Stories of an Old Boy

By: XPud
(© 2018 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

xpud@tickiestories.us

Chapter 6

Thursday begins (and, for the most part, continues) as a normal day. Reading is boring, followed by 'Homeroom', or 'Study Hall', for 2nd period: truly the most productive use of a middle-schooler's time, if you consider throwing spit wads, having Fidget Spinner battles, and catching up on sleep to be productive. I decide to actually do my Science homework now (after last night's jack-off session, I wasn't in the mental space to do anything else). Then, to maximize on boredom, I have Social Studies for 3rd period. Whee, history. You can imagine I have my own opinions on that topic.

Anyway, next on the list is Theatre. Yeah, I'm a Theatre nerd, proud of it. I wasn't for the first go-round, but I've gotten really good at acting with the centuries of practice I've had. Won a few awards last year (judges still play favorites, no matter how good you are sometimes), and it puts me even more firmly in the 'stay away from the weird kid' category when I march around the hallway in character for whatever play we're rehearsing. Good times. Also, costume dress-out is one more opportunity to ogle, which I'm not mad about at all.

So anyway, then comes Gym and lunch, and that's where things start to get interesting. Gym, not so much: Rod gives me the death stare from across the gymnasium, I walk around the basketball court because I refuse to play sports, and Matty hangs out with the 6th graders as usual. Even though we're pretty good friends, we both agreed that it would just make life easier all around if we didn't make it look like we were anything more than good acquaintances in Gym class; after the 'incident', I didn't want to add anything more onto Matty's list of 'Reasons to be Bullied.'

But I digress: Gym passes by uneventfully, and we move on to lunch. Akronis has a pretty big cafeteria, and there aren't really assigned seats (unless your class gets itself in deep trouble for being stupid), so I'm usually off on my own, eating, drinking, thinking, and the like. Well, today, I notice Matty sitting over with his 4-Square friends and a few others at a nearby lunch table. Apropos of nothing, one of the kids catches my gaze and perks up.

"Hey! Phillip!" he says in a noticeable Russian accent. "Come sit at our table!"

I pick up my tray, brush off the crumbs from the table, and mosey on over. "Uh, hey," I say, intentionally awkwardly. Gotta keep up appearances, after all. Okay... mostly intentionally.

As I sit down, the entire group--Matty included--cheer out, "Our hero!"

I can't tell if I'm more confused, or more blushing. "Um, what?" I stammer.

"You saved our 4-Square game!" Matty says.

The boy with the Russian accent adds, "And you helped Matty, too." Matty blushes visibly as well, shrinking slightly to avoid that conversation.

Wait a minute. That isn't the boy that called me over...there are two Russian-accented boys. Twins, no less. And of course they're wearing the same clothes. Hell, even their dirty blond hair is shaved short on the right and gelled over to the left in short, spiky waves. High Russian cheekbones and thin bodies: they're basically Cute Squared.

"Well," I say, brushing the compliments off, "you know how it is. 8th graders are jerks. So are 7th graders most of the time, really. So, you all know me already, but I don't think I know your names."

The boy who spoke first starts, "I'm Viktor. You can call me Vik."

His twin follows suit, "Arkady, but you call me Kasha."

"Ar-KAH-dee," I repeat. "Is Kasha just your nickname?"

"Yes, and people don't say it wrong." He smiles a thin-lipped smile that screams innocence even as it whispers mischief. Bet these boys get away with murder.

"Well, nice to meet you both. And thanks for inviting me over. Not that I was lonely or anything," I add with an obviously sarcastic furtive glance left and right. I get a few giggles out of the group.

"And this is Kyle," Kasha says, pointing to a kid at the corner of the table with wild, wavy auburn hair and freckles crowding his face.

Kyle looks over with a shy smile and a twinkle in his hazel eyes. "Hi," he says, waving with a long-fingered hand. Come to think of it...it's hard to tell with him sitting and slouching like he is, but he looks to be pretty tall.

"Nice to meet you," I reply. "So...did you guys only call me over for congratulations?"

Vik and Kasha look at each other, and Vik speaks (not that I could tell which if I didn't already know who was sitting where). "Well, we really wanted to invite all of you to our birthday sleepover tomorrow night."

The three of us respond with a mix of "Happy Birthday!" and "Cool!" and the like. Matty cheers for the birthday, but a cloud quickly passes over his face, and he falls silent. The others don't seem to notice.

Kasha adds, "There will be more people there, but we are going to have party with telling the scary stories, and have cake, and even camp outside!"

Vik nearly overlaps the end of Kasha's sentence, "We have a huge tent and our backyard goes out a long way to the creek." I'm beginning to notice a slight difference in the way they talk; I can use that to tell them apart, I think.

"I'ma call Mama right away after school," Kyle says in a wonderful Southern drawl. He could have been pulled straight from an Alabama family portrait, only without all the inbreeding.

I pipe up, "I'm game. I love scary stories, and I haven't been camping in a while. Sounds fun! Matty, you in?"

Matty quickly darts his eyes around to each of the boys and stutters, "I, uh, h-have to...I don't think...I can. I mean, I'll have to ask, but..."

I see what's going on here, but I'm not backing down. He's going to go, and he's going to enjoy it, dammit. "It'll be fine! Just find out when your cousin will be over and we can hang out with him at a different time on the weekend. Come on!"

Matty's eyes plead for me to stop as his lips move wordlessly in an attempt to scramble out of the situation. "I really don't do sleepovers."

"Why not?" Vik asks, curious.

Seriously, what boy doesn't do sleepovers? A boy with something to hide, sadly. I look Matty square in the eyes and say slowly, deliberately, "It'll be fine." I raise my eyebrows and stare him down with an obvious 'You know what I mean' sort of expression.

Matty locks eyes with me for a moment longer, debate raging across his synapses. In the end, trust seems to win over fear for the moment. "Okay. I'll let Mom know. She...she should be okay with it."

The twins start cheering, and Kyle and I join in. "Matty! Matty!" I have to admit, their ridiculous energy is infectious.

Matty blushes fiercely, but smiles all the same. "Stop it, you guys!" he says while shrinking into his chair.

"Wait!" I say, silencing the cheer. "When is your actual birthday?"

They both answer in unison, "Today."

