Date: Thu, 17 Jun 2021 04:29:03 +0000 From: butters2020 Subject: Newsflash (gay, young friends) It costs money to maintain this website. If you enjoy these stories, consider donating to help keep the site up and running. You can do it here: https://donate.nifty.org/ I enjoy getting feedback. If you like the story feel free to email me at butters2020@protonmail.com. If you didn't like the story, email someone else. I'm not listed in the prolific authors section, but I have several other stories on Nifty. You can find them by searching for "butters2020". Newsflash By Butters2020 i It was the bicentennial, 1976. We'd made a lot of plans and they'd all been for nothing. Everything was new. My dad had a new job. We'd just moved to a new state. I was in a new school. We not only joined a new church but even a new religion (more on that later). There was new stuff going on "down there" that I can't begin to make sense of. Two months ago, I would have talked to Davey about it but newsflash: Davey was part of the Old Life-old state, old school, old friends. I didn't have a New Davey yet and I couldn't talk to Mom or Dad about "down there" stuff, so I'd have to figure it out on my own. The only thing that wasn't truly new was the new house we lived in. It was new to us, but if you had told me Abraham Lincoln had been born in it the only reason I wouldn't believe you is because it's not a log cabin, but it's like a hundred years old or something. I won't be a hundred years old for another 89 years. My mother loves this ancient house. Even though it's a hundred years old parts of it have been modernized. Like the kitchen doesn't have Abraham Lincoln's wood burning stove but a brand-new gas stove. There is even one of those new microwave radar range things on the counter that cooks popcorn in like five minutes in a paper bag. And the bathroom is enormous. I don't think it was a bathroom when the house was built. They had an outhouse in the backyard or something and this was the nursery or something that was turned into a bathroom when Abraham Lincoln's grandson lived here. But a few years ago they took out the old bathtub and put it this big, open, step-in shower with two shower heads in the ceiling instead of the wall. It's so big there isn't even a shower curtain. And if you want a bubble bath instead of a shower there's a giant bathtub against the other wall that I swear two people could fit in. But even though there is a shower AND a bathtub, the water heater in the basement is built for a house with no bathroom but an outhouse, cuz after two of us take a shower the third person has to wait an hour for there to be hot water again. And as modern as the kitchen and bathroom are, the rest of the house is still an antique. The glass in the windows looks like it's melting. Like Superman aimed his heat vision on the windows. And the floor in my bedroom isn't flat. For real. I put my basketball on the floor, and it rolls to the middle of the room. Every time. I complained to my dad and he said, "you've got your own little skateboard park" which is stupid because it's not like it's slanted enough for that and anyway the first time I even stood on my skateboard in the my room my mom had a fit. "You'll scratch the hardwood! What are you thinking! Stop that right now!" Ohmygod, Mom it's a freaking floor in my room, not the sixteenth chapel. No one sees it but me. Who cares if it gets scratched? I said that to her and for some reason she thought that was hilarious. She couldn't wait to call all her friends and my grandma and tell them what I said about the sixteenth chapel. Whatever. But she's not totally spazzed. She freaks out on me when I mess up her precious house, but she also sticks up for me in ways I never would have thought of. Like church. We used to be Baptist, right? But one day in Sunday school we Mrs. Vining told us all about how the only way to get to heaven is to accept Jesus Christ as your personal lord and savior and if you don't do that then it's eternity in hell with flames burning your forever and ever. "What about Davey?" I asked. "Who's Davey" Mrs. Vining said. "He's my best friend but he's Jewish." Davey's family went to Temple every week just like we went to church every week. But he didn't accept Jesus as his personal lord and savior. "Is he going to be in hell forever and ever, on fire?" "Yes, he is," Mrs. Vining said. "But I thought you said Jesus loved him." "I did, but he doesn't love Jesus, so he will be punished for eternity." Elaine said, "What about the heathens in China who never even heard of Jesus? It's not their fault that they don't accept him if they never heard of him." Mrs. Vining said, "Eternity in a fiery hell." George said, "What about the deaf people? You can't tell them about Jesus." "Hell," Mrs. Vining said. When Mom and Dad picked me up after Sunday school, I was sobbing so hard I couldn't speak. It was an hour before I could tell them why I was so upset. Davey and his family, and the Chinese heathens and all the aborted babies who died without accepting Jesus were going to hell. Mom called Mrs. Vining and used language I'd never heard her use before. I didn't even know she knew those words. That was the last time we went to the Baptist church. We didn't go anywhere until after we moved. Then we joined the Lutheran church but only after Mom interviewed the pastor for an hour. ii Sixth grade at the new school. Everyone else had been going to school together since kindergarten. Best friends were already