Date: Sun, 30 Oct 2011 17:50:22 +0000 (GMT)
From: Jonas Henley <jonas_henley@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Kids of Indian Spring, Chapter 26d

Kids of Indian Spring
By Jonas Henley

Chapter 26d
Tail of Two Cities
Epilogue



7:40 pm
Thursday, 22 June 1995
outside Jolsen Middle School
Village of Sweetwater



"No . . . no . . . no . . . ."

Zeke was crying, though it could barely be heard above the howling winds
that had increased in the last few minutes. The strong gales were ripping
small limbs off of trees, emptying the blown-over cans of their trash and
whirling it everywhere about the yard, bringing dirt off the playground and
the park itself and creating colliding vortices of dust that began to
obscure distant images and produce a virtual curtain of gloom around the
gym and the school.

Zeke was now desperate to get away from this dangerous and scary man, and
the snake tattoo across the menacing face didn't relieve matters. He was
only 19, or so the `man' said, but he could pass for 25 or 30 or 35. He was
dark, not in tone and hue of his skin but of his intent and purposes. But
the struggle was futile. The man was too strong, too powerful. He let the
boy moan and struggle for a bit; it was almost like he got off somewhere
inside his twisted mind by doing so -- not that he showed it, however. He
showed nothing.

Eventually he must have needed a different stimulation, because he put his
cigarette back in his mouth and then backhanded Ezekiel hard across the
face, knocking all the fight out of the kid and for a few moments knocking
him almost senseless.

Bells were still ringing in Zeke's belfry when he realized the man was no
longer holding him, but had stood back up. The other young man named Pike
had come out of the gym, along with the bigger guy that had creamed on
Shane's face -- and no doubt in Shane's mouth and throat, as well. To Zeke,
and he couldn't be too sure of his ability to detect details at this wobbly
moment, Pike looked a bit nervous and none too sure of his two fellow
rapists. Those two looked confident, serene, completely unmoved by the
raging storm that seemed to be consuming the Joplin Middle School grounds.

"Well, Soge, was he any good?"  The man with the snake tattoo asked.

"Uze hi' teeth too much, but nuff chocks cross the face learnd him of
that."

"I hope he didn't lose any teeth, Soge. I don't want my merchandise
damaged, not before they can be put to work."

"Aint no damage, Scain, nothin' few more nights learnin' ta suck, wont
fix. He'll be ready f'the corner soon'nuff."

Zeke nearly vomited when he heard that. It wasn't just a semi-satisfied
customer that had blown a load in poor Shane's mouth. Soge was a
trainer. He knew what the last sentence meant, too. He and Shane were gonna
be put on the streets of LA as boy whores.

"Where's Fagin?"

"Fagin's faggin' thuther hole."  Soge said, in his slow
pronouncement. Despite his slow speech, his accent made it hard to
understand; but then Zeke figured it out. 12 year old Shane was now being
fucked. That was also when he realized that not all the shrieks he was
hearing were being caused by the wind.

"If he rips anything---" Snake man pointed angrily at Pike.

"Relax, Scain" Pike said, trying to appear calm, "Fagin's long but he ain't
fat --- Don't look at me like that Soge, he used to fuck my sister, so's I
know more `bout Fagin's dick then I care to --- but he knows how to trick
out boypussy. He may got the boy bent over and given'im what-not on
poundin' that little pucker, but he's just teachin' `im how it means to
have a pussy, Scain. Fagin won't do no perm'nent damage. Besides, he knows
who you need out in LA to get this started."

"Negro man's comin'" Soge suddenly said, staring out solemnly into the dust
void.

"Aww, Scain, not the black guy from Harold's?"  Pike started complaining,
"you didn't bring him in on this, did ya? He's all blow and ain't even good
enough to be a two-bit pimp---"

"Silence."  Scain demanded of Pike, and Pike shut up quickly. He didn't
like the involvement of anyone else, but the other two had gone a little
weird on him tonight and made their regular scary selves even scarier.

The snake man took a deep breath of the darkening air and laughed low and
creepy, almost like it was coming from around him than from him. Or maybe
that was a trick of the wind, Zeke thought. It disturbed Zeke, but so did
the mention of this mysterious black man, the Negro man. Was he gonna rape
Zeke and Shane, too? And was it true what they said about black dicks on
the playground? This was going to fucking hurt. Literally.

"Let him come. He can do nothing here."  Scain answered, to the winds as
much to Soge. But he and Soge surveyed the dark dust-swept air of the park
before them, just the same.  "Pike, secure the waif."

Zeke had suddenly realized he was free and their attentions were
diverted. He quickly made to get away but felt Pike's hand run through his
hair and tighten. Then he realized that he was `the waif.' With one strong
jerk, and a really loud yelp of pain from Zeke, the unfortunate boy was
pulled upward, scrambling to get his feet under him. Pike was amazingly
strong for how he looked. To make matters even more dismal, Zeke also had
no doubt that Pike was the weakest of the three out there.

Were they all going to fuck him? And poor Shane? He was reminded of his
school friend once again as another miserable screech from the gymnasium
pierced through the winds to reach his ears.

Zeke's head was held up, constantly jerked around --- for Pike's amusement
or to keep him off balance, he didn't know which. He was pretty certain it
was for both; and he could now hear even more of Shane's screams and cries
blown around on the wind, making him further nauseous. It was hard to shut
those out, even with the wind suddenly increasing in fury. He thought he
heard the crack of a tree broken in two, but at that moment all of his
concentration shifted to the swirling haze of dust blocking out most of the
park.

There was something . . . . . just there . . . . . where shadows seemed to
conform to a shape of something a bit more than nothingness, a shape coming
out of the storming dust haze. First one shape, and then immediately two,
coming forward, slow but sure, toward the group of rapists and pimps. This
was `the Negro man,' Zeke knew it in his fearful mind, and possibly
something more, besides. He very nearly shat himself.

As they came clearer, he could make out more obvious differences. The shape
on the right was tall, but the one on the left and just half a step behind
looked to be more of Zeke's height. Whatever or whoever these beings were,
as they slowly formed from the fluid void of wind, dark, and dreadful, they
strode resolutely as soldiers, into a battle of which they were confident
before they were even engaged.

But as the two figures resolved into fully recognizable forms, scarcely
more than a few feet from the menacing criminals, they came to a stop and
confronted them. They weren't black men, as Zeke had expected.

The tall one was about 16 or 17 by the looks of him, and perhaps not even
as tall as he carried himself. He had auburn hair and piercing green eyes
that not even darkness of fate could dim. And the smaller one, still just a
bit behind, was nothing more than a boy, 12 years old, but without even the
smudge of fear. His red hair claimed his parentage, and his eyes were
green, but green of the deepest forest green, with hints of shadow within
the rim of the iris, but pure and undiluted if you were ever able to see
them properly.

They looked like warriors come to disarm and destroy, and despite any doubt
of reason, Zeke almost believed they could. The tall one raised his hand
and gestured toward Zeke and demanded the men let him go; but almost
immediately, the same older boy threw his hand up to his head, as though it
were about to split open and let out a yell of pain. He looked back up with
anger flashing his own green eyes brighter, but even Zeke could see the
thin line of blood trickling down from his nose, as the almost demonic
laughter flowed out from Scain and Soge.

"You have no power against us, Negro man," Soge taunted, while Scain's
smile went from wary but sure to delightful and assured, all in an evil
sort of way.

"James!"  The younger of the two warriors exclaimed, quickly grasping a
hold of what seemed to be an older brother as much as a fellow merchant of
Justice and moving himself between the one called James and the cackling
rapists.

"I'm alright." The older boy called out, wiping the blood from his nose,
staring at it briefly, as though he had never seen his own blood, and then
shouted an explanation to the younger redhead.  "It's Jack! He's using
spells of the leith bhrogan!"

"He's not strong enough for that!!  Is he??"

The two were practically yelling at each other to be heard over the even
increasing din of the storm.

"He's used the right one, and Ian's tapped into all of family's power to
feed it. He must have given Jack gold! It's the only payment for the spell
to work this strong!"

"Ian's not allowed to have any gold; mom and dad told us that!"

"It's Ian! He's more powerful and more resourceful than you realize. But
then again, knowing Ian, he probably wasn't even paying attention."

"But why this?"

James thought about it a minute and almost smiled.  "It's all the bad Karma
he created, circling around the touchstone of a powerful and duplicitous
spell. Worse, Jack managed to do it on the Summer Solstice. He's ripped the
fabric of the Spirit world and set loose some fairly vengeful spirits!"

"Dullahan?"  The boy said, and for the first and only time looking a bit
pale.

But the one named James shook his head.  "Just as bad, in some ways -- an
Amandan!"

Almost as proof, James again put his hand to his head and groaned when the
younger boy took his hand away, almost crying, and the younger boy realized
that he had been hiding great pain earlier; but it was getting to be too
much. The other men weren't advancing, but smiling and recognizing a
stalemate that was slowly shifting into their favor.

"Where is it? Where's the Amandan?" The younger boy asked, reaching out to
touch his brother again, except that James knocked his hand away.

"Circling, waiting to get to that boy free and clear. Nothing can get to
Ian while Jack holds his power, so they're going after the closest thing
that has part of Ian within him. Some part of Ian resides elsewhere
nearby. I'll be willing to bet that that boy was used sexually by Ian at
some point, and had the misfortune of just being physically too close when
the transfer of the gift was made from Ian to Jack."

"You're right! I recognize him," the younger boy shouted, and then pointed
at Scain and Soge, "But what are they?"

"Korrigan. But I can't do anything about them as long as they hold that
boy."  James yelled, looking weaker by the moment, telling his little
brother what he had to do, "Duncan! You have to go in and get the boy! Take
him away from here!"

Zeke heard it. He knew who Duncan Cormack was; but the boy was only 12,
like himself. He should be scared shitless, except that Duncan looked
anything but. He just nodded his head in a grim resolve, yet one seemingly
without the least of fear. If he had any, he certainly wasn't letting the
slightest shred of it show. Duncan didn't even hesitate as he turned toward
the men and walked right up to them, keeping his eyes and attention on
Zeke.

Zeke didn't know whether he should still feel afraid and in pain, or just
give himself over to being completely flabbergasted.

Scain still had the nasty sneer of an assured victory plastered on his
face, but even he raised an eyebrow when the 12 year old red-head strode
forward. His smile got even bigger when Duncan passed and he looked down at
the boy's clothed backside.

"Yes, a fine addition to my collection."  Scain looked back up and straight
into James' eyes, "My thanks to you, wild man of the woods, for this gift
of what seems to be the finest ass I've ever seen on a boy. We'll make good
use of his pussy, and I . . . . I know how to make him use it right."

Zeke was nearly in tears and trying to shake his head no, except that Pike
was still rattling it around for him.

"Run, Duncan, run!"  He pleaded with the boy, fearful for not just himself,
but of any boy being used the way Scain and his friends intended. But
Duncan just smiled and grasped the boy's arm. Pike was so shocked that he
just let go of Zeke.

"Take him, Soge," Scain growled.

And Soge, quicker than his slow speech would lead you to expect, reached
out to grab a hold of Duncan. But Duncan was quicker; he grabbed the man's
wrist, and almost immediately the man was sinking to his knees, screaming
in pain. Zeke almost thought he saw smoke coming from around Duncan's
fingers.

Duncan didn't even seem to be surprised, really; though Scain certainly
did. It was almost more like Duncan instinctively knew what might
happen. When he let go, there were red burn marks the shape of his fingers
around Soge's wrist.

"Come with me," Duncan said and then pulled the stunned Zeke out from among
the three men to where James stood waiting, now with his own smile of
assured Victory on HIS face.

"Get him out of here, Duncan."

"Look out!!"  Zeke had looked back to see the three angry men, especially
Scain and Soge, rushing James to take him out. But this time, when James
lifted his hand toward the men and stretched it open loosely, they were the
ones that crumpled to the ground, hands to their heads and screaming in
pain. Except it wasn't momentary for them.

"Go! I can hold them!"

"No, wait," Zeke exclaimed, "there's another boy! Inside! And another man
. . . he's . . . . . he's . . . . . . ."

"Trust Duncan, and do what he tells you. I'll take care of the other boy."

"Let's go, Zeke," Duncan said, releasing the boy's arm with his left, but
not before reaching down with his right hand and quickly grabbing Zeke's
hand and intertwining their fingers, as if they were lovers.  "Whatever you
do, don't break contact."

With that he pulled the other boy after him and took off running to the
other side of the park. Zeke had never realized how big the park was, and
how big the trees were, until they came to rest against the large trunk of
one of them, not far off from where James had parked the family car.

It was Zeke, more than Duncan, who couldn't run any farther.  "Wait, stop,
I . . . . . I don't understand. What's happening?"

Duncan looked at the boy a moment before answering. He really shouldn't
tell Zeke any of this, but he knew in the end it wouldn't matter what Zeke
was told. He was in pain with trauma and confusion at the moment and needed
comforting. Duncan had a kindly and benevolent look on his face as he
patiently described to the stricken boy about Ian's abilities and about
Jack's desire to strike back at the boy for what he did to him.

"That's how I ended up . . . . ."  Zeke was about to say `bending over for
him', but reclaimed his boyish sensibilities and found himself unable to
admit it in front of Duncan, even though Duncan most assuredly already
knew. If it wasn't for Ian, Randy wouldn't have caught him; and if it
wasn't for that . . . . . . .

"Yes, I figured Ian had gotten you to, uh . . . . . . well, had gotten to
you. Anyway, the disturbance that Jack created opened up a tear in the
fabric between our world and the Fae and allowed in a wraith, of sorts,
that couldn't attach itself to them, so it went after the closest thing
that smelled like Ian, which was you."

"Wait, how could I smell like Ian?? It's been two weeks or something since
I . . . . . saw him last."

"It could be just that you were the closest person around that he's used
his gift on, or just that he's used it on you more than some others
nearby. Or maybe Ian's actually able to, uh, you know . . . . squirt
. . . . and, um, some of it got inside you."

Zeke gave a small shiver of disgust, once again being reminded that he
could be labeled as someone to be used like that.  "Can it really work like
that?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. It's part of him. And if he could make actual sperms
and not just squirt some clear stuff, then the effect would be even more
powerful."

"How come these things don't just go after you and your brother now? You
guys are closer to Ian than me."

"Well, normally, we're protected from our brother's gift, somewhat, by
virtue of family bonds, except the kind of spell Jack invoked feeds off of
the family bonds and reverses our protection."

"That's why your brother James got hurt at first?"

"Yeah. But he's still pretty strong and can fight pretty well. The Fae go
lightly, usually, around people like James ---- except his abilities won't
work directly on Jack now."

"How come you could just . . . . . . . . . . . and what happened to that
big guy when you grabbed him?"

Duncan again hesitated, but he reminded himself of the foregone conclusion
of the matter, and relented his secrets -- somewhat.  "I'm protected by
another . . . . . uh . . . .magick, I guess you could call it."

"Magic?"  Despite everything he had seen tonight, and despite already
knowing what Ian and Nate said about the gifts of the Cormacks, `gifts'
that they very much shouldn't have, Zeke's cynicism and doubt were rising.
"Magic. Right."