"Then we're cheering for the wrong thing!" I stand to face the center of the cafeteria and clear my throat obnoxiously loudly. "Attention students of Akronis! Today is the birthday of Vik and Kasha. So! On the count of 3: 1, 2, 3--

Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday Vik and Kashaaaaa...

Happy birthday to you!"

The song starts out with just the boys at the table and a few others around the large cafeteria singing. The second line picks up about a third of the people in total, and the song immediately turns into a shouting match. A lunch monitor yells out for quiet, but is met only by the rest of the song. By the time their names are sung, nearly the entire cafeteria is yelling at the top of their lungs. The fourth line, however, ends up actually having a slight bit of melody to it; it turns out that Vik and Kasha joined in to sing their own Happy Birthday song, and did a pretty damn good job of it. (The lunch monitor seems to have given up on order for the moment, seeing that nobody is throwing food or anything.)

After the 'song', the noise level quickly drifts back down to normal; everyone loves a good reason to scream at the top of their lungs and then move on with life, right? ...Well, middle schoolers do. The other boys start talking about other classes they share (apparently Vik and Kasha are in Choir with Matty; they're all male altos still) and I excuse myself to go to the restroom. I let the lunch monitor know that I'm headed there and ignore her attempt at stink-eye intimidation.

I push open the door and enter an empty restroom. Snagging the first urinal, I fish my naked hose out and admire it for a moment. I have started growing pubes already, but let's be honest: most people keep them as evidence of manhood. Me? Screw that. I shave.

So there I am, draining myself all along the back of the urinal, signing my name, the usual. What? I like being 12, the whole bit of it. Don't judge. Suddenly, something catches my eye: the tiniest tip of a shoe underneath the walls of the first stall. As soon as I see it, I hear a hasty shuffle and the shoe tip darts out of sight. Someone's hiding over there, which simply isn't going to do for me. I plant one foot on the closest urinal to the stall and hoist myself over the stall wall to see Edgar, little Canelito, trying his damnedest to not be caught with his cellphone in one hand and his third leg in the other. I mean, God, his dick is big for a 13-year-old. Maybe he's 14. Not sure. But STILL.

Edgar is still staring at the stall door, waiting to hear the restroom door open and close again. He doesn't notice that I'm staring down at him until I say, "Nice one you got there, Big Boy."

He gasps hard enough to choke out the oxygen in the room and tries, very unsuccessfully, to cover himself up with his jacking hand. "Oh shit!" he whispers loudly before he can stop himself. He looks like he's going to say something else, but he realizes he's in no position to say another word; getting caught whacking it has been the downfall of more than one 8th grader's reputation, and it's no different in 7th. His eyes shoot open; his breathing quickens. All he can do is whisper, "Don't tell anyone," so quietly that he may as well have been mouthing it to himself.

"Don't worry," I say, sotto voce. "Your secret's safe with me. Both that you have your cellphone still and...all this," I draw a circle in the air around his crotch. "Oh, and your little Peeping Tom act in Reading class...but let's just say this: you owe me." I draw the last three words out for emphasis. "And holy shit you have a big dick." I don't even give him time to respond before I hop back down and zip up (which is, erm, harder than it would have been earlier). He does, however, drop his cellphone onto the tile floor, muttering a sharp curse word before he picks it back up. Sorry, not sorry--he can keep the shattered screen as a reminder of our visit.

Well. That was more interesting than I expected a pee break to be. After I sit back down, Kasha asks, "You okay? You fall in?"

"Stand down, citizen," I say in my best 1930's police chief voice. "I assure you that everything came out okay." Kyle snorts at the terrible pun.

I catch Matty after lunch on the way to our Science class. "Hey. Don't be scared about the sleepover. I got your back."

He keeps his eyes forward as we walk alongside the lockers, but whispers vehemently, "I can't! Because I..." he stops himself quickly.

"Because of your bedwetting?" I say quietly.

Matty's eyes just about fall out. He whirls on me and with all the secretiveness of an angry elephant he snaps at me, "Don't! Say! That!" Then he stares through me as his brain processes the next bit of information: "How did you know?"

I put my hand on his shoulder and tilt my head toward him. "Matty. I know. I saw it, I heard your Mom. I don't care." I see the dams about to burst in his eyes. "Matty. Do you trust me?"

A couple of passers-by glance our way, but nobody cares about drama happening in the hallways in a middle school. There's drama at every hallway intersection. Matty blinks hard, sending a quick trail down each cheek before quickly scrubbing them away with the back of a sleeve. "Yes, but..." he begins, and an almost-suppressed sob catches his words. He takes a deep breath. "I trust you. Please don't let anything bad happen."

Those words hit me in a way I don't expect; the only other time I told someone about my power was during my second life; she trusted me with everything, right up until the point where her son died of a sudden aneurysm at 17 years old. I tried everything at my disposal to prevent it, even having him fake an aneurysm so that we could get to the hospital and have him scanned immediately at the point that it would actually happen. She never forgave me. I ended up rewinding to the point where I never met her, the shame burned so bad.

I know this case is nowhere near that level, but--yay hormones!--the combination of the memory and Matty's vulnerability are enough to leave me misty-eyed. "I promise," I choke out before walking toward the stairs faster than I would have liked.

Matty power-walks to catch up to me on the stairs and, just after we both reach the top, he grabs my hand tightly. This kid, I swear...layer after layer. I squeeze back for just a moment, and let go before anyone sees us.

Much later, at the end of school, I find an abandoned corner of a stairwell to call Mom and let her know about the Drama Festival tryouts being held after school, and that I would be home late. Right after I hang up, Canelito yanks the phone out of my hand and holds it threateningly.

"Promise you won't tell anyone," he says.

I stare at him silently, blank-faced, for a good 6 seconds. As I do, I watch his arm begin to tremble slightly. "One," I say, holding a finger up, "you don't have the guts to do that."

His arm lowers slightly.

"Two," I continue with another finger, "you know I would make the rest of your school life a miserable hell."

His arm lowers further and his eyes dart about as he imagines the horrible things I could ensure.

"Three," I say, drawing closer and speaking quietly, "The thing you owe me? You're gonna want to pay it." As I say 'want', my left hand darts to his crotch and my right to my phone. I grasp both simultaneously. He gasps again, the same pubescent, shrill crack breaking his voice. I massage his dick through his pants as I calmly pull my phone out of his other hand. "Good Canelito," I say and let go of his now-sizable lump. I leave him as red-faced as his fiery shock of hair as I head out.

