This is all fantasy fiction. None of the events are real.
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Edited by Andrew Thomas
This story is an original work of fiction ©Copyright 2022 Tux - Please do not copy or post without permission.
The car ride is long, hot, and extremely uncomfortable. My mother is driving at a pretty good pace, but it's been days on the road. We left New York, my school, and all my friends far behind us and are currently driving somewhere in northern Montana, heading to some stupid little town called Cut Bank. My name is Andrew Maxis Docker Junior, AJ for short. I'm eight years old. I have blond hair cut short, green eyes. I know its odd. I'm too skinny for my age, almost sickly, and I kind of look like Dennis the Menace, but I'm cuter. My daddy says so at least. I love playing chess, reading, and my grandma says I'm the spitting image of my dad when he was my age. My mother calls me Andrew and is still trying to get me to agree to change it. She refuses to call me AJ anymore, so I call her by her first name, but I'll explain more of that later. I'm still not comfortable talking about it yet.
For the last like five hours, it's been nothing but crop fields out my small window in the back of the SUV. My oldest sister, Lana, is sitting in the front seat, she's sixteen, and my other sister, Missy, who is fourteen is sitting in the seat in front of me, both lost in their stupid ear-pods to whatever they're listening to. I'm in the very back of the SUV like always, to be forgotten or ignored. With a sigh, I hold onto my teddy bear, Maxwell, a little tighter. I know an eight-year-old probably shouldn't carry a teddy bear, but mine serves two purposes;
While we drive, I think about what I've lost, and stare out into the endless field of what I'm guessing is straw... maybe?
Then something new comes into view, there is a tractor pulling some kind of flat trailer with bales of straw or hay, I can't tell the difference, and two boys not much older than me. One is on the ground and he is grabbing the bails and tossing them up on an elevator thing that takes it to the trailer where the other boy grabs it and stacks it. I know it doesn't sound amazing, but I am really glad to see it for two reasons;
The one on the ground had his white tee-shirt tucked into the back of his dusty blue jeans and the other one just didn't have a shirt. The one on the ground saw me staring at them causing me to blushed a little and I gave a little wave. The one on the ground even waved back.
The sight of the two held my attention so much, I didn't even realize that we were slowing down and my sisters were talking again. Then as the SUV began to turn into the driveway of our new house my gaze was broken and I saw my new house for the first time. It was a three-story red brick house with tall windows all framed in white, all seasoned sun room on the left side of the house, and what looks like a swimming pool patio on the right. Extending from the front was a wrap-around porch with huge columns that held up its roof, and a small star case about ten to fifteen stairs tall, I'll count them later, that descended to the driveway. The driveway seemed like a quarter of a mile long with a wire fence on the right side and a white picket fence on the left. I can see horses running around inside the wire fence and wondered if those came with the house.
Everyone piled out of the SUV and right before I got to the door my sister slammed it in my face. My brow tightened while I hiked up my backpack on my shoulder and opened the door to hop out.
"Mom!! Did you see that!? Missy slammed the door on me again!"
"No, I didn't! He was messing around in the back when I shut it!"
"Andrew, stop tattling on your sister! Missy, be nice to you brother. Why do I even have to tell you this?" I'm not sure who she's asking, but I chose to remain silent even though I'm pretty sure she was directing the comment towards me.
Missy turns really quick and sticks out her tongue at me, then runs up the stairs, and through the front door. I take a deep breath and run my hand through my hair and begin to count the stairs as I climb them towards the front door. Thirteen, there are thirteen stairs.
My sisters are running through the rooms on the ground floor, so after taking off my sandals and setting my backpack down, I head to the second floor to see if I can find my room. I want nothing more than to shut myself inside to get some peace and quiet for a while. I'm sure with all the hustling around they will forget I'm even here for the rest of the night. Holding onto Maxwell a little tighter I count the stairs to the second floor. There's twenty-five stairs.
The first bedroom I find on the second floor is pretty nicely sized. It has my older sister's things in it, like dolls, stuffed animals, posters of cute guys, the only part I like, and a lot of pink, yuk, and light blue. It looks over the swimming pool and the field with the horses in it. Before I know it, I find myself looking out one of the huge windows. I count the pool chairs, six, I count the umbrellas, four, and then watch the horses. Mostly brown, they range in different sizes. Nine, there are nine horses. Then from behind I hear, "This is the only time you are ever to be in my room. So, now you've seen it, you can leave. Goodbye." I scowl at her as I turn around to see my older sister standing by the door to usher me out.