"I guess you could call it that, but it isn't really magic like you think
of. I'm protected by a . . . .um . . . . a band of Fear Darrig magick, and
it's stronger than what Jake used. In fact, instead of just protecting me,
it almost retaliates, all on its own, against Loprachan magick. At least
any Loprachan that comes against it, which is why that guy was hurting when
he came after me. And it's why this storm won't go into Indian Spring. One
of the many reasons."

"Loprachan?  You mean Leprechauns?"

"Yes, and as long as we maintain contact, James can fight them, and they
can't get you."

"Leprechauns?? Leprechauns!?!"  The anxiety and disbelief of the whole
night were swirling into anger and a need to strike back against what
obviously could not be true, as Zeke's voice went up a half-pitch and he
struggled to free his hand from Duncan's grip.  "You're fucking crazy!!
Leprechauns??!?"

"It's not what you think, Zeke, and don't let go!! It's not little men in
green, it's old magic, born out of Ireland . . . . ."

"Let go of me, you freak! It's a fucking storm!! And those
. . . . . gangster . . . whatevers . . . . are just criminals, and I'm
calling the police!!"

He managed to rip his arm and hand free of Duncan's grasp, and immediately
a piercing howl, mournful and vengeful and hungry all at once, ran through
the trees and began to rapidly descend toward them. The wind also picked up
ferociously and seemed to single out the two boys, struggling to separate
Zeke even further form Duncan. Zeke's face went slack, his will dropped,
and he looked in petrified horror into the trees, unable to run, unable to
react, losing both his mind and any stable hold on both terra firma and
cerebra firma.

The boy would have screamed if he could have, but his mind felt like an
explosion was about to go off with the mother of all headaches promising to
rip the very fabric of his white matter, when all of a sudden, he felt
Duncan's hands go around his face and pull him in for a kiss, open mouth,
searching tongue, swapping spit -- the works. He slowly calmed, melted into
the disreality of the intimate contact with the boy he knew deeper down to
be his savior of the evening.

Duncan eventually pulled back and looked into the eyes of the now-calmed
boy.  "OK, now?"

Duncan hadn't let go of him, and the howls and wind had died down, muffled,
but still unhappy and searching. Grumbling and dangerous, like blind sharks
let loose from their environment. Zeke chanced a look up the park toward
the school and saw James with a hand to his head, suffering a new headache,
but still keeping the three hoodlums pinned to the ground. It looked like
at this point like they weren't getting back up, but the pain had clearly
shot back through and momentarily rattled the older boy.

"Shane!"  He said, suddenly remembering.

"We can help him, Zeke, but we have to keep you shielded from the spirits."

"This is real? You're like . . . . . . out of a comic book or
something. Did you . . . . . like . . . . . go to boot camp for this?"

Duncan smiled at the stunned boy.  "No, it's something more
intuitive. James is the real hero. Kind of like a Super Soldier, of sorts."

"Ian's . . . . like you guys?"

Duncan nodded.  "He's very powerful, too. Well, he was. Will you let me
help you?"

Zeke nodded. That one terrifying moment, the one that lasted a lifetime
before Duncan broke the attack, was more than enough to remind him that he
wasn't caught up in anything normal right now. And his mind, whether he
truly understood it or not, was about as fragile as the thinnest crystal
glass right now, just waiting to shatter in the vibrations of the coming
assault.  "OK, but, what am I supposed to do? I can't just hold your hand
forever. And it would look real weird if you kept touching my face like
that when the police get here."

"My saliva. I gave you some in the kiss and that should help . . . some,
even without direct contact."

"Oh . . . yeah, um, sorry I made you have to do that."

"I'm not into boys exactly that way, Zeke, but you're pretty good looking,
so I guess I don't mind so much."

Duncan smiled as he said it and Zeke blushed. He suddenly felt like a
little kid being watched over by a big kid.

"So, um," he started up again nervously, "what do I do?"

"Here, put your hand on my skin," Duncan said, a bit more hushed as he
guided Zeke's trembling hand under his shirt and made contact with his
stomach. Zeke felt the boy's warm skin and could feel the muscles ripple
slightly under the flat, taut, but reactive skin. It was smooth and
sensuous and immediately gave Zeke a hard-on.

"You like that?"  Duncan asked.

"Yeah," came a coarse and lusty reply, just barely whispered out, but
enough to make Zeke blush even further, almost angry at himself for
admitting it. Duncan smiled and stood there a bit longer, feeling the boy's
hand almost too tentatively touching, yet making full contact all the same,
becoming braver by the second and making a surer contact, a weightier
pressure, and even venturing to move about and run his finger pads and the
whole of his palm over the more confident 12 year old's abdominal surface.

Once Duncan was sure he had the boy's attention and interest in keeping
contact, he closed the even small distance between them and reached his own
hand down and ran it along Zeke's clothed crotch, squeezing and testing the
boy's reactiveness to the situation.

"Oh fuck," Zeke squeaked out, though he had tried hard to keep it in.

"You are liking this," Duncan said, again with a smile, and with a sureness
that wasn't smug, but quite sexy actually. He didn't need just Zeke's
groans to answer that; he could feel it in the strain of the boy's
crotch. Zeke tried to maintain his manhood and not answer, but he could
hardly stop himself from nodding his head; even biting his lip didn't help.

"Now to answer your question," Duncan said as he unsnapped his own jeans
and slid down the zipper, "about how we can keep direct contact . . . . ."

A small sigh escaped Zeke's throat as he stared at Duncan's hands, one
travelling down the zipper tracks and then hefting his balls through his
jeans and the other guiding Zeke's hand along his stomach, farther down,
closer to the elastic waistband of the deep purple boxers, slipping those
fingers under and letting the boy travel further on his own. Just as his
hands passed under the front band, Duncan took Zeke's other hand and ran it
up behind his shirt in back and dipped those fingers behind the back
waistband of his boxers.

Zeke was now standing a bit to the side and gasped as his fingers explored
the edges of the most splendid naked crack and ass, and the other hand just
dipped into the small, thin nest of hairs above the still untouched root of
Duncan's dick. As he ran those tips through the hairs, Duncan leaned in
again. Zeke thought he was coming in for a kiss, and silently cursed
himself in shame as he closed his eyes and waited expectantly. What the
hell happened to all that surety of being a boy for the ladies down the
road?  That sense of longing for breast and pussy that he had entertained
just shortly after supper this very night?  What was happening to him?

But he waited for a kiss that didn't come. Instead Duncan leaned in and
whispered in his ear.

"I know you've probably sucked on Ian's dick, but have you ever swallowed
real cum? Cum full of sperm?"

"Yes," came a hoarse and nervous whisper, as Zeke felt a rush of blood to
his face. But at the same time he had moved his hand down so that the
fingers brushed through the loose pubic hairs of the boy who was so
obviously taking control. Zeke ran his hand down the hard shaft just below
those unseen marvelous short curls and grasped a hold of the hot poker,
wondering for a brief instant if he wasn't really gay somewhere, as he
found himself wanting it so desperately.

"Good," Duncan said, moving both his hands to Zeke's shoulders, "because
you need to drink some more tonight, Zeke. Sorry, but it's the only way."

With that he pushed Zeke to his knees. Zeke had one hand wrapped around
that marvelous shaft he was dying to finally see, and with the other hand
he raked down Duncan's pants and underwear off the majestic and perfect
butt that he realized he would never get to have. He pulled the boys
clothes all the way to his ankles and looked on in amazement and wonder at
the beautiful dick before him.

Zeke licked his lips and leaned in, taking the hardly darker head of the
helmeted warrior into his mouth and running his tongue over its spongy
surface, continuing onward to take in the first inch or two of clean,
scrumptious dickshaft, sucking and savoring as he strove to give the
delightful boy above the best blowjob experience that he could.

Duncan meanwhile ran his hands through the soft brown hair, as the head
moved up and down along his hardened shaft, his sensitive underside evoking
moans of delight at the job the boy was doing, and triggering an occasional
spasm and more than an occasional word of encouragement. Zeke for his part
had moved his hands around for a tactile feast on the springy rumps of
flesh. Duncan wasn't tightened up, but wholly into being massaged and felt
up back there. He even squirmed with climactic fervor as he felt fingers
delve into his crack and approach dangerously ever-so-closer to his hole.

The tease of impending contact was soon transformed with relish into a
circling of the tight muscular hole, a tantalizing pull and tug on the
outer love ring, and an active reminder of the virginity within. The
foreign and forbidden nature of and the very real feedback of erogenous
nerves caused Duncan to moan louder, plunge deeper and come upward into
that orgasmic-splattering experience of 12 years and a ball-emptying thrust
forward, unleashing the sperms of youth and vitality and the semen of first
spring and flooding the warm mouth of the receptive boy who was still
sucking, still drawing in, still swallowing for all he was worth to capture
it all.

Duncan very slowly came down from that high, and Zeke very slowly drew back
off the dick, going back down for a suck, backed off a bit more, back down
for the last remnants, back off a bit more, back down for a swirl and
lavish of his tongue, back off a bit more, back down for a last savor.

He loved this dick. It was perfection.

Zeke finally came up for hair. He swallowed again to clear his
throat. Duncan was still running one hand through that wind-tousled hair,
trying to catch his breath after a spectacular blowjob and a tremendous cum
into the other boy's mouth. Zeke even ran his tongue around his mouth,
still salivating at the experience, and swallowed down the last,
surprisingly delicious, tastes of Duncan Cormack.

"You really do taste good, Duncan. I don't think I really believed Nate
when he told me; but you actually taste . . . . well . . . . . great. Kinda
weird to say it . . . . . kinda weird to think it. But you really do. I
even like the aftertaste."

"Thanks," Duncan said, smiling and reaching down to pull up his pants and
underwear.

Zeke stood up and looked up the slope toward the school and saw the three
hoodlums on the ground and jerking spasmodically. He saw the small distant
figure of James walk toward and stand before the blue steel door to the
gym. The older auburn-haired boy threw both hands toward the door which
took on an unearthly glow with bright light pouring out from all four
sides. Zeke would never really be sure, but it looked as though lightening
struck, just at the moment that James jerked his arms back behind him. The
door was ripped asunder, the two jagged vertical pieces were blown out to
either side of James, with a large crack of a shearing explosion.

The sound shook the very core of Zeke, unnerving him completely. He was
just lucky he didn't soil himself. But Duncan was unmoved and grabbed the
boy's arm to steel him and pull him farther away, toward the other side of
the park.

"Come on, Zeke. There's still some pretty nasty spirits attached to you."

"You mean that amda . . . .ama . . . ."

"Amandan. And June's a bad month for it, too."

"So, it's just gonna like, follow me the rest of my life?"

"Well, not exactly. Normally it's relentless, until it
. . . . . . . . well, we're gonna hide you. If it loses your scent and the
aura of your existence, it'll grow weaker, eventually too weak to remember
you fully, and took weak to sustain focused activity in this world --
unless someone summons it. But you aren't cosmically powerful enough, so to
speak, for it to remember after it returns, even without my protection. One
trip back through the veil between our worlds will wash all memory of you
away. At least, all important memory. . . . . . . We hope."

"Uh . . . . . . . you can't just hide me. I gotta go home at some point."

Duncan laughed.  "No, not physically hide you; more
. . . . . . . . . . metaphysically. Or something like that. It's what I
do. It's why James brought me with him. I can hide you from anyone or any
danger on earth. And not just mortal danger either."

"Because of the . . . . . . . . . um . . . . . . leprechauns?"  Zeke asked,
his cynicism rising again.

But Duncan smiled. It wouldn't matter in the end, so it wouldn't hurt to
tell him.  "No. My family's gifts are Danaan magick, for lack of a better
word. As a whole, it's hard to pull one over on any one of us, unless we
set our own selves up for it, like Ian. But individually, most of us have
certain focused gifts. Mine is shielding."

Duncan looked slightly lost in his own rumination for a moment, and the
next statement was quiet, not at all arrogant, almost with a dark border to
it, "My grandmother says that I could hide you from Death himself."

Zeke gulped. That just sounded scary as shit. And not the well-formed kind,
either. What the hell was in that sperm he swallowed? He didn't want to go
there.

"Um, so what the hell kind of gift does your older brother have?"  Zeke
looked back up the school in awe.

Duncan's eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure they had enough time for that one.
"He's a . . . . . . . . . well, he's no one to mess with. He's what you
needed tonight, at any rate."

"I thought I needed you."

Duncan just shook his head.  "James needed me."

"So, uh, how did either one of you know I needed either or both of you?"

"My little brother told us. Patrick. He's clairvoyant. Off and on."

"Meaning . . . . ."

"He can see glimpses of things as they are supposed to flow, and how the
flows are moving behind the fog of time, deception, misinformation. I don't
know if I can explain it better than that. He saw you riding your bike to
the school."

"That's it? Just saw me on my bike?"

"The vision -- it's not really a vision, but I can't describe it any other
way -- it just ended, ripped away in such a way as he had never seen
before. He got scared and went to James, of course. But James couldn't help
Patrick until they got me -- it was James' idea; he's pretty smart -- he
needed me to separate Patrick from what Patrick ran into. It's how he knew
what was going on here; and that's also how he knew he would need me. Both
Patricks are really worried about you, by the way. Katherine, too."

"Both Patricks . . . . . . . . ."  Zeke repeated, his voice fading away. He
was confused enough by the thoughts of little men in green tights and
unseen spirits whose names he couldn't pronounce. He was going to leave the
whole `two Patricks' thing alone.  They had finally come to the Cormack
station wagon on the far side of the park.  "Uh, so . . . . . . . . . where
again do the leprechauns come in?"

Duncan smiled. It was easy to see the boy wavered between total disbelief
and total hallucinogenic confusion.

"Like I said, they aren't little men in green, you know. At any rate, red
is the color more properly associated with the leith bhrogan. It's an older
part of Irish lore and magick. Older than my own people's time in Eire. My
cousins, though, they're Black Irish. Remnants of an even older wave of
migration. It's them that tinker most in those forms. It's dangerous
magick, Zeke, very difficult to find, harder still to master, and
impossible to fully control."

"So why do it?"

"It's powerful. And it's pure Irish. The temptations are great, but
fortunately very elusive. If you can find one, the spells work best when
cast through something pure and at certain times of the year. Tonight's a
powerful night. Samhain even more so."

"How do you mean, cast through something pure?"

"It means whatever you use to barter your deal with the spirits or the
magick that you are trying to bind. It's common among many beliefs and
peoples to have a medium of exchange between you and the spirit or
magic. You know, like sticks from very specific trees."

"Sticks?"

"Magic wands, people think of them. They don't really work like that,
though. Only, with leprechaun magic, the medium has to be something pure:
the morning dew under moonlight, the first shoots of clover, rainbows, and
. . . . . . gold."

"You mean . . . . . Lucky Charms is all real?"

