DISCLAIMER: Standard disclaimers apply. If you are underage (18 or 21, depending) and/or are offended by mature themes including consensual sexual contact between teen males, then DO NOT continue. This work is entirely fictional and any resemblances to persons (other than myself) either living or dead, is entirely coincidental. If you wish to reprint this story, just drop me an email letting me know where, and make sure you give me (Menzo) credit.
Comments are very much appreciated, so please drop me a quick email at menzoberranzen_of_the_drow@yahoo.com
~Menzo
"Enjoy the Ride"
Chapter 1 - Life is never fair
It started out as a totally normal day. I did what every other 16 year old boy does on a Friday. I got up late, showered, ran out the door and grabbed an oatcake and coffee from Starbucks on my way to school. Wait...that's not what every 16 year old boy does on a Friday? Welcome to my life.
I was the kid every parent dreams of having. I never got less than an A+, I was the star of my school's cross-country and swim teams and my room looked like it could have come straight from Martha Stewart's catalogue. I was eloquent, articulate and I dressed well. I didn't do drugs, I got along well with adults in general and my eating habits were impeccable. Despite all of my oddities, I still managed to get along well with my peers. I didn't have a huge circle of friends, but I was never lonely. Was this good enough for my parents? No.
"Why can't you act like a normal boy, Jamie?" was something I heard on a routine basis from my mother. But, I reveled in being different. I disdained the typical teenage boy and the fact that I was the polar opposite was a source of great pride for me. I occasionally got picked on, but I avoided hanging around those types of people and my school life was never unpleasant. Still the fact that my mother thought I was a freak and my father thought I was a 'sissy pansy' bothered me. I had a very strained relationship with my parents and we almost never talked about anything of substance. It wasn't unusual for my father and I to exchange nothing but a 'hello, how are you?' in a day.
Like I said, it started out as a normal day. I stopped at the local coffee house on my way home, feeding a developing caffeine addiction, and walked to the affluent suburb where I lived. As soon as I got home I noticed my brother's car was there and I silently groaned. My brother shared the same feelings as my father and he didn't have any qualms letting me know how much of a fag I was. 'Fag' was a popular word with my brother but he never actually believed I was gay. No, that sort of thing just did not happen in the White family.
My brother was a senior in high school and since he got his car - a present for getting a B average - he had spent very little time at home, which was fine by me. I walked into the house and walked up the stairs, a little surprised Jason wasn't blasting terrible music from his room. Once I got to the top of the stairs, I knew something was amiss. My door was closed and light flared around the edges. I walked over, ready to give him the sharp end of my tongue, but when I opened the door I froze. Jason was sitting in front of my laptop, arms crossed, looking at me. He must have been waiting there for me to get home.
"My computer wouldn't work, so I thought I'd use yours," he said nonchalantly. I breathed a small sigh; perhaps I had jumped to conclusions too quickly.
"Oh yeah? Well, I have an essay due tomorrow so I need it back now, if you don't mind."
"An essay?" he repeated standing up.
"Yeah, why are you surprised?" I turned and dropped my book bag onto my bed. The next thing I knew, I was falling face first into the bed. I clutched the back of my neck where I had been punched and I stood up, backing away and breathing raggedly. Jason's face was contorted with rage and he sneered at me, balling up his fist.
"You wouldn't dare," I challenged him.
"Oh yeah?" He came at me suddenly, but he underestimated me. I wasn't big - 5'8 and 130 pounds - but I was very agile. I dodged his fist and rammed my elbow into his stomach, winding him. I knew how to fight but I was out of my depth and I knew I had made a mistake when, instead of crumpling to the floor, he tackled me and pinned me to the bed.
"Faggot," he whispered in a deadly voice. "How dare you touch me?!"
I tried to speak, but he forced my face into the mattress and he twisted my arms brutally around my back before gagging me with a bandanna. I writhed under his 200 pound frame, trying desperately to avoid what was coming. I shrieked but only muffled sounds escaped.
I had never felt so betrayed or so ineffectual in my life. My brother was beating the daylights out of me and I could do nothing but whimper in anticipation of the next blow. Abruptly he untied my hands and walked out of the room, not saying a word. I quickly struggled to my feet and re-oriented myself. I looked in the mirror at my tear stained, bruised face and I started to cry again. A car pulled into the driveway and I ran down to what I thought would be comforting arms. Boy was I wrong.
My father stepped out of his luxury Jaguar and walked purposefully towards me. I opened my mouth to speak, but a stinging backhanded slap sent me falling to the ground. I looked up pleadingly towards my mother, but there was only cold dispassion on her face. She followed where my father led, and if he wanted to beat me, then she would support him. After a sharp kick in the ribs and a bloody nose from my brother, who had come down into the foyer, I finally managed to stagger to my feet. I was in total shock and the tears had ceased. All I could think of was getting out of there and when my father turned to stop me, I mustered all my remaining strength and punched him in the face. I don't know how I managed it, but I started running for my life.
