Tripod Chapter 48

The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.

All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Please send comments to cagey507@gmail.com and I will reply as soon as I can. This is my first work of fiction and I welcome any and all comments.

If you would like to be notified each time a new chapter is published, please email me and you will be added to the distribution list.

Tripod -- Chapter 48

"Today is gonna suck. I'm just really not up for going to school," Asher said as he and I sat down to breakfast before heading off to school the day after Esther's funeral. His hair was uncharacteristically messy and he had pinned a partially-cut black ribbon to his t-shirt.

"Since I'm not her son, I don't have to follow the rules of shiva, but I want to honor Alte Bubbe in my own way. No haircuts, no video games, no sex...for thirty days."

"Does that include sex with yourself?" I asked, highly doubtful that any teenage boy would be able to refrain from rubbing one out for thirty days.

"Yes, of course," Asher replied, "since jacking off is forbidden anyway..."

"Do you really think you'll be able to last for thirty days?" I inquired.

Asher was silent for a second, then smiled shyly and said, "Not really. I'll try my best though."

"Asher, Great-Grandma didn't make any secret of the fact that she and Great-Grandpa Morty fucked like bunnies. She loved sex. You don't need to stop out of respect for her. On the contrary, if you want to honor Esther, you should get Ozzie over here and have him drain you dry."

"Jaime, that's not how it works...But you do have a point," he conceded. "Ok, maybe just no haircuts and no video games. I didn't expect to hold out for more than a couple of days anyway."

"Hey, now that you've finished with `Dear Evan Hansen,' you wanna work on getting your driver's license? It would be nice to be able to send you to the supermarket for a change. Unfortunately, I'm not old enough to be your responsible driver. It'll have to be Mom or Dad."

"That would be great."

***

"I'm so sorry to hear about your great-grandma," Seán said at lunch that day.

"Thanks. She was an incredible person. She told funny stories right until the end. I'd like to go like her when it's my time," I replied.

"Hey, speaking of going, you guys wanna rent a limo to go to prom?" Tyler asked.

"God, Ty, talk about bad timing," Eddie chided. "Don't be so basic. Have some respect."

"It's OK, Eddie. Tyler's just being his usual impulsive self. Don't you think a limo's kinda bougie and pricey?" I asked.

"I think it would be kinda fun," Brandon said. "I'll pay for it."

"Brandon, I know you're doing OK, but that's a lot of coin to cough up for a ride downtown and back," Eddie said.

"I made $20,000 last month," Brandon said sheepishly.

"What!!!!" all of us screamed at once.

"Yeah, my fan site's exploded. I've got close to two thousand subscribers now and I've raised my rate to $12.50 a month. The site takes its cut and I make about $20,000."

"I hope you're paying taxes on this," I said. "You can get into a ton of trouble if you don't."

"No shit. Between that and fucking eight-year-olds, look where it got my dad. No worries, little buddy, I've got a tax guy now. When this thing started to blow up, I went online and searched for accountants who've got five-star ratings. I didn't want to wind up with some crook who'd just steal the money and give me crap advice. Anyhow, it turns out that this guy has a few clients who make their money on social media. He explained to me about withholding for income tax and Social Security, then he gave me advice on how to budget the money and where to invest what's left. We've set up college funds for Braden and me. My mom's got a job now, so we're able to save more of my earnings. At this rate, the money should keep rolling in for a while, as long as I stay in shape and my dick still works. Anyhow, long story short, I can pay for the limo."

All of us were stunned, but not surprised, if that makes any sense. We were shocked at the amount of money Brandon was making, but given his amazing cheekbones, his now-golden-blond hair, his toned-to-perfection body, his one-in-a-million dick, and his endearingly wholesome personality, well, of course, he'd make a ton of money.

"You guys want to get a hotel room to get ready beforehand and to chill after the party? My dad's got a shit ton of hotel points. Maybe we could get a room for free?" I volunteered.

"I'm gonna pass," Seán said. "You know my folks. They're gonna want me home right after prom's over."

"Well, you can ride downtown with us, then you can take the limo home after the party. I'll rent it for the night," Brandon volunteered.