Again Duncan laughed.  "No, just filtered down through years of
misunderstanding and marketing. But Jake, my cousin that's Black Irish, is
an alchemist, sort of, like his dad. So using gold as a medium is already
up his alley. It's not too surprising, I guess, that he could pull off some
Loprachan magic already. Combine that with gold or your heart being the
only purities that can be actually given away -- you can't really give away
rainbows -- Loprachan magic is a good way to steal the family magic of
others."

"What about purple horseshoes and blue diamonds?"

Duncan smiled at the joke. Zeke still didn't want to buy any of this, but
he couldn't deny the things he had seen and heard at the school, and how it
all faded behind a dam, of sorts, after he swallowed the red-headed boy's
cum. There was something to it.

"Horseshoes are used in mischief magick or, at best, untrustworthy half-ass
magick. It's Cluricaune magick. And diamonds aren't really pure. It's the
impurities that make them valuable. But all this ----" Duncan waved his
hand to indicate the school on the other side of the park, as well as
something unseen just beyond that, "It isn't funny to us. It seems that by
stealing Ian's magick on the Solstice --- and he must have used
freely-given Gold somehow --- Jake managed to make our family gifts useless
against him."

"Except yours."

"I'm protected by . . . . . something else . . . . something partly from
and partly outside our family. A complicated spell that includes a very
particular piece of very, very, very powerful magick. But even then, it
doesn't normally protect me as much I can protect others -- EXCEPT,
apparently, up against Loprachan magic. The spell that protects me is
usually passive, but it seems to become active when pushed by Loprachan
magick. It's why those men couldn't touch me. They were infected by
whatever Jake did."

"What? How? No, don't answer that. I don't understand any of this. Just
. . . . Why? Why me? Why would Jake want to go after me?"

"He wouldn't, Zeke. He doesn't know, probably, that this is even
happening. Jake would never, ever do all this . . . not on purpose. The
reason Loprachan magick is so dangerous is that it is two-sided
magick. It's why it has always been represented in duality. The moon has
two halfs -- the waxing and the waning. A gold coin has two sides. The
rainbow has two ends. Whenever you cast a Loprachan spell, you ALWAYS cast
both sides of the spell. It's why my ancestors won the Island from my
cousins' ancestors, the Fir Bolg. Older magick isn't always the better
magick, even if it is more powerful. Sometimes it's better to be more
focused."

"So . . . . . you said you can hide me from the Leprechauns?"

Duncan sighed.  It seemed he couldn't completely shake Zeke's traumatized
view that if something was after him, then it would be little men dressed
in green, or some horrified version of them.

"Yes. I can. The sperm I fed you --- sorry, but that's what I was doing ---
that should protect you long enough. But we should do one more load, just
to be sure."

"What . . . . . are you serious?"

He was.

"Well," Zeke said looking around, suddenly feeling quite exposed now that
they were on the edge of the park by the car.  "I guess we could. I mean, I
wasn't lying when I said you actually taste good. Still, it's kinda weird
. . . . . . . I mean . . . . . . . ."

"I'm not like Ian. I can't make you do it. I wouldn't make you do it, not
this way. But I need you to do it to be able to protect you better."

"Well . . . . . all right . . . . . I'll give you another blow job."

"No, not that. This load needs to go up a different route."  Duncan said
and grabbed the boy's ass and squeezed.

Zeke gulped. Holy crap this guy's serious!

Despite protestations that someone would see them and through dubious
reassurances that no-one would, Duncan very soon had Zeke bent over the
back seat of the station wagon, his legs still on the pavement and Ducan
standing behind, dick at the ready and holding the two warm orbs of flesh,
slowly parting them by gently pushing up and out. Both boys gave nearly
silent gasps at this action, the one feeling the anticipation and
pleasurable fear/anxiety of a public fucking at the by the hard dick of a
new boy, and the other seeing once again the beauty of that hidden marvel
between the cheeks, that amazing, silky, gripping muscle that brought such
indescribable pleasure.

Already slicked up and ready by the Vaseline he brought with him, Duncan
released the cheeks with some chagrin, but steadied himself with one hand
and his dick with the other and leaned in to penetrate the balmy regions of
this handsome and winsome boy. He almost moaned a sigh as his dickhead came
in contact with the even warmer anus and pressed forward to penetrate into
the hot, promising depths of the boy.

The dick that was piercing and spreading his anal muscle seemed more
confident than any of the others that had been back there. It was strong,
sure, decisive, and demanding, yet also giving, appreciative, and gentle as
Duncan eased slowly in on the first three inches, but not bottoming out
until he had pulled back and fucked in a bit more three separate times. By
this time he was able to set up a commanding rhythm to set both the pace
and the dominance of one who was of a surety on Top. At the same time, he
gave so much pleasure to the boy below him that it caused Zeke an acute
discomfort at being so willingly claimed and fucked by a boy -- yet just to
answer by squirming in ecstatic pleasure.

And so Duncan truly penetrated and enjoyed the boy who was only a few
months younger than him, but on par with development. Fucking a boy who was
both popular and self-confident brought an even greater pleasure to Duncan,
in as much as did just the knowledge of having a boy at both ends and
leaving an ample deposit of cum in the mouth and the rectum of someone his
own age. Doing a boy whose own balls said he could cum just heightened the
feelings further. It was different than doing Nate and Joey; this was more
like doing an equal. And Duncan loved it.

Duncan was well into the fucking and had the boy trying to climb both out
of the back seat and farther back onto Duncan's relentlessly pistoning
erect flesh at the same time, when they heard James open up the front door
beside them and dump the limp body of Shane Walther into the front seat.

"He's OK; just out of it," James said quickly then smiling broadly at his
little brother in the caught position -- though Duncan was way too close to
an orgasm to even quit pumping in embarrassment; and he held down Zeke to
keep him from reacting - "I'm going up to one of those houses and ask them
to call the police and an ambulance. You boys look like you're having
fun. Keep at it."

Zeke thought he would die of embarrassment; he turned even redder than he
had before. Duncan wasn't too far behind him. He had never done anything
sexually where James had caught him before. It didn't help when James
smacked his perfect ass and cheekily added that no wonder Connor had a
fixation on that butt. It only added to his embarrassment -- and also gave
fuel to his rising climax -- that he was too far gone in the fuck to even
slow much, but definitely not to stop. He went right on fucking, bringing
both boys to a sure and ready orgasm.

Duncan came first, pressing more of his body into the boy, pushing him
forward across the seat, straining the sensitive underside of Zeke's own
hard dick, with sure, hard, forceful and slow last fucks. It was too much
strain on Zeke's mind as he felt the hot sperm being shot deep within him,
the hard dick still buried within his rectum, pumping in warm protective
sperm, and the physical pressures along his own shaft, and he shot,
plastering the fake leather seats and his own belly with copious relief.

The boys stayed like that for a bit, no longer giving any recognition to
being out in public now that they were so drained and done for; but they
eventually got themselves disentangled and cleaned up with a spare rag in
the car. They were sitting in the back seat, unable to make small talk in
the awkward silence, when James returned. He opened the door on Zeke's side
so that he could twist and face the boys.

"All right then, everything done and ready?"  James asked them with a
smile.

Duncan smiled back and nodded, though it seemed like a sad smile; but Zeke
still couldn't look at James. He was too embarrassed about his so very
recent activity with the awesome, but still male, redhead; activity that
James had witnessed. Now that it had all been done, he felt even sillier
for buying into the magick arguments. Even though he had always maintained
some skepticism, now he felt even more embarrassment and disbelief.

But still, the two brothers had saved him.

"Thanks," he finally said, "For coming to get me. And for saving me. And
Shane. He'll be all right, won't he?"

"I think so. I'll drive both of you in to the hospital to get checked. The
police will want to talk with you, too."

Zeke nodded his understanding. He didn't want to go to the hospital; he
wasn't sure he wanted to talk to the police either. But he realized that
that was all out of his control; and it was easier to just give in and
accept it. Besides he didn't want those scary guys coming after him again.

"What about the four guys up there?"

"They can't hurt you ever again, Zeke," James said with a calm and sure
voice.  "You don't need to worry about them."

"Um . . . . OK. Well . . . . . . I . . . . um . . . . . . I won't tell
anyone about the stuff you told me, Duncan."

"I know."  Duncan sounded convinced, but somewhat sad, as he said it.  "You
won't remember any of it anyway."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to forget any of this."

Duncan nodded, but still had that look of pre-repentance on his face. He
reached up and ran his hand through the back of Zeke's hair, caressing the
boy's head almost lovingly, but keeping contact against the boy's skin,
right at the base of his skull.  "You will. Look at James for a moment."

Zeke looked at Duncan confused, but all the same turned as he was
directed. James also smiled at the boy and winked, "Smile, Zeke. Say
`Cheese'."










8:25 pm Tucker House The unincorporated area of Indian Spring


Kelley was starving.

What was it that had just woken him up? Thunder? Sounded like some kind of
storm over Sweetwater. Why was it he could hear it? Almost feel it? Weird.

And why was he fully clothed?

Ah. Now he remembered. Not fully clothed either. He was wearing his pants
and shirt, but he wasn't wearing underwear, as he slowly remembered where
he had left those. And why.

Gross.

Double gross actually. He not only did all that stuff --- it wasn't a bad
dream --- but he hadn't even bathed afterward. What time was it, anyway?

"Oh, you're awake!"  Sylvie Tucker stuck her head in the door to check on
her oldest son.

"Mom!!"  Kelley blurted out, covering himself up and blushing severely,
"I'm not dressed!"

Sylvie just arched an eyebrow and suppressed a smile at her obviously fully
dressed son.  "OK, so you aren't completely awake."

"Hunh? I mean . . . ."  Before he could change his response to the more
appropriate `ma'am?' Kelley looked down and realized that he was actually
dressed. Mostly. But she wouldn't know about the underwear part
. . . . xcept that she was a mom . . . . .  "Uh . . . . . ."

Well, that was all weird, the boy thought.

Sylvie let it go; she wasn't even sure how to approach that outburst.  "I
wanted to get you up to eat something, and I'd like you to stay up for at
least a couple of hours before going back to bed. I don't want your sleep
routine completely thrown off."

"Yes, ma'am. I am kinda hungry."

Kinda? Sheesh. Could eat an actual horse.

Uh, gross. Maybe not actually a horse.

"Kelley?"

"Uh . . . ."  Kelley looked up a bit confused.  "Yes, ma'am?"

"Are you . . . . awake?"

"Yes, ma'am. Of course."

"OK . . . . . well, I have an idea. Why don't you come down to the living
room, and I'll get you some supper warmed up, and then you can watch a
movie with me and Dad. Just the three of us. How about that? Your dad
rented Clear and Present Danger. You know he's a Tom Clancy fan."

"And you're a Harrison Ford fan."

"Oh, you got me there. Come on down; it'll be fun."

"I'll be there shortly, mom. I need a shower."

"You can get a shower after the movie, Kelley, come on down."

What was he going to tell his mom? I just had sex with three guys, I'm
going commando, and I'm concerned Vaseline may leak out of my well-fucked
ass and stain my jeans? No.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm coming."

And with that last statement he hesitated in rising off his bed, gave a
quick mental check, and realized that his penis was actually no longer
hard. Although it felt full. But cumming he was not going to be able to do,
however much he needed it. At least not for a few more hours.

Kelley got up and followed his mom downstairs.







11:30pm Emergency Room City Hospital, in The City


"Oh, my poor baby, my poor baby, will you please wake up?!!"

"Mimi, the doctors said it doesn't look like any permanent damage was
done. I'm sure he'll wake up any moment now."

"Oh, Jacob, what if he's like those other three boys? What if he wakes up
with his brains half-fried and twisted around so that he's like some baby
and has to be re-taught everything. Or like that fourth one, looking around
in fear and babbling about like some insane person."

"Then we'll re-teach him everything. And he won't wake up insane."

Jacob and Mimi Prosper held each other's hand tightly and silently watched,
worry unabated, over their only son. Thank goodness those two nice boys
found him and brought him and Shane in to the hospital. The nurses said
Ezekiel had been rambling some when he first got there, though none of it
made any sense; and the ER doctors said he was definitely dazed, as though
he had taken a hit. The two boys in the hallway said they found him
wandering in the woods at the far side of the park. Shane was in better
condition, even though he had a blank look on his face.

The doctors believed that Shane's lack of memory had more to do with the
trauma of the rape than being struck by lightning. All he could tell them
was hearing the storm outside and then a loud BOOM. He was being hurt,
somehow, by somebody who started screaming. He vaguely remembered Ezekiel
coming in for him at some point earlier, and he seemed to recall some other
guys saying something about kidnapping Zeke and that Randy West had
something to do with it all. Then one of the men started to hurt him. It
was all hazy, though he remembered the auburn-haired older boy in the
hallway coming in to get him. And then he passed out.

Shane says that was all he remembered. That and waking up in the ER. In
truth, he also remembered some other information about Randy and Zeke, but
considering that Zeke had risked his life to find him, whether Zeke
remembered looking for him or not, all the other information was stuff
Shane decided no one need ever know.

Jacob and Mimi talked a bit more about the storm that seemed to have come
out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly. The firefighters couldn't
tell where the lightning path was, and none of the boys or young men had
external burns; but something of incredible charge had blown that steel
door in two and blew out quite a few surrounding bricks as well. And the
injuries of all the older boys occurring at the same time, knocking them
unconscious, and providing varying degrees of neurological injury, it was
all consistent, somewhat with a lightening burst. Plus, there had been that
storm, the one that no one really seemed to notice until it was over. And
the witnesses that brought the boys in claimed to have noticed a flash of
light in the general area.

No one really wanted to push the general consensus that this wasn't like a
lightning strike that they had ever seen. That would be just too weird.

So it was considered an open-and-shut lightning strike case -- except for
the signs of sexual abuse on Shane; but considering the fact that the four
boys-to-men who had assaulted him were all scrambled-headed at the moment,
no one was sure how to proceed with charges.

"Wh- . . . . . . where am I?"

The bright lights and beeping noises were all very confusing.

"What the hell am I wearing?"

"It's OK, Ezekiel, son, you're in the Emergency Room."

"Dad? Mom? Wh-- . . . . why?"

"It may be a little confusing, but you may have been struck by
lightning. Several other boys seem to have been. What do you remember?"

It was a loaded question. What was he supposed to remember? To be honest,
all he could think at that point was to ask what the hell he was
wearing. His clothes were gone and replaced with this giant flimsy
one-piece cloth with sleeves. Slowly a few other things came to him: a
Sonic cup, Sherry Walther, Sherry's straw . . . . . oh yeah, the straw
. . . .

Ezekiel smiled big at the memory that the straw triggered, forgetting that
there were several others in the room waiting to hear what he
remembered. It was at that very moment he suddenly quit smiling; he didn't
know what fool designed the contraption he had on, but he knew three
things: it was designed thin, and it was the ONLY thing he was wearing. And
the sheet that covered him? Just as thin.

Ezekiel quickly raised his knees to tent the sheet and cover the erection
that started raising it on its own when he began thinking about the straw
. . . . . Sherry's lips . . . . . . . . . Sherry's lips going down his
dick, treating him the same as that Sonic straw. . . . . . . .