I woke with a start as I felt water dripping onto my face. I opened my eyes and groaned with pain. My face was puffy and swollen and my ribs felt sore. I tried to block out the memories, but they came flooding back as I sat up in the rain. I am still not really sure how I got there, but there I was, sitting in the pouring rain on a disused bench in the park. Not really thinking where I was going, I started walking aimlessly.
I must have been walking for hours because when I was jolted back to reality by the screeching of car brakes, it was pitch black out save for the small points of light created by the street lamps.
I looked at the car in front of me and hurried to the side of the road. Rather than drive away as I had hoped, the car pulled to the side of the road and a middle aged woman with graying hair stepped out. She put up her umbrella and walked over to me.
"Oh my god, child!" she said softly when she saw my face. "What happened."
"It's nothing," I mumbled.
"Nonsense!" she retorted. "Here, come with me and we'll get you dried off and down to the station."
"No! Please. Could you just take me to 55 Parkland Avenue?" I asked pleadingly. I was not ready to face what had happened myself, let alone go to the police. She hesitated for a moment, but she acquiesced and helped me into her car. Apparently she sensed my desire for silence, and the short car ride felt like an eternity. I lost myself in the sound of the rain beating against the roof of the car, pushing everything else from my mind.
When we arrived, the woman - Nancy, I think she said her name was - helped me out of the car and walked me to the door where she rang the bell. The door opened a crack and a small female face poked out of it.
"Can I help you?" she asked politely.
"Ah, yes," replied Nancy. "This boy here asked to be brought here."
"Oh my god!" she shrieked, pushing the door open. "Jesse, get out here now!"
"What's going on?" Jesse asked. Before she could respond he looked out the door and let out a small scream.
"Jesus, Jamie, what happened?"
I stepped into the house leaving his sister, Lily, and his parents to deal with Nancy. I didn't answer his question. He understood, and just walked me to the bathroom where he dried me off and helped me into some of his dry clothes. He talked soothingly to me the whole while, and I began to lose myself in his voice. I was still in complete shock. He gasped a couple of times when he saw the bruises on my ribs, and he gave me two painkillers to help. He put his arm around my shoulders and we walked into the living room where his parents and sister were waiting.
"Jamie, what happened?" asked Susan, Jesse's mother.
"My dad," I mumbled to the floor. I don't know what exactly I expected from them, but it certainly wasn't the reaction I got. Jesse squeezed my arms so tight I thought they'd break. Lily, who was 18, narrowed her eyes and looked at her mother, who was shaking her head. But it was Dave, Jesse's dad, who really surprised me. He leapt to his feet and gave a loud curse.
"I'll kill the sonofabitch," he said to no one in particular. I liked Dave and the feeling was mutual, but I had never spent much time around him and it seemed odd that he would react in such a fashion.
"Dave! Calm down," Susan implored him.
"Jamie," said Dave, shaking with rage. "What exactly happened?"
I took a deep breath and I tried to recount what had happened. It all seemed like a bad dream to me and I had trouble getting out the words. By the time I had gotten to the end, I was sobbing uncontrollably in Jesse's arms. Dave seemed extremely upset and he got up, telling me he was going to call Social Services.
"Don't worry, buddy," said Jesse softly. "You can stay here; I'm sure it'll all work out."
"Thanks," I mumbled through my tears.
I woke up the next morning feeling decidedly worse than when I had gone to bed. My extensive bruises ached, despite the first-aid I had received from Susan the night before. Worse, I was no longer in such a state of shock and I was inundated with thoughts of what had happened and what it all meant. Although I was utterly crushed, especially by my mother's reaction to the scene, anger and rage had repressed any tears I might have shed.
I rolled over in the bed and looked at the sleeping beauty of Jesse. His wavy blond locks hanging over his boyish face. At least he was still there, nonjudgmental and compassionate. I didn't even want to consider where I would have been then if it weren't for him. We had met about 8 years ago, at the local pool. We were in the same swimming class together, instantly hit it off, and we had basically spent the 8 years since then living in each other's back pocket. We did everything together and we knew almost everything there was to know about the other. I don't think I could count the number of times I cried in his arms or made him his favorite meal when he was feeling down. That was the best thing about him; he was the most understanding person I have ever met.
The day I came out to him is fixed into my memory like it was yesterday. I had known I was since about the age of 12, but I tried to either ignore it or deny it for over a year. I was so terrified of what people - and Jesse in particular - would think that I fell into a mild depression. I isolated myself from other people, too afraid of what would happen if I lost Jesse. Well, we were far too close for him not to notice something was going on with me....
"Jamie, dude, what's wrong? Why don't you ever want to hang out any more?" he asked, upset.
"Just leave me alone, OK?" I snapped back, putting my head under the pillow. It was the only time I had ever been sharp with him and I could tell he was crushed.
"Fine, if you don't want to talk to me, just say so."
My heart broke to think I was hurting him, and I started to cry. He moved over to my bed and put his hand on my shoulder. He didn't say anything, he was just letting me know he was there for me. I rolled over to face him, tears glistening on my cheeks. I looked up into his deep brown eyes.
