Legal Disclaimer: This story contains homoerotic content. If this offends you, or if it is illegal for you to access such content, please press the 'Back' button on your browser now.
This story is fictional in every way. The characters in this story are not based on real people, alive or dead, and the events in this story are not based on real life events that the author has been a part of or seen. Any similarities in names or descriptions are purely coincidental.
The author grants the Nifty Archive a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancelable license to display the work.
Author's Note: Sorry this has taken so long. There has been a death in the family recently which has made it difficult to concentrate on writing. Hopefully the story will proceed more quickly now. No sex in this chapter either, sorry. Also want to apologize for an error made in the author's note of the last chapter of this story: I said it was the third chapter of House Party, my other story, when obviously it was the third chapter of Lunchroom Fun. I hope no one was too confused :) Speaking of confusion, Americans might be confused by my writing about jam in this chapter. I understand you call it jelly.
As usual, any comments or suggestions are welcome, and a big thank you to all those who have commented on past submissions or made suggestions for future ones, they are all appreciated.
aleksandercaspian@gmail.com or aleksandercaspian@hotmail.com (msn)
Lunchroom Fun - Chapter 4
Alex felt his older brother's eyes on him as he grabbed the jam out of the fridge. Dominic had barely said a word to him since the incident at school which had led to his expulsion. The brothers had always got on passably well before, but now it was like Dom didn't know how to act around Alex. Aware that his brother was still staring at him, Alex slowly spread jam. He ate quietly, becoming annoyed at his brother's awkward glances in his direction. Reaching into the fruit bowl, he picked out a banana and peeled it. He slowly slid it into his mouth, watching Dom the whole time. His brother stood up so suddenly the chair he was sitting in fell over and quickly strode out of the room. Alex snorted derisively at his reaction and bit the banana in two.
He finished his lunch quickly returned to his room, shutting to door behind him. Moving into the far corner so no one would hear, he dialed Ben's number on his cell phone. A voice answered immediately.
"We're sorry, but this number has been disconnected."
Alex frowned and dialed the number again, certain he had entered it incorrectly. The same message played. He felt a trickle of fear run down his spine, as though something terrible was about to happen, or had happened, which he didn't fully understand. Within moments he was slamming the front door shut and had set off at a run down the street towards Ben's home. Less than ten minutes later he had rounded the corner of Ben's street. Years of fitness training meant he was unfazed by the run, but his breathing still became shallow and erratic with anticipation as he approached his friend's house.
Both cars were gone from the driveway, and all the doors and windows were closed, highly unusual considering the temperature outside. He walked up to the front door and knocked. There was no answer, and he could hear no one stirring inside the house. He knocked again, louder this time, but still there was no response. Worried now, he walked around the house, looking in through the windows to try and spot anything that would tell him Ben was still there. The house was empty save for the immaculately presented furniture. Cursing softly under his breath, Alex walked back to the front of the house. Ben's family could just be out somewhere for the day, but that didn't expand his phone being cut off, or the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach which told him something was deeply wrong. He was walking away from the house when he heard a voice behind him say his name.
"Alex."
He turned around, a smile forming on his lips.
"Ben-"
He stopped short. It wasn't Ben who had called out to him. Mr. Orrone, the teacher who had stopped the Chaplain from slapping Ben a second time at the school, stood on the sidewalk.
"He's gone, Alex."
Alex stared at the teacher, not comprehending what he was saying. Mr. Orrone continued.
"I came by to offer counseling and discuss other matters with the family. They were just loading Ben into the car when I arrived."
Alex found his voice.
"They?" he asked uncertainly.
Mr. Orrone had a grim expression on his face.
"'They' would be the orderlies from the Good Shepherd Institute."
Alex's blood felt like it had turned to ice in his veins. The Institute was located two hours out of the town; a grey, walled building funded by the Church which dealt with children aged from 13 into their 20's who had 'lost their way'. Technically this could include teen pregnancies, drug use, alcoholism or any number of other troubles, but it was well known that the number one reason for a person to be sent to the Institute was because they suffered from a condition that was more embarrassing to Christian parents than all the others: homosexuality. Alex was in shock.
"They can't do that."
Mr. Orrone shook his head sadly.