set. Lunchroom cliques were already set. What hope did the new kid have? Newsflash: no hope. Maybe if I were great at sports I could fit in with the jocks, but I was just so-so at basketball. There was a basket over our garage at my old house where Davey and played HORSE but that was it. I wasn't really any good on the skateboard. I didn't do tricks or anything. Unless falling on your ass is a trick. I was really good at that. Maybe I could join the band. I'd be a good band geek. Playing the trumpet would be cool, right? I'd ask Mom and Dad about it. If it's not too late, that is. School started a couple months ago and everyone in band already knew how to play. Things were a little better at church. The youth group was called Luther League and there was another new family at the church. They were from Germany and had two boys. One of them was twelve, only a year older than me. His name was Wolfgang. They spoke pretty good English, but with a cool accent. We got along okay at Luther League on Sunday nights and at Sunday school, but that was only once a week. We didn't hang out outside of church. But it was better than not having any friends at all. I thought about asking Wolfgang about the stuff going on "down there." I wondered if he had the same stuff going on. One night I had gone to bed and everything was normal and the next day I went to piss and there's freaking hairs around my dick. Six of them. What's up with that? I didn't know what kind of disease I got. I went to my parent's bathroom and swiped my dad's razor and shaving cream and bingo-bango, that's the end of that nonsense. I didn't have a fever or anything (I checked) so whatever dick werewolf syndrome I'd had, I must be over it and I could go on with my life. Newsflash: I wasn't over it. Two days later three more hairs were around my dick. I shaved them off too. But just like before after a few days more grew back. I finally gave up and stopped shaving them off. After a month there were thirty-nine hairs around my dick. I was turning into a goddam monkey. I knew I'd eventually have to tell someone but how do you tell your parents you're turning into an ape? If we were still back home-back home being my real house in my old state-I would make an appointment with Dr. Curtis without telling anyone and ask him how to cure monkey-itis. But I didn't have a doctor here yet. Then came the boners. I don't just mean the boner I have when I woke up. That always happened. I mean all the freaking time. "Jason, come solve this math problem please?" and BAM! I got a boner. What the hell? Going through the lunch line and BAM! Would you like a boner to go with your Salisbury steak? I mean, seriously, could things get any worse? Newsflash: things could get worse. It happened while I was sleeping. I was dreaming that Wolfgang was shaving the hairs off my dick. Naturally, I had a boner while he was doing it and dream me was super embarrassed. Dream Wolfgang held the boner while he shaved the hairs. My dream dick and my real dick felt really weird and I woke up to the latest catastrophe. My dick was having a seizure. It was twitching and spasming and then my dick threw up. I don't know how else to explain it. I didn't pee. I know what peeing is. But stuff spit out of it. Great. So now I've got dickalepsy. But here's the thing: it felt awesome! There's a kid at my new school who has regular epilepsy. He had a seizure one day in Social Studies. I gotta remember to ask him if his whole- body seizure felt as great as my dick seizure felt. iii Another thing I hate about this new/old house: the locks on the doors. There aren't any. Okay there are locks but they aren't like normal locks. At my old house, I could lock the bathroom door just by turning the little lock thingy on the doorknob. Bingo-bango, the door was locked. No one could walk in on me when I was sitting on the crapper. Same with my bedroom. I didn't have to worry about my mom walking in while I was changing clothes. The bathroom door and my bedroom door in the new house, which is anything but new, have locks, but you need keys to lock them. Not normal keys either. You know those old timey black and white movies with those weird-shaped key holes? The kind the detectives are always peeping through to see what the bad guys are doing? THAT is the kind of locks on my bedroom door and on the bathroom door. And you need those weird old-fashioned skeleton key things to not only unlock the door, but to lock them, too. Newsflash: those keys disappeared when Abraham Lincoln was in the first grade. There's no way to lock the doors. And if there was, there's no way to UN-lock them. Which is why my mom walked in on me when I was changing my clothes. Luckily, all she saw was my butt. If I had been facing the wrong way, she would have seen the hairs and known about the monkey-itis disease. The last thing I need is for them to sell me to the zoo. I told Dad that mom walked in on me and I needed a normal door with a normal lock, and here's the thing. He winked at me! Like he knew about the monkey-itis! He said he knew I was at that age when I needed my privacy and he'd put a deadbolt on the door so I could lock it when I was in my room! I almost asked him about the monkey- itis but I wasn't 100% he knew about it and like I said, the last thing I needed was a one way ticket to the zoo so I kept quiet about THAT, but I did say that a deadbolt on the bathroom wouldn't be a bad idea either and he agreed. iv A couple nights after Dad put the deadbolt locks