* * *

Friday night arrives exactly as fast as it should; it's the best and worst part about time, even for a 'traveler' such as myself. (I nailed the Impersonations spot in the tryouts, by the way, and will be going to the Drama Festival for that later.) Mom drops me off at the twins' house with my favorite pillow and my toothbrush in a plastic bag, and I knock on the door. I'm greeted by a living statue of a man, all of 7 feet and chiseled solid. Even his smile seems to be there only by the grace of an artist with a keen eye for sculpting faces. He looks down and says in a Russian accent thicker than his black beard, "Welcome! The boys are all in backyard. Please, make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Mr...." I say as I walk in.

"Fedorov. You can call me Zakhar."

"Yes sir, Mr. Fedorov," I say, fully aware that I'm not following directions. I walk through the house down the main hallway to the open kitchen/living room space. The house, frankly, is gorgeous. It's not that large, but it's well-appointed: the leather furniture looks brand-new, the chandelier in the kitchen is tasteful without being ostentatious, and the grand piano in the corner of the living room shines like it has never been touched, though the music on the rack and sticking out of the bench suggests otherwise.

I walk out back onto a large wooden deck complete with built-in benches on the sides and two tables with parasols covering them. The early evening sun is just beginning to hide itself behind the tree-line in the distance, just past the creek that delineates the edge of the Fedorov backyard. The 'yard' is really more just communal territory shared by them and the neighbors, without fences or anything to get in the way. This is awesome.

Mama Fedorov, a much shorter woman than her husband, turns away from the grill on the patio and smiles at me. "Dobro pozhalovat!" she says, and corrects herself quickly, "Welcome! Dinner will be soon. If you want burgers or hot dogs, I make plenty." Her accent is slightly softer than Zakhar's, but her grasp of grammar is equally...foreign.

Kasha and Vik are out in the yard, tossing a basketball back and forth over a slightly smaller kid's head. Vik and Kasha (I think I'm just going to ship it now and call them ViKasha) are both dressed identically again, this time in crimson jerseys bearing the logo of some university and basketball shorts. The shorter boy is a cute one: a dark, dense curly mat of hair sits atop a round-cheeked face, while square shoulders and a flat chest form a canvas on which his large gray t-shirt hangs far too loosely. He runs back and forth in his baggy cargo pants, trying to catch the ball that the decidedly taller twins (now that they're standing, it's easy to see that they take after their dad) are playing Keep-Away with.

Eh, might as well introduce myself the fun way. I jog over to the group, and with a few rewinds, I manage to leap out, grab the ball just as it flies over the 'Monkey in the Middle', and land with a somersault, twisting to land my back against a tree. "Hey, you dropped this," I say smugly, tossing it to the shorter kid.

ViKasha both yell out, "Holy cow!" in unison and ran over to me. Kasha asks, "How you did that?!"

"What, that old thing?" I ask in the most cliché way possible. "I dunno; just saw an opening and took it."

In short, they are so ridiculously enamored with the trick that they force me to do it multiple times. I decide to rewind to before the whole spectacle just to avoid it; such is the story of my life.

A little while later, the whole group had gathered: Matty, Nathan (the gray-shirt kid), Kyle from the lunch table (who is as tall as I expected, a half-head taller than the twins), me, the twins, and two others. One is Cory, an 8th grade tenor in their choir class, and a sexy one to boot. Silky brown hair parted on the side flows to just over his eyes; his shoulders and biceps show off a good bit more muscle tone than I'd expect a choir kid to have. Looks like puberty has already done a number on him, too, seeing from the light fur on his forearms and the cluster of pimples on his cheek. Still hot. He definitely fills out his blue polo shirt and khakis nicely, though I have to wonder why he's wearing those to an outdoor party.

The other new one is a cute little boy with shaggy blond hair that reaches the rim of his thin-frame glasses, a light blue Spongebob hoodie, and loose-cut jeans that flow just far enough to hide everything but the black soles of his shoes. He looks to be maybe Matty's age, give or take. He introduces himself as Zacky.

We all sit around the patio tables in the surprisingly cool August evening air (normally it's not cool outside for another month, but the weather picked an amazing night to be wrong), eating hot dogs and some damn delicious cheeseburgers. We talk about school, about life, about games, about girls, all the usual topics. As the sun goes down and we clean up the mess, we move out to the yard itself and set up the huge tent they were talking about; it's easily big enough to fit 8 sleeping bags laid out in the right way and still have room for pillows and a spot in the middle to sit.

We get the tent set up and ViKasha go off to get a few things. They and their parents come back with a set of sleeping bags, two flashlights, and a small speaker with a microphone attached. We all take our shoes off in a corner and sit in a circle in the tent, when Kasha says, "Okay. Now is the time for scary stories. When is your turn, you take flashlight and shine on your face, like this." He demonstrates the cliché underlit spooky face. "If you want to do the voices, you can use this here," he picks up the microphone and demonstrates, speaking into the mic. Out of the speaker comes a deep, booming, echoing voice: "I will begin, yes?"

Vik reaches over and turns a dial on the side of the speaker. Kasha continues: "It was a dark and stormy night--hey!" His voice had been turned to 'chipmunk', and everyone cracks up laughing at the angry chittering coming out of the speaker.

He fixes the dial and starts over. He tells a story of several Russian prison inmates who are put in a cell and forced by a special gas to stay awake. The goal was to stay awake for 30 days, but eventually they all go nuts and kill most of each other, cover up all the windows, and do all sorts of strange things. When the 'scientists' that put them in there come to remove them, they fight back and eventually get killed.

"Before the last one is shoot...is shot," Kasha says quietly, "the scientist says to him, 'What are you?' and the prisoner says back, 'Do you forget so easily? We are you. We are the madness that hides in each of you, hiding in your deepest mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you silence when you go to the land of dreams where we are forbidden. We...are waking nightmare.'"

As he draws out the words, I see a visible shudder run through Matty and Nathan; Zacky seems utterly entranced. Zacky asks, wide-eyed, "What happened then?"

Kasha leans in to Zacky, and whispers, "The last prisoner attack the scientist and eat him. And he never sleeps. They say he is still look for people who are sleeping, and if you look happy and asleep, he thinks you look...tasty."