"Unfortunately they can, Alex. Ben is not yet of legal age, and his parents have the final say on what happens to him."
"But...Shit, Ben's parents aren't even that religious! Why would they do something like this?"
Mr. Orrone looked at him sadly. Alex swore.
"The fucking Chaplain."
Mr Orrone nodded.
"Many of Mr. Steckman's clients know him through the Church," the teacher explained. "The Chaplain is the one who formed those connections. I imagine he made some veiled insinuations that such networking would dry up quickly if Mr. Steckman allowed his son to continue down such a path."
Alex felt as though the world was spinning. Mr. Orrone continued speaking.
"There's something else in all of this that I find worrying, Alex. If I recall correctly, Ben had his 17th birthday not long ago, which means that in about seven months he'll be a legal adult, and able to walk out of the Institute whenever he wishes."
Alex looked up, confused.
"Isn't that a good thing?"
Mr. Orrone shook his head.
"It could be...but on the other hand, it could make things worse. The Institute recommends a full year stay at the very least, two years being the normal recommendation. Ben's parents know that he will be legally able to leave before the completion of the program. It could be that the 'Good Shepherds' will try to fit years of therapy into a few months... and I don't know what sort of effect that could have on Ben."
Mr. Orrone's tone made Alex shiver involuntarily, despite the warmth of the afternoon sun. He turned and looked at the teacher.
"You know a lot about this, Mr. Orrone."
"No more than a Google search can uncover, Alex." Mr. Orrone replied casually, looking away. Something about the man's response made Alex suspect there was more he being left unsaid, but he decided not to press the issue. He regarded Mr. Orrone carefully.
"It's not that I don't appreciate you stepping in at school, stopping the Chaplain like that," Alex said, slowly. "But how is any of this your business?"
A flash of some emotion vaguely resembling hurt flickered across Mr. Orrone's face.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude..."
"No, sir, that's not it," interrupted Alex. "I mean, why do you care?"
Mr. Orrone regarded Alex for a moment before speaking.
"Because, Alex, even though what you and Ben did was irresponsible, reckless and irreverent...if it had been two heterosexual students, neither of them would be carted away to an institution. Neither would be struck by an official of the Church. Neither would be told they were destined for eternal hellfire. Neither of their parents would have practically disowned them."
Alex turned his head to the side as he felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes.
"And neither of them would have felt like a stranger in their own house," he said, wiping the wetness from his face.
Mr. Orrone nodded sadly.
"I don't think you and Ben have been treated fairly by any parties concerned, and I think that was because of your sexuality. That doesn't seem fair to me."
Alex studied the young teacher for a moment.
"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question, sir?"
Mr. Orrone laughed.
"You were never in my classes, Alex, but from what I heard in the teacher's lounge, this is an unusual display of politeness."
Alex blushed. Mr. Orrone smiled.
"So what was your question?"
Alex cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Uh...are you...gay, sir?"
Mr. Orrone chuckled.
"I can understand how you might think that, but no, Alex, I'm not."
Alex looked down, embarrassed.
"Sorry, sir. I just thought it was unusual for you to be as understanding as you are."
Mr. Orrone nodded.
"I have a brother. He's not much older than you. A year or so ago he came out to my family." A pained look came over him. "They were...upset."
Alex waited for Mr. Orrone to continue. When it became obvious that was not going to happen, he changed the subject.
"Well, thanks for telling me about Ben, sir. I don't know how I would have found out otherwise."
"If anyone has a right to know, Alex, it's you. I sensed that you and Ben were more than just 'friends with benefits'."
Alex nodded slowly.
"You're right...we were more than that. Though I don't think we realized it until we were kept apart for so long."
Mr. Orrone placed a sympathetic arm around Alex's shoulder.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Alex considered.
"Two things actually, Mr. Orrone. Firstly, tell me everything you know about the Institute."
The teacher nodded. "And the second thing?"
Alex smiled grimly.
"Tell me how to get there."
The first thing Ben noticed when he woke up was the sheets. They were hard, rough and cold: not anything like the comfortable, familiar sheets he had at home. He opened his eyes to a grey, featureless wall, less than thirty centimeters from his face. The small single bed he lay in was pressed up into a corner, with the grey wall seeming to wrap all around the small, hard mattress.
