'd just shut the fuck up, but who needs that shit, ya know? I
just stay in my own lane..."

"Wow! I mean, I thought Madison was supposed to be like this really Liberal
town and all, you know..."

"That's the problem, it is, but there's no tolerance. A lot of people are
like lemmings. Everyone's supposed to look different but everyone's
supposed to think the same. Like a bunch of fuckin' robots. I mean, what
kind of bullshit is that?  If you don't conform to all their stuff they
descend on you like the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz... I mean, ya
know, I got football, I got a job, I like to ski in the Winter, I gotta get
good grades so I can get into college so I like just don't have time to be
bossed around by their crap. I mean, they get a hair across their asses and
all you hear is `I'm offended,' or `you're in my space,' or `or you're not
really gay,' or whatever the fuck the slogan of the day is... It's a
fucking joke, and even the school is in on it. You can't say anything
different than what the Teachers wanna hear or you get a worse grade than
you should. Oh, and get this! They decided that the coffee we had in the
cafeteria wasn't PC enough so instead of the usual stuff that was fifty
cents a cup last year now it's a buck seventy-five and we get to look at
some stupid-ass poster of some Mexican guy who's probably an actor picking
coffee beans because it's like fair trade, or some shit. I mean, who has
two bucks every morning for a cup of fucking cafeteria coffee? It's
probably the same fucking shit as they had last year anyway! So, I decide
to bring some from home in a Thermos one day and they tell me I can't do it
and take it away from me like it's this huge deal and call my parents and
stuff... I was like, really? A thermos of coffee?  You guys have any of
that shit goin' on at Craig?"

"Fuck no! I mean, I never heard of shit like that before. That's bizarre,
man... So, what about your family?"

"They're cool. I mean, mom and dad were cool with it, and I have three
younger brothers. They all thought it was funny, if ya can believe it."

"You got THREE brothers? That's awesome!"

"Yup. I'm the oldest, and then there's Konrad, Kenton and Kieran. We're all
K's... Our middle names are all J's: John, Joseph, James and Jeffrey. And
we're all two years apart: seventeen, fifteen, thirteen and eleven. They're
great brothers..."

"Sweet! Look, I mean it, when the season's done you plan on coming down for
a weekend. You can even be extra gay," Sean laughed. "You can be out about
it, too, and you won't have any loony-tunes following you around. Like I
said, I'll introduce you to some of the guys..."

"Awesome! I'll be at all the playoff games to cheer for you guys, too. I'm,
um, I'm like glad we met tonight, Sean..." he said, blushing somewhat.

"Me, too. Like I said, you seem like a nice guy. Let's exchange contact
info, OK?"

The boys exchanged their information, promising to stay in touch. Sean
started out to find Andy as he was tired and wanted to get home. He set out
for the Port-A-Potty area where Andy said he was going, rounded the corner
of the barn and immediately began running.

Causing Sean to run was seeing Andy exit one of the Port-A-Potties, stumble
and fall to the ground.

A small group of other party goers gathered around Andy, one of them making
the remark that he must have had too much to drink. Sean didn't concern
himself with other people's uninformed remarks. His concern was with his
lover, and again he wondered about it. When he got up to Andy, he pulled
him up in a sitting position, shook him lightly all the while repeating his
name.

In a couple seconds, Andy opened his eyes. "Hey, sorry, Sean-o. Just lost
my balance is all. I forgot ya gotta step down when ya come out of these
things..."

"Well, fine. Hey, it's time to go anyway. Lemme help ya up and we'll go to
the car... I'll text J.R. to meet us there. Gimme the keys, I'll drive."

"You sure?"

"Um, yeah... And, this is like the second time you've done this. I'm not
sure this is normal. I want you to get checked out, OK?"

"I feel fine, Sean-o... I've kinda had enough of Doctors for a while if ya
know what I mean."

"I get that, but one more appointment ain't gonna kill ya. If it's nothing,
then fine, OK? Please?"

"Oh, alright... You suck, Blondie! You know I can't say `no' to you... I'll
call Doc Shroeder on Monday if that'll get you off my ass..."

"When we get home, I'm gonna be on your ass... Well, in it anyway..."

"You better!"

Once at Andy's Cruze, John showed up with Kathleen.

"You coming over, Kath?" Sean asked.