"I'm gay," I whispered softly. Then, the most unexpected thing happened - and oh, how I loved him for it. He put his hand on my chin and bent down, gently brushing my lips with his.
"I know," he said, pulling back. I looked at him, speechless. There were no words then and there are none now that can convey what I felt for him at that moment.
Yes, he is straight, but that has never stopped him from being a loving, caring friend. He never hesitated to give me a hug when I needed it, or to sleep in the same bed with me when I didn't want to be alone. I sometimes felt bad; he gave me so much and I could never return the favor. He was an easy going person, and rarely got upset over anything. Still, we had remained fast friends and his family was more like my family than my own.
I had had a brief crush on Jesse when I was 15, the year before, but it passed quickly. It seemed akin to having a crush on my own brother and it was really just because I was horny, single and still closeted to most of the world. Our friendship meant the world to both of us, and we loved each other like brothers. Jesse had never let a girl come between us, and several had ended things with him because we spent so much time together.
I quietly got out of bed and walked over to the spacious en suite bathroom. I turned on the shower and then turned to look at myself, for the first time, in a mirror. I grimaced at the bruises marring my otherwise gorgeous body. I was only 5'8, I weighed 130 pounds and there was not an ounce of fat on my body. As I mentioned, I ate extremely healthy meals and, being on both the swim and cross-country teams, I was quite toned. My skin at an all-over tan from days at our outdoor swimming pool and the only hair on my body was a small, well-trimmed bush above my cock. I had never liked body hair, and being a swimmer gave me an excuse to wax it off.
I kept my light brown hair short and I usually straightened it to give it a stylized look. All in all I would have looked quite young - almost boyish - for my age if my eyes hadn't been so striking. Framed by lightly sculpted eyebrows and long, feminine lashes, my steel-gray eyes were by far my most distinctive feature. They were also very expressive and changed from almost blue to dark gray with my mood. They also gave me a somewhat austere look which could be deceptive to people who didn't know me.
Casting one final glance towards my reflection, I stepped into the large shower and rinsed off the grime from my hours in the park yesterday. I usually jacked off during my morning shower, but I didn't feel up to it today and I just stood under the warm water, letting it wash over my tired body.
As I had been doing a lot of late, I lost myself in my thoughts. I don't know how long I stood under the water, but I was jolted back to reality when the bathroom door opened and Jesse walked in rubbing his eyes.
"Hey, sleepy head," I said cheerfully. I shook my head once and turned off the shower.
"You ok?" he asked, stifling a yawn.
"Yeah...I'm fine." From behind the frosted glass I heard him relieve himself on the other side of the bathroom. I waited for him to finish and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist.
"God, Jamie!" he exclaimed, seeing my bruises. They had become quite unpleasant looking over night.
"I'll survive...I suppose," I said grinning. It was unusual for me to hide from emotions and Jesse seemed a bit surprised at how stable I was.
"See that you do," he laughed. "Mom's making, eggs I think. You better go make sure she makes what you want. I'm gonna hit the shower."
I laughed and hurried out. Susan always tried to feed me huge portions of fatty food. In her view, a growing teenage boy should eat like there is no tomorrow. I fished out some of Jesse's jeans that actually fit - he was 5'11 and 150lbs - and grabbed one of my own shirts that I had left here from last time I stayed the night. Most kids grow out of sleepovers by high school, but it was a rare weekend that I didn't sleep at Jesse's house. Like I said, his family was my family.
I walked downstairs and was immediately swarmed by Susan and Lily, both of whom seemed determined to make sure I was not about to collapse in a heap of tears.
"Whoa!" I said laughing. "Right now, all I need is some breakfast."
Susan, like her son, seemed a bit surprised at my demeanor, but she rebounded quickly and laughed with me.
"So, if I know you, you'll have bacon, sausage, eggs and a milkshake?"
I grabbed my stomach and pretended to be sick. "How about some black coffee and an egg-white omelet from my favorite chef?"
Eventually she relented and made what I requested. Determined to enjoy the morning, I sat down with Lily at the table and started eating. It was an enjoyable, if somewhat quieter than usual, breakfast and everything was going well until we heard a car pull up in the driveway. Susan glanced at her watch.
"Dave shouldn't be home yet. Lily, go see who it is."
As Lily walked towards the door, I looked out the window and I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was a police car and one other car I couldn't make out. However, I didn't have long to speculate as Lily returned to the kitchen, her face pale. Behind her were two police officers and the man I least wanted to see at that moment: my father.
Well, I hope you enjoyed the first installment of 'Enjoy the Ride.' As you have probably guessed, having read this far, this story will not be constant sex. In fact, I'm not even sure when sex will make its way into the story.
Comments, criticisms and suggestions are all very welcome. I write because I enjoy it, but I post them here for you so please let me know what you think of the story.
Menzoberranzen_of_the_drow@yahoo.com
~Menzo