This story is about a young man's quest to fix a major birth defect--he was born without a penis. On his quest he meets his soul mate and many other soon to be friends.
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Part 1: Chapter 5--Visits
By the time Chris and Tom got to the room, Tom was a bundle of anxious energy. He had sat in the front of the car hearing Chris and Ariel's voices and not the words. He knew that they talked about him, He was concerned what tales Ariel told Chris about Tom's indiscriminate past. About his hedonistic phase, three years from age 15 to 17, when he was young, gay, always horny, and surrounded by young, gay, and always horny men. True, he was smart enough to avoid the drugs that ended many a model's career, but the sex--abundant, frequent, and of infinite variety. God, thought Tom, I was so lucky that I caught no disease. God it was fun. His parents knew what he did because he would show up at home with cum stains all over his clothes. They never criticized, although he always felt that they had full reports of all of his encounters.
Tom remembered what his friend Gordy said when Tom was 15, and had just started modeling, and jumped in bed with the first hunk who propositioned him. It was terrible sex. It was just sex: Tom was more blow-up doll than the participant--bend over, lay on your back, roll over, sit, stand and after fifteen minutes the guy was out the door. After he related the experience to Gordy and how terrible it was and how he regretted jumping into bed with the guy just because he was hot. Gordy, who was gay and much older, told Tom to never regret who you have sex with, even if it is bad, because you learn what to avoid. Rather regret who you pass up as an opportunity to have sex with because you are afraid. When you get older, you will look back and regret the ones you missed. This advice gave Tom the freedom to explore as he wanted. He turned down men, but learned to accept others, to enjoy the experience, the intimacy of bodies. Tom was not sure Gordy's advice was good, but Tom had no regrets--until Chris.
"What did you and Ariel talk about?" Tom rounded to face Chris about a third of the way into the room.
"Stuff." Chris looked at Tom with all the innocence of a hooker saying she's a virgin.
"What kind of stuff?"
"You, nothing important. Just a little this and that." The smile of a blackmailer.
"You talked about me!"
"Of course, we did." A smile patronizing, smug, and superior.
"Are you going to tell me what we talked about" Tom was getting flustered and frustrated.
"No."
Tom pulled Chris close to him so that their breath conjoined. "Why not?" It was more a plea than a threat.
Chris gave Tom a soft kiss. "Because Ariel told me in confidence, do you want me to break my word?" He kissed Tom again and stepped away. "I am going to bed. Are you going to join me or are you going to stand there and fulminate all night?" Chris turned and headed for the bedroom, dropping articles of clothes as he went.
Tom started to follow Chris, turned and clumped off and sat on the sofa. He got up, went to the bar, and poured himself something. He walked to the French doors, sat, set the drink down. He glanced toward the bedroom where he heard Chris in the shower. Fuck him Tom went into the bedroom. And then he did.
Chris woke early. The bedroom was deep in dark except for the orange of the bedside clock. It read 6:07. Tom softly snored, wind through willows; his hand on Chris's hip, protective, possessive, and warm. The sex had been not fireworks or raging rivers but anticipatory, but a building toward release, a breath held and then slowly exhaled. It was tentative and exploratory: a lost continent, exotic, lush, but dangerous. Tom was not afraid of the danger and proceeded with caution. Chris had never been with someone so tender but insistent.
Chris realized the Tom was dangerous; this whole relationship was very dangerous. Chris slowly remove Tom's hand from his hip and, gentle as the dark around him, slipped from the bed. Grabbing one of the robes, Chris went into the living room. This room was bright by comparison to the bedroom.
A small light in the kitchenette was a lighthouse for creature comforts. Chris opened the refrigerator. He had never seen so many sodas and waters. Of course, there was the requisite brand sodas and Perrier, but also craft sodas: loganberry, sassafras, three different root beers, and other with fantasy flavors--Jungle Rain. There were half a dozen different flavored waters. Chris dithered between wintergreen and raspberry. He was not sure what wintergreen tasted like, so he took both. The wintergreen was like mint, but sharper, cleaner, not in your nose backwash. He poured both into a single tall glass he found in a cupboard. The glass was thick, and molten with greens and yellows rising from the base like a sunrise over prairie grass. It was almost a work of art. Chris examined the glass looking for meaning.