"Oh . . . . . uh . . . . . I remember . . . . . I ran into Sherry Wal---
. . . . . I mean, I was looking for Shane Walther."

He remembered the other bike at the school --- on its lonesome ---, the
Sonic cup, the slamming door. He remembered being worried that Shane was in
trouble. So he went to have a look.

"And I remember seeing him . . . . ."  He remembered seeing the boy on his
knees being forced to service some reprobate; but he couldn't say
that. That was for Shane to say.  "I remember seeing him . . . . . um
. . . . . in trouble."

"It's OK son, we know about that part. What else do you remember?"

"Uh, one guy had a knife, I think . . . and I . . . . . I ran to get help;
but then right after that, I sorta . . . . . blacked out."

"That must have been when the lightning hit," said an officer standing in
the curtained area.  "One more thing, son . . . . . . can you sit up? You
see those two boys sitting out there?"

Ezekiel leaned forward and looked at them. He didn't know them, and he
didn't understand why the officer would point out two perfect strangers,
but they weren't sore on the eyes, especially the one that looked about his
age. He was fucking HOT.

Ezekiel frowned at himself. Did he just think that about another boy? What
the hell did that lightning bolt do to him? Even now he caught himself
following the ass of the younger of the two redheads as he stood up and
walked to a snack machine. That was the finest, most delectable ass he had
ever seen ---- WHAT??  Did he just think that?  What the hell was wrong
with him??  Had he ever looked at a boy like that before?  He didn't know;
he couldn't remember.

"Are you all right, Ezekiel?"

"What? Oh, yes ma'am. I'm fine. Don't worry, mom."  He replied, pulling his
hands away from his temples.  "Just a quick headache is all."

They looked at each other concerned. The doctor had said that if he got
another headache then he would be getting a night in the hospital and an
MRI on top of the Head CT.

"Now while those two boys are out of hearing," the officer said in a low
voice, "I need to know if they were in the gang that attacked you boys, if
they hurt you in any way, or if they look familiar to you."

Zeke shook his head.  "They weren't with the other guys. At least, I don't
remember them at all. I thought they were the ones that saved me?"

"Well that's what they say, but there are no other witnesses."

"Well, they don't look familiar, except maybe I go to school with the guy
my age? I don't know."

"Just had to ask, son. Their family checks out; a good family. None of the
kids have ever been in any trouble, so I don't think there's anything but
`local heroes of the moment' to attach to them."  The officer said as he
left out.

Good, Ezekiel thought, because the younger one really is hot.

Dammit! There he went again! Why would he think that?

"Are you, OK, son?"

"Yeah, Mom," he sighed, "Would you please stop asking me if I'm OK?"

"Well, you just looked like something was wrong there for a moment, but
I'll try to ask less often," she said, forcing a smile out.  "It's just,
after everything that happened with Randy West."

"What happened with Randy?"  Ezekiel asked with some concern.

His parents looked nervous for a moment and were about to break the news
that they were the ones who insisted that Randy be sent to a Juvenile
Correction Center, where he had apparently encountered one of the hoodlums
and put him on Zeke's scent; but at that moment, the doctor came in. His
parents had the simultaneous concern, as well, that maybe he didn't
remember what had happened with Randy. Jacob and Mimi looked at each other
with worry. They didn't exactly feel so bad about their son not remembering
Randy. But not remembering Randy wasn't completely a good thing, was it?



"Mr. and Mrs. Prosper," the doctor who had come in and replaced the officer
a few moments ago said quietly, but still where Zeke could hear, "There may
be some recent memory loss associated with the lightening strike. It's hard
to say how temporary or permanent it might be."

"But should he forget someone he was so . . . . . well . . . . . . that he
had . . . . . . such a history with?"

"Hello, I'm right here."  Zeke grunted. He hated when adults did that.  "I
remember Randy. He was an ass. I just . . . . . don't remember exactly what
happened. I mean, I know kind of what he did, I think, maybe, but it's like
he did it to someone else. I don't actually remember any of it happening. I
mean . . . . that really couldn't have happened. I don't guess. I don't
know."

His took deep slow breaths, unsure, himself, of whether this rambling and
partial amnesia was good or bad.

"The Wests came by the ER, but they haven't been back here."  His mom told
him, "They're very worried. They're with Mark in the waiting room."

"Mark's a really good guy, Mom. He's nothing like Randy. You should let him
back here. But first, what exactly happened with Randy?"

Ezekiel's parents filled him in on the details, adding a few that they were
afraid maybe he had forgotten. He didn't protest that; it was all a bit
murky to him, even what he did remember.

"Makes sense," he said after hearing about the Correctional Center
transfer.  "The main hoodlum guy told me he found out about me --- and who
Shane was --- through Randy. I had forgotten that. And I guess that didn't
really make sense until now. Except, it kinda still doesn't, you know? I
don't know how much I can tell the police, though. I remembered I was
scared, but I don't exactly remember anything scary."

"It's normal," the doctor said, "After a trauma, the mind often blocks out
details that are too difficult for the patient to process or accept. He may
never remember those details, or it may come back to him in
pieces. Follow-up with a therapist will be essential to his mental and
emotional health."

But Ezekiel was shaking his head.  "I remember what Randy did to me, like I
read it somewhere, sort of; I just don't remember anything that had
actually happened. I know what he did, but I can't remember it. I mean ---
it doesn't hurt, so I can't really feel much toward hating him."

"He's responsible for what happened to me," Shane said bitterly.  "Maybe I
don't remember exactly what and how everything happened, but I know it did,
and that hurts enough. I don't have a problem hating him."

Ezekiel looked over to his right and saw that the curtain separating his
space from Shane's had been pulled back enough that he could see Shane and
Mr. and Mrs. Walther on the other side, and Sherry peeking around the
curtain closest to him.

"Sorry, Shane. You're right. I can hate him plenty enough for that."

Sherry broke past the curtain and ran and gave Zeke a hug and thanked him
profusely for saving her twin brother and whispered in his ear that she
would never tell anyone anything about what Randy did to him. Ezekiel
blushed, but only partly because she knew about that -- and had actually
mentioned it -- but more so because he felt guilty for having the thoughts
he had had about Sherry just moments earlier. It brought yet another rise
to his penis that he tried to conceal again -- but not before a proud
father caught sight of it. Maybe Ezekiel really had just been in a phase
with Tamara's boy, Jacob Prosper thought with relief.

"Well, sorry Sherry; I really wanted to help Shane, but I guess it was
those other two guys and the lightening that did it."

"You tried. You're still a hero to me," She said, all smiles for the boy,
and for the rest of her life, from that moment, she never once breathed a
word of what Randy had done to anyone, not even when talking to Shane.

"Oh," his mother interjected, without really thinking about it, "those two
boys who brought you to the ER? They're from Indian Spring, too."

"Too?"

"Yes, like your . . . . um . . . . . friend . . . . Nathan."

"Nathan Walczysky moved to Indian Spring? When?"  It was asked more in
disbelief than anything.

"Son, the Walczysky family moved out to California."

"Nathan moved to California?!? When??!? Why?!??"

"Ezekial, Nathan Walczysky moved four and a half years ago, when you two
were in elementary school together."

"Elementary School?"  He said it more like he was surprised about having
gone there, but he was still trying to process why Nathan Walczysky had
left so suddenly without saying goodbye.

"You do remember the second grade, don't you?"

"Yes! I'm not stupid."

"What grade level are you going into, Ezekiel?"

The boy had to pause a moment, a few moments, actually, but he guessed it
correctly -- seventh grade.

"Ezekiel, darling, don't you remember your friend, Nathan Carlin?"

"OK, so I don't remember everything about second grade. Big deal."

"Big deal?"  This wasn't exactly how Jacob Prosper wanted his son to move
out of this `phase'.

Zeke just shrugged. Yeah, big deal. What's a few lost brain and or memory
cells? He remembered Shane. Knew his parents. Knew his own name. And his
penis obviously still worked. So where was the worry?

But he could see the concern on both of his parent's faces, so he played
along. Zeke sighed.

"OK. Fine. So who is this Nathan Carlin? Was he in my class back in second
grade, too?"







11:47 pm Tucker House The unincorporated area of Indian Spring



"Ping."

Kelley turned to the window. Did he just hear something?

His hair was still mostly wet from the shower, his body mostly dry, but all
he had wrapped around him was a large white terry cloth towel.

"Ping."

The shower had felt good.

No . . . . . great.

No.

Beyond great. It had washed away the weariness of the evening, the dirt and
stink that he could feel on him the whole time that he was watching the
movie with his parents, wondering if they could smell his earlier evening
escapades as they hugged him goodnight. It washed away a few cares, and a
lot of worries. It cleansed him.

"Ping."

And for this reason, he hadn't jacked off in the shower. He was feeling too
human, too close back to normal, he didn't want to bring anything sexual
into the shower with the purification that the flowing hot sprays
provided. His balls were full, to be sure, full and needing to be emptied,
as they had been all day. And his dick was in the same `semi' condition as
it had been when Jeremy was giving it to him good in his butt about six
hours earlier.

It wasn't an argument to whether or not he `needed' to jerk off. Of course
he needed it. He needed it bad; and he planned to take care of that as soon
as he lay back in his own bed, all alone upstairs, no more parents, no
brothers, no ---

"Ping."

What the hell is that noise??

Kelley walked over to his window, pulling himself out of his reverie. He
wrapped the towel around himself better and folded it in so he wouldn't
have to hold it and raised the window sash and looked out.

"Hey, Tucker!"

Shit. Seriously?

At least the boy below gave a quiet, `whispered' yell. But what was he
doing there?

"Casey??  Look, just stay right there.  And be quiet!"

Kelley's room looked out over the front, and fortunately his parents' room
was on the other side of the house. Kelley went downstairs and answered the
front door in just his towel (that he was clutching at the side again
because it had come loose while coming down the stairs) and tried to ignore
the fact that Casey was fairly appreciative of Kelley's door-answering
attire.

"Casey, what are you doing here? It's almost midnight."

"It's not almost midnight; there's at least half an hour before midnight."

"Casey. . ."

"Fine, maybe 15 minutes before midnight. I just . . . . . I wanted to
talk."

"Can we talk tomorrow?"

"No . . . you're gonna be at that . . . . . party. Which is still really
stupid, by the way."

"Yeah, well, those are probably both good points."

"And why is there a blue `O' on your chest right there?"  Casey pointed to
the blue permanent marker `O' that Kelley's own Dad had drawn in the upper
left part of his chest, above his nipple.

"Never mind about the `O', it's late . . . . did you . . . . . did you
sneak out?"

Casey smiled big and nodded. He had never done that before. Except for the
night that Kelley had come over. And it was exhilarating now as it was
then. Except then, there had been so much more to it, what with Kelley
bending over and . . . . and . . . . . . and then Casey remembered how he
had left things with Kelley earlier in the day, and he lost his smile.

"Tucker . . . . um . . . Tuck?"  Casey cautiously tried out the diminutive
form that so many other boys in the Spring used with the coolest kid ever,
wondering if he could ever be so lucky where that would be a natural and
accepted thing for him to say.  "Well, uh, thing is . . . . . . can I come
in and say this?"

Kelley sighed and nodded. He stepped aside to let the half a year older,
yet half a year less socially mature, boy in.

"Come on, let's go up to my room so my parents don't hear us. I know how
much trouble I'll get in if I sneak out again. I'm not sure what happens if
I'm helping you do it."

Casey nodded. He didn't want to get Kelley in trouble, but following the
absolute hottest boy that you know, up the stairs and to his bedroom while
he's wrapped in nothing but a towel can really throw off your reserves,
your thoughts, your plans, your intentions . . . . . every thing you may
have had deep thoughts about earlier. And without a doubt it would put a
strong rise in your penis. It didn't matter if you were the most
heterosexual boy on the planet.

To hide his erection from view, his now massively strong erection, Casey
immediately went over to Kelley's bed and sat down on it, leaning over
slightly to rest his arms on his legs. Kelley didn't need any of his
abilities to figure out what was wrong at the moment; he had,
unfortunately, personal experience with what the boy was feeling. Well,
personal experience with other boys feeling what the boy was feeling. Casey
may have come over here with different intentions, but now the boy was
horny.

Kelley looked down at himself in the towel and sighed. He was perfectly
humble a boy, still, after everything that had happened; but he knew why
Casey was horny.

Unfortunately, Kelley himself still had not had the opportunity to relieve
his own pent-up burdens. He was making his own mark in the front of the
towel.

He sighed again and went over and sat next to Casey on the bed.

"Casey, what is it? Why did you need to come over here tonight?"

Casey tried to push his current horniness out of the way in his mind and
get down to the brass tacks of what was bugging him most.

"Nobody . . . ."

That was as far as he got for a few awkward moments, staring off into the
limited space of Kelley's surprisingly large bedroom, and for the first
time the deeper appreciation of Kelley was completely split from any sexual
interest or kink. For a moment he was focused on the true importance of
everything.

"Well, nobody treats me bad like Malcolm. I mean like they treat
Malcolm. Even Malcolm doesn't treat me bad. I'm kinda more of a nobody to
him. But that's kinda it. I've been a nobody, you know, like a nobody
everybody's kinda nice to if they see me, but . . . . . Nobody's ever
treated me like you do. Like you have. I mean . . . . Eric treats me like I
matter, and I don't even think Andrea makes him. But she might. But I don't
think she does . . . .

"And Corey, of course, he treats me real nice, but he's like, what? Six
years old or something inside there? If even that, even if he is older than
me, almost as big as me, and stronger than shit when he's mad. But he's
kinda . . . special . . . you know. Anyways, I don't think I have it real
bad or anything, but . . . . . . nobody's ever treated me like you
do. Did. Well . . . do. Like I'm . . . . . somebody . . . . . important, or
something."

"You are somebody important, Casey."  Kelley was really too tired to be the
support for yet another person, but he let the kid go on.

"You think everyone is important. That's just how cool you are, even though
you're even more important than everybody."

Kelley sighed and started to shake his head. Casey had no idea . . . . .

Though, Casey thought the exact same thing about the curlishly brown-headed
all-boy on the bed next to him, still dressed only in a towel --- though
that didn't peak any sexual interest in Casey at this point; it just served
to reinforce his point to himself that Tucker was the be-all end-all to
relaxed and carefree coolness. And Kelley really had no idea of that.

"Dude, don't shake your head, I'm not stupid. You are! The coolest, I
mean. Not stupid. That would be me."

"You just said you weren't stupid," Kelley said a smile.

"Yeah, well I am. I had like the coolest person in the world doing things
for me that he didn't have to and treated me like I wasn't just normal but
somehow, like, maybe cool too, or something, that I could have what you
gave me, and then . . . . and then . . . . ."

"You didn't want that Casey, that's cool too."  Kelley said, thinking to
himself, but definitely not voicing it, that he didn't really want it
either.

"No. I did. I just . . . . . . I was stupid. I mean . . . . . I didn't come
over to ask for it all back . . . I mean I did, uh, sorta . . . . but I
really didn't. I mean . . . . . I just . . . . . I really wish you could
just look at me like that and think I was someone worth hanging around or
talking to or going over to see without all the . . . . . you know."