"Find, I didn't want this room anyway," I mutter under my breath and I continue down the hall.
The next room has lots of sport equipment in it, a drum kit, posters of rock bands, and is painted dark blue and grey. My middle sister, Missy, is standing at her drum kit making sure it was put together correctly and before I even cross the threshold she yells, "MOM, HE'S IN MY ROOM!!"
"Find!" I yell back and hurry to the next room, which must be my bedroom.
The last bedroom on this floor is in the front corner of the house with a huge view of the front driveway and surrounding area. I quickly realize that it has a huge king-sized bed. This must be my mother's room. I scan the room just taking in the arrangement of the room to memory when I catch myself counting again. I shut my eyes and hug Maxwell just a little tighter as I pull myself from the room.
Getting to the banister I look down to the first floor and into the living room at my mother laying on the couch looking for a small rest from driving all day.
"Alice, I don't have a room," I say just loud enough to travel to her ears, but not a yell or anything. From the upstairs I can see her eyes open and shift to me. I can see the tension on her face like she can't believe I just called her by her first name.
"Andrew, It's mom or mother. How many times do I have to tell you that?"
"Yes, ma'am, sorry," I responded, cringing a little and squatting down to semi-hide behind the safety of the baluster to look at her through the rails.
I can see her sigh briefly, like she is tired of fighting with me over this and just tells me, "Your bedroom is upstairs."
My eight-year-old mind begins to work as I look down the hall and back to my mother, "I am upstairs." Thinking that this is almost too obvious to mention.
"No, honey... the third floor. The stairs are across the hall from my room."
The third floor? Are you kidding me? Why not lock me in the cellar or make me sleep in the barn with the horses. I stood up abruptly with a much louder stomp than I intended and she opened her eyes to see me huffing towards the stairs. Forty-six baluster rails. Watching the thin staircase that leads up to the third floor it almost seems like it's a thousand steps and I can feel my chest begin to rise and fall as my breathing begins to betray me. Closing my eyes tightly I fish my inhaler out of my shorts pocked and breathe in while pushing down on the canister. The foul tasting spray coats my throat, I count to twenty, and then breathe more steadily. My older sister walks by and ruffles my hair telling me to be careful of the attic ghost.
"There are no such things as ghosts and it's not an attic, it's my bedroom!" I tell her with a little attitude as I reluctantly head up. With each step I count, I feel myself calming down a little more. Twenty-three stairs.
The stairs lead to a small hallway with two doors on either side of the hall. One was the real attic/storage room and the other was my bedroom. Looking at the door I see the words on a small sign attached to it say, `AJ's Room, Please Knock'. I close my eyes and rest my hand on the door knob. This is the moment. The moment I find out. I find out if I'm going to hate living here or not. A boy's room is so important. It says a lot about him, is he goofy, is he outgoing, or is he a natural mess. Excitement and a little fear begin to fill me as I start to bounce up and down on my toes. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen bounces.
Turning the knob, I walk inside to what could be a closet or be a small room with a bed and a nightstand. My mind begins to run rampant with many very undesirable bedroom designs until my nerves can't handle not knowing and I open my eyes. Until my eyes adjust to the sunlight in here, I can't see a thing, so I hold Maxwell up to shade them. Taking a few steps inside I see a coat rack by the door and the walls are painted in two different shades of gray, I hate colors. All of them. Colors make me nervous and I don't like that. Gray, black, and white are my choices for just about everything.
I rub my hand on the smooth wall and wonder to myself, `did mom actually listen to me when I told her to design my room in these three colors?' She thinks I'm depressed over what happened. I just think because of what happened, I've gotten a little braver when I talk to her. You can only turn right and starting at the door, there are baluster rods attached to the wall with a handrail on the top and bottom. Why would they be here... unless they're here to be counted. Did she fill my room with things I can count? How... How did she know? I thought it was daddy and my secret. I hurry down the little part of my room into the main room. When I enter it, I realize that all my walls are huge, all glass windows, wait, six of them are glass doors that go onto three balconies. Each balcony has two gray chairs, a small glass table, and a telescope. From anywhere in my room, I can see everything in our yard except the pool. The room is designed so that no furniture is against the glass walls. Everything is in the middle and everything is either black, white, or gray. She did listen.