"Nah, I better get home. It's late. Besides, I gotta keep Johnny on his
toes, ya know?" She then leaned over and gave John a kiss on the cheek.

"Suitcher self, there, Kath! OK, home it is..."

"Gather round, gentlemen," Coach Slater announced at the beginning of
Monday's practice. "I wanna start to talk a little about our playoff
schedule here. You will be pleased to know that we are the Number One Seed
and we have home field advantage. That means for the first series of games
which is this week we have a bye. A bye is a huge deal, and I can't say
enough about home field advantage, either. This is where our preparation
and hard work all season long pays off. We will, of course, use that time
constructively. The week after that we will be playing the winner of the
Milwaukee Rufus King - Racine Horlick game, and if we win that game we play
for the State Championship. I believe that given our skill set two weeks is
adequate time to prepare for either one of those teams. Just so you know,
the Number Two Seed this year is the Neenah Red Rockets. We will be
watching their progress closely. Do not let up, gentlemen. We are on the
wings of victory. We can't see those wings just yet, but we can hear them
beating, and if we all do our duty that's where we'll be. That is all,
gentlemen."

That night at dinner, Andy let everyone know he had an appointment with
Doctor Schroeder on Wednesday. While not having said much, Joe was at least
a tad bit concerned that Andy had had two fainting spells and while having
shot up a little bit in height, seemed to maybe have lost a little weight.
At the same time, though, his appetite was good and his grades if anything
had improved a little bit since the last time they'd talked. As far as Joe
knew, people generally fainted most likely from low blood sugar, or low
blood pressure. He hadn't alerted Andy's mother because he had nothing
really to tell her, and although Andy had called her several times since
the move, Kathy only called back twice and hadn't visited. As old a friend
as Kathy was, Joe was nevertheless somewhat appalled by that.

Wednesday morning Andy walked into his appointment at Mercy
Hospital. Doctor Schroeder came out himself to greet Andy and bade him
follow him back into an examination room. "Well, there, Andrew, what can I
do for you today?"

"Sean made me come down. He said I had to come because I fainted twice in
the last couple of weeks, or so..."

"OK, well, tell me what you felt like before you fainted."

"I dunno, I mean normal, I guess. It just happened..."

"Let's get your height and weight. Step on the scale over there."

"OK, we got 5'11 ½ and 146 pounds... You've grown an inch and a half,
Andy, but I am a little concerned that your weight is down. You were close
to 160 before, so I'd expect you at this point to be 165, or so.  How's
your eating?"

"I eat like normal, no complaints there..."

"Very well. I'm going to draw a blood sample and we'll do a quick check for
blood sugar and iron. Stick your arm out." Doctor Schroeder drew some
blood; told Andy he was going back to the lab and he would be back once he
got the results.

Andy spent the next half hour thinking how much shit he was going to give
Sean for making him waste this time. As he was contemplating, Doctor
Schroeder returned.

"Andrew, here's what we have. Your blood sugar is normal; however, you are
somewhat anemic. That means the iron level in your blood is lower than it
should be. That can explain the fainting and the weight loss. What I'm
going to do is give you an iron supplement injection today and a
prescription for an oral supplement. OK, so that's the symptom, low
iron. What concerns me is WHY you present as anemic. So, to satisfy me on
that one, we're going to have you back here in two weeks to do this all
over again and see what we have at that point."

"So, is there something wrong with me?"

"As far as I can tell, as you sit here today the answer would have to be
no, Andy. What I mean is that there doesn't seem to be anything terribly
out of whack, but you understand we need to follow up."

"Yeah... OK, Doc, hit me with the shot..."

"There ya go, Andy. Now here's the prescription and you can have it filled
on your way out. Just tell `em you have to get back to school right away
and it shouldn't take them too long..."

"OK, thanks Doc. I guess I'll see you in two weeks, then..."

"See ya then, Andy."

Walking to his car, Andy thought to himself, "Well, I'm glad that's over
with...

At lunch Sean was interested to know how the Doctor's appointment
went. "OK, I guess," Andy replied.  "I mean, he said I was anemic, you
know, my iron is low, so he gave me a shot and I picked up some iron
pills. That's all he said, really..."

"That's all?"

"Yeah, and that in two weeks he's gonna check me again..."