on the bedroom and bathroom doors, Pastor Clarke called just before we sat down to dinner. Mom answered the phone. They talked for a bit and Mom was all, "Oh, of course!" and "that sounds lovely!" and "No, we'd be happy to!" and "We can't wait to hear them!" Me and dad kept looking at her and looking at each other, wondering what was so lovely and what we'd be happy to do and what we couldn't wait to hear. Whatever it was, I was ready to bet that it didn't, we wouldn't, and we could wait forever. Mom and Pastor Clarke finally hung up and Mom came to the dinner table. Dad sliced the ham and said, "What did we just agree to do?" Mom said, "The Saint Bart's Prep School Choir is touring the state, singing at different churches throughout the spring." "Are they now?" "They're supposed to be quite good. They've won all kinds of awards. They performed at the White House! I saw that on PBS. During pledge week, when they show the good stuff." "How about that," Dad said. "Jason, will you go get the salt and pepper from the kitchen, please?" BAM! Would you like some boner with your condiments? "Sorry, Dad. I think we're all out." "Don't be silly. Go get the salt and pepper, son." "I don't know where it is." "It's right next to the stove where it always is." "They said in health class that too much salt is bad for you." Mom pushed her chair back. "Oh, for goodness sake, I'll get it. I swear, you're not even a teenager yet and already you're acting so strange." She went for the salt and pepper and kept talking while she got it. "The St. Bart's choir is going to be singing at church this Sunday, but in order to save money they don't stay at hotels on their tour. Members of the churches they sing at volunteer to put them up in their homes." Dad sighed. "And how many have we volunteered to put up?" "Three," Mom smiled. "We've got a spare room." "It's barely a closet. With no furniture in it," Dad pointed out. "Pastor Clarke said that would be fine. They've got sleeping bags. And Jason's room is large enough that one or two can sleep on the floor in there." "Only if they don't mind rolling into the middle of the room," I said. Dad said, "What if we get three girls? Girls can't sleep in his room." "Why not?" I said. Mom said, "I better call Pastor Clarke back and make sure he sends us three boys." "Don't I get any say in this? When are they coming? How long will they be here?" "No. Day after tomorrow. Three days." Great. There goes my privacy. This will be the worst three days of my life. Newsflash: It was the best three days of my life. St. Bart's had chartered a bus. When it arrived at church on Friday, Pastor Clarke called everyone who'd volunteered to house and feed the choir members and said the bus was in the parking lot and the kids were ready to be picked up. Dad grabbed his car keys. I said, "Can I go, too? I wanna help pick out which ones we get. If I'm being forced to share my room with a couple strangers, I should at least get to make sure you don't stick me with some goober." Dad said, "This isn't a slave auction where we get to bid on who we want." He fished a piece of paper out of his pocket. "We've been assigned Kent Riley, Joseph Bixby and Mortimer Gillespie." "I knew it! Mortimer! What kind of poindexter is that? Just make sure that Mortimer is in the guest room." Mom said, "You behave, young man, or you'll be in the guest room and all three of our guests will be in your bedroom. We're still new here and I don't want to get a bad reputation at church." Dad left to pick up Kent, Joseph and Poindexter from church. I went to my room and wrote Davey another letter telling him how much I hated it here. I've always wondered what it would be like to not be an only child. Davey has an older sister and two younger brothers. He has someone who looks out for him and someone he can boss around. Not to mention built-in playmates. Back home when it rained, and we couldn't go outside I was stuck at home doing nothing, but he could still play Sorry or Clue or checkers or whatever with his brothers and sister. While I was peeing and looking at the hairs around my dick-it was getting harder to count them, but they took up nearly an inch now-I thought that at least when the transformation is complete and I'm shipped off to the zoo I'll have monkey brothers and sisters and we can share bananas or rope swings. I'd just flushed the toilet when I heard Dad calling me from downstairs. Time to meet the choirboys. Maybe they could be my temporary older brothers. Well, two of them could. Poindexter was on his own. When I got downstairs it was easy to see which one was Mortimer. Three teenagers stood with Dad, chatting with Mom. They carried duffle bags full of their clothes and stuff and sleeping bags. They were all taller than me and shorter than Dad. One of them had brown wavy hair that came down below his ears. He was the shortest one. He wore a denim jacket. I'd have to ask Mom and Dad for one like it. If I had to guess I'd say he was Joseph. Standing next to him was a taller boy. He wore a long-sleeved sweatshirt that was really snug on him. I'm not even sure "sweatshirt" is the right word for it. But whatever it was, it really showed off his body. He wasn't like a Mr. Universe bodybuilder, just really toned, you know? It made me feel puny. You could not only see his chest and how defined it was, but you could also make out his nipples like in that poster of Farrah Fawcett in the red bathing suit. His hair was dark blonde and brushed back, like he'd