Chris rubbed his eyes; not so much as to remove vestiges of sleep but to verify reality, to gain perspective. He grabbed the glass and walked onto the patio. The early morning was chilled; tendrils of fog, like late party drunks, weaved down the streets. Below and to two sides lay the city in restless sleep. Cars, like Morris code, blinked down pedestrian empty roads. The lake in front of him was dark, a cavern, a mouth, a void. It frightened Chris. He sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, pulled his feet in by his butt so everything was enveloped in the plush robe. The night might be cold, but, for now, he was warm and snug; he was safe.
Chris's thoughts jumped. Tom, he really liked Tom. The robe, it was comfort. He pulled it closer. Tom, he loved how Tom kissed him. Kissed his body, scarred, incomplete--himself, scarred and incomplete. Chris's thoughts floated, like the fog: Tom, a smile that made earthquakes; the chair, tempting luxury; the streets, death by mayhem, mishap, or disease; Tom, embraces whole and safe. Was Tom an escape from the streets. An escape. Tom breathing on his neck while Tom slept. Izzy, God, and his body. So incomplete. Breast ripped away. Vagina ready for the knife. The rightness the penis felt between his thighs. Fake. Was he fake? Tom's insistence on us. Cedrick and Ariel so accepting, embracing, welcoming. Family. How was his sister doing? Her worry. Tom and I. It felt right. Did it make it right? Was he using Tom?
Dawn came. It crept over the edge of the lake like a shy lover--coy but wanton. Chris saw the fire edge ripples on the waves. A dozen dawn clichés passed through Chris's mind, well-worn because they held basic truth. It was the crack of dawn, the start of a new day. It was dawning on him. Chris pulled the robe tighter, mesmerized by the changes in light, the reflections on the water, the city awakening. And the sudden kiss from Tom.
"You are up early." Tom smiled, eyes still not fully awake, hair awry, and he was totally naked in the early light and chill. Chris knew he loved Tom and whatever comes; he bullied Tom into another kiss with a sigh. "Please, come back to bed" Tom gently pulled Chris out of the chair and through the French doors. Chris glanced back. The sun had fully crested the lake and the lake was smooth. I've got to give this a chance, Chris thought as he pinched Tom's bare butt.
The next two hours Tom and Chris spent in bed: the drapes tight together like sentries against the day and the world. They explored their bodies, laughed, talked and dozed. The room was their egg--secure and nurturing, but the chick must eventually leave the shell. "Tom?" Chris asked. Tom responded a "what" mumbled into the comforter. "Can we visit my friends this morning?"
Tom sat up, allowing the bedding to slide down his chest. Chris smiled at the chest. It was smooth, tanned, and toned. It was muscular without the bodybuilder look. It had small spasms when Chris ran his fingers down it. "What friends?" Tom asked. He knew Chris lived on the street and assumed that he had no friends.
"Hank and Dion," Tom looked at Chris puzzled. "Hank and Dion are my friends from the street. They sort of look after me. We share food and fire. I am sure they are very worried because I have not returned. You must understand living on the streets is dangerous."
"I would love to meet your friends." Tom kissed Chris's check. "Do you know where to find them?"
"They have a pretty fixed routine. About now and for the next couple of hours, they will be in the homeless village." Tom had never heard of that place. "Founder Park," Chris added when he saw the confused look on Tom's face. "It's heavily wooded with shrubs. It offers some shelter and security. The police tend not to hassle anyone there. As long as you don't hassle any of the other people using the park."
"When do you want to go?"
Chris stretched and slide across Tom's chest to see the clock on Tom's side of the bed. "They should be there for another two hour or so before they go foraging. That's what Hank calls panhandling and scrounging for food." Chris nuzzled into Tom's neck. "They like their morning coffee. Like me."
"Then we need to get up." Chris frowned and pulled the blankets higher. "This is your idea, so out of bed." Chris covered his head with the blankets and laughed. Which encouraged Tom to try to pull the blankets away from Chris. A struggle ensued, eels in a barrel. Chris holding onto the blanket and pushing Tom slowly toward the edge of the bed until Tom hit the floor. "Fuck," Tom looked up at Chris from the floor. Chris stared back and started to laugh. "Damn you're strong." Tom said as he stood and rubbed his ass.