So, the room is kind of in the shape of a `U'. The other top part, not the one with the door, is a glass walled off section that is filled with all my Lego builds. Sitting on glass shelves is my world globe, 2585 pieces, my tree house, 3036 pieces, the Lego house 3955 pieces, and my favorite build so far, the Santiago Bernabéu Stadium, 5876 pieces. I come out with a small smile on my face and sit on the queen-sized bed with the dark gray quilt and shift my eyes from one side of the room to the other. `I can definitely spend my whole day up here and never leave my room,' I tell myself and then lay on my back to look at the ceiling. It's covered in my glow in the dark stars. I count them every night to calm myself from the stress of the day. It's the only way I can sleep and I sigh a little enjoying the coolness of my bedroom. Raising my arms to fold them behind my head I hit something hard sticking out from under one of my pillows.
I sit up and move the pillow to find a greeting card. Picking it up, I hesitate to open it, thinking that it's just another weak attempt from Alice to try and make up for what she did. Taking a deep breath to prepare myself, I rip it open. It has a cartoon house being built on the front with the words, `Guess what I'm building for you today?' Odd, I figured she would have picked something a little less `funny.' Inside the card is a memory chip and the picture is of a bunch of cranes and people building a birthday cake. It says, `We're building you a great Birthday!' and it's signed... dad.
I can instantly feel my eyes begin to cry and I start shaking all over. `How did he get this here?' I question myself and I try to focus on the memory chip. It's old, too old to just put in any computer or laptop. I'd have to have an adapter, wait... I think I have one. Placing it in my pocket I quickly rummage through my room looking for the right box. I empty my closet by tossing boxes over my shoulder looking for... it's not here. It must have sounded like I fell down the stairs as me and Maxwell ran down those skinny planks taking two or three at a time. My sisters were already in the hall to see if I came tumbling through the door. I almost did honestly, it was close. But I ran by them like they weren't even there as I turned the corner using the main baluster to pivot, I descended my second set of stairs.
About halfway down, Alice must have heard all the racket I was making and met me at the bottom of the stairs. "What is going on? Slow down before you fall!"
I was out of breath and clutched at my inhaler as I tried to get out the words, "Where... is my... my computer... part collection?"
She rubbed my back and gave me a quizzical look, "Honey, I don't know if that is something to get all worked up about. We'll find it eventually."
Eventually, will be too long. My breathing starts getting worse as I begin to panic, I might never hear the message my father worked so hard to hide here for me. Alice sits me down in the living room and I huff on my inhaler. She goes to the small woven basket at the end of the couch and gets a gray Rubik's cube then hands it to me. My hands begin without me and I subconsciously begin twirling and whipping the sides around as the different shades of gray begin to line up. My eyes dart back and forth as my hands move at nonhuman speeds as I solve the puzzle, but my mind is going over the places I could find the box.
Once she sees I'm pacified she stands and heads back in the kitchen and says nonchalantly, "I wouldn't worry about it, Andrew. The movers probably thought it was junk and put it in the basement."
My eyes stop shifting and my fingers turn the last shade of gray to its proper place. My mind focused on only one thing, `it's in the basement!' Solved in 19.34 seconds.
Slipping through the kitchen, so Alice doesn't notice me, I get to the basement stairs and open the door looking down at another set of steep stairs, but these are pitch dark. My fingers begin to fidget and I count how many times my thumb touches each finger. `I can do this.' I think to myself and I work my way down to the bottom feeling the walls for the light switch along the way. Finding it I flip it and the basement looks nice once I flip the light switch. It's really not nicer than the rooms upstairs, but it's not scary. I run through the hall looking for a room of boxes; laundry room, play room, entertainment room, two guest rooms, storage room- it's got to be in here!
The storage room is full of boxes that the movers, or the people that unpacked everything, didn't know what to do with. "How am I going to find it in all of this mess?" I think out loud and my hand slides down inside my pants pocket and I pat the memory chip. I close my eyes and think of my father and his strong hands, his hot breath on my face, his tongue sliding in my mouth, and my hard-on twitches hitting my hand in my pocket waking me from my daydream. "I've got to find that box!"