As Zacky is utterly spellbound by Kasha's words, I see Vik, who was sitting next to Zacky, get up as if to go grab something from the other side of the tent. As soon as Kasha starts his last line, though, Vik slowly turns around and suddenly grabs Zacky's shoulders right after the word 'tasty', digging his fingers in for good measure. Zacky screams high enough to shatter windows, and everyone cracks up laughing.

Zacky seems upset about this at first, but soon starts laughing with everyone else. "You scared me good, Vik!" Vik just smiles coyly and sits back down.

Kasha turns the flashlight back on his face. "Who's next?" he asks, pointing the light toward each boy in turn, blinding everyone for a moment. Kyle and Matty don't have any stories, and Cory says he'll try to think of one.

Nathan steps (well, sits) up to the plate. As he fiddles with the flashlight, I can still see in the dim twilight well enough to notice that there are a few holes in his obviously hand-me-down shirt. "Okay, so." He takes a deep breath and begins, "It was a daaark and stoooormy night..."

His story is some old, tired one about a haunted house and a crying girl. Nobody is particularly scared by the end of it, and he seems a bit pouty about it. "I thought it was scary when I heard it," he mumbled.

"No, no! Is a good story," Kasha says, and the other boys agree, if only out of pity. I've noticed that Kasha has been leading most of the conversation. Kyle says a few things, but I know he's shy. Cory doesn't say a lot; he doesn't seem shy, per se, but for a guy that good-looking, I somehow expected him to be more talkative. Ah, well--the strong, silent type works just as well for me.

Again the searching flashlight blinds everyone (Vik pops Kasha upside the head when he shines it at him). I decide to tell one based on my own lives, a suspenseful tale set in an insane asylum (I had committed myself to a mental hospital once to make sure I wasn't imagining everything about my powers). It is of a woman who had a severe case of dissociative identity disorder and believed herself to be four people, each one 'possessed' by the 'demons' of her other personalities. Mary was the 'host' personality, the one admitted to the asylum; the others were happy-go-lucky 'Betts' (imagine the most manic person you can. That's 'Betts'), paranoid 'Lisa' (who would injure herself just to get the others to shut up), and 'Morty'. 'Morty' never spoke, except to say his name if asked. He was almost catatonic, in fact.

One day, we were all sitting and watching some inane soap opera after midmorning snack time, listening to 'Lisa' ranting for more drugs to shut the other voices up. Out of nowhere she stops, mid-sentence, and says in a low voice as she stares into space, "Goodbye, Anne." Then she sits, catatonic, for another minute or two before starting to pull her hair and yell at the voices again.

The orderlies subdue and restrain her (with some difficulty--she's older, but still got quite a kick), dragging her off to her room. Nobody thinks anything of it until the next day, where Anne, a 30-something woman with suicidal tendencies, is found dead in her room...and blood is smeared everywhere.

One of the braver orderlies decides to question Mary about it. Mary says she has no idea what happened, and that Anne was such a nice girl. Later, the same orderly asks 'Lisa', who screams that Morty called his friends to tear her heart open so he could drink Anne's blood. 'Betts' claims that 'Morty' did it because it was Anne's true desire (and then proceeds to start jumping from table to table while singing "I Will Survive").

'Morty', however, agreed with 'Betts', saying, "Everyone wants to die. She wanted it enough to call them."

"Call who?" the orderly asked.

"The Takers. They wait for you to give up for the final time, and when the Watcher says 'goodbye,' they come to Take you."

The orderly, obviously skeptical, responded, "Where do they Take you?"

Morty just smiles. "You know."

"But why do you know all this?" the orderly asked.

"Because they are the Takers. I am the Watcher."

After that, Morty was rarely seen. The police could figure out nothing, and labeled it as a suicide, even though there's no way Anne could have done that. A few weeks pass, and another depressed person with suicidal ideation is checked in by the name Tim. A constant vigil is kept on him, with an orderly in his room at all times. A week into Tim's stay, suddenly Mary, as 'Betts', stops singing the Star-Spangled Banner mid-line and blanks out long enough to say, "Take them both." She then sits quietly for another minute before continuing the song exactly where she had left off.

That night, when another orderly goes in to relieve the first one for the suicide watch, a blood-curdling scream rips through the hallways; both Tim and his orderly were dead on the floor, blood coating everything.

At this point, the media finds out about it and everything goes ballistic; people are accused of murder and malpractice, the place gets shut down 'indefinitely' for 'investigations', and the patients all go to either their families or a new treatment center. As Mary is escorted out of the premises, she stops and stares, directly at me, and whispers, "It's your turn." After that, she never complained about Morty again.

I pause and take a deep breath. "I didn't think anything of it. Good for her. But every once in a while, I hear a little voice calling from the back of my mind, one that says," and I pick up the microphone for the echo factor as I lean directly into Matty's ear, "Goodbye, Matty."

As he hears the first syllable, he shrieks and jumps nearly a foot in the air. A split second later, he grabs the crotch of his dark jeans and sits, wide-eyed and silent, legs pressed together. Oops...I might have gone too far on that one.

Everyone laughs and cheers for the story. Kyle admits, "You even scared me with the echo-ey whisper thing. That was good!" His cheeks flare up a bit, emphasizing his freckles.

Kyle looks at his cellphone. "Aw, Mama is on her way to pick me up already."

All the boys whine, "Aww! Why? Stay!" and similar things.

"Nah," he says, shrugging. "We gotta go shopping for clothes and get a few more school supplies tomorrow, and I got basketball practice. Gotta get good sleep for it."

"I gotta go, too," Nathan admits sheepishly. The same chorus of complaints and cajoling follows, to which Nathan responds, "I know, I know, but I'm kinda...grounded? But Dad knew I wanted to come to this for a long time, but I got in trouble and Dad said I could only come over until bedtime."

The others begrudgingly understand and wish him goodnight. Nathan, it turns out, lives two doors down, so it doesn't take long to get home.

"Okay, so..." Vik starts out. "Do we do more scary stories, or..."

Kasha butts in, "We could play the game, how do you call in English? Právda íli Výzov?

Vik lights up. "Oh, 'Truth or Dare.'"

...God damn, I love being 12.

"Yeah, that," Kasha says. "You know how to play?"

Matty immediately is on-board with this idea. Cory looks around, and from the look on his face, realizes we're in a tent facing the creek in the backyard at night, and says, "Sure."