"That's really nice of you. Thanks, Brandon," Seán said.

"So, just the four of us in a hotel room. I'm sure we'll be as well-behaved as altar boys," Tyler smirked.

"Yeah, on our knees in no time!" I added.

"You think that Darius and Sho will be OK with that?" Eddie asked.

"I know that Darius has no problem with it. It was one of the first things we agreed on when we officially became boyfriends."

"I think Sho will be fine with it, too, but I'll text him about it first," Brandon added.

"My biggest problem is gonna be to find a tux that fits," I volunteered. "I shoulda started looking weeks ago. Only a couple of weeks left until prom now. I'm sure they don't stock tons of size 38 extra-short jackets with pants that will fit me."

"Yeah, ones that hug your butt tight but have separate sleeping quarters up front for the monster to hide in," Tyler joked.

It was funny, but not. I have a real issue with dress pants. Jeans can be tight or they can be baggy. I always choose baggy for obvious reasons, but finding a pair of dress pants where I'm not likely to cause old ladies to faint was going to be a challenge. Maybe a chat with my favorite fashion maven, Ashley?

ME: Greetings, fashion queen

ASHLEY: Jaime! How you been, my elfin snake charmer? Your bro rocked it last weekend. A-ma-zing

ME: Thx. Elfin is right. Hard to fit. I need to find a tux for the prom. I know. I waited too long.

ASHLEY: Ouch. U need the fashion queens help?

ME: Please! Something classy in 38 extra-short. Pants not too tight pls

ASHLEY: 😝😝😝 🍆 bet 🍆 know y

ME: 😬

ASHLEY: No worries. How much can you spend? To find something special in your size ur looking at around $700

ME: What??!! Can't I rent?

ASHLEY: Babe, it's gonna be really hard to find a rental that looks good on you. The short jackets aren't gonna be short enough. And fixing the trousers is gonna be a problem. You got a man-sized chest and shoulders on a kid-sized body. And your pants problem...xtra special

ME: Ugh. Let me talk to my folks. Northwestern's pricey. I don't want to ask for something that's that expensive to wear once

ASHLEY: UR a dude. Tuxedo styles don't change that much. Get something classy but conservative and you can wear it for the next ten years or more. Guys don't get judged for wearing the same tux to every event. Try being a girl and wearing the same dress ten times to fancy parties. The bitches will tear you to shreds on social

ME. I get ya

ASHLEY: UR also going to need a tailor. I've got a guy

***

"So, I've got to get a tux for prom and it's in less than two weeks."

Mom gave me a "mom" look.

"I was wondering when you were going to get around to this. You're kinda late. Where are you planning to rent it from? We can go over and get you fitted ASAP."

"That's just it. I was talking to my friend Ashley, you know, the rich girl who helped dress Asher, and she doesn't think I'll be able to find a decent tux in my size to rent. She said I'll have to buy it."

Then Dad jumped in, "To wear once? No."

"Ashley pointed out that guys are lucky because men's formal styles don't change much and if I get something pretty classic, it could last me for a really long time."

"How many formal events do you plan on going to, Jaime?" Mom asked.

"Well, at the awards shows when one of your documentaries wins," I said.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, young man," Mom added.

Then Asher jumped in. "Jaime has genetic conditions that keep him from being able to fit into normal-people clothes. He's little and he's big. (Asher delivered the last sentence with gestures pointing out my height and my cock size.) He's short enough for a kid's tux, but he's got way too many muscles to fit in it. And even though he can fit into his baggy jeans with a 28" waist and short inseam, he's going to need special dress pants to keep him...decent. He's suffering from a rare genetic syndrome. I mean, for God's sake, if he needed a wheelchair, would you tell him no? What about leg braces or something like that?"

"We've got medical insurance for that, Asher, and quit laying it on so thick. The play is over. But you do have a point. Why should the other kids look great in their tuxes while Jaime looks like his was put together by Dr. Frankenstein?" Dad conceded.

"Do you know if they make tuxes in your size without having to have it custom-made?" Mom asked.

"Ashley's on it. She's gonna figure it out," I said.

"Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost us if you can even find one?" Dad asked.

"If she can find one that's already made, Ashley thinks around $700."