"Years of self-defense training and running away." Chris laughed. Tom found the laugh full and complete. It was comfortable in itself like a lion lounging on the Serengeti. "You get to shower first while I stay here."
"No way in hell" Tom swooped in, pulled the covers back, and captured the startled Chris by the waist. Before Chris knew what was happening, Chris was over Tom's shoulder. "You are into the shower before it is warm. It will serve you right you smug bitch." Tom stumbled at the use of the word `bitch', but Chris was feebly trying to fight Tom but laughing too hard to be effective. Chris went limp as Tom slowly massaged his naked behind. Chris had never felt so secure and safe.
Tom did not follow through on his threat. He deposited Chris gently on the make-up stool with a kiss. Chris sat there and watched Tom step into the shower, his body undulating behind the glass shower door. Chris thought I might be in love with Tom. But that's irrational: they had just met, I'm from the street, Tom was from--where? But definitely not the street, Tom was gorgeous, kind, I'm a fucked up, mutilated girl that needs to be what--a mutilated boy. I do not know how to survive when this ends, when Tom leaves.
Tom stepped from the shower, a Greek god toweling his hair dry. "Your turn sweet cheeks." Chris dodged Tom's embrace and darted into the shower. It was easier to cry there.
Chris stepped into the living room just as Zack was leaving. Chris glanced at Tom curious but did not say anything. Tom turned and saw Chris and stared--no expression on his face. Chris stood still; concerned. What was wrong? Had Chris done something wrong? "God you're beautiful," Tom whispered loud enough for Chris to hear. "I could stand here looking at you until the sun novas." Chris fidgeted, nervous uncertain what to do: stay, move or run. Tom smiled, in his eyes fire and heat. "Turn" Chris did a slow three-sixty, embarrassed but also liking the attention. "Those jeans fit you too well. They show off your delectable ass, and I detect an enticing bulge. God you are gorgeous. Jeans nicely pair with the bold graphic T. You have a fashion sense." Tom walked over to Chris and did his own tour around Chris.
"Foolish me, I thought all the `gorgeous' was for me and not my clothes, Mr. Greenwood." The lightness in the tone belied the words. "I'm only a hanger for my wardrobe." Chris mocked a frown.
"Such is the life of a model." Tom pulled Chris into a firm kiss. "I am just very concerned with this outfit." Chris arched back from Tom's embrace. "I should have bought you baggy clothes. You are too gorgeous; how will I keep men off you. Men will be line up to duel me because I will challenge everyone who so much as winks at you. It has been years since I practiced with epee." Tom took a stumbled step back and clutched his heart. "One young man will eventually best me, and I will die surrounded by the corpses of your other failed suitors." Tom took a dramatic pause. "Please put on my tombstone `Here lies one who died for beauty."
Chris stood stunned looking at Tom and then applauded, "Bravo, bravo, such a magnificent performance. Leaving modeling and pursue Hollywood. If Ashton can do it, so can you."
"Thank you, thank you all you little people." Chris slugged Tom in the shoulder. "Ouch," Tom rubbed the spot, "That hurt."
"It was meant too. Why was Zack here so early?"
"He brought up a couple of pounds of coffee and cinnamon rolls. Peace offerings to Hank and Dion. If you disappeared for a few days, I would be frantic. I can guess they are too. They don't have cell phones?"
"No. Hank said he had no one to connect with. He ran away from the world; why connect. And Dion," Chris paused and frowned deep concern, "he has left this world, which is dangerous and ugly. He has now moved into a fantasy world of rainbows and unicorns where lurk demons with grenades. He just avoids this world." Chris paused again concern on his face. "I never found out why. He has trust issues, major time. Hank, however, takes good care of him. Dion and I are Hank's, not children because he never treats us as such. Hank's foul mouth never should be used in front of children. We're Hank's posse, his responsibility."
"I look forward to meeting them." Tom gave Chris a tender kiss on the forehead. "We need to find your friends."