Zacky asks, overflowing with innocence, "What's that?"

"Is a game where you choose either to tell Truth or do Dare," Kasha explains. "When you choose, someone else gives you the thing to do or to tell the truth about. You can make people do crazy thing, or to tell big secret. Is fun!"

"Oooooh," Zacky says. "I wanna play!"

Vik chimes in, "I will start to show you. Okay. Kasha, Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," Kasha says.

Vik thinks. "What do I not know about you...oh! If you could do a girl in Choir, who would you do?"

Kasha's jaw drops. "I...but..."

"Rules are rules," Vik prodded. "Who?"

All the boys lean in, waiting for the answer. Kasha admits, "Okay. Daniella, the alto."

Cory and Vik both hoot, "Ooooooh!" as Matty says, "Oh, Daniella is cool!"

Kasha blushes. "Whaaaat? She's hot."

"Okay, okay," Vik says, "your turn."

Kasha asks Cory. Cory jumps right to Dare. "Hm," Kasha says. "I dare you...to only say everything as question."

"What?" Cory asks." "Why?"

"Exactly," Kasha grins. "If you mess up, you lose a clothes." Then he corrects himself, "a piece of clothes."

"Fine," Cory says, and quickly adds, "for how long?"

"Until everyone has gone one more," Kasha states.

"Okay," Cory says.

Kasha immediately points out, "Ah! Shirt!"

Cory rolls his eyes as the other boys laugh. He takes off his shirt and says, "Why did I get myself into this? Okay, Phillip: Truth or Dare?"

It is a question, after all. On a side note, Cory's chest is very nice: he has to work out, because his pecs are flat but raised just slightly, and are decently defined from his abdominals. He also has the barest bit of a six-pack, but it's easy to see that his is from working at it, not like Matty's naturals. I'll be nice to him. "Truth."

He thanks me with his eyes. "Okay, uh, hm..." Kasha gives a warning sound, and Cory shoots back, "Did I finish my sentence?" Kasha just smiles. Cory continues, "Phillip, what's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?"

Oh geez, how do I answer this one? From this life? Hell, let's talk about my first life. "So there was this one time in 3rd grade that we were taking a test, and my stomach started rumbling really bad. I didn't want to ask to go to the bathroom, 'cuz I had a bad reputation in the class for being disruptive already, so I tried to hold it in. When I was finished with the test, I kept sitting, even though I usually turned my test in pretty early. I waited all the way until the end of test time, and when the teacher told me I needed to turn it in, I stood up, and farted for three seconds straight. I was so embarrassed that I ran out of the room with my test still on the table." I take off my shirt since just the memory of it, even over a thousand years ago, makes me uncomfortably warm.

All the boys are cracking up laughing, holding their bellies at the story. Matty gets the look on his face like he's springing a leak again, jumps out of the tent, and sprays the nearby tree for a half a minute. When he gets back, he gives me a knowing look. "Can I talk to you a sec?" he asks.

The other boys look a bit confused, but I step outside with him, immediately answering the question that was in his eyes. "Matty, I can't even see if you did anything. You're fine."

"Phillip..." he drags out, "it's like this big!" He spreads his fingers out and shows how big it is. In the night, I literally can't tell. I say as much.

"But you said--!"

To end the conversation, I pull him in and kiss him on the lips. "Have faith. You're fine."

Matty stares me down, emotions fighting back and forth across his eyes. "Okay. Let's go."

As I step back in, I look at Matty and say, "So yeah, there's no homework in Math, only the two problems you already did. Stop worrying."

He gives me the most perplexed stare before it clicks. "Oh, okay. Cool. Thanks."

"Sorry guys. My turn, right?" I say.

Cory responds, "Yeah," and when Kasha calls him out, he sighs heavily and removes his pants. He's wearing a pair of terrible white and blue plaid boxer shorts, but it's clear that he's packing a suitable amount inside for the amount of growth he's had. He folds the pants up nicely and lays them over his shoes.

I just smile at him. Let's speed this up. "Vik, Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," Vik says, beaming.

"I dare you to take off your shirt AND Kasha's shirt at the same time."

Vik works his mouth wordlessly, trying to figure out how to do that. Finally he formulates a plan: he pulls his arms into his shirt and sticks them out the bottom of it. Then, he grabs the bottom of Kasha's shirt, and in one smooth motion yanks it off of Kasha and ducks his head out of his own shirt. Everyone is suitably impressed, and I now have two lithe, shirtless boys to stare at (and Cory's nicely-forming muscles, too).

Vik throws the question to Matty, who immediately sees where all this is going. "Dare!" He's basically already removing his shirt when Vik says, "Nuh-uh-uh. I dare you to take off your pants."

Matty freezes, realizing that he'll have to show off his recent wet spot. Instead, he tucks his thumbs into his waistband and drops his drawers entirely. This surprises most everyone else in the tent, me included; Zacky seems yet again utterly entranced by what he's seeing. I get the feeling a lot of this is new for the boy. Matty sits back down with his pants conveniently located behind him. It doesn't look like anyone caught notice of his accident. His little dickie shows signs of wanting to harden up, but isn't moving much at this point.

Matty looks over at Zacky, the only one that hasn't taken off any clothing. "Zacky! Truth or Dare?"

"Dare!" Zacky exclaims.

"I dare you to take off your pants!"

Zacky freezes. "Um, do...do I have to?"

Kasha interjects, "It's Dare. You have to."

"Um, I...I can't." Zacky begins to look very uncomfortable.

Vik starts up the chant, "Do it! Do it!" The other boys join in. Zacky, instead of caving in, darts out of the tent. The chant immediately dies as the boys look to each other.

"I'll go see what's up," I offer. As I'm almost out of the tent, Vik snaps, "No! I will go see if he is okay."

"I'll be back in a sec," I respond. "Don't worry, I got this."

As I exit the tent, I see Zacky standing only a few feet away, hugging himself and crying audibly. Suppressing flashbacks of the time I upset Matty, I go over and stand next to Zacky. "Hey, I didn't mean to upset you. Nobody in there did. I want to apologize for all of us."

"It's okay," Zacky says. "I just didn't want to take off my pants."

I take a deep breath to decide what I want to say next, and it hits me: the smell of urine. Zacky doesn't have wet pants, though, so I'm not sure what he'd be hiding by not wanting to take his...oh. There it is: I see a slight bulge at his hips, and there's no way this boy has hips that big.