Fifteen minutes turns into thirty and then thirty turns into an hour while I pull down every box looking at the labels. Boxes that are not my box go into the hallway after I run out the space behind me. Box after box of stuff gets moved away and I think, `Why do we own so much junk?' And then I find it, the box of my old computer parts. One day at school me and some friends found an old computer from the mid 1980's. Anyway, we disassembled it and each took a part to keep. This gave me a great idea: if I could find enough parts, I could put it back together, so I find, buy, or are given a part, I cross it off my list and throw it in the box. Somewhere I had found a part that wasn't part of the computer directly, but was an exterior memory chip reader. With a little splicing and adjusting, I attached a USB port to it so I can use the old memory chip on my laptop. Only dad knew I had done this. Finding it, I ran upstairs, blew through the house grabbing my backpack I left by the door, and headed for my bedroom, evoking Alice's wrath again.
Blasting through my door I turn the corner and leap on my bed as I open my backpack. I pull out my laptop and set up the adapter, praying it still works. I've never really had a chip to test it on, they're pretty rare. I can't believe dad found one. My fingers work vigorously over the little black box as I slip the chip in and plug it into my UBS port. Waiting... waiting... waiting... Ah new device detected!! Bingo!
I slip off my bed and go lock my door. I definitely don't want to be disturbed. Getting back to my bed I sit on my knees and stare at the `Play or Cancel' button. Reaching to click the play button and hesitate. `What if Alice is right? What if what we did was wrong and daddy is going to tell me so in his message? What if he hates me for getting us caught?' I pull my finger back and stare at the screen for a few minutes as I go over my self doubt.
Knocking comes from my door and I can hear someone trying to open the door, "Go away!" I yell.
"Mom says you need to come to dinner and TV time," Missy says in her normal prissy voice.
"I'm not hungry. Leave me alone." Soon I hear her going down the stairs and I'm left with my previous dilemma, play or not to play? I shake my head to clear the doubt and grab Maxwell to hold him tight. "She's wrong. Daddy would never hurt me," and with that I clicked play.
"Do you like your room?" My dad's voice sounds through the speakers. It sounds a little ruff coming from such old tech, but it's him. "I designed it with you in mind. Well, I really designed the whole house with you in mind." My dad is an architect and designs lots of houses. "I figured your mother would take it in the divorce. It's my best creation yet, next to you of course." My tears start flowing and streak down my cheeks. That explains a lot about this house. All the things to count. My room having no walls so I don't feel like the room is falling on me and everything being black, white, and gray. My daddy knows me so well. "Look I'm sure you're feeling pretty bad now kiddo, but none of this is your fault, you hear me. It's all on me. I knew others wouldn't understand the connection we have and I'm sorry I didn't prepare you better. I won't give up on you, so don't give up on me. She can't keep you from me forever. Every hall you walk through, every step you climb, or back yard you explore, remember I made it for you and is proof of my love for you. I'm almost out of memory space, I better go." I'm not just sobbing, but sobbing uncontrollably and loud.
I take the chip and secure it into Maxwell's backpack next to my emergency inhaler and puzzle cube. Suddenly knocking at my door again startles me and I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe my eyes and nose, like it helps. "Go away Missy! I want to be alone!"
"Honey, what's wrong I can hear you crying through the door?"
It's Alice and all of a sudden rage fills me that she's being motherly. "I'm not hungry, go away!" I yell and my voice cracks as a shooting pain travels down my spine.
"Honey, I wish you would talk to me. I know you're having a hard time with the move and everything..."
My world starts spinning and I lose it interrupting her, "Go away! Go away! Go away! I hate you! Go away!" My body is shaking out of my control and through my rage I kick my laptop off the bed and it shatters against the wall bringing me out of my tantrum. I can't focus! I'm coming apart at the seams! I struggle with Maxwell's backpack's zipper trying to get it open again. My head wobbles on my neck so bad I can't see straight. Maxwell shakes from my hand as my teeth clenched together and I fall on my back on the bed.