just come out of the wind-BAM! You need a boner to point which direction that wind is blowing? Shit. At school I never went anywhere without carrying my books, so I'd have something to put in front of me when the mystery boners happened. Newsflash: I don't carry schoolbooks around the house. Also, there was something different about this boner. The mystery boners just came out of nowhere for no reason. This one felt like there was a reason. It felt like there was some kind of connection to the dickalepsy. Jesus Christ, if I have a puking dick seizure now, I will stab myself in the neck with a rusty nail. I shoved my hands in my pockets to at least try to hide the boner. Then there was the last guy. He wore glasses and not the cool wire framed kind but the nerdy kind, but what else kind would he wear? He wasn't a pizza face, but he did have a couple zits. And okay the shorter one, Joseph, I think, he had a couple zits, too, but they didn't stand out on him like they did on Poindexter with his nerdy glasses and his black hair that just sat on his head, not wavy and blow dried like the other two. He didn't wear a cool denim jacket or a snug shirt that showed off his fit chest. He just wore a regular shirt like I did. Holy shit I wore a Poindexter shirt! I was going to change clothes as soon as I could. This guy was obviously Mortimer. Newsflash: the tall guy who made me feel puny was Mortimer! What the hell! The nerdy goober was Kent! The only one I got right was Joseph. Then came the 'getting to know you' chit chat time in the living room. Joseph wanted to be called Joe and Mortimer asked to be called Morty and Kent the goober wanted to be called Kent the goober, only without the goober part. Just Kent. Joe and Kent were fifteen and Morty was sixteen. Even though Morty was the oldest, Kent the goober had been in the choir the longest, almost two years. And if I'm being 100% honest, it turned out he wasn't a goober at all. He was hilarious. He made us all laugh at dinner telling us stories about the different things that happened on the bus and the places they sang, and he did a PERFECT imitation of Pastor Clarke which even Mom laughed at. I felt bad for thinking he was a poindexter. We never say grace before dinner but of course since we had churchy choirboys staying with us, before dinner even started, Mom puts me on the spot and says, to me, "Jason, would you bless the meal, please?" and I'm like what the hell, no I would not like to bless the meal, thank you, but Morty says, "May we do it, Mrs. Birch?" and bingo-bango I'm saved from having to try to remember any food prayers. And then the three of them start singing this song and I'm like whoa! They're really good and I didn't even care that the song lasted for like five minutes. Their voices didn't all blend together but I could hear each of them distinctly and one sang high and one sang low and one sang in the middle, all different notes but it didn't sound bad it sounded amazing. When they were done Dad said, "That was great, boys. What was that?" Joe said, "It's called All Good Gifts." I said, "Are you gonna be singing stuff like that Sunday?" Kent said, "Yes. During church and at the concert Sunday night." I said, "Are we going, Mom? We gotta go!" Morty said, "Looks like we've got a new fan," and he smiled at me and BAM it's been ten minutes since your last boner. Aren't you overdue? And thank goodness I had a napkin in my lap, and I was close enough to the table that the tablecloth hid me, because Joe was sitting right next to me and he might have seen it. After dinner they offered to help Mom clean up to pay for the lodgings and meal but she said don't be silly, she was happy to clean up which was bullshit she was never happy to clean up, she was happy to make me do it, so it turned out I had a reason to be glad for the roommates after all. Kent said, "We've been on the bus for sixteen hours. We can really use a shower. Would it be alright if . . .?" "Of course," Dad said. "Jason, take them to your room and the spare room and show them where the bathroom is." They followed me upstairs. I took them first to the tiny spare room. Dad was right when he described it as barely more than a closet. "One of you can sleep in here and two of you can sleep in my room." "Isn't there room for all of us in your room?" Joe said. "If there isn't, we can bunk downstairs in the living room." I hesitated. I'd been against being forced to share my room with two strangers the second I'd heard about this. Now I was being given the choice of getting out of it, having my room to myself, or sharing my room with not two, but three strangers. But they weren't exactly strangers now. They were cool. Even Kent the non-goober. It was just for three days. How bad could it be? But what if I have one of those midnight dick seizures? Would they notice? And I'd have to be sure they weren't in the room when I changed clothes, or they'd know about the monkey-itis and rat me out. But what if THEY changed clothes in front of ME? As an only child I never saw anyone naked before. I have to admit I was curious what another boy's dick looked like-BAM! Here's a boner to keep you busy while you wonder what another boy's dick looks like. "Sure, there's plenty of room for all of you in my room." "Excellent!" Morty said. "The terrible trio has become the fearsome foursome!" he tousled my hair which for some reason bonered me even more. "The bathroom is this way." I got in front of them so they couldn't see the front of my