"It's okay," I say. "I promise. You don't have to. Can I tell you a secret, though?"

Zacky looks up at me, tears dampening both his cheeks. "A secret?"

"Yeah." I kneel down so that he's looking down at me. "I've known a bunch of people that wear diapers, and you don't need to be ashamed of it."

"How did you know?!" Zacky practically shouted.

Without being too forward, I pat both of his hips. "I can see you have more padding here, and don't take this the wrong way, but I can smell it. I think you peed when Vik scared you."

"Oh," he says, looking down. He lifts his belt outward and looks in his pants. I catch a glance of a very prepubescent penis and little undescended balls. "Yeah, I can't really tell when I'm going potty, so I hafta wear a diaper."

I smile at his innocence. "That's okay. Everyone's different, right? Tell ya what, I'll make up an excuse for the boys when--"

I'm interrupted by the sound of a girl calling across the yard. "ZACKY!"

"Uh-oh," he says. "I think it's time to go home."

"Yeah, duh," the girl says, marching her way over. "I'm not here to go to your stupid friends' party."

"Aw, Sissy, can't Mommy let me spend the night?"

"No. You know you can't spend the night, Zacky. You don't have a change. Of clothes," she adds quickly.

"Okay...let me get my shoes from the tent," he says and darts inside.

The girl walks over to where Zacky was standing and gets a better look at me from the light streaming from the tent. "Hi. I'm Suzie, Zacky's sister."

"Phillip. Nice to meet you." I extend my hand, and we share an awkward handshake.

"Sorry to make you deal with my idiot brother. I hope he wasn't too annoying." She looks me up and down surreptitiously, but to the trained eye, I was definitely just dissected and analyzed like a fine cut of meat.

"Oh, he's no problem at all," I respond. "A real pleasure to have around."

She stares at me blankly. "Are you being serious?"

I smile. "I'm sure he's more interesting when you're not his sibling. I like him all right."

At this point, I expect Zacky, but he's still in the tent. "So, do you live around here?" Suzie continues, cocking her head coyly, glancing at my chest now and then.

"No more than a bike ride away. I'm guessing you live near; I don't see or hear a car."

Suzie reflexively looks back at the road and then back to me. "Yeah, I live just down the street. What school do you go to?"

"Akronis Middle."

"Really?" she says with more enthusiasm than she intends, and immediately catches herself. "What a coincidence; I do, too."

"My dear Suzie," I say in my best Sherlock Holmes, "I must then deduce that you are in the eighth grade."

Her eyes light up, and her cool façade breaks. "Oh my God, yes! How did you know?!"

"Elementary, my dear Suzie," I intone. "Well, not elementary. Middle school, I guess." I wink; she giggles.

Just then, Zacky pops back out of the tent with his shoes on, ready to go. "Okay, Sissy! I'm ready!"

Suzie sizes me up one last time. "Maybe I'll see you around school, then?"

"I'm sure you will," I reply, smiling suggestively.

She finally tears her eyes off me, beckoning to her brother. "Got everything? Good. Let's go. Ugh, I think you already need to change your d...your clothes." They head off around the house, using the lack of a fence as an easy shortcut to the street.

I duck back into the tent, and find four completely naked boys. Well, that escalated quickly. "You do know there was a girl just outside, right?"

Cory remarks, "Good thing you didn't open the flap, then, right?" ViKasha giggle in perfect counterpoint to each other. Their penises are both just about 4 inches erect, pointing diagonally, curving up at the top. Their balls haven't descended yet, and their penises haven't yet gained any girth from puberty, so I'm guessing they're going to be long all around. I glance to Cory, who is semi-limp but still sporting a thick one, complete with a sack sagging from the warmth in the tent and a decent-sized bush. I was right about puberty hitting him hard. Matty is pointing to the ceiling already, that perfect little sack of his still tight and round.

I waste no time. "Welp," I say, stripping quickly. My hairless member is already working its way to sticking straight out as usual. "Where were we?"

Matty says, "We kept going, so I think it's Cory's turn now."

"Right," Cory says. So. Matty: Truth or Dare?"

Surprisingly, Matty answers, "Truth."

"When you grow hair on your balls, will you shave it or keep it?" An interesting question. I don't actually see any on Cory's; whether that's from shaving or not growing them yet, I can't say.

Matty thinks about it. "Actually, I don't know if I will. Grow them, I mean."

Kasha interrupts. "Why not?"

"Well," Matty says, "I actually had a few pubes at the bottom of my dick, but I went through chemotherapy and after they fell out, they didn't grow back." Matty shrugs.

"I shave," I volunteer with a shrug as well. That earns a few strange stares.

"Why?" the twins ask in unison.

"I dunno. They're nasty, smelly, get stuck in your teeth..." I trail off with a wink. Cory raises an eyebrow, instantly getting my meaning.

Kasha asks, "How would you get hair in teeth if..." and after catching Vik's stare, it clicks. "OH!" His eyes dart around slightly, obviously exploring that train of thought. His dick twitches in response.

Matty asks Vik 'The Question.' Vik answers, "Dare."

The smile on Matty's face and the look he gives me gives everything away: he leans back on his hands and thrusts his penis into the middle of the room. "Kiss my dick!"

Vik looks at each of us with a smile of slight discomfort warring with excitement, finally crawling forward and kissing Matty's penis right at the base. Matty giggles and sits back down.

Vik tags me with the question. Instead of answering, I crawl over and pull his legs out. He yelps and throws his hands up for balance as he slides down onto his back. I put my face to where my breath tickles the bottom of his balls, and say, "Dare."

His breath catches as he feels mine on his scrotum. "I dare you to suck my dick."

He can barely finish the words before his slender rod is tickling my uvula. I run my mouth up and down the length, stopping near the uncut top to swirl my tongue all around the head. The symphony of sounds coming from the boy is magical: moans, shuddering sighs, and whispered "Bozhe moi..." which means pretty much exactly what you'd think it means.

Kasha is jacking off vigorously to this as Cory is slowly stroking his girthy 6-incher. Matty is just watching, unable to take his eyes off.

I give Vik another minute of bliss before releasing him with a wet slap against his belly. He takes a deep breath and says, "Holy shit." With the accent, it's adorable.

"So. My turn, right?" I say smugly. "Cory. Truth or Dare?"