Casey finished for a bit, embarrassed by his own gushing. Kelley just
nodded. He understood. He had missed it before, or at least he had missed
the whole of it. He caught that Casey was mad about Kelley's insistence on
following Mackey rules, that it degraded somewhat his elevated image of
Kelley as the Indian Spring iconoclast above it all, and he had been mad
that he saw Kelley as demeaning both himself and the image that Casey had
of him by allowing even more boys sexual access to his body. It wasn't
really about jealousy, but degradation.

But Kelley had missed the more obvious anger. Casey had the epiphany (well
it wasn't an epiphany at that point, as he had had it several times before,
but the wedge of doubt was at that moment pounded into his skull as
inescapable reality) that he himself was meaningless to Kelley. At best, he
was an inconvenience that the more popular boy had to suffer through
because of a one-time and inconceivable mistake of getting fucked.

And at worst, and this was what Casey had really felt, he was the
meaningless means to an end that the boy needed, for whatever reason, to
get at the heart of a matter with the Mackeys or with the saving of Indian
Spring, a project that their own parents were focused on, albeit through
more salubrious means. Kelley had somehow needed his ass fucked, needed to
be owned, as even more inconceivable and improbable as this would seem, and
Casey was the most non-descript, harmless, and meaningless person to do the
task. So far out of the periphery of worth that Kelley could risk such a
venture with the boy.

And he lost it.

And he yelled all those things at Kelley.

And he went home and cried. And felt sorry for himself. And very slowly
came to a realization that should the worst of the worst be true, he had
still just lost, or rather thrown away, the best friend that he actually
had. Someone who, despite even the probability of this, could even be
something of a real friend at some level.

Kelley, meanwhile, on his part, realized the boy really did need the
boarding school in Bingham. He was perhaps one of the few who actually
needed to get out of Indian Spring for a while.

"I think St. Oliver's is going to good for you, Casey."

Casey nodded. He knew that deeper down. But at least Kelley confirmed
something else for him, in the nicest way possible, but he was cool like
that. He couldn't be Casey's friend.

"I understand."  Casey said, managing a smile as he stood up to go.

"And you can still spend the night here whenever you come back for school
breaks," Kelley added.

"What?"

"Well, that offer was never about the sex, stupid. It was just an offer to
come over and spend the night when you were on break. You still can you
know."

"What?"  This time Casey mumbled his disbelief even softer.

"They're separate things, you know, Casey. You and the sex. I'm friends
with you. The sex . . . . well, that just became something more
complicated; but just because you don't like it and wanted to be out of
that situation doesn't mean I think less of actual `you.' I guess I don't
know any other way to say it."

Casey sat back down on the bed. He had to think about this.  "You mean
we're friends?"

"Yeah. That's who I usually invite over to spend the night. And since you
don't have a whole lot here, not close ones, and you're going to be gone
away a lot to school, when you come home you should be able to just come
over and hang out and be with a friend. You know, have somewhere to go
spend the night. So that's here, cool?"

"Yeah."  The boy was still stunned.  "Thanks."

Kelley held out a hand, and the boys shook on it.

"But . . . . . I said all those really bad things to you . . . ."

"Actually, you yelled all those really bad things at me," Kelley corrected
him with a smile.  "But it's cool, Casey, really. Honestly, you had every
right to everything you said. I'm sorry I took advantage of you like that."

"Well," Casey shrugged slightly and blushed, "It wasn't like I really hated
doing it or anything . . . . ."

Kelley laughed, surprising himself that he could actually find this light
and amusing.

"Hey, Tucker, why did you let me do that the first time?"

Kelley sighed out, shrugged himself, and said, "I don't really know,
Casey. It's . . . . complicated; and I'm not entirely sure I can figure it
all out myself. But you don't have to do any of that, OK?"

Casey nodded, opened his mouth, closed it, hesitated some more, but finally
said, "You know, I wouldn't really mind so terribly if I had to . . . . ."

"Are you serious?"

Casey gave a half squinch of his eyes, as though he wanted to say yes, but
was too afraid to. Kelley looked at the boy, and into the boy, and he could
see that there were two reasons why Casey had come over that night, and the
concern over losing a possible friend, and whether he ever even had that
possible friend, was only one of those reasons. There was another reason.

Oddly enough, Kelley could also tell that the first reason was 100% of the
whole reason the boy had snuck out at night and come over. 100% of it. And
yet there was still another reason. Kelley couldn't explain how that could
be, but he knew what he was seeing. He wasn't wrong.

All the same . . . . .

"Casey, what was the other reason you came over?"

"Honest Kelley, that was it. I just wanted . . . . to be your
friend. That's all."

"I know. I believe you, and I know you're being honest. But what's the
other thing on your mind?"

The boy looked quite sheepish and it took him a bit longer to get it out,
especially sitting there on Kelley's bed and his idol wrapped up only in a
towel about his waist.

"Well, actually, Tucker, I was wondering if there was any way I could, um,
have . . . . uh . . . . you know, those rights again?"

"The rights to my butt?"

"Yeah."  Casey blushed, but at least he had gotten it out.  "I really want
to fuck it."

"No, Casey. That's over and done. It didn't really hurt me any, in fact it
almost started to . . . um . . . well, that's not important. You gave it up
and that's done with, OK?"

"Yeah. It's cool. Just had to ask, you know," the boy replied, still a bit
nervously. Who couldn't be nervous when broaching a subject like that with
someone like Kelley Tucker, so many stations in life above him?  "So
. . . uh, I guess I should go."

"Sure, Casey, go ahead and ask your parents --- in the morning, I mean ---
if you can spend the night before you leave for Bingham."

"OK. I'd like that. Uh . . . . you're, um . . . . . . really naked under
there?"

Casey just couldn't help it and he gulped big time when Kelley opened up
the towel to show him the perfectly proportioned and exquisitely made
boyhood jewels, just lightly topped by a few honey-brown hairs. Kelley
realized instantly that that was probably a mistake and covered up and got
up to go put on his underwear. Unfortunately, though, it was going to be a
very specific kind of underwear he would have to put on.

"You're nuts and dick look so cool, Tucker. I hope it's not weird saying
that. You just look, you know, so nice. Girls will probably laugh at mine,
if I can ever even get any to look at it."

Kelley smiled and shook his head. He got up and went over to his
dresser. Casey sure was one weird kid. Maybe not quite as weird as Greg
Allen, but . . . . different.

"Your junk is fine, Casey. I guess I can swear to it that it works all
right," Kelley said as he pulled up his new blue briefs under his towel.
"And I'm sure there's any number of girls that are going to like it just
fine."

Casey shrugged. His dick did work. And he knew he could fuck, thanks to
some early experience. At least he would always have that. And right now he
admired Kelley's body even further as he dropped the towel and revealed the
well-fitting, somewhat skimpy, blue briefs.

"So do you have to wear those blue briefs forever, from now on out? You
look really nice in them, by the way."

"Thanks."

"I mean I'm not gay or anything."

"Yes, Casey," Kelley sighed, "I know you aren't. It's cool. Neither one of
us are; being gay is something totally separate from just sex or even
thinking another guy is good looking. Don't worry so much about it. And no,
I don't have to wear these forever. I only have to wear them on days when
there is a White Party, one that I have to go to."

"And can really any guy at the party . . . . . you know . . . . fuck you?"

"Anyone at the party in White BVD's. They can fuck me at least twice a day
each without having to have to ask. I think there's a limit, too, on so
many per hour, and for larger parties a per day limit fro everyone. But
yeah, anybody in White BVD's."

"Why are you putting them on now?"

"Well, technically my invitation just said Friday til Saturday at 2 pm. And
it's after midnight on Friday, now, so . . . . . Plus I already told Ethan
he could do anything he wanted until the end of the Party. So, I guess now
that I've pulled them on, I'm officially. . . . uh . . . . open for
business. Good thing Ethan's spending the night at Jeremy's, or I probably
wouldn't get much sleep."

"You let Ethan . . . . ."

"Fuck me? Yeah. I know. But he's a great kid, and I can take it. I guess he
deserves it. And it's his right, really, while I have to wear these."

All of a sudden Kelley's senses turned on, and he realized something had
just happened to Casey. There was a change. As if the boy had had another
epiphany.

"So . . . . . right now . . . . any boy at the party or at your house
wearing White BVD's can fuck you?"

"Uh . . . yeah . . . . why?"

"Cause, um . . . . . ," Casey mumbled, almost apologetically, and stood up
and tugged the waist band of his underwear out from his jeans.

It was a white band, and you could just see the white cotton underwear
begin below the elastic.

Kelley looked with some dread at the band and read what he already knew he
would see:

B V D

Crap.

Seriously?

The boy hadn't planned it, or even considered it before now, or Kelley
would have sensed it. It was just rotten luck. But rules are rules.







12:03 am Friday morning, 23 June 1995 Room 416 City Hospital, The City

Shane and Zeke were sharing a room on the fourth floor of the hospital,
their ER doctor believing that it was prudent, given the bizarre
circumstances and the extent of memory loss, especially in Zeke, to watch
both boys overnight.

But how could either sleep? And they didn't exactly want to talk to each
other about what had happened, so it was some relief to have their moms
there, chatting on the small, commercial sofa at the back of the room, but
also some agony as their chat backlit the boys' silence, which only served
to remind everyone of what they had to be so silent about.

After awhile the mothers' chatter stilled, and through mutual unstated
awareness of the problem, they nodded to each other and got up and told the
boys that they were going down to the cafeteria for some coffee, that they
would check on them again after they were able to get some sleep. They had
hoped the boys would be able to have something to say to each other in
private, but neither mom felt now was the time to be pushy.

With both of them gone, the silence was deafening. The TV was on low, so as
not to disturb the neighboring rooms, but neither boy was watching, and
like their moms' talking, that made the silence worse.

"Well, at least all that chatter's gone now, right?"  Zeke said, more to
break the accusing silence than to establish any kind of actual
communication.

"Yeah," Shane said laughing a bit, but then trailed off.  "At least that
. . . . ."

"Shane . . . . . I wish I could tell you I know what it feels like
. . . . to be . . . . .," Zeke floundered in his attempt to help both of
them move on, "but I don't remember, really."

"You mean what it feels like to be . . . . ."  Shane was bitter, though not
toward Zeke, but he couldn't say the word either.

To be raped.

To be ass raped, unwilling, bent over your own school bleachers and have
your asshole penetrated against your will, forcefully sodomized with no one
to stop it or help you . . . . . .

Yeah, that.

"I know what Randy did, but I don't really remember it. I can't actually
feel it. Even my anger and . . . .," Zeke stopped himself before he said
`shame' --- no sense in just making things worse for Shane.  "Anyways, I'm
sorry. I wish I could have . . . . . ."

He couldn't finish that thought, though truth is he didn't know how to
finish it. It just came out as a sigh and a semi-reluctant return to
staring at the TV screen, an activity in which he was unenthusiastically
joined by Shane, until the other boy started talking again.

"I don't . . . . . exactly . . . . . remember all of it, either. It's like
I remember just enough. Just enough to tell the police what happened,
enough that I had to get this `rape kit' thing done, which, I don't know,
some ways was worse than the . . . . the rape . . . I guess. At least I
don't really remember most of that first thing. I don't remember the shame,
I just feel ashamed knowing what happened. I don't really remember any
pain, but I can feel it right now."

"You want me to call the nurse?"

"No, I don't mean it's that kind of pain; I mean it hurts, like I've been
ripped open, almost like I still got something shoved up there, but that's
all fading. I meant, I can feel the pain that tells me that what happened
to me was really, really painful, in all kind of ways. The doctor says that
it's good that I don't remember. I overheard him telling my parents the
same thing, but he also told them, when he thought me and Sherry couldn't
hear, that reason I probably couldn't remember wasn't the lightening, cause
there wasn't any sign of it on the bleachers, but that the physical,
emotional, and psychic pain was so severe that I was so traumatized and
that took away all, well most, my memories away."

"Geez . . . ."  Zeke could have related to being raped on that same section
of bleachers by Randy --- over and over and over --- except that he didn't
really remember that much detail.

"He told them I may never remember, which I hope I don't, or I may wake up
screaming in the night from nightmares where I relive it but still can't
remember, or maybe I just start to feel it without remembering and that'll
make me scared to go places or do things or have friends or all kinds of
stuff."

"Holy crap. Shane . . . . I'm sorry man."

"It could be worse, I guess. It's like I said, I just remember enough to
tell the basics, like that's all someone wanted me to be able to do."

"Shane . . ."

"I remember you ran, Zeke. I could tell them that. I remember you got away
before they could do anything to you. It's why they didn't do one of those
rape kits on you."

Some part of Zeke registered that that was a good thing, though he couldn't
put a finger on why, or even fathom a why. But that wasn't the biggest
concern. He had run. Shane saw him run. What kind of a coward was he?

"Shane, I'm sorry . . . . . I'm sorry I left you . . . . . I don't
. . . . . remember . . . ."

As if that was any excuse.

But Shane wasn't apparently thinking of it that way.

"Why? Why are you sorry you ran?"

"Because . . . . . I . . . ."

"What were you going to do, besides get buttfucked and turned into some
boy-hooker in California? Did you know that's what they were going to do?
Do you remember anything?"

Zeke could only shake his head. He wasn't much more right now than a
conflicting mess of emotions and confusion trying to break through this
detached ethos that currently had a grip on him.

"You ran to get help, Zeke. And you found some. You were amazing! This guy
had a knife on you and another guy was about to take you down and you faked
them both and got away. You even got past the really scary guy that was in
charge. I only barely remember him."

Some evil snake writhed momentarily through Zeke's consciousness and a
shiver of fear went through him. He could have sworn he heard a howling
wind, just for an instant, right before he . . . . . . . almost as though
he woke back up. Did he fall asleep, even for a second? But he wasn't
tired, and Shane was still going on, as though he hadn't seen anything
unusual, though he was looking right at the boy:

"And that guy was right outside the door, too. I think. At least, I know he
went outside before you got there. I can't remember exactly what was
happening to me at that point, but I know you got away. Cause you brought
help."

"I did?"

"Well, you found someone. You told them about me. If it wasn't for you
. . . . . . ."  A tear ran down Shane's face as he thought about the
possibilities, and his voice cracked as he filled in the only ending he
could, ". . . . nobody would have ever known what happened to me."

Zeke still felt low, like he had gotten away and left Shane there.

"And the worst part is," Shane's tears were running freely. He would be
bawling at this point, except that he was also angry, very angry, and also
impotent, and that kept him enough in check to exclaim before he pulled his
knees up, buried his and broke down in sobs, "The worst part is, that
asshole shot all his cum inside me, and it's still in there. IT'S STILL IN
THERE!! And I can't do anything about it!"

Shane cried, and Zeke let him. He didn't know what to do or say. He just
watched his . . . . friend? . . . . . cry. He watched, and Shane cried, and
they somehow got through the next ten minutes as best as two boys could,
not having the social or emotional tools to deal with anything of this
magnitude.