From this point everything happens in slow motion for me. I know I'm shaking again, but strangely I can't move my limbs. All the sounds are replaced with a high-pitched buzzing. I've almost vibrated off the bed and my head begins to hang low as my bedroom door busts open. Alice runs in screaming something I can't understand or hear over the buzzing, my mind just can't concentrate. She runs to the nightstand and pulls out a little black case with a red and white plus sign on it and opens it. I see the syringe as it fills with liquid from the small bottle and I realize I must be in bad shape. I can feel my pants being pulled down and then I'm pulled into Alice's lap and she holds me tight as my body tries to fend her off. My mommy holds my head up and I can see her saying something; she looks tired and scared as tears stream down her cheeks. Over us, I see the stars on the ceiling, so I start counting. I got to twenty-six before the darkness took me.
Waking up in the hospital is a solemn experience. It means I must have lost control and almost died, again. I let my temper get away from me and I lost it. I blink my eyes a few times. They're heavy, dry, and feel like I haven't used them in a while. Scanning the room, I find Alice is sitting in the chair next to my bed sleeping. In the next bed I can see a nurse attending the other patient across the room. I wait for her to finish and when she turns around, I give her a little weary wave and my hand. "Excuse me." Speaking just a little hurt so bad my hand went to my throat and pain flashes across my face. Wow, that hurt so bad. It didn't even sound like it was my voice that said it. Maybe it would if I had been eating sand for the last twenty-four hours.
"Oh, Andrew you're awake," the nurse says and comes over in a hurry. She pushes a button on a small box next to my left arm. "Mrs. Docker, Mrs. Docker, wake up. Your son is awake."
I watch my mom come and quickly stand up and immediately start crying. My eyes shift to the nurse and I painfully whisper to her, "...it's AJ."
"Oh OK. You prefer AJ, huh. Then so be it, AJ it is," the nurse says as she is taking my blood pressure.
Suddenly the door opens and another nurse comes in with a man in a long white coat, that must be my doctor. "Wow Andrew, you gave us all quite the scare," the Doctor says with a cheerful smile. The nurse whispers something to him and he turns back to me looking almost embarrassed, "Whoops sorry, I meant AJ. Well either way I sure am glad to have you awake. I'm Doctor Adams. What is the last thing you remember?" He asks as he places the stethoscope on my chest.
I sign, `I don't remember, I was up in my room. I think I was laying on the bed...' Yeah, I know American Sign Language. There was one time, when I was six, I had an attack that was so bad I lost my voice for a pretty long time, almost a year. So, daddy and I had to learn the basics, but I found it fascinating and it made me feel cool. Like I had my own secret language that only he and I could use, but then Alice had to learn it so, whatever. Suddenly the doctor gets a dreadful shocked look on his face.
`That's weird,' Doc Adams signed back at me. Then he re-attempts to listen to my heart again. `You don't have a heartbeat and yet you look fine to me.'
My face slowly stretches into a smile and I let out a raspy giggle. I point at my ears and then his ears. He looks at me quizzical and then touches his ears and then amazement covers his round face as he realizes he doesn't have the stethoscope in his ears. I'm sure he's just being goofy for my benefit, I'm not fooled. I am eight years old, you know, but it did feel good to smile and giggle a little.
`Well, it will all come back in time,' Doc. Adams signs then accepts my chart that the nurse gave him. He sets the chart down in a hook on the end of my bed and says. "Until then, I'd be grateful if you would honor us and stay here for a few days so you and I can be better friends, OK? Your mom is welcome also, but maybe she should try and get some sleep at home. He'll need fresh clothes and please bring us a list of his medications. If you could, let the nurse know his last physician with their information. Lets try and head the next attack off at the border, okay?" Then he gives me a big goofy smile and leaves with the nurse that came with him.
I sign, `How long was I out this time?'
"Not long honey, maybe a day, not quite."
`I want to go home.'
"I know you do, but it's best for you to stay here for now."
My tapping fingers on my thumb and the stream of numbers begin to flood my mind and the word. Maxwell flashes through my thoughts. I sign, `Maxwell! Where's Maxwell!'
My signing is a little sloppy. I'm still having a hard time moving my fingers and hands, but soon Alice gets the meaning and she opens her purse and retrieves my only thing I have left that my daddy gave me to show his love. My fingers embed themselves in the bear's fur and I can feel his thickness on my chest. I close my eyes and begin to count the black beads that are sewn on his chest. Soon I'm asleep again but this time I dream of me and my daddy. Seventeen beads.