"OK, well, that's good I guess. I'm glad there's nothing wrong, Brown
Eyes. I wanna get old together, you know..."

"You're fucking stuck with me, Blondie!" Andy smiled as he leaned in and
gave Sean a peck on the cheek.

"Good. I better be!"

In the meantime, Peggy Dickson and Marilyn Dowling were beginning planning
Tim and Brett's wedding.  Tim and Brett had given them the general outline
of what they envisioned. Tim already picked out the hymns, and had the
Craig Honors Choir set up to go as well as two kettle drummers and four
trumpeters from the school orchestra. Andy was to be Brett's best man, and
Tim with his oldest brother Kevin's understanding and approval asked his
brother David to be his best man, and to wear his Marine dress
uniform. Kevin would be the usher for the wedding. Brett selected
conservative, gray morning dress as the attire for the wedding party as he
hated tuxedos and thought they looked cheap and crass. All four boys would
be escorted into the church during the processional by their mothers, Jim
Nolan having against all odds and with a special request from Danny secured
agreement from his `mother' to walk him into the church.

Peggy and Marilyn agreed that the ceremony would be easy as long as it was
choreographed and practiced a few times, so fell to planning the reception
for which Peggy had Ginny intervene with the City for the use of the North
Pavilion at Riverside Park complete with a beer permit, which was unheard
of in a City Park, as long as the wedding party agreed to pay for the time
of a uniformed Police officer to be present.

"Well, I think this isn't so hard, don'tcha know," Peggy said. "About all
we need to know yet is who the boys are gonna invite. I told Timmy why
doesn't he keep it on the smaller side. The Church did him a favor is how I
see it there..."

"I'm not sure Brett wants a lot of people, either. He's so happy, Peggy. I
know we had a rough start of it and all, but Herb and I have really gotten
to love Tim as if he was our own son. He's a fine young man," Marilyn said,
wiping a tear from her eye.

"Well, ya know, we love Brett, too. He's done more for Timmy than any of us
will probably ever know.  George says that when Brett finishes school he'll
make him a partnership offer in the law firm if he's interested. Timmy will
be a partner once he's admitted to The Bar, and our other two sons aren't
interested in the firm. Kevin's already got an offer from Harris Bank in
Chicago once he's done this Spring, and David says that when his tour in
Afghanistan is up he's going to the Marine Academy to be an Officer. I
guess he's already been accepted..."

"Do you worry about him? I mean David?"

"All the time, hey... I mean what mother wouldn't? But his tour is up in
July, so I'll keep my fingers crossed. He says they're short of men, and
all, but he's always been confident, so..." It was Peggy's turn to wipe a
tear.

Just then, Tim and Brett burst in. "Hi, mom! Hi Marilyn," Tim greeted
them. "So, what's going on?"

"We're plannin' yer wedding there, Einstein!" Peggy shot back. "What are
you two urchins up to?"

"We're just gonna hang out..." Brett smiled.

"Of course ya are! Well, when we finish up here, I'm goin' out to the Mall,
so you can just keep your clothes on that long, OK?"

"Peggy! I never!" Brett said, feigning a southern accent.

"Yeah, of course ya didn't, and I never did, either there, handsome!" Peggy
retorted which made Marilyn laugh.

"We get the point, mom..." Tim said, blushing, as they excused themselves
to Tim's room at the far end of the long, low ranch home.

Once in Tim's room, Brett opened one of Tim's dresser drawers withdrawing a
bandana, four sets of handcuffs, a buttplug and a jar of lube. He roughly
ordered Tim to undress.

Once naked, Brett gagged Tim with the bandana, and ordered him to get on
the bed and lie on his back with his arms and legs spread, which Brett
proceeded to shackle to the bedposts. Tim was at Brett's total mercy.

"You can't cum until I say so!" Brett sternly whispered in Tim's ear. "And
when you do, I'm going to feed you your own cum, and then I'm going to fuck
you. But first, I'm going to edge you, and you can't cum!"  Brett went back
to the dresser drawer, retrieving a clear masturbator toy with a jelly-like
consistency. At the bedside, he lubed Tim's now-rock-hard cock, jacking it
until the head was purple then releasing it all at once pointing straight
up in the air. Next, Brett lubed the buttplug, then lubed Tim's asshole,
carefully and lovingly inserting the buttplug until he knew it was
massaging Tim's prostate as Tim's cock leaked a fat stream of clear liquid.