Dad whistled. Mom groaned.

"How are you guys getting downtown? I'm not chipping in for a limo if we have to pay for your tux and I don't want you guys driving," Mom said.

"Brandon's paying for the limo. He's got that side business that's doing great.

Mom and Dad looked at me suspiciously.

"Oh, no! It's completely legal. He's even got an accountant helping with his taxes and stuff. By the way, I've got a big favor to ask. Dad, you think we could use some of your hotel points to get a room for the night so that we don't need to worry about getting back home so late?"

"Who's gonna be in the room with you?" he asked.

"Eddie, Tyler, and Brandon. One room with two queen-sized beds should be fine."

"Just you four? What about Darius and Sho?" Mom asked.

"Prom is strictly for Evanston West seniors, so they can't go."

"And they're OK with this...arrangement?" Dad asked with the subtext of sexual activity screaming between the lines.

"Yup. Completely. Besides, I can't go to Darius's prom either."

"OK. I'll see what I can come up with. And Jaime, please do get some sleep that night, OK? No raiding the mini-bar. And remember that check-out is at noon," Dad cautioned.

"Hey, Dad, I seem to remember that you've got platinum status and can request a 4 PM checkout," I added.

"Jeez, you've thought of everything, Jaime," Asher smirked.

***

ASHLEY: UR gonna be a total short king. Found a great source. Let's talk at lunch tomorrow. K?

ME: 🥳

***

"I texted a few of my contacts at the designer stores. I mean, I've been a good customer for years now and I've got all their personal numbers. Anyhow, believe it or not, a couple of them pointed me to a website for this company that sells good quality men's stuff in smaller sizes. I know, who'd buy a tux online, right? Halloween costumes, maybe, but formalwear? But this site is totally legit. Good quality fabrics. Not a ton of selection in formal stuff, but very classic, nice cut. But you're a really hard fit. `Hard,' get it?"

"Very funny, Ashley. Ha. Ha. Ha. So, what did you find out?"

"They've got a helpline. I skipped one of my classes this morning to give them an actual phone call. I mean, we graduate in a few weeks, so who's gonna keep me from graduating for skipping one stupid class? Anyhow, I called the company up and spoke to this really helpful guy on the phone. I explained the whole gymnast thing and then explained to him with a totally straight face that my friend is extremely well-endowed and has a very difficult time fitting into formal trousers. And you know what he said?"

"I can't wait," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"He stayed 100% professional and said that they've had this problem before and not only did he recommend the right size jacket, shirt, and trousers, which we'll still have to get taken in in the butt and waist, but he also sent me to a website that sells dancers' belts. He gave me the specific model to buy. I guess dancers don't want the audience to spend the whole time gawking at their packages, although, honestly, I don't know why not. So, the dancer's belt is sort of like a push-up bra for your junk. It will keep it all in a nice tight bundle so that no one will be able to tell the meat from the potatoes if you catch my drift. With the pants tailored right, you'll look amazing."

"I bow down to my queen," I said.

"Me, too," she giggled.

She pulled out her phone and showed me photos of the tux, shirt, and trousers. "Like I said, it's classic but elegant. You're not gonna look at it in five years and cringe. We can buy you a tie here in town."

"You're right. I love it. How soon can we get it here?"

"That's why I wanted to talk to you now. If I order before 2:00 PM Eastern time, they can get it to me tomorrow. I don't want to cut this too close. We can meet with the tailor on Thursday after school. Then I want to allow time for any adjustments, OK?"

"Oh, shit. I don't have a credit card with me. There's an hour time difference with New York. We've only got half an hour," I groaned.

"I'll place the order. Your folks can send me the money with an app. A steal at only $595. Oh, and I've already ordered the dancer's belt. The model's called `Pas de douze,' which I think is hysterical. I wonder who stayed up at night to think up the name of a dancer's belt specially designed to camouflage a huge package and if their supervisor got the joke.

***

On Thursday, I asked Darius to come with me to the tux fitting, since he'd never get to see it live at the prom. Ashley handed me the goods and I slipped anxiously into the dressing room, accompanied by a pair of loaner dress shoes from the tailor.