Hank and Dion were where Chris said they would be, about 30 feet from Founder's Park bridge in a copse of trees, The place was far neater than Tom expected; it was a shanty but no garbage, no smell of feces and urine like Tom saw in the slums of Rio and Calcutta. Hank and Dion were sitting around a small fire with a battered teapot drinking from large mugs. Hank looked up and saw Chris and Tom; he stared at the pair, silent and vigilant. Dion slid behind Hank, like a wounded puppy, when he saw Chris and Tom.
"Wait here." Chris put a hand on Tom's chest. "You are a stranger and potential enemy." Tom nodded.
Chris put on his most carefree attitude and walked to the fire. Chris eased himself on a vacant log. It was his log. For over two years, or more, he had morning coffee with his two friends. "How they hanging?" Chris tried to keep his voice light.
"Who the fuck is that dude?" Hank thumbed toward Tom. "Jesus fuckin a Christ, where the fuck have you been. We thought you might be fucking dead--not that we fucking care. We thought you finally met some whore son bastard, and he fucked you with a knife. Who the fuck is that sugar daddy and why the fuck is he here?"
Chris laughed, "I would not fucking call the dude a sugar daddy, he's my age."
"He bought you some fucking nice clothes, you smell of fancy soap; not the congealed piss you get at the shelter." Hank gave Chris a second look, appraising for injuries or drugs. He stopped and glared at the bulge in Chris's jeans. He flicked his thumb at the bulge. "See he gave you a dick too." Chris smiled and blushed. "You have surgery?"
"No," Chris patted the front of his jeans, "It fake."
"Fuck, looks fucking real, but dick is more your area than mine. Can it spring a fucking boner." Chris nodded. "You and the fancy ass wipe over there." Chris smiled wide and glance at Tom, who stood impatient at the edge of the clearing. "You fucking that cunt asshole. Who the fuck do you think you are sashaying in here flaunting your new fuck buddy. I've a mind for Dion and I to chuck you out like old fish guts." Hank pulled Chris into a hug, which Dion joined. "You left Friday. We knew you were going fucking tricking, which I never fucking approved of. Then you don't show up Saturday. We thought the worst: skinned, head bashed in, kidnapped by perverted fucking aliens." Chris started to say something but Hank continued. "Don't you ever do this again mister fucking piss brained." Chris only nodded unsure whether or not Hank had finished. "So where did sir fucking model pick you up for two days? And why is he here?"
"I picked him up." Hank squinted at Chris dubious. "He took me to his hotel."
"Fuck, a two day fuck in a cheap motel. Got a cock like a fucking god up your fucking ass for two days." Hank sculled. "You couldn't even call."
Chris laughed, "You don't have a phone."
"Oh yeah." Hank cracked a thin smile not wanting to let go of his pique.
"It was not a cheap hotel. It was Greenwood's."
"Fucking not cheap. He very rich then?"
"No, I don't think so. His cousin owns it."
"Lots of money. He pay you? Give you the stick between your legs? Is he a pervert like 50 Shades?"
"No, No, his cousin bought the prosthetic, No," Chris smiled, "Yes maybe a bit of perv, but only in the most considerate way."
Hank shook his head. "You had two days of fucking sex."
"The four of us went to a party at some hot shot interior decorates, Chad, never got a last name."
"The four, you had a fucking orgy? Com'on Chris I thought you had more than shit for brains."
"No, it was Tom, me, his cousin Cedrick, who owns the hotel and Cedrick's wife Ariel."
"What met the whole fucking family in two days. They eyeing you for special concierge services to some of the fucking well-heeled clients."
"Marriage?" asked Dion in a quiet voice and smiled.
"Maybe, I don't know. This is moving very fast." Chris looked at Dion and then Hank, confusion, fear, and panic in his face and voice. Dion put his hand on Chris's and smiled.
"I think I love him."
"Holy fucking shit, mother of god, piss in a hole and roll in it." Hank swore grabbing Chris's shoulders and started shaking him. Tom started moving toward Hank red with anger.
Chris yelled to Tom, "No wait a little, please."
Hank looked up and saw Tom, anger riding high, striding toward the group. Hank smiled. "Guess we need to meet this man who has Chris's heart. Does he love you?" Chris smile," I think so." Hank inhaled deep and exhaled slowly and did a slow laugh. "Guess it's time for him to meet the bride's family." Hank looked at Chris. "If Dion and I do not approve. I will tie you up and forbid any further contact."