pants and led them down the hall. I took three towels out of the linen closet and brought them into the bathroom and placed them on the closed toilet. I figured they'd take turns using the shower but all three of them followed me in. "Uh, this isn't the YMCA. You can all shower by yourself." Joe said, "No, we can't. Three separate showers equal three times the hot water. That means you and your folks have to wait to take a hot shower, plus your dad pays a higher gas bill. We have a long list of instructions on how to behave and what to do and not do at host families. We're used to it Jason. We shower together all the time when we're on tour." My dick was bonered so hard I thought the skin was going to burst open and my dick would just flat out explode. I only hoped dickplosions didn't hurt. I didn't try to put my hands in my pockets this time cuz if they touched my boner, I knew it would hurt. I just put them in front of my crotch not even caring if Kent, Joe and Morty saw. "Okay," I said, and my voice sounded funny. I told them I'd see them later and left. I didn't go back to my room, though. I stood outside the bathroom door. I didn't hear them turn the deadbolt lock. I heard the water turn on. I realized two things. 1. These choirboys were probably not going to change clothes in the bathroom. They didn't care about being naked in front of each other. So that meant I would probably be able to see them naked at least once in the next three days. 2. For whatever reason I now had a permanent boner and they were probably going to notice it sooner or later. All I could do was beg them not to tell Mom and Dad about it. They seemed cool and they had dicks so maybe they would be on my side and not tell on me. I heard them joking around and laughing on the other side of the door. That's when I remembered the weird old-timey key holes. The kind you can peep through. Why should I have to wait until they got dressed in front of me and flashed their dicks for two seconds while they put on their underwear? I could look at them for ten minutes while they were in the shower. Mom and Dad were both downstairs. There was zero chance they'd come up and catch me. I got on my knees and looked through the keyhole. Holy shit, I had a perfect view of the shower, which had no curtain to cover them. All three of them were buck naked. Kent had his back to me so all I could see of him was his butt. HOLY SHIT HE HAS MONKEY-ITIS TOO! He's got hair on his ass! And he's evolved more than I have! He's not gonna be a monkey he's going to be a fucking gorilla. Joe was on his right, but facing him, so I had a side view of him and JESUS CHRIST HE'S GOT MONKEY-ITIS TOO! There is hair over his dick. More than I have but not a huge amount. And his balls hang down so far. Mine only go down as far as my dick and my dick isn't even that big. His dick is bigger than mine and his balls go down way past it. I mean his balls literally SWING in his sack. And cripes my boner is killing me the way it's pushing against my jeans. I can't see Morty cuz he's behind Kent and Joe. I can only see the top of his head and he's the one I want to see the most. "Get out of the way, get out of the way, move move move move move," I silently pray to Joe and Kent. Finally, Kent turns around, but I don't even bother looking at his dick because when he turns around it's to walk out of the shower and go to the cabinet over the toilet for a washcloth. When he's out of the shower I have a full-frontal view of Morty. I'd seen a hint of his chest when the sweatshirt was snug against it but now, I saw it for real. He had no tan, but he wasn't an albino or anything. He looked perfect and I felt punier than ever. I wish I looked like him. His chest was so fit. Mine was flat with no definition but he had real pecs. My nips were pink and pale and if you weren't close enough you couldn't even see them but his were reddish brown and kind of pointy and right there and made you forget all about the Farrah Fawcett poster. His abs were flat and taut. Mine still had baby fat on them. Apparently, there was a monkey-itis epidemic because he had it too. I decided it looked good on him. I already said that his hair was dark blonde but the hair over his dick was even darker, almost brown. Twice I'd shaved off the hairs over my dick. If they'd looked like his I would have left them alone. Mine were scraggly and here and there but his were beautiful. Kind of a triangle shape that was just over his dick. His dick wasn't like mine or Kent's or Joe's. The skin on his dick kept going right up over the head. I never saw a dick wearing a turtleneck before. His balls were more like mine though. They didn't hang down practically to his knees like Joe's did. They were bigger than mine, and looser than mine, but they were more in proportion to his dick like mine was. But that turtleneck! What's up with that? I decided then and there that if they had hair on their dicks then I was going to let them see mine, so I could ask them what the hell was going on. And I was going to ask Morty what was up with the outside of his dick eating his dick head. Then I noticed his dick started bonering! And that's not all. When it bonered the head started peeking through the extra skin! Kent and Joe noticed it and laughed at him but not in a mean way, just joking around. He didn't seem embarrassed. He laughed too. Joe slapped Morty's dick which was now 100% bonered and HUGE. I tore my eyes off his dick to look at his face to see if he was having a