Cory gets a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Truth."

"You want a piece of this?" I ask, licking my lips.

"Fuck yes." Even as he says it, his dick twitches in agreement.

"Bring it on."

He comes over and leans back. "Matty," I lean in, whispering in his ear. "When I start sucking him, you go in and lick the bottom of his balls." Matty just smiles and nods. We go to work; I enjoy the feeling of a dick finally stretching my jaw a little bit (I'm not a size queen, but I do enjoy variety), and as soon as Matty starts licking Cory's balls, I feel a jolt rush through his dick as his spine stiffens.

We're only able to keep it up for about 20 seconds before he lifts my head off of him and scoots backward quickly. "Whoa, whoa," he says. "You're gonna make me pop too fast. That's way better than jacking off."

I shrug. "I do what I can," I say, winking.

The twins are jacking each other off, watching us the whole while. Cory asks Kasha, "Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," says Kasha. (I personally don't even know why we're still "playing" this game instead of just having an orgy, but if it works, it works.)

"Kasha, I want you to have buttsex with Phillip." I notice that he doesn't say 'dare,' but 'want.' That's telling.

Kasha stands up as I get to my knees and face the closed tent flap. That way everyone can get a better view. Kasha doesn't even need to jack himself; he is rock solid. I wet a finger and use it to lube up my hole a bit; I shouldn't need to stretch it out, seeing as my fingers are actually almost the same width as his penis. I beckon him over so that I can slob his knob first, which basically collapses him over me in waves of pleasure. I'm acutely aware of how much I'm throbbing, and am likely making quite the drippy precum mess, but holy shit this is hot.

I let go of Kasha so that he can position himself properly. His penis still meets resistance at my currently virgin ass (I've stuck pens up there, and a carrot once, but for the most part it's unexplored territory at this point in my life), but once the head is in, the rest slides in straight to the hilt. The sensation is divine, sending thrills up through my guts and out my dripping dick.

What I don't expect is that Vik basically almost shoves his cock in my mouth. I almost gag at it, but immediately get to work making it feel at home on my tongue. As he thrusts in, I lick his balls; as he pulls out, I suck the head all around. Vik's head rolls back in pleasure.

"If this is what girl feels like," Kasha says from behind me, "that will be awesome!" Hah. He'll be asking me to teach his girlfriends how to do it, just watch.

I absolutely revel in the fact that I'm being spit-roasted by a pair of hot blond preteen Russian twins. This is a once-in-a-few-dozen-lifetimes moment, if ever. I arch my back slightly so Kasha's thrusting hits my prostate, and ecstasy bolts through me at each jab.

From the side of my view, I see Cory slowly stroking, edging to the free porn show. After a minute or two (or en eternity, hard to tell with that much bliss), Matty unexpectedly reaches under me and starts tickling the base of my sack, and that's quite enough with all the other stimulation; I barely get a chance to moan with my mouth around Vik's dick before I shoot a glob of cum that hits me right on the chin. One more shot goes just under my chin and lands between Vik's legs, and the last two splatter somewhere underneath me. Each shot sends a spasm through me, making me look like I'm having a minor seizure, but I don't care in the very least.

"Whoa!" Matty said. "You almost hit my face!"

Kasha's response to my ass twitching around his dick is to slam it home and wrap himself around me, and I feel him twitch two or three times in what I'd assume is a dry orgasm. I'll probably know by the time Vik is ready to blow.

And on clockwork, Vik seeing his brother in the throes of pleasure sends him over the top as well; his thrusts become jerky, erratic, and he essentially holds my face to his crotch as he 'shoots' in the warm embrace of my lips and tongue. (It's dry, so I'm sure his brother is the same.)

With his head resting between my shoulders, Kasha says, "That. Was. SO GOOD!" before pulling out and standing back up. Vik does the same, and I look to the left to see Cory's thick rod coming closer, oozing a thick, clear rivulet all the way to the ground.

"Can I try?" Cory asks.

Shit. That's a lot bigger than I was expecting to take right now. But I'm so fucking turned on that it doesn't matter. I'm still rock-hard and keyed up...fuck it, let's do this. "Yeah, but you're gonna need to be on your back first."

He does as asked, and I take my time working all that precum across his dick. After the stimulation earlier, I'm already nice and slick, but this is going to take a while to work in. I straddle him; ViKasha are watching in awe, wondering how my little hole is gonna take his D-battery-thick cock. (Sure, I've taken bigger in other lives, but that thing is thicker than either twin has seen, and probably Matty, too.)

I hock a loogie into my hand and smear it on his dick. Matty cries, "Eww!" and the twins seem kinda simultaneously grossed out and unable to tear their eyes away.

"What?" I say. "It helps!" I then guide his head to my pucker, thankful that his dick is thicker in the middle than the tip. I bounce a few times on the head, cajoling my sphincter to open up. The act throws Cory's head back and mouth open. I work a little farther down and breathe through the pain. A little more, breathe. I hear astonished whispers from one of the twins. Finally, after I crest the thickest part of it, it's like going downhill on a roller coaster the rest of the way, straight down to the hilt. He actually reaches my second sphincter, which sends equal pleasure and pain through me.

"Damn, that's good," Cory moans. I slowly move up and down to get used to the girthy spot; all the while, Cory's breathing is interspersed with grunts and moans of pleasure.

Matty is behind me, watching with extreme interest. I would, too; watching actual penetration for the first time up close is something special (He was under me when Kasha was going at it, and this is a better view). However, I lean back to see him as I'm resting on Cory's dick and say, "Hey, come stand in front of me."

"What?" Matty says, confused.

"Stand over Cory's belly and face me."

He does so, and I grab his thighs, lean forward, and bury my face in his groin with his dick in my mouth. I can't help it; there's no "teaching" anyone anything right now. It's full-on Slutty Phillip time, and I'm taking full advantage of it. Besides, Matty's been watching more than being loved...and I'm gonna fix that. As soon as I get my nose close to Matty's pelvis, I get a huge whiff of the aroma of pee from his earlier accident, and my heart races.

Matty gasps, eyes rolling slightly in his head. Cory can still see my dripping cock pointing at him, though all he has otherwise is Matty's exceptional backside to ogle. If he's not into it, he needs to learn to appreciate.