Behind the gag, Tim could be heard groaning in ecstasy, but Brett was only
beginning. He applied the jelly-like cylinder around Tim's and began to
jack it as he placed two fingertips on the base of the buttplug rotating it
slightly in order to drive Tim closer to the edge. He jerked faster, then
sensed by Tim's tightening abs that he was getting close.

Brett pulled the masturbator off Tim's cock which again stood straight
up. Tim whined through the bandana. Brett made a flat plane out of his
hand, applying it to the area of Tim's pubes just above his engorged shaft
making circular motions while bending down and taking Tim's cock into his
mouth. He swirled and swallowed Tim's big cock all the while moving the
buttplug and his fingertips above the base of Tim's raging dick. Feeling
the head expand, Brett withdrew his mouth and hands, again to Tim's fierce,
but gagged protestations.

Every few seconds, Brett tugged at the foreskin on Tim's cock, or ran his
fingertip feather-light over the length of it paying special attention to
the underside of the glans. He was rewarded with copious streams of precum
which he scooped up and fed to himself and to Tim.

Through the gag, Tim begged and implored Brett to continue stimulating
him. For that, he earned a gentle yet reprimanding slap on the bottom of
his ball sack to which Tim physically replied by lying helpless chained in
front of his lover.

A knock came at the door. Peggy announced she was leaving for the
Mall. "When I move the gag, you just say `OK' and nothing else, or you'll
pay!' Brett commanded while sliding the gag up.

"OK..." Tim said breathlessly. The gag was swiftly stuck back into Tim's
mouth.

"See you guys later!"

"Bye!" Brett said, leering at Tim.

Brett reapplied the masturbator to Tim's penis and resumed swirling the
buttplug inside Tim's ass. Tim's sexual tension grew to fever-pitch as he
writhed on the bed as far as his restraints let him, groaning through the
gag in his mouth, face purple. His groans grew closer together and higher
pitched as Brett increased the speed at which he jacked Tim off. Faster and
faster he went until he knew his man was on the edge. Then he stopped,
yanking the masturbator off Tim's cock. Tim moaned his displeasure, looking
up at Brett with begging eyes.

"Will you seed my mouth, Timothy?" Brett asked, looking into Tim's pleading
eyes.

Tim nodded.

"Do you want to cum now? Should I let you cum now?"

Again, Tim nodded, faster this time.

Brett slapped the masturbator back on Tim's still-hard pole, beginning
jacking slowly then gradually raising the pace. Again, he rocked the
buttplug back and forth inside Tim and stimulated Tim's abdomen above his
cock. Tim thrashed under the ministrations, groaning in low, animal
tones. Sensing Tim getting close, Brett slowed down the pace, again to
Tim's disapproval. By and by, Brett removed the masturbator taking Tim's
swollen, angry penis into his mouth. He swirled the head, continuing the
secondary stimuli knowing that Tim was in a twilight world somewhere
between reality and nirvana. The head of Tim's cock expanded in girth
inside Brett's mouth pulsating with a life of its own. Tim's breathing
became labored and ragged. His abs contracted and his back went stiff. With
a gasp he unloaded his sperm into his lovers mouth in an orgasm that seemed
never to end. He breath was desperate at this point.

As his orgasm subsided, Brett kept stimulating him and even before his
orgasm high wore off another one shattered his body filling Brett's mouth
yet again. He was rewarded with an open-mouthed kiss from his lover filling
his own mouth with the musky taste of his own sperm. Back and forth between
them they rolled Tim's sperm in their mouths. Presently, and without a
word, Brett released Tim from his captivity.

"I love you..." Tim whispered.

"I know you do, and I'll fuck you later. I'll breed your ass, lover."

Tim smiled, his cock stiffening again. He began furiously jacking off, his
had a blur. In not more than thirty seconds he covered Brett's leg with yet
more ropes of creamy cum. "You drive me crazy, Brett. I couldn't help
it..."

"I'm still fucking you later, Mr. Quarterback. Tonight your ass is mine."

"A hundred percent, husband..."

In Kenosha, a shop door opened and a customer walked to their car...



END CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR