Date: Wed, 8 Feb 2017 05:20:19 +0000
From: Douglas DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aiden  Chapter 32

Welcome back. This chapter sees Aiden riding the roller coaster of life,
enjoying some amazing highs and enduring some excruciating lows.
Baseball becomes such a low part of his life he rebels, earning the
displeasure of his hero, Marty.

This story is copyrighted by me. Please be 18 to read.

Now is the time to give to the Nifty Archive and help keep the stories
coming.

CHAPTER 32
THEIR REAL SON

Aiden was miserable during fielding practice in more ways than one. He felt
miserable mentally and he fielded miserably physically. Much of his fielding
problems came from his not putting his best effort into the drills. He spent
his time hating Coach Estes and hating baseball. Things didn't get any
better for him as Coach Estes scolded him more than once for sloppy play
and lack of hustle.

His day perked up a little when batting practice started. While he didn't
hustle while shagging balls, he was ready to show his coach what he could
do at the plate. He followed Jared Finn, a fifth grader from Lakeview, and
warmed up seriously while Jared took his ten swings.

Aiden came to the plate ready to hit the ball squarely and show why he
should be hitting instead of taking a walk. They were hitting off of Coach
Estes instead of the pitching machine, which was assigned to Field 1; they
were practicing on Field 2.

Aiden was ready for the straight batting practice lobs that the coach threw
everybody. What he wasn't ready for was the curveball that looked like it
was going to be a strike and bounced on the plate while he took an
awkward swing.

After swinging and missing at the first six pitches he was ready to scream
at the coach to give him something he could hit. He watched a breaking
ball head for the plate and then break outside after which the coach threw a
straight batting practice fastball right down the middle that Aiden watched
go by.

"Look, it's bad enough you don't know how to hit," Coach Estes yelled. "If
you're going to stand and let perfectly good pitches go by, you might as
well sit down."

"How about you throw me something I know how to hit," Aiden growled.

"This is your last pitch, so do something with it."

"I get ten swings just like everybody else."

"Not any more, since you aren't taking this seriously, plus I'm tired of your
lip."

Coach Hallion, who had been hitting grounders in between pitches, was
getting tired of the animosity between the head coach and Aiden Miller. For
whatever reason, Coach Estes had it in for Aiden, and was letting him know
it. The enmity was obviously affecting the rest of the players.

"Let me talk to him for a sec, coach," the assistant coach requested.

"Go right ahead. Nothing I'm doing is helping."

Walking over to Aiden, Coach Hallion put his arm around the small boy's
shoulder. He could feel his little body quiver. "Just pause for a moment,
take a deep breath, and do the best you can. We'll work this out later."

"But, coach, I just want to hit and to like baseball and to have
fun...and...and," Aiden was battling tears. James Hallion was at a loss for
words. He had volunteered to give a needed second set of eyes to his
son's baseball team, not to watch an innocent boy get mentally abused. He
was of a mind to quit and take his son with him, but he knew that would
solve nothing; it would be bad for Aiden, bad for his son, and bad for
himself. He was determined to do something about the situation as soon as
he could, however.

"I'll tell you what. Look at this pitch as a challenge. Concentrate on hitting it
as hard and as far as you can. Show what you're made of." He knew his
advice sounded hokey, but it was all he could think of.

"Coach, let's get practice moving," Coach Estes bellowed.

James let go of Aiden's shoulder and gave him a smile and a nod. "You
can do it, kid. Concentrate." His son Trent had watched the two from the
outfield, where he was shagging balls. He was happy that his father was
helping Aiden. He liked Aiden, who was a good player and a nice kid for a
fourth grader. He thought Aiden was being treated unfairly by Coach Estes
and was starting to dislike the coach for that and other reasons.

Aiden stepped back toward the batter's box. The word "concentrate" had
struck a chord with him. He thought of Marty talking when he visited
Pullman about concentrating so hard his mind went into a special zone.
The tougher things were on the field, the more he tried to get as deep into
the zone as he could. Aiden decided he would be like Marty and get into a
zone.

But, if Coach Estes threw him one of his curve balls, how would he know
how to hit it? Then he thought of his whiffle ball set and the games and
practices he'd had with his friends. The whiffle ball moved all over the
place, just like the pitches from Coach Estes were. All he had to do was
concentrate on where the ball went, just like he did with the whiffle ball,
except he'd have to concentrate even harder.

"Miller, would you get your ass into the batter's box. We have to give up
this field on time, you know. I'd tell you to run it out, but you have to be able
to hit it in order to run it out." The players always ran out their last batting
practice swing if it was a fair ball.

Aiden said nothing as he got set. Gordon, who was sitting behind home
plate in the bleachers, saw how serious Aiden's face had become. Mudrak,
who was doing the catching, saw the same look not only on his friend's
face, but in his eyes. It was a look that Aiden's friends would come to
recognize frequently as they matured—it was Aiden in his zone.

Coach Estes was not a poker player. As soon as Aiden saw the sneer on
the coach's face, he knew exactly what was coming. He remembered
Marty's words about concentration, about focus, about keeping his mind on
one thing. Yes, he knew what was coming, but he still had to concentrate
on it and be ready for it.

Aiden didn't know how his mind went where it did. It would be a long time
before it could do it again. He was young and impulsive, but that day,
standing at home plate during batting practice, when he pushed away all of
the things that were making him mad and focused on the coach and on the
release of the ball and on the ball that he knew would be a curve and on
how he watched a whiffle ball come in at him—all of those things were
bundled into one thought.

It all came together when he hit a rope to left center, a line drive that went
over the head of Trent, who was at the shortstop position. Mel and Jared,
who were shagging in left field, watched the ball hit green and chased after
it and caught up to it when it hit the fence. Aiden ran his hit out to second
base—it was the hardest he had ever hit a baseball. He stood on the base
with his signature smile splitting his face. James Hallion noted that it was
the first time he'd seen that smile. He wished there was a way to make it
appear more often.

"Go shag in right," Coach Estes said tersely, not even looking at the little
boy standing on second base. The spell was broken and the smile
disappeared. Aiden had learned there was something inside of him that he
could tap, but for now all it had netted him was a scowl from his coach. He
trotted slowly to the sidelines to retrieve his glove.

"Move it, Miller!" came the booming voice of Coach Estes.

Aiden was surprised to see Coach Hallion waiting for him, holding his
glove. The coach handed it to the young player and squatted down, looking
at him eye-to-eye. "Great job, Aiden. Remember how good you are kid."

"Thanks, coach." Because Coach Hallion had handed him the glove and
had been nice to him, Aiden hustled out to right to shag flies.

The rest of practice was a blur for Aiden. He could hardly wait for it to be
over. When it was, he ignored Coach Estes and the feeling was mutual.
Aiden walked off the field with Mason, Miles, and Mudrak. He was
surprised when some of his other teammates came up to him,
complimenting him on his last hit.

"You hammered that sucker," Trent grinned as he and Aiden bumped fists.
"I could hear it sizzling by me."

Most of Aiden's teammates had been confused by the hostility between
Aiden and Coach Estes, not sure whose side to take. But when Aiden met
the coach's challenge head-on with his line drive, the doubt was lifted.
Aiden was one of their own, and the way the coach was treating him was
wrong.

Gordon met his friends and put his arm around Aiden's shoulder. "Your
coach is a butthead," he told his best friend.

"I hate him," Aiden grunted.

"You hate who?" Larry asked.

Aiden turned to see his daddy coming around the end of the bleachers.
"Nobody," Aiden muttered.

Larry let the matter drop; he didn't see any benefit from challenging Aiden
in front of his friends. But, there was obviously something going on
between Aiden and his coach. Larry could see the hostility playing out on
the field as he watched the last few minutes of practice. He was going to
have to find the right moment to ask Aiden what was going on.

He and Phil had seen Aiden's enthusiasm wane practice by practice. They
had discussed how it could be that a coach could take the bubbling
enthusiasm for baseball the boy had shown and squash it. What bothered
them more, however, was Aiden's reluctance to talk about it.

Larry dropped off Mason and Gordon. When he and Aiden got home, Aiden
asked if he could use the phone to call Marty. Larry knew that the topic
would be baseball, and was a bit miffed that Aiden had picked Marty to talk
to instead of his parents. He decided to let it go. Aiden was going to have to
learn to walk his own walk—up to a point.

Aiden had checked Marty's baseball schedule, and guessed that his big bro
would be able to answer his phone call. He needed to talk to somebody
about baseball, but not his dads. He was afraid they'd yell at the coach or
make him quit. In many ways he wanted to quit, but he knew quitting in
sports was wrong. He hoped that Marty could tell him how to take care of
things on his own instead of having his dad and daddy trying to solve his
problem.

He took the phone up to his bedroom. He stripped off his practice gear and
got ready to dial Marty's number. Then he smelled his underarms—they
didn't smell really bad to him, but he'd been told that he was still young and
he wouldn't get big-time BO until he entered the mysterious world of
puberty. Still, he wanted to be perfect when he talked to Marty, so he went
across the hall and took a shower.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

While Aiden showered, Phil and Larry were chatting downstairs in the multi-
room, or whatever they decided the large space was at the moment. Aiden
was their topic of conversation.

"It appears the boy has to shower to talk on the phone," Larry chuckled.

"We both know what Marty means to him. Our lad has a major boy crush
on the young man," Phil said.

"There is something seriously not right on his baseball team. I can't believe
how his enthusiasm has been snuffed out."

"Have you done any more inquiring?" Phil asked.

"Yes, and the reports haven't been good. Mason is unhappy as well, and
told his mother that he thought the coach was being `mean' to Aiden. A
couple of coaches who have practiced on an adjoining field have told me
that Estes appears to be very organized, but something seems to be
missing. They hear a lot of negative yelling."

"Have you talked to Coach Goodman?" Bill Goodman was the coach of the
other ten-and-under team in the Mayfield program.

"I have. All he said was that I might want to talk to James Hallion."

"He started helping out during the second week of turnouts, right?"

"Yep." Larry told Phil about overhearing Aiden's "I hate him" statement. "I
don't think it was Coach Hallion he was referring to, which leaves..."

"...the head coach, Coach Estes," Phil finished. "And I've already told you
that my first impression wasn't very good."

"Nothing about him seems to be very good."

"Maybe we should confront Aiden now, before things get out of hand."

Larry shook his head. "Tomorrow is a big day for our kid. I don't think we
want anything standing in his way. Let him vent to Marty—we can take care
of baseball later. Besides, knowing Marty, I think he's going to tell our boy
exactly what he needs to hear, whether he likes it or not."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Aiden got out of the shower, dried himself, and returned to his bedroom. He
dropped onto his bed and picked up the phone. He saw no reason to get
dressed in order to talk to Marty on the phone. He took Horace down from
his shelf and placed him by his side on the bed.

Aiden dialed the number and was pleased when Marty answered the phone
on the second ring. "Hey, little bro, what's up?" Marty didn't tell Aiden that
he, too, had just finished taking a shower and was lying naked on his and
Rich's bed.
"Baseball."

"Are things starting to fall into place?" Aiden had told Marty a little bit about
his turnouts after the first week.

"Baseball sucks," Aiden groused in a tone of voice that any young
adolescent would admire.

"No way. Tell me what's going on bro," Marty said in a concerned voice.

Aiden told him about how things kept getting less and less fun. He told
about how the coach wouldn't watch him pitch or let him try out for an
infield position. He went over a couple of other things, and then got to the
"take a walk" command.

"How did you react to that?"

"I told him I wanted to hit. He said he wouldn't let me."

"Did you keep hustling to show him who you were?"

The long silence at the other end of the line answered Marty's question.
"You didn't hustle at all, did you?"

"He made me mad," Aiden replied, as if that justified his actions.

"Bro, we've talked about this before," Marty said patiently. "You can't
control your coach, but you can control yourself and what you do to react to
things that don't seem right."

"But, what do you do if your coach is a fucktard?"

"What you do is not act like a fucktard yourself."  Marty was making Aiden
mad. He was expecting his hero to stand up for him.

"I didn't act like a fucktard," he said in a high and mighty tone of voice.  The
long silence Aiden experienced was not the answer his silence had been
for Marty. "Are you there?" he finally asked.

"I'm really disappointed in you, bro," Marty said in a tone of voice more
serious than Aiden had ever heard from him. "You and I have talked more
than once about handling adversity, and the first time something goes
wrong you decide to boot grounders and throw the ball away."

"How do you know I did that?" Aiden asked, since it was all true, but Marty
hadn't been there.

"Because, I've been there and done that," Marty stated. "I was hoping to
teach you that there is a better way to handle shit than the way I handled it
when I was a kid."

"You got mad at coaches, too?"

"Even when I was nine and ten, and that was nothing compared to my
shitty attitude once I hit puberty and middle school. What do you think you
proved to the coach, Aiden?"

"I dunno."

"Yes, you do. Coach thinks you're terrible, right?"

He nodded, then remembered he was talking on the phone. "Yes."

"What did you prove to him by not hustling?"

"I, um, I guess I proved he was right?" His statement was phrased as a
question. He thought he was correct, but wasn't positive.

"You got it," Marty told him. "You proved to him that you're the fucktard, not
him. What should you have done?"

"I should have hustled and shown him he was wrong?"

"It's good to do something that's right."

"I did do something right," Aiden said, hoping to sneak back onto Marty's
good side.

"Tell me bro, I want to hear about it."

Aiden told him about his turn in batting practice and how Coach Estes
wouldn't give him anything he could hit. "He was throwing curve balls and
all kinds of stuff like that." Marty was impressed that Aiden hadn't said "shit
like that," but he knew those days were coming.

 "Wow, so you never got a pitch to hit in BP?" Marty asked incredulously.
There is something seriously wrong with that coach, he thought.

"Nope. He wouldn't even give me ten swings because he said I hit so bad I
didn't deserve them. So he told me he was giving me my last swing after
like seven or eight and it was something I couldn't hit, so I didn't have to
worry about running it out."

Aiden is one hundred percent right, his coach IS a fucktard, Marty thought.
"So, what did you do on that last swing?" he asked.

"I listened to you."

"Oh?" Now this is going to be interesting, Marty thought to himself, since he
obviously hadn't listened while he was busy kicking fielding plays away.

"I thought about what you said about the zone. And I tried it. I just thought
about the ball and watching it and about how it moves like a whiffle ball.
And I didn't think about my fucktard coach. I just thought about hitting and
then my whole brain turned off except the for coach's hand and the ball
coming. It was so weird."

"Did you get a hit?"

"I got a line drive that got all the way to the fence on like a couple of
bounces and I ran to second and smiled until the coach yelled at me to go
in the outfield. It was the hardest I ever hit a ball, and I mean ever and
ever." Aiden could feel some of his enthusiasm for baseball bubbling back
up.
Marty almost laughed out loud at the intensity of Aiden's description. "You
know what, bro?"
"What?" Aiden asked with an air of trepidation. he thought that maybe
Marty didn't believe him.

"I couldn't have done that when I was nine to save my life. Or when I was
ten, or eleven, or even fifteen. I have a feeling that you, my little bro, are
going to become something very special."

"For real?" What had been a depressing phone call suddenly had Aiden
beaming with happiness. He had said something to make his big bro proud
of him.

"Does your coach treat everybody like he treats you?"

"No, but he's not really nice to anybody. He yells at Mason a lot because
Mason is the worst player on the team, and I asked him to please not yell at
Mason so much once in private. He, like, walked away. He always tells me
that my dads aren't really good coaches or I would be a better player."

Right then, Marty knew what the issue was. Aiden's coach was afraid of
Aiden's dads. He was afraid of coaching the son of the best baseball
coaches in the town of Mayfield, if not in the entire county. Hell, Larry
Sanders was named the best Class A baseball coach in the whole state the
year before. Aiden was being punished for who his fathers were. The coach
was not so subtly trying to drive Aiden off of the team. Calling Coach Estes
a fucktard was too good for him.

"I promise to hustle from now on, Marty. But I need to know how to make
him stop yelling at me and not letting me try to pitch or play in the infield or
not letting me hit."

"All I can tell you is to hustle and do your best. The guys to help you with
your problems are living in your house. It's time to talk to your dads."

"But, I want you to help."

"I just did help. Anything beyond that is beyond my pay grade. This is a
problem that needs your parents."

Aiden was disappointed in the answer, although he didn't understand what
Marty meant by pay grade. If Marty helped him, he'd still be taking care of
things on his own in practice. If he told his dads his problem, they'd try to fix
it for him. Since he'd hit a dead end, he went into subject changing mode.
"Good luck against Colorado." The Cougars would be playing three games
against the Bisons at home.

"Thanks. And you have your first game next week, right?"

"Next Saturday. And I'm going to swing the bat."

Marty thought about that for a moment. He just couldn't support the coach's
authority on that one. "Hit it hard and far, bro." That was the best thing
Aiden had heard for the entire phone call. "And good luck, tomorrow."

"You remembered."

"I'd never forget something that important, kid."

Aiden grinned as the two of them said their goodnights. He took the phone
downstairs, not bothering to get dressed. Phil smiled as the naked little boy
entered the room and put the phone on its cradle.

"I'm gonna brush and floss and then go to bed. I'll yell when I'm ready for
tucking in." He turned and left, wiggling his pert little ass as he walked out
of the entryway. He wasn't ready, yet, to talk to his dads about baseball.
Instead he was going to remember Marty's advice: "Hit it hard and far."
Marty hung up his phone, took a deep breath, and lay back on the bed with
his hands behind his head. He smiled as his husband came into the room.
"Who was that on the phone?" Rich asked.
"My little bro Aiden. He needed to talk baseball."
Rich lay down next to Marty. "Is something wrong?"
"Oh, no - he thought he might be having a problem with his coach but he
worked it all out."
Rich turned to face Marty and gave him a knowing smile. "He did, huh? Are
you sure you didn't mean to say WE worked it all out?"
Marty smiled and kissed Rich gently on the lips. "You think you're pretty
smart about the way you know me, don't you?"
"Well, I don't know about smart – but I do know you. And I love you."
"I love you, too."
Rich looked deeply into the brown eyes of his husband. He couldn't help
thinking to himself that Marty really would make a great dad.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The big event for Aiden on Friday was the court hearing on his adoption.
Aiden was awake long before his alarm went off at seven. His brain had
been a jumble the day before. The problems with baseball had put a
damper on all of his good feelings, including the upcoming hearing. His
dads along with Mrs. Masterson, the social worker, all told him that he had
nothing to worry about, and he believed them.

He had pushed any worries he had deep into his brain. But, last night after
being tucked in he tossed and turned. He thought about jerking off, which
usually relaxed him, or about going downstairs and sleeping with his dads,
which always relaxed him. But his brain was too much of a mess to decide
anything and before he could decide what to do he finally dropped off to
sleep.

After the alarm went off, Aiden got up and peed. He showered and took
care of his teeth. He put on the suit that he hardly ever wore. He wondered
why he even needed it, but his dads said every boy should own a suit.

He took care of everything but his necktie. Even though it was a clip-on, he
wanted to make sure it was straight and looked right, so he had Larry take
care of it for him. They were going to eat breakfast out, at the Centerville
Café, where they would be joined by Patricia Masterson, the social worker
for CPS, and Mary Polk, their attorney. Phil had taken the day off.

After breakfast they headed for the county courthouse and the family law
court, where Judge Paul Moyer would be presiding. Their hearing started
right on time at 10:30. Aiden couldn't follow what was happening, but he
knew that a big part of the hearing would be his meeting with the judge.
Mrs. Polk, the State's Attorney Mr. Henderson, and the court recorder
would be the only ones in the office with him.

He was ready when his name was called and the bailiff escorted him to
Judge Moyer's office. Aiden wondered what he would be asked. Mrs.
Masterson had told him a lot of the questions were the same, but that
almost every meeting with the judge ended up being different.

Aiden found himself answering questions ranging from his uncles, to his
grades, to baseball, to his friends, and to his life before his uncles became
his guardians.

The judge discovered that Aiden loved to read, that baseball was his
favorite sport, and that he liked soccer a lot too. The judge learned that
Aiden had never played organized sports before coming to Mayfield to live.
He learned that Aiden loved to read and was a straight A student.

"Even when were broke, my mom got me books to read and we went to the
library a lot, too." Aiden informed the judge.

He was asked questions about his father. "I didn't like him. He was never
there much. My mom's boyfriends were there more. He was drunk a lot and
used drugs. He wanted me to smoke weed with him once, but I wouldn't do
it and he got mad, so I left the house and went to the library until my mom
came home from work."

When asked about his friends, he said he had more friends in Mayfield than
he'd had in his entire life. "Gordy is my very best friend, and then Miles,
Rusty, Muddy, and Mason are my best friends. Miles, Muddy, and Mason
are all on the Knights with me, but Gordy and Rusty play on the travel
team. Sammy is like an older friend—he's eleven. And Marty is, like, my big
bro. He goes to school at WSU and plays baseball there. He'll be a pro
player next year."

"Are you referring to Marty Carlson?" the Judge asked.

"Yes, sir," Aiden answered as he'd been instructed by his dads.

"You hang out with very impressive company, young man."

"My daddy Larry helped me meet Marty," Aiden said, then remembered he
was supposed to call Larry his uncle. He looked at the judge, expecting
disapproval, but the judge simply smiled and asked a few questions about
Larry and Phil.

Aiden told the judge a lot of things he liked about them, like their reading to
him, and teaching him about sports, and giving him his first real birthday
party. He also complained that sometimes they were too strict, and said he
hardly ever got away with "being bad." He also told how they stood up for
him when he got in trouble at school for something he didn't do. "They said
I am going to get in trouble sometimes, and that I should never lie about it
and I should learn from it."

He finished off by saying, "I hated them when I saw them, but then they
gave me a very special thing, and now I want them to be my daddies."

"What kind of special thing did they give you?" the State's Attorney asked,
wondering if perhaps there was something dark and underhanded going
on.

"They said they loved me and wanted me to be their son. I think love is
special, don't you?"

"I know I do," Judge Moyer assured the very poised young boy sitting in his
office.

"I have my first baseball game next Saturday," Aiden said towards the end
of the meeting. "You can come if you want." He didn't tell the judge that he
wasn't allowed to swing the bat, but might do it, anyway.

"I appreciate the invitation, Aiden, but my family and I will be busy all
weekend. In fact, my son Nolan has a baseball game then, too."

"How old is he?"

"He's ten. He'll be a fifth grader next year just like you."

"I hope he's got a good coach."

"He's got a really good one and he loves playing for him," Judge Moyer
smiled.

Aiden smiled back, wishing one of his dads, who were his uncles, was his
coach instead of Coach Estes the Fucktard, but he managed to maintain
the neutral look on his face that had worked for him when he lived in the
foster home in Seattle.

"Do you truly wish from the bottom of your heart to be adopted by your
uncles?" That would be Judge Moyer's final question.

"Oh, yes sir, more than anything in the world," Aiden answered from the
very depths of his heart.

The judge thanked Aiden for his time and called for the bailiff to escort him
back to the court room. He talked to the two attorneys about his decision,
getting no objections from either one.

When Judge Moyer resumed the session in open court he started out by
complimenting Aiden's intelligence and demeanor.

"Aiden Miller is a delightful young man. He is polite, resourceful, and
thoughtful. He is a boy who appears happy with his environment and who
loves the two uncles who are his legal guardians." He went on to say that
he was going to take away the parental rights of Aiden's father, Keegan
Miller for abandoning his child. However, since nobody had seen Keegan
since Aiden's mother died, he had to post a legal notice.

"Aiden Miller, along with his legal guardians, Phillip Miller and Lawrence
Sanders are instructed to be in court on Monday, May 15. Providing Mr.
Keegan Miller does not come forth to object, Aiden Miller will then become
the legal son of his guardians."

Aiden turned to Phil. "Does that mean you're really my dads now?"

"Almost. The Judge just has to dot the i's and cross the t's," Phil replied.

"What does that mean?"

"It just means he has to make sure everything is done right, which will take
a month do to."

Aiden couldn't help wondering why it was going to take another month, but
he didn't say anything. "Okay. I'm hungry."

"I guess that means we need to go out for lunch," Phil grinned.

Aiden babbled about his meeting with the judge and about the decision and
about when the swimming pool would be ready to use—in other words, he
talked about everything except baseball.

That night Aiden didn't bother being tucked in. He told his almost official
dads that he was going to sleep with them. As with the attorneys and Judge
Moyer's decision, there were no objections.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 Gordy and Miles spent Saturday afternoon at Aiden's house. The weather
was cool and drizzly, so they spent the day playing games indoors. Both of
Aiden's friends were happy about the outcome of Aiden's court hearing.

Aiden told them that the decision wasn't totally final. "They have to dot the
t's and cross the i's first before it's for sure."

Gordon gave Aiden a funny look and then started giggling. "What's so
funny?" Aiden asked.

"What you just said," Gordon told him.

"Dad says that means you have to wait until everything is done right."

"I know, my dad says that all the time."

"Then what's so funny?"

Gordon repeated what Aiden had just said. "Oops. I guess it would be
funny to try to do." Aiden giggled. Pretty soon all three boys were on the
floor laughing uncontrollably.

Larry came into the recreation room, which seemed to be the big room's
role at the moment. "And just what has got you three laughing so hard?"

Gordon caught his breath just long enough to say, "Aiden has cross-eyes,"
which got all three rolling around the floor again. Larry shook his head and
went back to the living room and the book he was reading. The things
young boys thought were funny often went right over his head, which was
part of the wonder of boys.

Not long after they finally got over their laughter, the boys started wrestling
and were sent downstairs by Phil. "I don't mind you guys wrestling, but you
know you need to do it where you can't break anything." He sent them
down to the basement. The boys stripped to their underpants, got back into
giggling mode, and, without fanfare, three half-naked boys were rolling
around the floor laughing and wrestling. There was some grab ass along
with occasional grabbing of cocks and balls, and the boys enjoyed the feel
of each other's sweaty skin, although there was nothing really sexual about
their tussling.

However, when Phil came down to tell Gordon and Miles they needed to
get ready for their ride, he noted distinct bulges in the white briefs of Aiden
and the blue boxer briefs of Miles as the sweaty boys got up from the floor.
Phil noted that Gordon's boxers had been pulled down far enough to
expose the crack of his ass and the perfect V of his groin area. He told the
boys to get dressed and went back upstairs, thankful he had a chance to
see so much of some great specimens of boyhood.

"I need a shower," Gordon said as he pulled up his boxers. It never
occurred to him how much of his midsection Phil had been able to see.

"Yeah, you smell really bad," Aiden told him.

"Those are his farts smelling," Miles giggled. Gordon jumped on Miles and
the two hot, sweaty boys were back to wrestling.

"We better get dressed," Aiden said half-heartedly. His friends concurred
and stopped their rolling around the floor. Aiden had enjoyed wrestling with
his friends, but in his mind if they were going to strip down to almost naked
and get boners wrestling each other, they should have done even more
than wrestle.

Gordon's father picked up the boys about fifteen minutes later. It had been
a happy two days for Aiden. That night, Phil tucked his son in, finishing the
nightly ritual by reading a few pages of "The Hobbit". The book was longer
and a slower read than "The Cay" had been, but Aiden was enjoying every
word of it. What nine-year-old boy can resist orcs, and goblins, and elves,
not to mention a dragon and a mysterious cave dwelling creature?

Aiden jerked off for the first time in a week after Phil left. He thought about
wrestling almost naked with his friends. He wished they'd wrestled naked.
He knew his dads wouldn't mind as long as they were private about it in the
basement or in his room. He thought about the basement. It was big and
almost private and had its own bathroom and showers. When he was
allowed to have his first big sleepover, he knew exactly where it would be.

His hand moved along his rigid cocklet as he remembered how he and
Gordy and Miles grabbed each other's boners while they wrestled. He
wondered if his dad noticed their boners when he came downstairs, and
then decided it was very unlikely. Adults didn't look at things like that on
boys, unless they were pervs like some of his mother's boyfriends, or
maybe even his read dad, Keegan.

His mind moved to Chase and Sammy. Even though they were just a
couple of years older than him, they talked about jerking off almost every
day, sometimes two to three times a day. He thought about them squirting
out their cum all day long as his dick and body tingled with his own dry
cum. If that was what puberty was about, he could hardly wait for it to
happen.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Aiden was actually looking forward to his Tuesday baseball practice. He
had shown Coach Estes what he could do when he concentrated on his
hitting. Marty had told him that the only thing he could control on the
baseball field was his attitude, and he was determined to hustle and play
hard for the entire practice.

However, it rained all day Monday, and it was still raining when he woke up
on Tuesday. Aiden, Miles, Mason, and Muddy were certain that practice
would be cancelled. Gordon's practice had been cancelled the day before
as were the two coach-pitch leagues where some of their classmates were
playing.

The schedule for Aiden that day was for him to stay at Muddy's house until
practice.  Aiden received a text from his daddy telling him that the Mustang
varsity game had been rained out and he would pick Aiden up at Muddy's
house before dinner.

After school, Muddy and Aiden stomped their way home through puddles
as the rain continued to come down. They were a wet mess when they
arrived at Muddy's house. Muddy's mother clicked her tongue and told the
boys to strip down so she could dry their pants and socks. The boys went
up to the room Muddy shared with his twelve-year-old brother, Josif, who
was visiting at his friend Alex's house. The boys stripped down to their
shirts and underpants. Muddy took the wet clothes to his mother and then
the boys settled in his room doing what little homework they had.

"Nailed," Muddy said after he closed this math book.

"You were nailed at lunch," Aiden giggled.

"Yes. And I showed you it was true."

"But you never really opened your pants," Aiden pointed out.

"Next time Mudrak will let you feel that it is true."

"Cool. And this time you can let me see."

Muddy pulled down his dark green boxer shorts, which were decorated with
soccer balls.  His cock was a stiff four inches of proud boyhood. Aiden
reached for the prize in front of him and Muddy nodded with a grin.

Aiden started to jerk off his friend, and then decided to take things one step
further. He yanked down his teal and green briefs, his two inches just as
hard or harder than Muddy's four. He wrapped his lips around his friend's
uncut cock, eliciting a satisfied moan from the ten-year-old. Aiden wanted
to know what sucking a cock and having somebody cum in his mouth was
like. He didn't think Muddy shot as much as Sammy or Chase, which made
him the best boy who could shoot to do first.

Muddy spread his legs and leaned back on his bed as Aiden sucked the
way he'd been taught by Chase. He jerked off his little cock while he gave
his friend a blow job. He couldn't remember feeling better. It didn't take long
for Muddy's body to jerk and for his cock to spasm.

"Uh...Aiden...Mudrak ready to shoot his stuff," Muddy moaned.

Aiden continued with his business, almost losing his prize when Muddy
started fucking his mouth. But he kept it as Muddy said words in his native
language and shot three droplets of clear cum into Aiden's mouth. Sammy
and Chase had both said the best thing to do was swallow when you're
giving a BJ to a boy who could shoot, so that's what he did. He then let go
of his friend's cock and jerked himself to a quick dry orgasm.

"Aiden, you do that very good. Now Aiden and Muddy have sex. Did you
like?"

"I liked it a lot."

"Next time, I do you. I promise."

Aiden smiled. He couldn't wait for that to happen. He wished they had more
time, or he would have asked Muddy to do it that afternoon.

His thoughts were interrupted when Josif entered the room. He looked at
the two younger boys—Mudrak lying back on the bed, wearing only a t-
shirt, his cock at half mast, and Aiden with his briefs on the floor behind
him, his little cock hard.

"Wow, looks like you guys had fun." Aiden nodded. "Did you swallow?"
Josif asked. Aiden nodded again. "That is excellent."

Josif looked at his little brother. "Did you blow Aiden?"

"He did the jerking off," Muddy answered. "I said I do him next time."

"Well, you guys got me really horny. Anybody want to suck me, or do I have
to jerk myself off?"

Before anybody could answer, Muddy's mother knocked on the door telling
the boys she had their dry pants and socks. Josif opened the door and took
the clothes. As the two fourth graders dressed, Josif pulled off his pants
and boxers—his almost five inches rock hard. Aiden noticed that Josif had
much more pubic hair than Sammy, who was also twelve. Aiden bet that
Josif shot a lot of the thick, big-boy cum and wondered what it would be like
to suck the seventh grader's dick and swallow his cum. He wasn't going to
find out that day as Josif and Muddy's mother called out that Aiden's father
had just arrived.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The rain finally stopped around noon on Wednesday—too late to dry out
the high school field in time for an afternoon high school game between
Clark Pass and the Mayfield Mustangs. The game was cancelled and
would be rescheduled for a later date. Larry picked Aiden up at school and
took him to the Mayfield Café for ice cream.

"Thank you for the treat," Aiden told his daddy as he dug into his sundae.
"But, won't this spoil my dinner?"

"Sometimes dinners are made to be spoiled," Larry said with a smile.

Aiden had come to know his daddy well enough to understand that very
few things came for free. There was going to be a price for a dinner being
spoiled by a hot fudge sundae.

After some small talk, Larry got to the reason he wanted to have a friendly
meeting with his son. "How's baseball going?"

Time to pay for my sundae, Aiden thought as he finished a spoonful of his
treat. "It's going okay."

Larry wanted to admonish the nine-year-old for talking before he'd taken
care of the ice cream in his mouth. But, he needed to reprove his son for
something more serious. "Aiden, someday you're going to learn that you
can't bullshit a bullshitter."

Aiden knew that when his daddy cursed things were very serious. His dad,
Phil, was much quicker to use bad words. "I'm not," he told his daddy
weakly.

"Aiden," Larry said sternly.

"I like baseball. I like everybody on my team. I like Coach Hallion. Coach
Estes is a fucktard." There, he'd said it. He waited for his daddy to blow a
fuse, either at his language, or simply for criticizing his coach.

"How so?"

"Nothing. You're just going to go yell at him if I tell you."

"Is that what you think of me? Somebody who goes flying off the handle?"

"No, I guess not."

"Just be honest with me. I promise I won't say anything to him, unless it's
something that your dad and I see for ourselves, or hear from somebody
we trust." Larry was thinking of Coach Hallion, whom he'd talked to the
evening before about Aiden's attitude regarding baseball. Coach Hallion
wanted to be loyal to Coach Estes, but two things had him opening up to
Larry. First, was the respect he had for Coach Larry Sanders, and second
was how the negativity in practice, in particular towards Aiden, had
everyone on edge, including his own son Trent. Mason was another boy
with whom the coach had issues, but most of his dislike seemed focused
on Aiden.

When they finished their conversation, Larry knew that James Hallion
hadn't told him everything, but he'd revealed enough to know that there
were some real issues between Coach Estes and his son.

Aiden sensed that his daddy already knew a lot about what was going on
between himself and Coach Estes. "Baseball is no fun," Aiden said simply
as he finished his sundae. "Sometimes I want to quit."

"Do you mean the game is no fun, or being on that team is no fun?"

"I said I like baseball. But, Coach Estes is a..., well, he don't like me." Aiden
took a deep breath feeling tears welling up. "He doesn't like me."

"Son, right now will be no quitting. Your dad and I will deal with the
problem. And don't worry, we're not going to run around yelling at people."

"I know. I'm sorry I said that."

"It's okay. I know you're upset that something that was supposed to be
good isn't as good as you thought it was going to be. That's hard to take
sometimes."

"Oh, the sundae was great. Even better than I thought it would be," Aiden
told his dad with an impish grin. Larry could see they'd gotten over a hump.
"I won't quit. But I am going to do something Marty told me."

"What's that?"

"Hit the ball long and far."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The fields were dry enough for practice on Thursday. Aiden did what he'd
promised himself and Marty. He practiced hard and did whatever the
coaches told him to do. Every mistake he made, and there weren't many,
was either from inexperience or from trying too hard. He didn't even
complain when Coach Estes wouldn't let him take batting practice. He did
manage to overhear enough to know that Coach Hallion had said
something to Coach Estes about that decision.

As for Ned Estes, Aiden's new attitude made him even more displeasured
with the boy. After the previous practice, he thought he was on the verge of
breaking the player. He'd broken players before, slowly and subtly. In
Aiden's case, he was on him harder than anyone he'd coached before.
Instead of loafing and misplaying balls on purpose, he practiced like he was
actually enjoying what he was doing.

At the end of practice, Coach Estes announced the starting lineup for
Saturday's game. The rules required that everybody be in the batting order
and play at least two innings in the field. As much as he wanted to not play
Aiden at all, he didn't have an excuse he could get past his assistant for
suspending him. His positive practice made that impossible—he should
have acted after the previous practice when he was inviting some kind of a
suspension. But even then it would have been hard seeing as this was a
low-key recreation league that discouraged suspending players and the
like.

Aiden learned he would be batting sixth out of the thirteen players who
would be in the lineup. Muddy was going to be hitting fourth and starting at
catching. Miles would be hitting second and playing second, while Mason
would be in the thirteenth spot in the batting order. Neither Aiden nor
Mason would be starting in the field.

The rainout between the Clark Pass Eagles and the Mayfield Mustangs had
been rescheduled for Saturday afternoon and 2:00. The Knights' game was
scheduled for 10:30. Larry made sure that Coach Fitzsimmons knew that
the rescheduled game needed to be in the afternoon. There was no way he
would be missing Aiden's first baseball game—he'd be missing too many of
his games as it was. He not only wanted to see his son play, he also
wanted to see Coach Estes in action.

The Knights were playing the Cougars from Kentburg. Of course Aiden
liked the name since it reminded him of Marty. The bleachers were full of
spectators and quite a few lawn chairs were set out along the out-of-play
lines. The clouds were gray but not threatening. The forecast was for a
20% chance of rain.

Phil and Larry were surprised that Aiden was hitting as high as sixth. From
what they'd learned about the relationship between Coach Estes and
Aiden, they assumed that their son would be the number thirteen hitter. The
best news was that his position in the batting order might have him batting
an extra time during the game.

The game was typical of nine and ten year olds, especially early in the
season—somewhat chaotic. Aiden batted for the first time in the bottom of
the first. The Knights had given up three runs in the top of the first and were
behind 3-0 with two outs and runners on second and third.

Aiden watched five pitches go by without swinging his bat. Coach Estes
had reminded him and Mason that they weren't to swing their bats. He told
Aiden that he was batting higher in the batting order so he could draw
walks and score runs.

The coach tried to make it sound positive, especially since he knew that
Aiden's uncles were in the stands, but Aiden wasn't fooled. For now,
however, he was going to do the same thing he'd done in practice; he was
going to do whatever Coach Estes asked him to do. He was going to be
good so the coach wouldn't get mad at him and so his dads wouldn't get
mad at the coach. He was going to be as good as he could be.

The sixth pitch looked perfect to hit for Aiden. Coach Estes had told him not
to swing his bat and he obeyed. The pitch went right down the middle for
strike three.

"Aiden never even twitched at a pitch," Larry said.

"That is so unlike him," Phil agreed. "He didn't let much go by in the cages
all winter."

The Cougars scored two more runs in the second and the Knights
answered with two of their own in the bottom of the inning to make the
score 5-2. Mason drew a walk in his first ever at-bat on a 3-1 pitch. Coach
Estes gave Aiden a look that said, "That's how you do it, kid," as if Aiden
could control the location of the pitches he wasn't supposed to swing at.

Aiden went out to right field where he would play the next two innings. The
Cougars scored one more run in the inning to make the score 6-2. In the
bottom of the inning, Miles led off with his second hit of the game. When
Aiden came to the plate there were runners on first and second with one
out. Once again Aiden made no attempt to swing his bat and once again he
took a called third strike on a 3-2 count.

"Why is he always crouching down at the plate? That's not how we taught
him to hit. I'm gonna yell at him to be aggressive up there next time," Larry
said hotly. "This is ridiculous."

"Let him be," Phil advised. "We'll talk to him about it after the game."

Coach Hallion watched Aiden's hitting, or lack thereof, with mixed feelings.
On the one hand, he respected the fact that the young boy was obeying the
head coach's instructions to the letter. On the other hand, he could see on
the boy's face, how much being the obedient team member was hurting
him. The boy clearly had a lot of pride, but he could also see how he could
lose himself as he had in practice a couple of weeks ago when he shut
down and quit hustling and working hard.

Watching Aiden running back to the bench from right field, putting all of his
heart and energy hustling off of the field, James Hallion decided he'd had
enough. He had volunteered to coach so he could help his son and his
son's friends and teammates, not so he could watch a great little boy being
torn down layer by layer because of the petty resentments of the head
coach. He concluded that Ned Estes had no business coaching kids.

James walked over to the end of the bleachers and signaled Larry Sanders
to hop down and talk to him. "What's up?" Larry asked.

"I obviously want to say something about Aiden."

"Sorry, I have no idea why he won't even attempt to swing his bat."

"Maybe you don't, but I do," Coach Hallion said. He quickly told Larry that
Coach Estes had instructed Aiden and Mason to not swing their bats but to
crouch a bit extra and draw walks because of their small strike zones.

"That bastard," Larry grumbled. "No wonder Aiden has been so negative
about baseball—that SOB took away the thing that players love to do the
most, which is swinging the bat." He took a step toward the field when
James placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Let's deal with it after the game. But, I'm going to give Aiden a green light
to swing if he comes up again. The kid is hurting and the fun is being
sucked right out of him."

"You're a good man, coach, and trust me, Phil and I have your back all the
way."

"Thanks. I better get out there and coach first—I'll tell Ned I needed a
bathroom break."

The score at the end of four innings was 6-6 with the bottom half of the
inning ending when Mason took a called third strike. Ned Estes was
realizing that the pitcher on the Cougars knew how to throw strikes, as did
his pitcher, Trent.

When the sixth and last inning started the Cougars were ahead 10-8. The
Cougar coach had a new pitcher starting the inning. Russell, a fifth grader
at Lakeview, led off the inning with a single. Miles then picked up his third
hit of the game, putting runners on first and third. Trent struck out for the
first out. Then, Mudrak doubled home Russell but Coach Estes held Miles
at third when the Cougar left-fielder made a nice throw to the pitcher, who
was acting as cutoff man. Collin struck out, which brought Aiden to the
plate with the tying run on third and the winning run on second and two
outs.

While the league rules said that a player couldn't leave his base until the
ball passed home plate, it was not unusual for runs to score from third on
wild pitches and passed balls. Since Coach Estes was not about to relent
on his instructions to Aiden, he was hoping to either get a cheap run or for
the pitcher, who didn't look to be as good as the starter, to walk Aiden.

Coach Hallion called time and came down to talk to Aiden. "If you see a
pitch you like, go for it," he whispered into Aiden's ear. The coach thought
his instruction might sound strange to some—after all, how discriminating is
the average nine-year-old at the plate? On the other hand, Aiden had
shown he had a good sense of the strike zone during batting practice and
scrimmages.

Fighting a grin, Aiden nodded and entered the batter's box. His first two
times at bat he had simply walked into the box and crouched there. This
time he took his regular batting stance and looked at the pitcher with
determination. He wasn't anywhere near the zone he had been in when he
got his big hit against Coach Estes, but he was still completely focused.
Coach Estes saw a difference in Aiden's bearing at the plate.

"Crouch more!" he yelled at the player.

Aiden ignored him. Three things went through his head after he took ball
one. "I'm hitting the ball hard and far" and "If you see a pitch you like, go for
it," were two of the thoughts in his head. The third one was his promise to
Marty that he was going to swing the bat. That promise meant more to him
than making the fucktard who was coaching third base happy. The next
pitch was way outside, making the count 2-0.

The third pitch looked low to him and he let it go by. The umpire, who was a
high school JV player, called it a strike, which elicited collective groans
from the Knights' fans.

"You better cut him for that call," Collin's dad told Larry.

"I don't think he even knows who Aiden is," Larry replied.

"Still, we need a Mayfield call."

Larry didn't reply as the pitcher wound up for his next pitch, which Aiden
liked. He swung and fouled it back.

"What are you doing?" came the scream from Coach Estes.

"He's swinging his bat," Phil yelled. Aiden liked hearing the support from his
dad and it reinforced his determination.

"Time out, ump, I need to talk to my player."

"You've already had your offensive time out for the batter."

Ned Estes ran down to home plate and looked eye-to-eye at the fifteen-
year-old boy who was umping the game. "That was my assistant, not me. I
want to talk to him."

"Sorry coach," the umpire said with a calmness he didn't feel.

Ned looked at Aiden. "Don't you even think about swinging," he snarled.

As Ned Estes walked back to the third-base coaches' box Aiden was now
convinced that his coach was even worse than a fucktard, whatever that
might be. Any idiot knew that if he took a strike the game was over and
they would lose. His coach hated him so much he didn't care if they lost the
game.

When he returned to the coaches' box, it suddenly occurred to Coach
Estes what he'd just said. Well, the idea was to draw a walk, he had to
hope for the pitcher to throw two straight balls for a walk or for a wild pitch
or passed ball that would score the runner from third.

Aiden closed his mind to the fucktard at third and dug in, ready to hit the
ball far and hard. As the pitch came in, Aiden knew he liked this one even
better than the last one. He swung the bat using the fundamentals his dads
had been teaching him for months. He made contact, and he knew it was
good contact. He took off for first as his line drive dropped into the outfield
grass, scoring Russell with the tying run and Miles with the winning run.

Aiden got a high-five from Coach Hallion and then was quickly swamped by
his celebrating teammates. Coach Estes stood at third like his team had
just lost the game.

Larry and Phil joined the other celebrating parents, waiting on the sidelines
for the celebrating boys to return to the dugout. They noticed Coach Hallion
patting backs and high fiving players while the head coach stood sulking.
Larry and the coach made eye contact and Ned Estes jogged over to
where Larry was standing.

"This is all your fault," Ned yelled.

"What is my fault?" Larry asked.

"Your nephew not doing what I told him to do."

"He's my son," Larry said calmly. The other parents were looking at the
confrontation, wondering what had gotten their boys' coach so worked up
after a big win.

"I don't give a fuck who he is, he's done." Ned Estes then stomped to the
bench area to start packing equipment. He acted like he expected Larry to
follow him. Larry just stood there ready to give his little hero a big hug. His
presence nearby was one of many reasons that Larry let the conflict die.

Coach Hallion had heard the exchange and came over to apologize to
Larry. "Apologize for what?" Larry asked.

"I told Aiden it was okay to swing the bat if he saw a good pitch. Aiden has
a great feel for the game for such a young boy. I felt no qualms about
giving him the okay. I was ready to have his back if Ned went ballistic. I
didn't think he'd be booted from the team. Ned told me he was removing
him from the team for insubordination. I told him I strongly disagreed for
what it's worth."

"My son will not be kicked off of this team," Larry said with a firm calmness.

The two men quickly changed their demeanor as Aiden and Mason walked
over to them. Larry gave Aiden a big hug. "I'm very proud of you, son. Not
just for getting the winning hit, but for standing up for yourself and your
teammates when it counted. You showed great courage."

Mason stood next to Aiden with a forlorn puppy dog look on his face. Larry
gave him a hug as soon as he let go of Aiden, eliciting an electric grin from
the little nine-year-old.

"Are you really his son?" Coach Hallion asked Aiden. "I thought he and Phil
were your uncles."

Aiden looked up at Coach Hallion, and then looked over at his daddy. "I am
their son," he said proudly. "I am their REAL son."

Next: Baseball is Fun