12:06 am Tucker House The unincorporated area of Indian Spring


Kelley felt the hand press into his back, pushing him down onto his own
bed, the very one he was currently bent over, and he felt that sadly
familiar slide of a hard and greased dickhead down his outer crack, just
before it slid in, like going through the warmest, squeezingest butter,
until it could push through and glide the nether regions of his tween ass.

He would have sighed if he wasn't so damn hard. And he meant that `damn' as
a curse on his dick and his strange and Benedict hormones. He wasn't
expecting that Casey would ever be doing this again.

Kelley had told the boy that the rules didn't apply to fully dressed boys,
but he did relent that if Casey was down to only his White BVD's, then he
certainly could take advantage of a rule that Kelley was bound by oath (to
himself) and honor to obey. And Casey stripped to nothing but his skivvies
before he even realized what he had done. All that talk and concern about
friendship and what really mattered, and here he had let his hard (very,
very hard) dick just jump in and do both the thinking and acting.

Thing was, as embarrassed and ashamed and disappointed as he was in what he
just did, a record strip to nothing but briefs --- even lost his socks in
that speed nudation, Casey was still mindblown by his own dickneeds. The
guilty look of terror he had given Kelley was relieved by a laugh and a
shake of the head from the same boy in blue. The guy actually
laughed. Well, it was a short laugh, but enough of one to put Casey at
ease. He could fuck one last time tonight and still not lose the
friendship.

At least he hoped.

That and much, much more was what he was hoping as he watched Kelley turn
and head into the bathroom, entranced by the special and undeniably
tantalizing ass, barely hidden by the flimsier-appearing blue briefs and
reminded again, on many levels, certainly more than just the base one, how
utterly and indisputably cool Tucker was. He didn't even flinch, or at
least he hardly let it show, and he was actually going to let Casey have
another go down there!!

Casey was in such shock and disbelief, that when Kelley brought back the
Vaseline, he had to pull out Casey's dick and grease it himself. Once he
got Casey's underwear tucked under his balls and understood that Casey
wanted to pull those blue briefs down in back himself, he just turned
around and bent over. Kelley would let him do what he needed.

And he did.

And anybody could tell from the unintentional escape of words and groans
from Casey's mouth that he very much liked the power, the position, and the
performance in revealing, on his own terms, those marvelous globes that
Kelley unsuccessfully hid away from the world on a daily basis.

And as Kelley thought about it now, he couldn't for the life of him figure
out why he laughed. He guessed that it was one of those
everything-has-gone-wrong-so-perfectly situations that you just had to
laugh at it. Even though nothing was funny. Casey really did want to just
be friends with Kelley; even Kelley could see that that was the hoped-for
end-all, be-all, cant-believe-it's-true ending the boy was desperately
seeking, but the nappy-headed, somewhat geeky boy really had been just too
funny standing there with an erection about to rip a brand new Y-front in
those White BVD's, unable for anything in the world to control his own
baser desires and impulses.

All the same, that had been funnier before he was bent over his own bed,
his semi rubbing against his own sheets into a full-on hardon, reminding
the 12 year old boy that he had yet been able to get off ALL DAY LONG,
despite several very near teases threatening to bring him to a climax,
however tainted and `unnatural' the situation was that got him to those
several points. But he simply just could not allow that to happen now, not
here, not like this, not with Casey . . . . . except it was at that point
that Casey leaned in and the bulbous head of his eager dick opened up
Kelley's flower like a pollen-laden bee pushing its way in.

And as Kelley felt his asshole expand over and around that stiff
blood-engorged head, he knew he was in for a fuck. Discussion time was
over. He was on the ride, now; choices were made and gone and he just had
to flow with it.

And flow is just what his hole did, as it moved down the whole length of
that thickened hardon slowly entering all the way into his depths. At that
point it wasn't that he was getting fucked, again, that bothered Kelley so
much; it was the fact that as the pole slid into his rectum, it felt that
his anal stretch, which was indescribably pleasurable at the point, for
some unfathomable reason, was connected right to the back of his balls,
which for him were connected right to the most sensitive area of his dick,
just below his own spongy and blood engorged head, and that, well like any
boy, that was connected to EVERYTHING.

Especially at this point in time.

And as Casey pulled out and steadily and slowly ran his dick back in,
Kelley was already squirming across his own bedsheets, trying to climb up
the sides, off and away from that blood-pulsing hot invader, not because it
hurt --- it should hurt; he wanted it to hurt --- but because it felt so
damn good, so right, and wrong, so natural, and unnatural, so needed, so
unwanted; and he clawed at his own sense of boyhood not to just push back
and take over riding that instrument of unexpected gratification.

If Kelley could have wished for everything and anything at that point, it
would have been both an orgasm to end this, no orgasm to prolong this, and
some way to make it hurt, to make himself feel the disgust that he was sure
was lingering there on the horizon, to go back to not wanting this as much
or more as he didn't want to do this when Casey pushed him over the bed.

But even then, something deeper inside of Kelley was desiring the escape.

Later, Kelley would realize he needed to jerk off more so that he wouldn't
be so desperate when Casey did this again. (Did he just say `again' to
himself?) But for right now, he couldn't stop either the writhing or the
moans from escaping.

"Nnnggahh . . . .mmnngaah. . . . mmmmmore. . . . Casey . . . . .more!"

Holy shit!!! Did he just encourage the boy??? Shit. He didn't care. He
could care later. Right now he NEEDED to ride this wave. Casey complied,
and ran his dick in to the hilt into Kelley's fine ass, relishing the
spring of those fleshy yet muscular buttocks, pulling out and sliding the
whole of it in again, eagerly anticipating those groans caused by the
inward pull of his dick on the tensing and squeezing rings of muscle giving
Kelley such unexpected joy.

Casey was both speeding up and decreasing his thrust lengths. He knew
Kelley wasn't gay, and he knew --- because he had read up on it --- that
there were pleasure nerves in the ass as well, but he wasn't expecting this
reaction. He didn't care why it was there, it just made him feel a whole
lot better about fucking Tucker, and it heightened his own unbelievable
sensations. He loved that he could make Kelley, of all people, feel this
good; and he knew exactly what would make the boy feel even better. He had
realized it the last time he had fucked the boy.

Casey reached his hand under Kelley, even as he moved his body closer and
began some harder pounding on the ass, getting an equally hard grunt from
both of them at the point his root was fully implanted and when he hit the
wall of Kelley's own `taint, and he reached first for Kelley's dick, amazed
that it was so damn hard, and leaking, and . . . . . perfect. It was just
so damn perfect -- everything about the boy was.

This revelation didn't give Casey any inferiority complex, rather it just
even further heightened his appreciation and expectation of the current
rutting. He mumbled his marvel at how hard Kelley was and changed his tempo
to a slower, more intense and more deliberate skewering, something that
surprised both boys in how amped up their sexual peaks were after that
change. But the dick, and the increased pitch of the moans that accompanied
his feel of it, was not his goal. Even though he could barely even marshal
any thoughts, Casey knew there was a better destination for Kelley's
experience, and at this point Casey would do anything whatsoever for the
boy --- if Kelley only had the power to make intelligible speech and ask
for it.

Casey knew that Kelley's balls were a pipeline to his euphoria, that a tug
on the balls while he was being manipulated --- or, apparently, fucked ---
would send him to a high that could precipitate the most precipitous
orgasm. Casey reached down to those balls, amazed that the scrotum was
pulled up so tight against the boy's body, and he wrapped his hand around
it and gently, but decidedly, squeezed those drawn up testicles into the
hold of his seemingly almighty hand.

And that . . . .

that . . . . .

elicted so loud a groan that surely the boy's own parents had heard, if
they hadn't already noticed, and geez, surely the world had heard by now,
not that either boy cared, that there could be no mistake that Kelley liked
this. And sure enough, Casey felt the boy grind back into the oncoming
dick, pressing his butt deliberately into the crotch of his possessor.

Casey knew, as if the groans and demands weren't enough of a clue, that
from the drawn up scrotum (again Casey had read up and he knew that that
was what happened when a male was very sexually excited or possessed) that
Kelley was pleased, and that just further pleased Casey; it made him
happy. There wasn't a malicious bone in Casey, not even the bone he was
driving into Kelley's anus and rectum, and the happiness of the boy lifted
him yet higher. It wasn't much longer that he could last through this!!

Casey squeezed a bit more on the boy's scrotum and then did the thing that
really drove Kelley crazy: he tugged downward on the nutsack, bringing the
boy to an intensity of needing to cum that he had barely ever experienced
before. Kelley pushed back even harder into Casey who had once again
shifted from the moderate time and length thrusts into short and powerful
ones, yet still not slamming the boy or being too rough, just giving him
one to one-and-a-half inch strokes that really exercised the sensitive
endings come alive around his stretched anus.

When Kelley backed up, Casey took the hint and tugged down just a bit more,
hitting that perfect concentration of pleasure versus indecisive need to
bury or move -- for both. Kelley was about to crawl out of his skin with
the need to cum now, as was Casey, even more so as Kelley's reactions
included an actual tightening of his anal muscles as his micro-doomsday
approached in full.

The erstwhile top of the food chain boy lifted up his ass to get a better
angle to grind his hard and whimpering dick into his mattress. As he did
so, his scrotum stretched a bit more, Casey giving him no leeway for
escape, producing a delicious climb straight up into the stratosphere, very
slowly and securely pushing back onto that powerful dick, as much as the
commanding boy's hold on his balls would allow, and squeezed down as he
felt his nerves fray and all his reserves running over. Casey gave two
strong, robust, deliberate pushes through that severely tightened hole
before he too lost everything, and both boys entered a soul-piercing,
reality-numbing, mind-blowing, nerve-altering climax that each could swear
afterward had them pumping cum, after cum, after cum, after cum, after cum,
after cum for 20 or 30 minutes.

At least, that's what the altered timespan in their ultraeuphoric
discharges felt like.

Nut-busting.

Amazing.

Incredible.

Every adjective fit in their correct and full meanings. And it took a while
just to recover, most of which time Casey stayed draped over Kelley's back,
barely keeping his weight off, savoring unconscious the tease and heat of
the powerful boy's skin, as he strove for both breath and energy and still
kept his deflating dick fully imbedded. For at least a while.

"Oh . . . shit," Kelley swore, very quietly and quite uncharacteristically
--- and then even more quiet and uncharacteristicall: `fuuck!" --- as he
pushed himself up on his elbows, still laying across his bed, at least the
top half of him, and still feeling Casey's dick hold him open, albeit with
a lot less tension than before, and still panting like a bewildered
dog. Kelley was only able to grasp pieces, right now, of what he had just
let happen. What the hell was all that??

"Tucker," Casey began, and then dropped his forehead back onto Kelley's
back, such that the boy could feel the vibrations of Casey's request as
well as hear the sound of it.  "Please. I know you said no, but . . . . . I
want this. I want the rights back. I wanna own your but like you said I
could this morning."

This interrupted the flow of Kelley's breathing that was only just now
coming back to him. He had said no, right? Although, this was certainly a
good time to ask; never again would his guard be this low, never would he
be this `out of it.' But even now, he could sense that Casey wasn't timing
his request, he wasn't just striking at the perfect moment. He REALLY
wanted this. In fact, he had probably never wanted anything more.

Kelley shook his head, more to himself. What was he going to do with Casey?
Or worse, what was he going to do with Kelley Tucker? Even now Kelley was
befuddled as he felt his own self betray himself and think, well, why the
hell not? It wasn't like the kid was going to be around much anyway after
Tuesday. He was going away to school.

"OK, Casey," Kelley said, even surprised --- though also totally resigned
--- to hear the words come out of his mouth. They didn't come all at once,
however, as he was still getting his breath back from that . . . . that
. . . . well, whatever that was, "It's yours. You were the first person to
put . . . . um . . . . you know, to shoot sperm up my butt, so by Mackey
Rules it should still be yours. You turned it down in front of my dad, but
I don't think he'll care."

"Do we have to tell him?"

"Well, since you turned it down in front of him, it has to be either him or
the Council. I guess I would rather him."

"OK."

Whatever it took, Casey was already in heaven. He stood back up and ran his
hands appreciatively down Kelley's flawless back, with only the summer
hints of farmer's tan, the days at the creek ensuring a more even tone. He
then ran his hands down and over the buttocks, only pulling back just
slightly to do so, muttering over and over, "All mine."

"I can fuck you, whenever I want? And not just in your room?? Not just when
you're in Blue Pants?"

"Yeah, Casey."  Kelley almost added that he would appreciate it if the boy
would be as subtle and discreet about things as he could, but he knew that
would be unnecessary. Casey would do OK on that end.  "You own my butt for
. . . . fucking. Those are the rules. Just , you know, be cool about it and
enjoy it. I'll be OK."

Kelley had to pause on that word --- fucking. He would have to get used to
calling a spade a spade, though; no way around it. Casey meanwhile just
nodded and eased his semi-hard dick back into place in Kelley's ---
correction, HIS --- new ass. Kelley pushed himself up on his arms and
didn't say anything as Casey stayed embedded and continued to explore
Kelley's back, stomach, balls, dick, navel, even the boy's tits and
underarms. Kelley was patient, but even more than that was surprised at how
many times he jumped at an unexpected pleasurable feeling.

Geez, he thought to himself, how horny and desperate for a cum had he
been???

Something else occurred to Kelley, and it was hard to say it.

"Uh, Casey, since you did this f-f- . . . . this . . fuck . . . as a White
BVD on a Blue, just to be sure, since you're taking on, um, ownership, or
rights, or whatever, again, you should put another load of your sperm in me
as, uh, owner . . . . or whatever. Just to be sure no-one can argue
it. Since you had, well, tried to give it all up."

"You . . . . you're serious?"

"Yeah; I actually think we better. You think you can fuck again? I mean,
you should do it tonight, before any of the boys, especially Cal, at that
party fill me up."

"You're dad isn't going to let Cal do that, is he?? Not Cal!"

"Yeah, he is. That is, he's letting me go to this party. He's trusting me
to let me make these decisions, whether to follow the Mackey's Rules. And
it's Cal's party, so Cal kinda gets first go."

"Well, maybe I should fuck you two more times, you know, just to be sure."

Kelley laughed again.  Why the hell was he finding any of this funny?

"I guess that's kinda up to you. I think there's rules on how much you can
demand it, but . . . . you know, you won't really be around hardly at all
any more. So I'm not going to hold you to any of those rules."

"Seriously??? Man. Have I told you how you are the most awesome guy ever?"

"Yeah, I think it was something like that. So are you OK with that?"

"Yeah! But it might take me a few more minutes."

"That's OK. I was wondering, maybe we could take a break. I actually kinda
want to get a shower again."

I need one, Kelley thought. And maybe on the inside, too.

"Oh, yeah, sure!"

With some mild sadness or loss, Casey pulled out of Kelley's ass and let
the boy stand up and stretch out the kinks that getting fucked had put in
him. He was still at the stage of walking a bit funny, but what really took
Casey's attention was the amazing amount of mess that Kelley had made on
the end of his bed.

"Whoa, Tucker, you shot all that??"