The sun is beating down on us while we bale hay. I holler up to my Uncle Jack and have him stop the tractor pulling the wagon. I set my hay hooks on my next bale and wipe my sweat off my head.
"Here," my twin brother Zeke says as he hands me a bottle of water.
"Thanks," I responded and drained the bottle of water, taking the last bit and pouring it over my head. My name is Zack and you've already met my twin brother Zeke. We are identical twins and I don't mean like pretty close, I mean like 99% identical. Our personalities are the difference, I'm more conservative. I have better manners. I barely cuss, well, maybe a little during sex, we all do right? I've got a better head on my shoulders. Zeke is brash, forward, he cusses all the time, even in front of Uncle Jack and gets away with it, he's the first to jump in head first, and the first to get hurt. Other than that, we look the same right down to our dicks and balls, but we'll get into that later. Our family runs the stud farm part of this Docker Estate here in Cut Bank, Montana, and it's just Uncle Jack and us. Us boys are built. I mean puberty hit us hard. We're thirteen now and both grew like a foot in a year, all our baby fat turned into muscle, including six-packs, and our voices crack all the time. We're always tan from working on the farm and because we don't like wearing clothes, I do mean tanned everywhere.
What's a stud farm? OK well, the family that owns this farm lives in New York City and they own like four or five stud farms. Then they hire families to move into the farmer's house behind the estate and we run the farm. They normally rent out the estate to rich snobby people, but they don't bother us much. The stud part of the farm is where we raise bull cows or studs. We have anywhere from fifty or seventy head of cows at any given time. They are sold for studding. They take the sperm from the bull and freeze it, then sell it off. Then we take the bulls to the auction and sell them off to the highest bidder and in spring we do it all over again with a new group of calves. So, we spend most of our days taking the studs to the watering hole or we follow the creek and then a forty acres trek back to the farm. Sometimes we camp out and bring the studs home in the morning, if Uncle Jack is in a good mood. Other than that we do some hay farming and what we don't use gets sold off to other farmers and that is what we're doing now.
Anyway, as I re-wipe the sweat from my head, I see a blue SUV that drives towards us as if it's slowing down. As it comes closer, I can see a woman driving, a girl in the passenger seat, and another girl in the middle seat. Wait, what's that? In the very back is the most gorgeous boy staring at me. He has short blonde hair, and fine features on this face. He must be skinny because his head doesn't make him look very big. As they get closer, I can see he's waving at me. I'm not sure why, but I wave back. I think I'm in love.
Then I'm rudely brought out of my daydream by my brother's empty water bottle. "Earth to Zack. Come in Zack. Can we move on please?"
"Did you see that?"
"What... no."
"That little boy waved at me. He was so cute," I tell him as I pick up my hay hooks and sink them into the ends of my next bale.
"No, you stud bull, I didn't see him. Can we move on please?" He asks harshly as I hike the bale onto the bale elevator and he spins his wrist in a circle above his head. Uncle Jack revs up the tractor.
As I follow the SUV out of the corner of my eye, I see it pull into the estate's house. "Hey, they're pulling into our driveway. Look!" And I point with my hook. Zeke stacks the bale and watches the SUV pull towards the house. He whistles for uncle to stop and points to the house.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you two that the estate owners are moving in. I guess it was a nasty divorce and she took over all of the stud farms, then picked ours to live in. Things are going to change around here; I hope for the best."
You mean no snobby rich renters. People are really going to live there and one of them is going to be the boy of my dreams. I can't wait to meet him.
"Hey! Get moving back there!" shouts Uncle Jack.
"Sorry!" I shout back and quickly hike up the next bale while my brother makes fun of me.
At our house, Uncle Jack won't let us go see the owners, and especially that little handsome boy. Instead he has made pizza. We are sitting in the living room, all of us naked of course, watching American Ninja Warrior and eating pizza. The fan is on, even though the air conditioner is also running, and all of sudden I get a weird feeling about anticipation and competing for the last slice, but before I could move, Zeke dives for the last slice of pepperoni. I try to intercept him and pull him back with my left hand so I can reach for the last slice with my right, but like normal he overpowers me with leverage. He sinks into the couch cushions with a mouth full of pizza and a shit eating grin on his face. I settle back and watch him eat as he swings the last slice back and forth in front of me until the last piece of pepperoni falls on his chest and before he can get it, I lean over and grab it with my teeth.