"Like hell you will."
Hank looked a Dion, "Fucking kids, what the fuck are you going to do with them." Dion smiled back.
Dion gave Chris a hard look and slowly spoke. "Fucking kids become fucking men. It is the way it is."
Chris stopped Tom a few feet from Hank and Dion and kissed him on the check. This tempered Tom's anger, but it was ready if needed. "Tom, this is Hank and Dion. The two most important men in my life." Tom and Hank gave each other a muscle dominance handshake while staring into each other's eyes looking for weakness. Hank smiled and released. Tom offered his hand to Dion, who did not reciprocate. "Dion doesn't like physical contact."
Tom pulled his hand away. "It is nice to meet you Dion. And thank you for taking such good care of Chris. Without you watching after him I would not have met the man of my dreams."
Dion leaned forward and grabbed Tom into a big bear hug, "Take good care of him." He whispered in Tom's ear. Then Dion walked off to sit on a rock at the edge of the clearing.
"Guess you got Dion's approval." Hank said. "Dion is not a touchy-feely dude. If he thought you would hurt Chris, he would belt you so hard that your fucking ass would be landing three blocks from here." Dion's action was very unusual. Dion was damaged emotionally because he was too sensitive. "Chris, why don't you keep Dion company. He would like that, while I talk to this guy."
"Now, you be civilized. If you say one unkind thing to Tom, I will kick your fucking scrawny ass, and you know I can." Chris said over his shoulder as he walked toward Dion.
"I think I can handle myself, Chris. But I appreciate your support." Tom winked at Chris. Tom sat on a log. "Your show, Hank what the fuck do you want to talk about?"
"Confident son of a bitch aren't you."
"Absolutely. Best way to start a negotiation."
"You think this is a negotiation?" Hank's eyes narrowed.
"Of course, we are negotiating over Chris, although I think he has already stated his terms. And I will win because I love Chris."
"Fuck, this is all about fucking love. You cannot live on love or survive on love or be happy on love. It is over rated."
"Got burned, did you." Hank looked away. "I agree that love is not everything, but it is a start for all the rest that time can bring."
"Are you a perv, you know that Chris is in transition. You like the androgynous look. Be the first on the block to have a fucking trannie."
Tom leaned in close to Hank's face. "I love Chris. He is funny, kind, generous. The body he has or wants is not important. That he is changing into a man is for him, and I will be at his side every step."
Hank leaned back and smiled, "Dion and I love Chris as a son and do not want him hurt."
"Neither do I" Tom moved back into a more comfortable position. "It seems the main part of the negotiation is done. We have agreed upon a common goal."
"Yes, and now for the details."
"What do you want from me? I can help you and Dion find a place to live, work, a new life."
"Thanks for that offer, but I am here by choice and Dion by need. I look after Dion. Nam did a fucking serious number on Dion. The napalm and burning people. He has rage and nightmares. Outside of here, he would be in an institution. He would be crushed totally under the system. He is doing much better in the four years since we hooked up. He actually hugged you. Never saw him touch a stranger much less hug. It is progress."
Tom looked down and saw he still had his bag. "I brought this for you." He handed the bag to Hank. "Just some coffee and sweet rolls."
"Bribery?"
"Of course."
Hank opened the bag of coffee and inhaled. "This is fucking heavenly, Peabody?"
"Got me, I just drink the stuff. My cousin would know."
"Greenwood hotels, right."
"I know that you need to buy things, so I would like to help." Tom handed Hank a 100-dollar bill.
Hank took it looked carefully at. "You don't know a thing about living on the street. We would be dead within in couple of hours over this much money. Give me five and we will call it a dowry." He handed it back to Tom. "Been a long time since I've seen a C note."
Tom took the hundred back and pulled out a five. "Sure, I can't give you more?"
"No this will be enough." Hank paused in thought, "Unless you want to donate to the local shelter. They can always use a hundred."
"I will do that, five hundred?"
"Your generosity will help." Hank looked at Tom and then glanced over to where Chris and Dion were talking. "What about Chris's surgery? I want to pay for it."