"Yeah. I guess so. Actually it felt like even more. Looks like a week's
worth there, though. Guess I'll be doing laundry early in the morning."

Casey laughed and then turned to Kelley as the boy put his hand down on his
belly, just above his dick, and groaned lightly.

"You OK?"

"Yeah. But I think I'm not the only one who shot a week's worth."

Kelley hurried to the toilet to dump his cum enema, and Casey sat on the
end of the bed, near to where he had just fucked the boy, but not actually
in the quart of cum, or so it seemed, that Kelley had spilled there. He
would just wait for the boy, who was still, ironically, his idol in the
community, to get his shower and come back refreshed.

Casey heard the groan, the toilet paper roll spinning, the toilet flushing
and the shower starting, but was startled by Kelley popping his head back
through the door.

"Come on, Casey, the hot water feels really good, and you could probably do
with a shower."

"Um . . . . I can wait."

"Don't be stupid, the two of us will fit."

Kelley disappeared back into the shower, and Casey wandered into the
bathroom, uncertain, but smiling.






12:42 am Friday morning, 23 June 1995 Room 416 City Hospital, The City


"Hey . . . . . . are you awake?"

It could be called a stupid question, but it never fails to be used. As
invariably the person not responding typically is, or at least will
continue to pretend to be, not awake. But the quiet voice asked again.

"Zeke . . . . are you awake?"

He was now. Zeke turned around, startled, to see the red-head younger of
his two saving Springers leaning over him.

"Hey . . . . ."  Duncan started, boyishly and somewhat unsure of himself.

"You . . . . you were one of the guys that found me . . . . . what are you
doing here?"

"Just checking on you, seeing how you were and all."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"I mean why are you checking on me? I'm in a hospital and . . . . what time
is it anyway?"

"It's not one yet, but definitely after midnight. My brother James drove me
over. We just wanted to see how you were, make sure you were safe. That's
all. Don't worry about your mom, she's still down in the cafeteria with his
mom."

Zeke looked briefly over at Shane, who seemed to be asleep, and turned back
to Duncan Cormack.

"Wait . . . what do you mean to see if I was safe? I thought those guys
were . . . . uh . . . . how much do you know about all this?"

Duncan shrugged. It wasn't so much an `I don't know' shrug, as it was just
shrugging off the question.

"Well, if you want me to go, I will."

"No! . . . I mean . . . . I just . . . . . there's things I don't remember
. . . . . . I feel . . . . . I mean I have . . . . . these
. . . . . . weird thoughts . . . . . . . ."

Zeke couldn't for the life of him figure out why he was going in this
direction, or why this boy he didn't even know had rested his hand on his
arm, like he was comforting the boy. Whatever it was, as soon as Duncan
touched Zeke, Zeke felt safer, somehow, as though he could trust this
boy. This . . . . very good looking . . . . hot . . . . . sexy
. . . . . shit!

There he went again!!  What the hell did this lightening strike do to him?
Why was he having these thoughts?? They weren't constant; they were
somewhat random. He knew he wasn't gay. His last happy thoughts before he
drifted off to sleep were memories of two pretty girls in his class. At
least he thought they were in his class. Maybe they moved away in second
grade when Nathan Walczysky moved away, or that other Nathan, whoever he
was.

No, no, they definitely didn't move away in second grade, because he was
pretty sure one of them had tits. Girls didn't have tits in 2nd grade. A
lot of them didn't in 7th grade even; but one of those two
did. Jennifer. And he remembered he saw her one day when she wasn't wearing
a bra . . . . oh yeah, how could he have forgotten that?? She was getting
water from the water fountain and he could see partly down the front of her
shirt -- he could see those soft and warm mounds, and then she dripped or
somehow got a bunch of the ice cold water down the front of her shirt, and
one of her nipples really stood out. Almost literally. Zeke nearly popped a
boner right there in the school hallway.

Well, ok, so more than `nearly'. He did pop a boner; fortunately he was
wearing jeans. He `nearly' got caught by Jennifer and her two friends.

All of a sudden, Zeke realized something that snapped him out of his
reverie, and he looked down at his hospital gown and cursed quietly, right
before he pulled his knees up to hide what seemed to be the biggest
erection of his life. Well, at least he knew he wasn't totally gay.

"Uh, sorry, memory flashback," Zeke muttered, and then quickly added,
"about a girl."

"OK."  Duncan just smiled, and then he went out on a limb, "I've seen the
real thing anyway, you know."

"What!??"

"I've seen it. Seen it, held it. `Been there, done that' sort of thing, you
know."

"No, I don't know. I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not gay,"
Zeke said, and then added, to himself, `I hope.'

"No, you're not gay, Zeke. Neither am I. But I have had sex with guys,
including you."

"No," Zeke said, shaking his head. That can't be. That just didn't fit into
his view of himself. Actually it didn't fit into his view of this other
kid, either. But then there was Randy . . . . . "Well, I, uh . . . . ."

Zeke couldn't complete that thought, but then found he didn't have to.

"I know about your former friend. It doesn't mean anything about you; just
means Randy was an ass and a worthless person. But like I said, you aren't
gay; you're more bisexual."

"Bisexual?"

"Yeah, how do you think Randy was able to make you do things you obviously
didn't want to do with him? He caught you fooling around with another
boy. But you're probably only like 40 or 30 % into boys, and 60-70% into
girls. And you'll probably just be more into girls as you get older. It's
pretty stupid just to think everybody is either one thing or the other."

Zeke nodded and just stared at the boy. This was crazy. Well, the boy was
hot, and he was feeling it in his still-hard dick. It wasn't like he could
deny it. Still this was all crazy talk . . . .  wasn't it?

Zeke wanted to ask what percentage Duncan was, but he somehow figured that
boy didn't get asked those questions. What he did ask, he barely got
out. He was afraid to really know the truth.

"So, uh . . . we've . . . . um, done stuff together?  Sex stuff?"

"Yeah, Zeke," Duncan paused. The whole point of what James did was to erase
his memory of them, but Duncan could still sense the boy needed more
protection. So James drove them back up to the hospital. This would go a
lot easier if Ian still had his abilities, except that if Ian still had his
abilities, none of this would have happened or been necessary. Though,
oddly enough, things worked out better for Zeke, even if Zeke had no clue
of that.

But Duncan still needed to fuck him one more time. Just to be sure. He
stood his ground, however, against James coming up to the room, too. He
didn't believe Zeke needed any more of that type of fine-tuning.

"You see, Zeke, it's a . . . it's a good thing they didn't do a rape kit on
you---"

"You mean I was raped??"  Zeke had to swallow down bile before he asked,
much softer, "again?"

"No. No, you weren't. But, um, before all this stuff happened at the
school, uh, earlier in the day," Duncan sure hated lying, more than
anything, but nothing to do about it now. Zeke needed protection.  "Well, I
slid my dick up you and fucked you and shot a load of cum up your butt."

`GASP!!'

Except the gasp didn't come from Zeke. His eyes bugged-out, to be sure, but
the sound came from the bed next to him. Zeke and Duncan shot their
attention over to wide-eyed Shane who quickly shut his eyes again to go
back to pretending to be asleep. But he couldn't pretend after something
like this. He immediately opened them again and sat up in bed.

"You did that to Zeke!?"  His tone was somewhere in the midst of
accusatory, interrogatory and confusatory, and he wasn't sure in which
state of mind to plant a foot.

"Easy, Shane. It wasn't like those guys that . . . . well . . . . it wasn't
like that. Zeke was in his right mind and knew what he was doing. And I
wasn't forcing him to do anything either."

That last line was a stretch, since the alternatives were bleak. And the
`rightness' of Zeke's mind was highly suspect.

"I just . . . don't think I would like that."  Zeke said, with some mild
disgust on his face. The thing was, he didn't know whether the disgust was
at the thought of doing something like that with a boy or that he had
actually thought of a boy like that. After all, he earlier couldn't keep
his eyes off either Mark West's or Duncan Cormack's asses down in the ER.
(Mark and eventually come by and visited, and, like the good soul he was,
was more than happy to forget the `deal' he made with Zeke and to give up
on any more sex connections just to know his amnesiac friend was otherwise
OK).

"Well, Zeke, you shot your own load when I was doing you, so . . . . ."
Duncan hated to be like this to the boy; it was so demeaning and
manipulative. But he couldn't think of a better way to get him
protected. He had asked Geoff for help before coming back up here, since
his little brother was part of this problem, too, but he just answered
cryptically that his abilities had seemed to have diminished significantly
even earlier in the evening, and that he would have to wait for a bowel
movement or two before they would work right again.

"Can't you just take an enema or something."  Duncan had asked Geoff.

"Not my bowel movements that I'm waiting on," he said back to Duncan,
smiling that same stupid smile he had had on his face all evening,
according to Connor. Ever since he finally arrived at their house.

"So," Zeke asked, unsuccessful in suppressing the tremendous blush that
spread across his face. He didn't dare look over at Shane who still looked
flabbergasted.  "I, um, I guess I, you know . . . . . . fucked you, too?"

Zeke had to say it with something of a shrug; he had been so embarrassed to
actually come out with a question like that. But from the moment he asked
and the friendly smile on Duncan's face, he knew nothing of the sort had
ever happened.

"No, sorry. I don't have any interest in getting fucked. I just like doing
it. And a lot of boys like getting it done, Zeke. I think you may be
somewhere in between, but probably just for a short while. You just don't
remember, which is cool. That's certainly OK. But just don't think you're
wigging out, just because you've noticed that you're turned on by a guy or
two."

Zeke wanted to respond to that, but he couldn't. He cast a wary half-glance
to the bed whereupon he knew Shane was attentively sitting, and he settled
back into his propped up pillows trying to disappear within them.

"Zeke," Duncan continued, his hand still on the boy's arm, "I can help you
sort all that out. Let me come by your house tomorrow. I can fuck you again
--- and I swear it won't hurt a single bit --- and it will help sort out a
lot of those thoughts."

You might ordinarily think any normal, healthy American boy would slug a
kid for suggesting such a thing, but at the moment, despite the intense red
he was sure he was turning, Zeke was just struggling to keep himself from
turning and looking at Shane as he nodded and acceptance of Duncan's offer.

He couldn't bring himself to actually think about it.

"And, Shane," Duncan added, "This may sound weird to you, and maybe
insensitive, I don't know, but I bet I can help you too."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what happened to you, even if you don't remember it all, you at
least know what happened, and that's got to be hurting you. Lots of boys
fool around . . . . well, maybe not lots, but if you tried it, then maybe
you could concentrate on that to take away the bad memory. You know,
substitute a good one, or at least just an innocent chosen one, if you end
up not liking it, for the bad one."

"You mean . . . ."

"Yeah. Let me fuck you, Shane. I'm really good at it, and I promise it will
help you get past what you're feeling about what those guys did, or at
least dull it."

Shane was aghast. No fucking way. Though he didn't say it completely like
that.

"No. That's sick. . . . I mean . . . . I don't mean anything bad,
Zeke. You're cool and all and I like you and Randy was a jerk and I hope he
really gets it in jail, but why would I want to go through something like
that again?"

"Because it won't be like that."  The well-intentioned redheaded boy
stressed, "For one, this will be with someone your own age."

"Like Randy?"  Shane asked acidly.

"And two," Duncan continued patiently, "This will be your choice. Under
your choosing. It's like if you were in a really horrible accident caused
by a drunk driver and you never wanted to get back in a car again. You
don't have to get back into a car, but you shouldn't have a fear or bad
memories of cars or the road just because a stupid, uncaring drunk asshole
screwed up one night of your life."

It was hard to argue that reasoning, but it wasn't so hard to simply reject
asking another boy to actually fuck his ass just to make him supposedly
feel better about having had his ass fucked against his will. No, no, no,
no, no, no, no. And he said it.

"No."

"Well, I think you should do it, Shane."  A higher pitched voice
contributed from behind Duncan.

All three boys nearly jumped out of their skins as they heard the sound
from the doorway. And each boy was having his own nervous internal thoughts
as Sherry walked in. How much had she heard? The girl was kind though, and
she walked over and whispered in Zeke's ear, telling the boy that he was
still her hero and she did not then, nor ever would, hear anything about
him that he just didn't want heard.

Still, despite the odd reassuring confirmation that his secrets were safe,
Zeke blushed and squirmed a bit knowing that Sherry knew them (though,
aside from one comment she was about to make in a few minutes , she never
once ever referred to those secrets again, or even looked at him in anyway
unusual --- except that she always thought he was among the bravest and
coolest kids in their school.)

"Sherry!!"  Shane exclaimed, bunching his sheet over his equally naked
groin and a dick that he suddenly realized had been hardening with all this
talk, "What are you doing here??"

"Dad was bringing Mom some stuff she needed tonight, including some boxers
for you, and said I could come along. I'm not supposed to be bothering
you. They think I just went to the bathroom, but they'll probably be up
here shortly. We brought an extra pair of Shane's boxers for you to use
Zeke."

"Um, thanks."  Still embarrassed.

She sat down on Shane's bed, again telling her twin brother that it was a
great idea to let the super-cute/handsome/hot redhead boy show him what sex
was like between boys that both wanted to try it and that he should really
do it. Then she said something that gave Duncan a wry smile and made the
jaws of her brother and Zeke drop open.

"I know if I had the chance to try sex with a beautiful girl and no one
would ever know, I would go for that in a heartbeat. It would be so much
fun just to be able to try it once. And if I didn't like it, no big."

This awkwardness took a bit longer to overcome and Duncan felt it was his
time to go.

"Uh, Zeke, I'll come by your house tomorrow. And, um, Sherry . . . . ."

"I know, you don't want me to say anything to anybody that you like to have
some fun with boys."

Now it was Duncan's turn to blush.  "Well, it's just that . . . . we go to
school together now . . . . and . . . um . . ."

"Don't worry. I would never, ever, ever do anything to hurt my brother or
Ezekiel."  She smiled a Tween, almost teen, girl smile upon using the
handsome boy's proper name, "And I can give you the same promise to never
even think about it, much less talk about it, even just to you, if I can
have one small favor . . . . ."

Duncan thought a moment. He didn't have much of an option. He could just
have James come up here . . . . . . . Duncan shivered at that prospect
though.  "OK. One small favor is pretty fair."

"Well, maybe two."

"All right. And you'll never say anything to anyone?"  That really wasn't
what he was worried about. Thanks to a certain something Duncan had with
him, something he never took off, most thoughts, looks, accusations of
others would slither off him and be largely forgotten by anyone that cast
them.

"Never. Promise."

It was more about just acknowledging to himself someone knew. A girl
knew. His boyhood within his own mind was at stake. Doing these two favors
would be like a protective charm with no real magic would be to a
superstitious person.

"What's the first?"

"I want to see your . . . . uh . . . . down there."

"SHERRY!!"  Shane was staggered by his sister's bold, and really
embarrassing, request. Even Duncan turned red.

"Well, why not? He shows boys, at least some boys. I want to see what one
looks like on a growing-up boy, Shane. You quit showing me yours over two
years ago."

Shane was so embarrassed he couldn't speak. He tried. His mouth opened
several times, but he just couldn't believe his sister told them that.