heart attack or not and then I had a heart attack myself. Morty was looking me in the eye. Shit. My eye was pushed right up against the keyhole plain as could be. I could see into the bathroom but they could see me seeing them. Morty looked at me and smiled. And then he bounced his boner and winked! I fell back onto the floor in the hallway and scrambled up onto my feet and hauled ass to my room. I was just caught peeping on him in the shower. I was perving on him and he knows it. Bingo- Bango, he's going to tell the others and they're all going to beat the shit out of me and probably sing songs while they do it and it will sound amazing while they kill me. But he didn't look mad. He smiled. And winked. The only thing I knew for sure right now was I couldn't be in my room when they got out of the shower. Boner or no boner, I went downstairs. Even that was too close to them. I went back upstairs long enough to grab my skateboard. I hollered to Mom and Dad, "I'm going outside to fall down for a while!" and slammed the door behind me. v It was after dark when I got back. I had some fresh scrapes and cuts on my elbows and knees. The choirboys were in the living room with Mom and Dad. "Goodnight," I said and started for the stairs. "Not so fast," Dad said. Mom said, "Get in here, young man." Time to face the music. They ratted me out. Well who were Mom and Dad going to believe? Their own flesh and blood, who they've known for over eleven years, or three monkey boys who they've known for less than two hours? Newsflash: no one ratted me out. Mom said, "For goodness sake, don't be rude. We have company. Don't hide in your room come in and entertain our guests." "You want me to juggle or saw one of them in half?" I asked. Mom got The Look on her face, but the choirboys laughed, and Joe said, "Saw me and Morty in half and put my top on his legs. I want to be taller." It turns out I didn't entertain them, they entertained us. They sang a few more songs and even convinced us to join in, though I sounded like a girl when I sang. I forgot about being caught by Morty and wondered if he kept it secret from Joe and Kent. I hope so. Maybe I imagined him seeing me. Maybe he was just smiling cuz the other guys were laughing at him. But what about that wink? Ah, screw it, he just had soap in his eye. They'd all changed after their shower. He wasn't wearing the snug sweatshirt anymore, but even in his pajamas and robe I could still tell how fit he was. He caught me looking at him and winked again. I blushed but at least I didn't bone up this time. Mom had gone all out. She'd baked tollhouse cookies. She brought them in from the kitchen along with hot cocoa, not the instant stuff but the real deal. I can't believe I'd tried to sneak up to bed and miss this. But after a while Kent said they should probably get ready for bed and Mom said it was my bedtime too, which was bogus because it was an hour till my bedtime but I knew better than to argue with her in front of company. This time she accepted the offer to help clean up, so I had to help clean too. Then me and the high school boys all went up to my room and my heart was beating a mile a minute cuz I knew I was going to change in front of them. They were already in their pajamas but I wasn't. I was nervous as a whore in church but they ignored me while I got undressed, even when I took off my underwear, but I still made sure I had my back to them in case I bonered . I put on my PJs and got into bed while they took off their robes and unrolled their sleeping bags and put them on the floor next to my bed. "The floor really is slanty. I wasn't kidding about that. I hope it's not a problem," I said. "It'll be fine," Joe said. "if it's not, we'll all just climb into bed with you. Might get crowded, though." Morty said. "Long as I'm not in the middle," Kent said. I hoped they were kidding cuz even if I didn't have dick seizures, I was sure to wake up with a boner. I always did. Then I wondered if they woke up with boners too. Then wondered if I woke up before they did, would I be able to see their boners. BAM! Then I had a freaking boner, but it wasn't a mystery boner, it was from thinking about them having boners. I was finally figuring out that some boners were mystery boners and some boners were "thinking of boner" boners. vi I don't know how long I'd been sleeping. If I was having a dream, I don't remember what it was. I'm not even sure what woke me up. I was on my side, facing the window. It was closed, the thick melting glass distorting the full moon outside but still allowing the light in. The high school boys were in their sleeping bags on the floor behind me. I wondered what time it was. If I rolled over, would the moonlight be shining on the sleeping boys? Were they in the sleeping bags or on top of them? Would the moonlight be enough for me to see their boners if they had any? I was about to roll over when I felt a hand on my hip. Is that what woke me up? I almost cried out when I felt the hand. But I managed not to make a noise. It's a good thing my back was to whoever the hand belonged to because my eyes were wide open. I felt the mattress sink down as someone got into bed with me. Okay, that's all it was. The slanty floor had proven too much for one of them. They got tired of sliding around and had decided the joke of climbing into bed with me was maybe not so much a joke after all. He'll get settled in the bed and then bingo-bango, he'll go back to sleep. Newsflash: he didn't go back to sleep. The