I chew it in front of him and grin back at him then lean over again and lick up the grease that was still on his tanned chest. A soft moan escapes his lips as he swallows, and so I do it again. Sitting up I can see Uncle Jack sitting in the recliner. He rolls his eyes at me and turns up the TV volume. Zeke sits up and kisses me deeply. With my eyes shut I open my mouth as he takes initiative and slips his tongue in my mouth. Then he goes for my right nipple and pinches it... hard, and inches as close as he can to me until our dicks are touching. I let out a little grunt as I feel the pain come from my nipple and then I moan. As I feel for his left nipple, I return the favor causing him to jump a little.
His hand is all greasy from the pizza and he smears it all over my dick as he reaches down with his left hand and grabs us both, jacking us off in a slow, slow, rhythm. My tongue enters his mouth as our tongues battle for whose mouth to stay in and the taste of the last slice of pizza lights up my senses. At this point our cocks are dripping in precum and I gain leverage and push him back on his side of the couch. I rub the precum all over his wrinkled hole and he moans and bites my upper lip. My brow furrows and I grunt again and he smiles at me. To get him to let go I wrench his left nipple again, but this time I don't let go until he arches his back giving me the best opportunity to inch closer and scoop my dick up into him. It slides in without a break, without a pause, and without mercy. His eyes go wide and he looks down at me to see my smirk. He smirks back and wraps his legs around my waist forcing me to push in deeper. His eyes begin to roll in the back of his head and I know I have him.
I begin by sliding my cock in and out, with the skill that I've practiced since we were eight-years-old. Many times a day, more times than that a week, and don't get me started on the other "skills" he and I have "practiced." He starts to moan and grunt, so my eyes move up to look at Uncle Jake and without looking he shakes his head a little, then turns the TV up louder. Taking this as a green light that we aren't bothering him, I begin to really push it in. After about ten minutes of listening to the slapping sound of my pubic area on his butt, Zeke goes for a kiss, so I lean in. Suddenly he grabs my hands holding them out, and bites my bottom lip.
Sitting up out of shock, I pull him up with me only to give him leverage and my dick slips out with a pop. He releases my bottom lip and pushes me on my back on my side of the couch holding me there with his right hand. He spit in his hand. Zeke uses his legs to spread my legs as wide as he can, opening my butt cheeks to the prize hidden inside. He begins to smear the spit on my butt hole as I protest that, "hey! No fair, I haven't cum yet!" Laying on my chest to hold me still he frantically searches for my hole with the tip of his dick.
"You're too slow! I want your ass now! It's my turn," Zeke says with the same smirk that I gave him. And right before he gets his prize, I see Uncle Jack stand up, with his big cock at full mast swinging back and forth, step towards us enough to get us in reach. Zeke's face hovers above mine, about two inches, and the tip of his tongue sticks out and rests in the corner of his mouth with a look of deep concentration on his face. Then his eyes suddenly go serious as he studies my face like he's reading my thoughts. His eyes go wide just as I see Uncle Jack's hand land on Zeke's bare ass making the loudest slap I've heard in a long time. Zeke's face scrunches up and his dick shrinks down into his body as he reacts to the shock and sting of the slap.
"Get a room for you two! I'm trying to watch TV!" Shouts Uncle Jack as he sits down in a huff then turns down the TV to the original volume.
Zeke hops off me, beginning to walk bow-legged in a circle with his hands rubbing his ass and makes a hissing sound with his mouth. Uncle Jack's slap covered both cheeks and his little puckered rosebud added a new sensation to the butt slap that neither of us could expect.
Zeke stops, prances around, and smiles at Uncle Jack and says in a sarcastic tone, "We are..."
Laying my hand on Zeke's shoulder I smile and mimic his tone picking up where he left off, "...in a room."
Uncle Jack, without taking his eyes off his TV, points to our bedroom and yells, "Go!"
And we respond at the same time just as loudly, "OK!"
As we walk away my walk is a little off, and my right hand rubs my ass to cover the sting of the slap.
Entering our room, Zeke sits down on the bed then imminently stands back up rubbing his butt a little more. "You OK?" I ask him and I take his shoulder to turn him around. He bends over and I look at the artwork of a red hand print on his perfectly tanned bottom.
"I've had it worse. I don't know what hurts more, the cheeks or my hole."