Cory begins to slowly thrust up and down, urging me to take the reins. I reposition my legs so I can get some good squatting action (no better time to get some exercise, right?), and get to sucking Matty and bouncing on Cory. My dick slaps his navel on every squat, and flings more precum on every lift. It's like a damn faucet, now.

Sadly, not much time passes before two very important things happen, and they're both orgasms. Matty exhales and lurches like he's been punched in the stomach, and I feel him begin to twitch in my mouth just as Cory grabs my hips and slams them down on his. There's nothing I can do but receive both boys' offerings, no matter how much they are. I lose myself in the throbbing of both cocks as mine begins to feel the stirrings again. I whip my hand to it and blast out another couple of jets, just as far as before but much lighter and smaller amounts sprayed across Cory's chest. After we're all done, we form a ridiculous human design: Cory stretched out across the floor, me leaning forward with my head pressed into Matty's surprisingly soft-skinned abs, and Matty draped over me with his hands on my back. We're all breathing heavily, and ViKasha are beating off furiously already again.

I slowly move Matty off of Cory and me, and stare at Cory. I clench my sphincter just to feel his dick twitch back in response; it drives him wild like a split-second tazer. I do it a few more times to milk all the pleasure out of him that I can, and slowly pull myself off his impaling rod. Immediately, a sizable glob of cum rolls out and down his cock.

"Damn, dude. Nice load."

Cory laughs, voice cracking. "Uh, thanks?"

Matty looks over at him. "Did he...did he sperm inside you?"

"Yeah," I said. "I made him do it."

Matty just stares, apparently surprised that that could even be a thing. "Whoa."

I leave Cory there and go grab a sock to wipe him (and my crack) up. The twins have slowed their manual assaults, and seem to be mostly done with trying for another orgasm; who knows how many they pulled off while I was on Cloud 9?

The twins both start yawning, and it catches everyone else as well. "That was a really, really good birthday party," I say.

Kasha laughs. "Now I want more birthdays!" he says as he slips his gray briefs on. Vik, of course, does the same, with the same color.

Vik mentions, "I am sorry, but we only have 3 sleeping bags. One of you will maybe have to sleep on the couch inside?"

"It's fine," I say quickly. "I'll just share one with Matty."

Matty looks at me, perplexed, and then it sinks in. "Oh, okay. That's good. With me, I mean." It's cute watching him try to play things cool.

"You sure?" Kasha says. "You can just go sleep on couch, no big."

I wave his suggestion away. "How can we keep the Boys' Club we just made together if everyone goes away? What happened here stays here, and so do the people."

This seems to sit well with ViKasha, and they nod approval.

"What about you two?" I ask.

Kasha begins to unroll one of the sleeping bags. "Vik and I share bag, too. Is big, we both fit. We share bed already, is no big."

Ugh, I ship it so hard. The ViKasha share a bed and a sleeping bag? They get quadruple points if they cuddle.

Cory unwraps a sleeping bag and gets himself situated, and I help Matty unravel ours. He goes outside for a moment; I hear the vague sound of pee hitting a tree. When he comes back in, I mention to the others that I'm going outside for a pee. What I didn't expect is the rest of the boys to follow me out and have a pissing contest into the breeze, but there it is. Cory's got a hefty one, but not much distance; the twins aren't too bad, but I manage to squirt farther than any of them. Stupid Human Tricks, Volume 35: Pee-squirting.

When we go back in, I mention to Matty that he hasn't had much water and should go drink some.

"Phillip, no..." he says, whining softly.

"Matty, it's mom and doctor's orders."

"But I'll pee the bed!" He looks to the others as he hisses the last three words. They seem too busy setting everything up themselves.

"Guys, could I borrow some toothpaste? I have my own brush." I pull the plastic bag out of my pillowcase to show.

"Yeah, that is okay," Vik says. "Go upstairs, and...actually, I will show you."

Cory has already wrapped himself up and doesn't appear inclined to move. The rest of us go inside to brush our teeth and the like. "Matty," I say as we pass by the kitchen. "I don't want you to mess up your kidneys."

Matty rolls his eyes and bounces impatiently. "My kidney is fine."

I stop on the middle of the stairs and stare him down (no pun intended). He finally caves, saying, "Okay, okay, fine. I'll have a glass. But if I pee on you, it's your fault."

The only reason I wouldn't be okay with that is that I don't own the sleeping bag. "That's fair," I say.

We brush our teeth, head back outside, and snuggle up for bed. The twins lay exactly the same way, like little sardines in a tin. Matty and I face each other in the sleeping bag, both using my nice and fluffy pillow.

After a few minutes, Matty tries to say something just as a yawn stifles his voice. "Phillip?" he whispers afterward.

"Yeah?" I say. The twins may be able to hear, but the three bags are spread out to different corners of the tent; it's unlikely.

"I know that we LIKE like each other."

"Yes?"

"How do you know if you love someone?"

"Matty, you've only known me like 2 weeks now."

"Yes, but how will I know if I do?"

I stay silent for an uncomfortably long time. Nearly every fiber of my being screams at me to admit that I'm completely smitten with this kid, but the few remaining ones, the fearful ones, scream back that loving anyone is stupid when you're immortal.

"...Phillip?" he whispers again, staring me down, worry beginning to etch his soft eyes.

"You know you love someone when...when you'd do anything to keep them safe. When just hearing that they had a good day makes your day better. When they make your heart beat faster every time you see them."

Matty thinks for a moment. Before he answers, I reach down, take his hand, and place it on my ribcage. My heart is going 130, easy. "Did you have a good day?" I ask.

Matty smiles. "It was really good."

"Then that makes my day really better." I run my hands through his short hair; he closes his eyes in contentment.

Then, impulsively, he flips around, presses himself into my chest, and curls up. "Goodnight," he whispers.

"Goodnight," I say, with the stirrings of a now-painful erection. Dammit.

That night, I dream a series of dreams about the men, women, and teenagers I've loved through my lives; Matty is the first "boy." I only have to rewind once that night to help Matty with the bedwetting (helps when my lucid dream suddenly swaps to me taking a warm bath), and he practically sleepwalks outside the tent in his birthday suit just quick enough to blast the glass of water out of his bladder into the night breeze. He comes back in, cuddles up into me again, and the rest of the night passes blissfully by with a warm bundle of joy wrapped in my arms, marred only by the sudden realization that Matty's cousin James is in town this weekend.

To be continued...