hand stayed on my hip for a couple of minutes then softly moved up my side, over my pajama top, then back down onto my hip again. It repeated this back and forth movement as if he were petting a cat. Come to think of it, I did kind of feel like purring. This went on for a few minutes. It was kind of relaxing. I thought this is what it might be like to have a big brother, someone to comfort you after a nightmare, and I almost fell back asleep but then whoever it was licked the back of my neck and I was wide awake again. I was confused. Unless he was hungry and I had strawberry jam on my neck or he was a cannibal, why the heck would he do that? I almost turned around to ask him, except that, confusing as it was, it also felt, I don't know, nice. Weird, but nice. Is this something else big brothers do? I'd have to ask Davey the next time I wrote him. He licked my neck again. He was still petting me but this time when his hand moved up my side it wasn't over my pajama top, it was under it. His hand was on my bare skin, making me shiver. His touch was so light, barely making contact. It bunched up my shirt. He didn't like that cuz he smoothed it back down and reached around to my front and using just one hand unbuttoned the top button on the pajama shirt. Then the second button. And the third, fourth and last button. The left side of the shirt fell open and he picked up the right side and lifted it out of the way, leaving the front of my chest exposed. Once again, he ran his fingertips lightly over my bare skin, but this time not just along the side of my torso, but over my tummy, over my belly button, dipping his finger into it. I felt his breath on my neck while he did this. It tickled but it also felt good. He took his hand away and I wanted him to put it back. I almost grabbed it when I saw it leaving my belly, but I didn't want him to know I was awake. I wished I knew which one of them it was. I knew who I wanted it to be, but I was afraid of looking, knowing how disappointed I'd be if I was wrong. I felt his hand behind my neck, but it wasn't touching me. Then it appeared on my chest and when his finger touched me again, I knew he'd been licking it. It was wet with his spit. He slid it across my pale, hardly-there nipple and I whimpered-I couldn't help it. His hand froze. Time seemed to stand still, and I realized I was bonered harder than I had been when I saw the three of them through the keyhole. It seemed like forever that he paused with his hand on my chest, not moving. Then he must have been satisfied that I'd been dreaming, that I made the noise in my sleep, because he finally moved his finger. I wanted to whimper again but bit my lip and kept quiet. He went back and forth from one of my nips to the other, all while licking and kissing the back of my neck. I was certain he was going to trigger my dickalepsy at any minute. What would he think of me if that happened? He'd probably be so grossed out he'd jump out of bed and never touch me again. Something hard poked me in the butt cheek. His right hand was playing with my tits. His left hand occasionally ran through my hair. Had one of the other boys woken up to jab me in the butt with one of their hands? I hadn't felt anyone else get into the bed with me. Holy crap it's not another finger. He's bonered, too! It's his dick poking me! And it's not just poking me because I was in the way when he bonered, he's doing it on purpose. He's pushing it against me, rubbing it on me. I'm a perv for sure because even though he was pushing it against my butt cheek, it was making my butt hole itch. And something told me that the only thing that could scratch the itch was his boner. I didn't want him rubbing it on my cheek I wanted him rubbing it on my hole. And then I saw Mrs. Vining, my old Sunday school teacher and she was telling me I was going to hell forever and I didn't care. I would spend eternity in hell as long as every day of eternity this boy would rub his spit on my tits and his boner on my butt hole. And then he took his hand away from my chest. Ugh! I hoped he was just going to lick his fingers again and reload them but nope. He was done rubbing my nipples. He put his hand on my shoulder and I thought What the heck? Are you going to shake me and 'wake me up'? what the hell for? But that wasn't it. He carefully rolled me onto my back, which meant I had to close my eyes if I wanted him to keep thinking I was asleep. This was torture. Before, I could see what was happening. But now it was like I was blindfolded. I had no idea what was going to happen. I couldn't prepare for it. But whatever it was I couldn't react- no gasps, no yells, nothing to let him know I was awake. Now that I was laying flat on the bed there were no more licks and kisses to the back of my neck. There was also no hiding the boner to end all boners that pushed against my pajama bottoms, which he had obviously seen because he placed his palm right on top of it! All the thousands of times I bonered in school, or church, or the library, or the store, I hid it behind my notebook or shoved my hands in my pockets or did my best to ignore it. The one thing I had NEVER done was touch it. Why the fuck hadn't I ever touched it? Holy moly! All my anonymous bedmate did was put his hand on top of it. He didn't squeeze it or rub it or anything, he was just resting his hand on it and I swear by the twenty-four balls of the twelve apostles of Christ, I thought I was going to have a stroke and die right there. And by jiminy