"OK, fine," Duncan finally said and walked around the bed to where Sherry
was sitting on Shane's bed. He took a deep breath and then unzipped and
pulled his underwear and pants down for her.

"Wow!"  It was beautiful. She really had tried to sneak peeks at her
brother before, as she was half disgusted by the thought of what boy junk
must be like and half entranced at the notion of finding out. Fortunately
she had gotten to see a few at Chase's pool the other day. Some were nice,
some not, but none like this. And they were all farther away.

A sharp intake of breath and a yelp of surprise was the next sound everyone
heard in the room. She hadn't even asked, and had definitely taken Duncan
by surprise, when she wrapped her hand around the plump semi and quickly
brought it to full-on hard. She was amazed by the feel of it, the heat of
it, the hard of it, the alien texture and tactile notion of the thing. She
was thrilled. Maybe she wasn't ready for it now, but she wasn't so afraid
of when she would be.

Unfortunatey she was also instantly spoiled by the most perfectly shaped
penis she would ever encounter.

"SHERRY! What are you doing??"

"Hush, Shane. I bet this isn't the first time somebody's grabbed on to
this, hunh Duncan?"  But the boy couldn't answer, and Sherry didn't wait
for one, "Holy crap Zeke, you took this up your butt?"

"Yeah, I guess so . . . ."  It was a grudging answer, barely mumbled
out. He did more than guess so; he knew so. He didn't know how he knew so,
but he just knew he had.

"Wow," Sherry asked, for the last and only time she would ever refer to
Zeke's secret, but still unable to take her eyes or hands off of Duncan,
even now weighing and feeling his nutsack in her right hand, while her left
continued to assess the raging erection, "What did it feel like Zeke?"

"I don't know," Zeke said forcefully, hating to be reminded of two
embarrassing things at the same time.  "I don't remember."

"Right. Sorry."  Sherry said, and she let Duncan go.

"Well, I should go now," Duncan said as he was finishing zipping back up,
"Uh, what was the second thing you wanted?"

"A date," she said, smiling, "Just one, at least, whenever you're done
playing around with the boys."

Duncan nodded. He could do that. He very nearly walked into the wall as he
turned to leave, but he could do that.

"See you tomorrow, Zeke," Duncan threw over his shoulder as he was leaving,
and this time through the actual door.

"I'll work on Shane!"  Sherry called after him, but he was gone.

Duncan came down to the first floor and found his older brother James in
the free coffee area of the otherwise closed cafeteria with both sets of
parents of Zeke and Shane. Of course that's where James would be.

All four of the adults thought he was a fine, upstanding boy, despite their
confused wariness of him, and they had no questions at all about the looser
details of the evening, or how he and Duncan had come to find the two
boys. Of course.

"Done, Duncan?"

"Tomorrow. You?"  The last word was thrown out a bit testily.

"Duncan . . . ."  James was understanding, and sympathetic, but Duncan
didn't want to hear it.

"Maybe it's time we go."

"Oh, Duncan," Mrs. Prosper called to the boy, "Thank you again. And you are
certainly welcome to come by anytime. In fact, you should drop by
tomorrow."

Duncan gave another brief glance at James who just gave the barest guilty
smile. At any other moment, Duncan loved James, preferred James, in fact,
to all of his brothers and sisters. And he trusted James. But the things
James could do . . . . . and would do . . . . . it unnerved him at times.

"Yes Ma'am, Mrs. Prosper, I'd be happy to come by tomorrow and see Zeke."

"Good. Me and Mr. Prosper might be out for a couple of hours, um, I can't
seem to remember why right now, but you can keep Ezekiel company while
we're gone."

"Yes, Ma'am," Duncan still smiled politely, "I'd be happy to."

And this wasn't even James' real power; it was just the dandruff.

All the adults smiled contentedly as the two boys left, making their way
out of the hospital. On their way through the front lobby, they ran into
Sherry, who actually did have to go to the bathroom after she left her
brother's room, straight on the heels of the red-headed boy she couldn't
stop smiling at right now. James tilted his head looked at her a bit
curiously and then his brother, and then back to Sherry before giving a bit
of a smile and holding out his hand.

"Hello, I'm James, Duncan's older brother. It seems you two have met
already."

Sherry reached forward to take his hand, but Duncan quick as lightning
grabbed her hand instead.

"Relax, Duncan. I'm not going to do anything."  James said.

Not that he could at this point.

"I don't know. You seem to be on a roll."  Anyone could tell from the
cutting remark that Duncan wasn't happy.

But James didn't need to touch someone to work his gift. He didn't need to
be in the same room, or even, sometimes, the same state. Proximity helped,
but it wasn't required. Duncan, however, had to actually be touching the
person he wanted to shield, or some residue of him did (saliva, semen, hair
on their clothes or deliberately put into in a pocket, etc). And once
contact was made, even James was completely powerless against the person
without Duncan's full cooperation. Not just magically, but physically as
well.

James's abilities would make a room of Dungeons & Dragons masters cream
their pants, and then once they digested that, they would shit their
pants. But James knew, as did their parents, that even if the other
siblings didn't have a clue, Duncan's gift was not only rare, but extremely
powerful. At maximum intensity it was impregnable --- and invisible,
indiscernible, and 100% deflective toward every sense possible, human,
animal, and magical.

"Duncan . . ."  James said quietly.

"Uh, I guess maybe I should go," Sherry said, sensing sibling awkwardness.
"It was nice to meet you James. See you around, Duncan."

"It's not you," Duncan said after Sherry left.  "It's me. I . . . . I feel
sick about it all. I don't like it, what we did."

"You aren't supposed to like it. Power is seductive, Duncan. You give in,
you like it, then it warps you. You lose control."

"I know, you told me a long time ago, the control you think you have, the
less you don't. But . . . It bothers me, James. It bothers me so much."

"Good."

"Good? Isn't that my conscience telling me it's wrong what we did? I mean,
how far we went?"

"Your conscience isn't nearly that vague, Duncan. Your conscience will
actually say `This is wrong,' `This is OK,' and `This is a slippery
slope'. What bothers you, that sense, it keeps you balanced. That whole
talk I gave Ian on Karma wasn't just blowing steam. What bothers you helps
keep Karma in line for you and everyone around you."

"I just don't like it bothering me so much; it just . . . . makes me want
to vomit except I can't."

James smiled and reached his hand out to caress Duncan's cheek. What he saw
was his tender little brother that he very much wanted to protect, and
always had. It was ironic that the one weakness in Duncan's gift was that
he couldn't use it on himself; but between James and that necklace that
Duncan wore, there was still little human harm that could actually touch
the boy.

"When it quits bothering you, Duncan, then you've crossed the line from
dangerous to evil."

"I don't want to be dangerous, James."

"Fire is dangerous, my little brother, but it separates us from the beasts
in the forests."

"Fire isn't a person; people shouldn't be dangerous."  As soon as he said
it, he wished he could take it back. Duncan had no fear of his brother ---
though, along with Kelley and Connor, he was one of only three people in
Indian Spring with absolutely no fear of James --- but James was
dangerous. James was very dangerous.

James just smiled.

"Ghandi was a very dangerous man, Duncan. Cesar Chavez was
dangerous. Martin Luther King was extremely dangerous. William O'Brien,
Millicent Fawcett, Winston Churchill and Tony Dyson were all dangerous
people. Without these people, life would . . . . . well . . . suck. I want
you to be a dangerous person, Duncan."

Duncan nodded. He knew what his brother was getting at. Still, it wasn't
James that would have to look into Nate's innocent eyes and know what he
had done to the boy. It didn't matter that the alternatives had been
worse. Some of them far, far worse, especially for Zeke.

"If you need something closer to home," James said, as he briefly touched
part of Duncan's necklace, proving to the boy that he did in fact know what
Duncan had always suspected he had, "Your friend Tucker is probably one of
the most dangerous people you'll ever meet, or at least he certainly has
the potential to be so."

Duncan got it. But he didn't feel better about it, at least until James
pulled him into a hug, and Duncan let himself be a little kid again and
melted into the protective and loving brotherliness.

"You know how much I love you, Duncan?"

"Yeah."  He did. It was good to have an older brother like James.







01:23 am Tucker House The unincorporated area of Indian Spring



Two boys sat up at the head of Kelley's bed, both naked, barely 4 inches
between them, feet flat on the bed and knees brought up to the
ceiling. Kelley, though, was leaning back with his arms up behind him on
the headboard, and Casey leaning forward, resting both arms and head on his
knees.

The boy who didn't belong in this bedroom was once again beginning to doubt
that he really belonged here in any sense of the word. Kelley could sense
that again, but he wasn't completely tiring of supporting the boy's
emotional development, just wondering himself why everything had to take
this route.

Still, it wasn't as though getting fucked actually hurt him. And this is
what he was having to come to grips with. It wasn't anything to do with
being gay or not gay. If he were gay, this would at least make sense. He
would even welcome that. But he just categorically wasn't. How could he be,
with the way he thought about girls?

But he had liked it when Casey fucked him the first time that night. And
even though he had invited Casey into the shower as a friendly `we're both
boys, don't be stupid' sort of friendly gesture, he hadn't stopped the boy
from washing his backside and definitely didn't stop Casey from reaching
him around soaping his nuts and spending an inordinately long time
massaging and working same scrotum, actions that brought another rise up in
Kelley's dick. And he hadn't stopped the boy from gently pushing him up
against the tiled wall and re-entering that relaxed and willing, yet still
tight muscle from behind.

Kelley had let himself get fucked again in the shower, and -- though it
didn't have the erotic punch of the first one -- it didn't really
physically bother him. He even had a bit of a dick spasm and mini thrill as
he felt Casey's copious semen production again flowing into his ass.

And that spasm and thrill bothered him. A lot. He didn't say anything as
the boy stayed buried within and tried to regain his breathing.

So what, right? It was just a physical reaction. He was allowed to have
those. So he enjoyed that first fuck of the evening way too much. He was
only human.

It was as if suddenly the weight of all the hero worship and expectations
of the rest of the kids of Indian Spring toward Kelley Tucker weighed
heavily on him tonight, as though that was what was preventing him from
being normal. It wasn't the getting fucked, it was the being unable to be
the one to get fucked. He didn't really want to be the one that could get
fucked, whatever that was, but he even more was tired of having to be the
one that for some reason couldn't get fucked.

He'd be the first to admit that he wasn't very sure about how that logic
worked out. But he was having realizations about his behaviours. It was as
though his deepest subconscious and fortuitous circumstances were colluding
to bring him to the point that he could do something.

Something.

But what? And why all this?

It wasn't just the Mexican problem, or the job problem. That had just been
an excuse that his conscious self must have used to bridge to his
subconscious so that they could get to gether and show him . . . .

What?

He knew he was tired of a few other things than just having to always be
Tucker. If `Tucker' needed to be broken because it was an unrealistic and
inflexible concept, then it was simply symbolic for Indian Spring, the
Spring. It need some realism and flexibility. His dad and the Harris' and a
few others were working on that. But there was more. There was resistance
they couldn't still get to the heart of. The whole Mackey view of there
being two Indian Springs needed to be challenged, and even within just
Mackeydom, the ways things were done needed to be challenged as well. Not
just challeneged. Changed.

And why the hell was his dad and others fighting so hard to save the
Mackeys and still have to play political games to get their support?  It
was time to take this to the Mackey. Kelley suddenly had an epiphany of the
bigger picture in losing his cherry.

"I'm gonna break the Mackey."  He said to the air.

"Hunh?"  The startled look on Casey's face showed that this sudden and
unexpected comment didn't make him feel any better. There he was minding
his own business in a double post-cum, what-the-hell-did-I-do, I'm-unworthy
funk, and Tucker rips out this frightening prospect from thin air.

But Kelley had had his own epiphany.

No, it was more like he had whispered the ghosted breeze of a prophecy even
just before it had reached him. As though he had simply just understood the
why, and now just had to work on the how.

Kelley sat up, smiled at the boy and put his arm around Casey's shoulders
in a friendly side guy hug --- except that they were both stark naked and
had already fucked twice that evening. He leaned his knee over and nudged
the boy, then pressed his leg up against him.

"I said, I'm going to break the Mackey. Like a pecan that the pie is
waiting for. Look, Casey, I'm not gay, you're not gay, who the hell cares
if we are or weren't, and who the hell cares who goes on top or who takes
it up the ass? Well, you really don't want to take it up the ass, and to
tell you the truth, sticking my dick up a guy's butthole just sounds
gross. But you like it, and I certainly couldn't convince anyone watching
that I didn't feel good, especially that first time."

"Um, OK."

"So what I'm saying Casey, is get over it. You like fucking me?"

Casey blushed and mumbled, "Yeah, of course I do."

"Well, you own my butt, Casey, I mean literally."

"OK."

"So why are you just sitting there hugging yourself?"

"Um . . . . I don't . . . . ."  Casey wasn't sure what the right answer to
that was. Truthfully, Kelley was freaking him out a bit.

OK, maybe a lot.

"I'm saying, is there a better place you'd like to put your hands?"

Casey slowly and hesitantly unfolded his arms from about his knees. Was
this a trick? Some kind of test he was most likely to fail? All the same,
he developed a bit more boldness and started to slide his right hand down
the naked inside of Kelley's leg. The warm, smooth skin encouraged him,
despite the sudden weirdness, to go on. Deeper, surer, farther. The closer
he got to the boy's crotch, the bolder and more turned on he got. He
finally reached ground zero and clasped his hands over the beautiful family
jewels of one of the handsomest boys in all Indian Spring.

He ran a quick feel through the freshly washed honey brown hairs at the
base of the rapidly expanding dick. He felt along that hardening tube of
flesh and then clasped his hands around the boys balls like he owned them.

Kelley surprised the boy even further by putting his own hand over Casey's
and saying.

"That's more like it, Casey. And it actually feels pretty good you doing
that."  Kelley exaggerated that, more than a bit, though there was some
frightening truth to it that he just waved away.  "Now, like I said. I have
a plan, or at least I will. I'm pretty sure. You'll just have to trust
me. You play a part in this, so you better decide now if you can live up to
owning my butt, can you?"

Casey thought about it for a microsecond and smiled big and nodded his
head. This was soooo exciting all of a sudden.

Really scary. The beautiful boy was still freaking him out. But exciting.

"All right, because if you pansy out on me, Casey, I crack those balls of
yours so that you never think about sticking that tool in anything
again. Got it?"

Casey nodded. He got it. He also knew that that could very well be no idle
talk coming from Kelley Tucker. And for the first time, he was totally sure
and comfortable with the long-time prospect of fucking Kelley Tucker's ass
anytime he wanted whenever he came home from St. Oliver's. And he also knew
that the next time he was going to want to do that again, was probably in
about another ten minutes. Or less.



It actually took another 15 minutes before he turned Kelley over, pulled a
pillow down under the boy's mid-section, and was re-entering that tight
hole and warm space. This time took a whole lot longer with a slower and
more leisurely fuck and occasional grind. Both boys moaned through the
entire prolonged affair and both passed out shortly after their nearly
simultaneous orgasms.