I slipped off my boxer briefs and slipped on the dancer's belt, rearranging the guys into a nice, nondescript mound of manhood. It was not the most comfortable accessory, I gotta say. I totally feel for women in push-up bras now. Then I pulled on the trousers. The length, amazingly, was already perfect. The waist and seat, as I'd suspected, needed a little work to fit right, but the most important thing, there was enough room for the boys without tenting out obscenely. The shirt was perfect. The jacket needed just a touch of adjusting, but its all-important length was great.

I stepped out for all to see and I felt just like one of the brides-to-be on those awful reality shows, only this time, I had just one dress to choose from and it'd better be the one.

"Jaime, you look spectacular," Ashley beamed. "Just like if a hobbit and James Bond had a kid."

"Very funny."

"Seriously, dude," Darius added, "you look like you just stepped off the cover of GQ...Gnomes Quarterly."

"You're being an asshole, Darius," I replied pissed off that he wasn't taking this seriously. "Does it look bad?"

"Oh, my God, Jaime, honestly, you look so hot in that tux. You think we could sneak back into the dressing room together and..."

"TMI, boys. Let's keep it clean," Ashley chided.

The tailor took measurements and promised to have it ready by the Monday before the prom. I still needed to find some decent shoes, but I could take care of that over the weekend. Size sevens are tough to find, but not impossible. Much easier than formalwear.

Ashley chatted with the tailor while I talked to Darius.

"You wanna grab dinner tonight? I still owe you one. There's a new Indian restaurant in Rogers Park that's supposed to be good. You like Indian?" Darius asked.

"South Indian or North Indian?" I asked.

"No clue. Is there a difference?" he asked looking confused.

"Of course, there's a difference, but I like them both and I'm down for any chance to spend with my guy. Asher's cooking dinner tonight at home anyway. He's got a lot more free time now that the musical's over. I'll just send a text home to let them know I won't be there for dinner. Should we invite Ashley? She saved my life with this tux."

"It's only 5:00, maybe we can all go for coffee, but I want to have you to myself at dinner, OK?" Darius asked.

Ashley finished up with the tailor and we walked a few blocks to get coffee at one of the national coffee chains you can find on any street corner here. The coffee was adequate, but the place was missing the coziness and amazing baked goods we get at He-Brew.

"So, Jaime, you all psyched to start at NU in September?" Ashley inquired.

"I haven't even thought that far, to be honest. We're heading to Spain in June for six weeks first."

"Fabulous. I love Spain. Such good food. Such hot guys. Checking out the artwork at the Prado and the Guggenheim. Eating paella on the shores of the Med. You'll have a blast."

"Actually, I'll be working. You know my mom's a documentary filmmaker. Well, we'll be there filming and Asher and I are going to be working on the crew. I've already got a Spanish passport `cause my grandpa was born there, so no issues with immigration. But no time to be museum hopping or sitting at the beach. Besides, we'll be up north in Galicia and Asturias, so not even close to the Mediterranean."

"What about you, Darius?" she asked.

"Still deciding between Northwestern and UCLA. I've gotta make up my mind soon. In any case, my family is moving to L.A. right after my sister gets out of school. My dad got a job teaching at UCLA's med school."

"Where are you off to, Ashley?" I asked.

"You know, you and your brother touched something in me that I didn't realize had been staring me in the face my whole life. I love fashion. And I love helping other people with it, too. I got accepted at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York. I'm going to major in fashion merchandising."

"Perfect. How does your mom feel about that?" Darius asked.

"Honestly, she's OK with it. I think if I'd told her I wanted to be a designer, she might have had a bigger issue, but fashion merchandising combines creative and business skills, so she's cool with that. And I get to live in New York! Hell, yeah! My mom's got a little apartment there already, so I can live there."

"How little is that apartment?" I asked suspiciously.

"Tiny. Like 2,500 square feet. Only two bedrooms. You should come and visit."

"Where is it?" Darius asked.

"Central Park South and 7^thAve."

"Billionaire's Row. I should have figured," Darius smirked. "What floor?"

"God, dude, we're not billionaires. It's only on the fifteenth floor. I can barely see half of Central Park."