I gently spread his cheeks to the sound of his painful hisses and ouches to see a very red and swollen little hole. "Well, it looks like I'm not fucking this tonight," I sigh as I subconsciously rub my ass.
He lays down, face down of course, on the bed and sees me rubbing my ass. "Did you feel it?" He asked with a concerned look on his face and I just nodded. "Oh man, I'm sorry," and by the look in his face I knew he wasn't joking. He was always sorry when he got us in trouble, but when puberty hit us, something happens that neither one of us expected, we became connected. Neither one of us remember it before we were almost thirteen and it was a day I'll never forget.
The story that we have put together by asking each other in-depth questions about not just events that lead up to the event, but the feelings we shared that day. Zeke was in the house because he didn't do his house chores and I was outside playing basketball waiting for him. As usual, Zeke got mouthy to Uncle Jack and so Uncle Jack dragged a chair to where Zeke was standing. He knew he had pushed uncle too far, but his apologies fell on deaf ears. As uncle's bent him over his knee his overly large farmer's hand whipped Zeke good. Zeke repeated his sorries and begged for it to end as Uncle's hand connected on his ass. Once he was satisfied that his point was made and not sure forgotten, Zeke was released. He was told this would happen everyday he didn't do his house chores on time. Zeke was holding his ass with one hand and crying uncontrollably. He finished his chores and left out the back door to hide in our secret place in the stud barn.
The closer he got to the hiding place the more he started to hear crying coming from the secret spot and when he saw me, I was curled up in the fetal position unable to move, clutching my butt with tears covering my face. I was crying so hard he couldn't understand what happened. Once I calmed down enough, I told him I was on my way here to the spot when my butt felt like it was on fire. The burning turned to a stinging pain as it increased in levels and I think I described it feeling like one of uncle's spankings. Zeke just sat still as if he was in shock on his knees next to me and stared with his mouth open. Then I saw the tear tracks on his dirty face. Turning him around slowly, I saw the spanking marks I'm all too familiar with left by my uncle and he started to cry again. That day in the barn we vowed to keep it a secret from everyone. They would never believe us anyway.
Anyway, it's been a year now since the event and we have figured it out that it only happens when one of us is in extreme pain, thank the heavens it doesn't happen with all pain, and sometimes, it's only happened a few times in the last year, it happens with extreme pleasure, but enough about that for now.
I'm able to sit, only slowly and with my weight on my right cheek. My butt hole hurts the most. It feels like a sunburn stinging me every time I move. With my left hand I caress his muscled butt when I notice the flashing red and white lights moving through the room coming from the window.
"Hey, look at this," I say pointing out the lights grabbing Zeke's attention.
"Look out the window," he says, showing no effort to stand up, do you blame him?
Looking out the windows my eyes go wide, and I hurry out of the room with Zeke moving a lot better on my heels.
"Uncle Jack..." I say with worry as I enter the room, but he already has his shorts on and is standing with the door open watching the estate as an ambulance backs up to the front door. We hurried to stand next to him and he noticed that we are both still naked as the day we were born.
He scowls at us and tells us to go put some shorts on. When we protest, he begins to turn around, and we hurry back to our room saying at the same time, "OK. OK. OK. Don't get mad."
By the time we got shorts on and hurried to catch up to Uncle Jack, we were at the front steps of the estate. We saw the stretcher being carried down the staircase inside the living room with the frailest little boy that you've ever seen.
I put my hand on my brother's shoulder to pull his ear to me and I tell him, "that's the boy. The one I saw this afternoon in the SUV." The medics carry him down in front of us and as his mother passes us, I notice a stuffed bear laying on the ground.
"Hey! Wait, you dropped this," I pick it up and rush to the medic who take it with a smile and tells me not to worry, that my friend is going to be just fine. I exchange a sorrowful look with my brother and watch as they work on the boy before the door closes. Mrs. Docker and my uncle exchange words and then she hurries to join her son in the back of the ambulance.
We watch it drive away and our uncle tells us, "OK, shows over. Go pack an overnight bag and include a full suit of PJs. We're staying in the estate to help watch over the girls until the new maid gets here tomorrow morning. No bare skin around the girls, guys." Both of our sour faces show our feelings about being around two girls overnight, but know better than to bring it up and hurry off.