"Christ, the process is very expensive, maybe 50,000 or more."
"That much, I can cover it." The surprise on Tom's face was worth the statement Hank thought. "I am homeless by choice. I got tired of the fucking world and checked out after the wife left. I could afford to stay at your cousin's fucking hotel." Hank enjoyed the surprise on Tom's face.
"I thought the doctor was doing gratis. Well not gratis." Tom paused. "For an exchange of services."
"Yeah, the doctor was fucking him. But I was paying"
"But Chris thought..."
"Chris thought what I wanted him to think. I wasn't real happy about the fucking situation, but I realized that fucking a doctor was safer than fucking any john on the street. It also helped Chris think he was active in pursuing the surgery. A man has his self-worth."
"You let Chris trick when he could have been safe" Tom rose angry.
"Yes, I did. He had to hit bottom first. When I found him, he was on a self-destructive path. His fucking father, whom he adored, kicked him out of the house, in December, with nothing, not even shoes. That he survived the first six months without dying or being caught up in one the sex trafficking rings here in town is both miracle and strength. I helped him head in the right direction. He got his GED and was looking at community college. Tricking made him feel like he was contributing to our welfare. It gave him value." Tom still had not sat down. "Don't you think Dion and I worried. We would secretly follow him to be sure he stayed safe. But that kid has a sense for people and danger. We never had to intervene. He always played safe, he always had condoms, he went to the health department and got Prep. He is a very smart kid."
Tom sat. "Yeah and stubborn."
"Fucking right there. Is he to be your boy toy, you his sugar daddy?" Hank's face was stern and intimidating, except for the playfulness in the eyes.
"I am in no way old enough to be his sugar daddy." Tom laughed with mock wounding. "I'm not sure if he is my toy or I am his; it doesn't matter." Tom looked Hank in the eyes, "I love Chris and want him happy and as you said he needs to feel of value, a contributor in a relationship. We have a meeting with my agent about him having a modeling career. I think he would be very successful."
"I have sixty mil in the bank and more in property. Chris will inherit most of it when I die."
"Does Chris know?"
"Hell no. Why would I fucking burden the kid with that fucking knowledge? The only problem is that I don't know Chris's last name. Street people are no big on last names."
"He never told me either. And I never thought to ask. Guess I need more information. If he wants to be a model, he can go by Chris, but passports and Uncle Sam want last names."
Hank nodded and look at Chris and Dion "He definitely has the fucking looks and he is very skinny. He hasn't been getting his three squares."
"He is too skinny and I hope to remedy that. He does have the looks, but he has something else--soul. He exudes innocence, vulnerability, and bad ass. Cameras will love him. Modeling will be a start until he decides on another path. But it will always be his path."
Hank sat thinking. He looked over at Chris and Dion inhaled deep and slowly exhaled. Chris saw Tom and Hank looking at them. Chris and Dion returned to the fire pit. "Well," Chris looked at Hank. "You have not fought over me; I think I am a little offended." There was humor in his voice.
"It came close," Tom beamed back at Chris.
"Do you want to run off with this man, with Tom?" Hank asked.
Chris put his arms around Tom's waste. "Yes I think so." Chris sat down beside to Hank; he moved close in. "I'm fucking scared."
"You should be," replied Hank.
"I will keep you safe," added Tom, "I love you."
"I know, I love you too," Chris sighed and squared his shoulders. "But it is such a leap off a cliff with no visible bottom." Chris looked at Hank and Dion and then into Tom's eyes. "Sometimes risks and consequences need to be damned and the heart followed." Chris stood over to Hank and Dion and took both hands, Dion was crying. "I love you both, you are my family and will always be, but I must do this and take this path. I don't know when I will see you again, but I will never forget you." Chris then kissed both Hank and Dion and returned to Tom's arms.
"You fucking take good care of my boy. If you don't, I will reach up your ass and pull your fucking tongue through until all you ever taste is shit. And don't think I don't have the means to do it wherever you are." Hank growled at Tom
"Duly warned." Said Tom.
Tom pulled Chris close to his side and walked away from the clearing. Chris turned his head for one final look and saw Hank handing Dion a pastry Tom brought. Dion smiled at Chris raised the pastry in salute and took a large bite.