For a moment he panicked, disoriented. He rolled over and saw that he was in a moderately sized room with two beds pressed against opposite corners of the blank wall. At the foot of each bed was a wooden box, and on the walls not occupied by the beds, two empty desks sat with rigid plastic chairs before them. Above him, an electric fan circled lazily, doing a better job of creaking distractingly than circulating air. An uncovered fluorescent bulb lit the room harshly, providing the only light source other than a small, unopenable window set high in the corner of the room, which afforded a view of a grey brick wall.
Ben sat up. Memories from the day before came flooding back.
He sat in his room, clicking idly on his computer. It was a lazy summer afternoon, the time when a young man's thoughts turned to love. Ben was no exception. He had been thinking of Alex almost constantly since the night they had met on the Michaelsons' front lawn. Of course they'd had sex before, but there was something different about that night. Ben couldn't put his finger on it. His train of thought was interrupted by his mother walking into his room. Looking at her, he noticed she seemed a little distressed. She sat down on his bed and patted the space next to her.
"Ben, why don't you come and sit here with me for a moment."
Instantly he was on full alert. His mother would only say something like that if a she wanted to talk about a serious and, nine times out of ten, awkward topic. He remembered briefly that the same precursory words had been used to begin a conversation about the condoms she had found in his sock drawer when he was 15. Cautiously, he moved to sit on the bed next to Mrs. Steckman. The woman tried to smile.
"Your father and I have discussed it, and we think it's important that you...talk to someone, about your... problem."
"My problem," Ben repeated.
His mother blushed.
"You know what I mean. We think...that is, it seems like there could be some psychological issues here. Your father working such long hours, hardly at home, and me always here...we think maybe if you had had a more positive male role model you wouldn't have...well."
"Decided to fuck guys?" Ben commented dryly.
"Don't joke about this, Benjamin," his mother replied coldly. Ben was silent. She had used his full name: this was bad news. Mrs. Steckman continued.
"We want you to get some...help. Therapy. If we made any mistakes when raising you, we want to try and make up for them."
Ben stared at her, uncomprehending. She shuffled slightly closer to him and spoke earnestly.
"You don't have to be like this, you know. I'm sure you feel like this is who you are, how you were born, but the good news is that it isn't true. With some help, you can be normal again. Wouldn't that be good, Ben?"
She smiled at him. Disgusted, he pulled away.
"What the fuck are you saying, Mom? You're trying to turn me straight? You want me to be 'normal'?"
His mother eyed him warily, sensing the anger in his voice.
"Ben, please, we're only doing this to help you."
"Doing what? What are you going to do, Mom? Send me to a shrink who'll charge you a hundred bucks an hour to try and turn me into a 'normal', pussy-loving boy? Strap me to a chair and force me to watch lesbian porn until I'm fucking 'cured'?"
His anger seethed. He hadn't spoken any louder than usual, but he didn't have to. His mother could feel the anger and hurt in his voice. She sighed.
"No, of course not. We aren't going to do anything. We'll leave it up to the Institute."
Ben felt a chill pass through him.
"Not...the Good Shepherd Institute?"
His mother nodded silently. Ben shook his head furiously.
"No fucking way. I'm not going to that place."
"Ben, just hear me out-"
"No! You want to cart me off to an institution? What the fuck!"
Mrs. Steckman raised her voice to cut off her sons protestations.
"Ben, please, it's the best thing for all of us-"
"I fucking bet! Far easier for Dad to cart me off to an institution than to spend more fucking time with me!"
"I knew that was an issue," his mother said. She placed an arm around his shoulder. "You see, Ben? We're making progress already."
Ben shrugged her arm off angrily.
"Leave me the fuck alone!"
He stood and strode toward the door, but was stopped in his tracks by two stern faced men who appeared from the hall. His mother stood slowly and nodded at the orderlies. They grabbed Ben roughly and began to haul him towards the door.
"Mom, what the fuck is this? Who are these assholes? Hey, get your god-dammed hands off me!"
"Ben, don't use the Lord's name in vain," his mother scolded, following the orderlies and the struggling teenager through the foyer, opening the front door for them.
"Just calm down, Ben, don't struggle. Please. This is for the best."