"I'm so sorry you'll have to rough it like that while you're there," I kidded.

"Oh, shit," Ashley moaned checking the time on her phone, "I gotta run. I promised Ron and Stephanie that I'd help them with their prom stuff, too. Maybe something just a little more toned down from the S&M outfits they wore to the Halloween party. Although I have to say that Ron looked smoking in that dog collar. Stephanie's easy. A perfect size 2. Right off the rack. Remember we're doing another fitting on Monday, OK?"

"Got it." I stood up and hugged Ashley tightly. "You really do outstanding work for the fashion disabled. You're amazing."

"Can I drop you guys off somewhere?"

"Nah, we're gonna grab dinner in Rogers Park and it's still early, so we'll walk. Thanks."

It was a couple of miles from Downtown Evanston to the restaurant in Chicago's northernmost neighborhood. We took our time enjoying the relatively mild weather and the chance to be alone together. Walking down Sheridan Road, it was great to see the leaves starting to emerge from their seemingly never-ending winter slumber and to see people walking along the beach not bundled up in seventeen layers of clothing.

The restaurant was an unassuming little storefront place, just the type that promised good ethnic food without any snooty attitude. Rogers Park isn't exactly Chicago's poshest `hood anyway.

"You know, this isn't an Indian restaurant," I said.

"What are you talking about? The sign said, `Authentic curries.'"

"It's Sri Lankan. Not Indian at all, but I'm sure it will be good."

"You are such a little bitch," Darius began looking annoyed, "giving me shit over that."

"Babe, I'm kidding. I don't care where the food's from `cause I get to share it with you, OK?"

"Now you're laying it on a little thick," he retorted.

"OK, what's wrong? Why so sensitive all of a sudden? It's not like you."

"I'll tell you in a second, but let's order first. I'm starving. Then we can talk, OK?" Darius replied. "What looks good to you?"

"Let's get the sour fish curry, the kottu, and the dahl curry."

"You really do know what you're doing," Darius said impressed.

"Honestly, I haven't got a fucking clue. I've never had Sri Lankan food before, but those dishes look good from the descriptions on the menu. You trust my instincts?"

"You picked me, didn't you?"

We placed our order and as the waiter walked away, Darius reached for my hand.

"This must be huge. You've always been kinda cautious about PDA."

"You know that I've thought a lot about where I should go to school."

"You've decided on UCLA. I know."

"How do you know?"

"Because if you'd decided on Northwestern, you would have told me right away, but you waited until almost the last minute because you didn't want it to be so final. But you can't wait any longer. It's OK. I kinda expected this. I'm not mad. I hope we can stay friends."

"What are you talking about? I'm going to UCLA. I'm not breaking up with you. Fuck no."

"Come on. You know how long-distance relationships go. You're not even going to be coming back here for breaks, now that your family's gonna be in L.A."

"Jaime, you're my guy. I want to fight like hell to stay together. When I sat down to make the decision, I came to realize that it was not only the right school for me and my career but that what my parents said about my grandparents not getting any younger was true. The time I get to spend with them is precious, and they deserve some credit for trying to accept me the way I am. Look at your great-grandma. Wouldn't you have loved to be able to spend more years with her? But you and I have our whole lives ahead of us. We'll only be apart for a few years. We'll figure out a way to make this work if you want to. I know I do. Then we can be together forever after that. For fuck's sake, we'll only be twenty-one when we can live together."

"I really want us to stay together, too. But I'm gonna miss that furry butt, so much."

"That's all? I'm just a hole for you to park that huge cock of yours in? Well, I'm OK with that," he laughed.

"Remember, you can rent out all of your other body parts, but your heart is mine, OK?" I added.

"OK."

Then Darius looked me in the eyes and pulled my hand to his lips. "I love you, you know."

"I love you, too."

The server brought out the food, which was as delicious as Darius had heard, but even the tasty meal wasn't enough to diminish the undercurrent of sadness we were feeling.

He'd made the right decision. There was no denying that. I would have made the same choice. But I couldn't get rid of the feeling that four years would be an excruciating time to wait and that any number of hot California-based men would be waiting to wipe the memories of me from Darius's brain.