I didn't make a sound, but don't ask me how. And then the hand was gone, and I wanted to whimper again. I felt his weight shift in the bed and then felt his hair on my chin and on my chest. His head was on my chest and then his tongue was on my nipple, taking over for his finger, flicking and licking my nipples that you could barely see but he didn't need to see them to make them feel good. I could tell the back of his head was to my face, so I took a chance and opened my eyes. Would I see the wavy brown hair that fell just below Joe's ears? The black hair that sat flat on Kent's head? Or Morty's dark blonde hair? It was Morty. Perfect Morty. I couldn't help it, I whimpered again but this time he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. He must have thought he had infiltrated my dreams. He stopped licking them only to start sucking them, and even then, his tongue still flicked across my tit. While my nipple was in his mouth his hand reached for the button on my fly. Using just one hand, as he had on my shirt, he undid the single button. His fingers reached in and fished out my boner. He didn't touch it but reached back into my fly with his pointer and middle fingers and ran them lightly over my balls. I whimpered again. It hurt so good. And then he stopped! He spit out my tits, he pulled his hand out of my fly, and got off the bed! Why was he leaving me? I haven't cried since Mrs. Vining told me Davey was going to hell, but I almost started sobbing now. But I couldn't even move because he'd know I was awake. Who gets someone bonered, and tittered and whimpered and then just bingo- bango, leaves him before he has dickalepsy? Newsflash: he didn't leave me. He got of my bed and stood next to it, but I couldn't see what he was doing. I lay there with my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep and then I felt his lips against mine. It was just for a second. I don't know if it was long enough to count as a kiss, but I counted it anyway. For the rest of my life Mortimer Gillespie will be the person who gave me my first kiss. Then there it was against my lips again. He must have licked his lips when he pulled away because his lips were wetter this time. But wait. That's not his lips. Holy moly I wanted to open my eyes so bad to see if that was really what I though it was because I swear I think he was rubbing the head of his dick over my lips! And it was poking out of his outside skin which meant he had a boner! And it was wet! I don't think he'd had a dick seizure, or I would have known it, so his dick hadn't vomited but I swear his dick was leaking boner barf on my lips! And instead of grossing me out like it should have it made my own boner THROB! No lie, it was twitching and bouncing like it wanted to rub against something the way his had rubbed against my butt cheek but there was nothing but air for it to rub against. Morty must have seen it because he whispered, "poor baby. He's trying to fuck." Then he took his dick away from my lips and almost grabbed it but then the most amazing incredible awesome stupendous fuctacular feeling in the world overcame me and my eyes popped open and I saw my boner in Morty's mouth! I don't blame you if you don't believe it, I hardly believed it myself. It was wet and warm and it totally surrounded my entire dick and then his tongue was sliding all over it and his head was going up and down and then his fingers fished my balls out of the fly and he was playing with them and rubbing them while he sucked on my boner and I could feel something tingling in the base of my spine like a piano wire had snapped and electricity shot from where he was rolling my balls in his fingers right to the root of my dick and then my whole dick seemed to get even bigger and that's when he just sucked it steady and his tongue kept rolling over and over and over the head of my dick and bingo bango bingo bango bingo bango I had the biggest dick seizure of my life but this time the head of my dick just throbbed while my dick puked up whatever it pukes when I have dick seizures and I didn't care if Morty knew that I was awake I grabbed his head and pushed it down while at the same time I raised my butt up trying to get my dick as far into his mouth as I could and I grunted like I was taking the world's biggest crap and was trying to be quiet so I wouldn't wake up Kent and Joe and Morty just kept on sucking and tonguing my dick and then I finally had to push him away because my dick was too sensitive and it was starting to hurt. And then Morty stood up and he grabbed his huge boner, twice as big as mine and he was jerking on it and pulling the outside skin on it back and forth really fast and his dick head was covered and uncovered over and over and he stepped real close to the bed and he aimed his dick at me and even though I had never seen anything like this before I knew what was coming. I reached out to him and played with his balls the way he just played with mine and he said, "Yes, Jason, yes baby," and then he had his own dick seizure and this white boner barf spit up all over my chest and arm and my bed and my own boner twitched again. "Holy moly what the hell happened?" I whispered. He leaned over me and licked up all the boner barf from my chest and arm, but he couldn't lick it off the sheets. "Shh," he said. "Let's go to the bathroom and talk. And do other stuff." Newsflash: I'm not turning into a goddam monkey. And Morty and his dick are really good at scratching that itch in my butt hole.