"The best? The fucking best?!" Ben screamed incredulously, struggling ineffectively against the strong men.
"Mom, don't do this! Please! Please don't do this to me! Mom!"
His pleas fell on deaf ears. Mrs. Steckman watched as the orderlies opened the back of the van. Suddenly she heard a voice calling out from down the street.
"Ben?"
Mrs. Steckman turned away from where the orderlies were still trying to force Ben into the van and saw Mr. Orrone walking briskly down the street, a worried look on his face.
"Mr. Orrone. I'm afraid this is not a good time."
"I can see that, Mrs. Steckman. What's going on?"
Mrs. Steckman regarded the teacher coldly.
"Nothing that concerns you, sir. If you'll excuse me, I have things to do."
She turned to walk away. Mr. Orrone glanced at the van, seeing the words Good Shepherd Institute were emblazoned across the side. Eyes widening, he grabbed Mrs. Steckman's arm and pulled her around to face him.
"The Good Shepherd Institute? What have you done?"
Ben's mother was indignant.
"Get your hands off me!"
She slapped him with her free hand. Mr. Orrone let her go and ran towards the van. Its doors were now closed, and the orderlies were climbing into the front. Ben's face appeared in the back window.
"Mr. Orrone! Help me!" Ben yelled.
The teacher had almost reached the van when it pulled out of the drive way and took off down the street. Ben watched the teacher's worried face disappear around the corner, and he slumped down in the back of the van, scared and alone.
They had come straight to the Institute. After hours of waiting, filling out forms, and a thorough search, Ben had been taken to the grey, bare room. Exhausted, he had fallen asleep straight away, despite the uncomfortable mattress. Now, gazing around the room, Ben remembered how he had come to be here. A feeling of hopelessness washed over him as he looked around the lifeless room.
He noticed that the only other bed was unoccupied, and neatly made. Ben wondered if anyone else used the room, and if so, where they were now. Sliding out of bed, noticed that he was wearing only a pair of briefs. He looked around the room for clothes, but could see nothing. Noticing the box at the foot of his bed, he moved to open it. Inside were several sets of light blue pants and shirts. They looked like pajamas, but there was nothing else. He pulled on a pair of the pants, and was just pulling a shirt out of the box when the door opened.
A boy who looked only a little older than him walked in, wearing similar light blue clothes. He smiled at Ben, eyes roaming almost involuntarily over the topless stud before him.
"Hi," the stranger said. "You must be new."
"I guess I must be," agreed Ben.
"How old?"
"17."
The boy shook his head. "17 and how many months?"
Ben counted.
"Four."
The other boy nodded.
"17 and nine months for me. That means the bastards can only keep me here for another three, but you're in for eight. In some ways I don't envy you, though: they say the last three months are the hardest."
Ben was confused.
"What are you talking about?
"You know," the boy said as if it was obvious. "They can only keep you against your will until you're 18. After that you're free to walk out of here and they can't stop you. Trouble is, they know that. They go out of their way to try and fix us before we can escape."
Ben was silent for a few moments as he processed this information.
"How many people are there here?"
The boy thought for a moment.
"Around a hundred and fifty. Close to a hundred and twenty of us are here for the same thing."
"What's that?" Ben asked.
The stranger grinned.
"Being gay. I guess that's why you're here?"
Ben nodded. The other boy moved towards the open box and pulled out a shirt.
"Much as I hate to cover that up," he said very quietly, indicating Ben's muscled torso, "They don't like us walking around topless. Apparently it promotes lewdness," he said sarcastically, winking at Ben.
Ben tried to smile as he pulled on the shirt.
"Does everyone wear the same thing here?"
The boy nodded, smile disappearing.
"We have to. We might wear a shirt which shows off our biceps, or a pair of jeans which make it obvious just how fuckable an ass we have. Heaven forbid."
The boy smiled to show he was joking, but it was strained.
"Anyway, come on. I'll show you around. There are some things you need to know if you're going to survive in this place." He walked towards the door, Ben following in his wake. Stopping in the open door, the boy turned back to face Ben.
"Sorry, almost forgot. What's your name?"
"Ben Steckman."
"Nice to meet you, Ben," the boy said. Walking out the door, he called over his shoulder:
"My name's Jason. Jason Orrone."
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