An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA by Riley Jericho

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Prologue

I watched it all with increasing fascination, almost forgetting to breathe!

It was cool in here. Everyone appreciates air-conditioning, especially on warm days like today, but this was quite chilly. They 'let' me keep my tee shirt, but with just that and a pair of black ankle socks, I was still shivering as I lay on the surgery couch.

Above and behind me, the air-vent hummed, efficiently intent on spilling cold air right on top of me. I folded my arms protectively and glared at it. I’ll bet he hasn’t had to lie here with no clothes on, I thought, watching the doctor as he bustled around, leaving me to shiver on his table. It wasn't just the cold that touched me; there was anticipation and quite a bit of anxiety too!

Gone now, was the comfortable sofa and easy, exploratory discussions. Gone were the leaflets and the websites, the options and the decisions. Gone were the weeks and months of waiting. Tomorrow had become today and I was out of time. With the two of them donning surgical gowns, it seemed all too immediate and I almost regretted asking Mum to wait outside.

The nurse adjusted the strong medical light, focusing it on me. Snapping on surgical gloves, the doctor reached over and took hold of my dick. I gritted my teeth and shuddered as he attempted to ease the blunt instrument past the constricted tip, under my foreskin and around the sensitive head. He had already applied topical anesthetic around the base of the shaft in preparation for injections, but his actions were quickly moving the dial on the scale from sensitive to quite uncomfortable.

The end of the blunt spatula began to disappear through the tip and he slid it from side to side inside, continuing to dig around. It made me squirm and I bit back a squeak!

"I’m checking to see if there are any adhesions," he murmured.

I had no idea what that meant and he didn't explain, just continued to concentrate on what he was doing. For obvious reasons I was trying not to move, but squirmed again as the flat, cold, chrome steel instrument scraped me as it penetrated further under my foreskin.

BLOODY HELL! I know he thought he was being gentle, but now it really hurt!

Frankly, this was the reason I was here – I’d never in my whole life had ANYTHING under there. Until recently, I didn’t even know that ‘under there’ even existed, let alone experienced being probed like this! I had to say SOMETHING - either that or I was going to punch his lights out - when the nurse came to my rescue.

“Dad…” she said, catching his attention.

He looked up. Thankfully he followed her eyes and either finally noticed my legs were shaking a little or saw that my fingers were gripping the sides of the bed and gently withdrew the unwelcome tool.

"Oh, I’m so sorry Luke," he apologized. “Let's just wait for a little numbing before I do any more of this shall we?"

I nodded, grateful for the reprieve those few minutes offered, but still looked apprehensively at the tray that the nurse was preparing. From sterile wrappings, she extracted an assortment of sharp pointy-looking tools, a syringe and needles. At first I'd been worried when I realized a woman - of the girl type! - was going to be helping during the procedure; watching, maybe even touching my genitals. Now, the sharp stuff was definitely getting my attention more!

To avoid dwelling on any of it, I looked away, to explore the rest of my surroundings.

This compact surgical unit had been built into the center of the same complex where the doctor had his office. There were no windows and I guess that made sense; few would really want to lie out in the open and have the window cleaner stare at their bits! They’d put the back of the couch up a bit, so I could watch. Actually, they’d given me the choice on that, but even with the injections and stuff, I didn’t want to miss a thing.

As I said, I was pretty much naked - other than the t-shirt and my socks. that is. From knees to navel, my groin was covered by some kind of green sterile towel with a hole cut in the middle. Poking out of the center, my manhood rested, apprehensively shriveled. It was a bit like watching the repeats of the hospital soap 'Casualty' that aired on the BBC channel they got on cable over here - except I was the patient! He had painted my whole groin with some dark, yellowy-orange stuff and the bright light made my penis glow like a beacon, bobbing around in a sea of green.

The smell was off-putting and my nose flared at the strongly antiseptic aroma of the place. It reminded me of visits to the dentist, but glancing down at my naked state, the comparison kind of ended right there.

Maybe you think I’m being stupid, but I have to admit that I’d been having this niggling worry: what if, in the middle of the whole thing, my dick took on an embarrassing mind of it own and got a bit aroused? Did that kind of thing ever happen?

Thankfully, not to me. With the cold room, the anxiety and the onlookers, I was okay.

At least the upside of it was that, not counting my family, it was really only the doc and his assistant who knew I was here. Of course, something horrific could still happen…like I could be standing in the queue with my friends at McDonalds the following day, and the nurse (with everyone listening in and laughing), could tap me on the shoulder and ask me how my PENIS was doing.

What a nightmare!

No, what I was having done was personal and I wasn’t planning on telling ANYONE else; at least not yet. And I’d been careful to make sure none of my friends knew I’d come here today - not even Ryan. I was a little uncomfortable not telling HIM, but it was better this way.

While we waited a few moments more for the topical spray to have some effect, the doctor explained something that I was just coming to realize for myself.

"One thing I need to prepare you for, Luke." He was all businesslike again. "As you've never been able to retract your foreskin, it’s going to take some getting used to.”

“It’ll look different?” Wasn’t that the whole point?

“Yes of course, but that’s not what I meant. It’s quite likely – and normal - that you’ll find it uncomfortably sensitive around the glans of your penis for some time after this procedure. Eventually, it will settle down, so in the meantime don't worry about it; but don’t be surprised if, for a few weeks, you jump every time something rubs there."

I tried not to snigger and betray my secret thoughts! That was a laugh - it was usually ME that did the rubbing! Then I looked across, apprehensive once more as the doctor reached into the tray the girl held out for him: the one carrying a syringe bearing that unpleasant looking needle. Holding it vertically he tapped it and expressed a short stream of fluid.

The reprieve was over. I wanted him to get on with it, but was NOT looking forward to this next bit AT ALL!

Shortly after that, and after the device had been placed in position and locked, the doctor - turned surgeon - took up the blade and looked to me expectantly.

"OK Luke,” he pronounced. “It’s the point of no return. Ready?” His warm, encouraging smile was in contrast to the razor-sharp scalpel he was holding. I grinned at last and nodded enthusiastically.

It had been quite a journey for me to get to the table of a circumcision specialist in Atlanta. Once he started to cut, there would be no going back.

Was I really ready?

DAMN RIGHT I was - I’d been ready for MONTHS!

My name is Luke Oliver Summers. And this is my story.

2. New Beginnings

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

New Beginnings

"Luke! Wait up!" Ryan Alexis hurried across the grass, pushing through the crowd to catch up with Luke Summers. The way his friend was motoring, you’d think the school cafeteria was giving away free food. "Slow up, can't ya?"

With a silent groan, Luke accepted the inevitable. So much for his intention to eat fast and slip away quietly! Reluctantly, he slowed his pace and tried not to let the irritation show, as he waited for Ryan to catch up. He tended not to eat at the cafeteria much, perhaps a sandwich or salad if he ate at all. Why would he, when his Mum's cooking waited for him at the end of the day?

Today, however, even a sandwich felt like too much!

His mum would be here soon and, having hardly eaten any breakfast, he knew he would regret it in an hour or so, if he didn't grab a bite of something.

"What the hell’s gotten into you today?" Ryan scowled at him, adjusting his badly balanced backpack.

"Nothing's up with me. Why would anything be up with me?" Luke realized he was sounding defensive and softened his tone. "I just wanna eat - no law against that is there?"

"So why the rush?” Ryan demanded, suspiciously. “Don't tell me you've got a detention - you’ve been acting weird all morning!"

"Don't be ridiculous, why would I be in detention?" Luke said, walking normally now, as they strolled over the lawns towards the cafeteria block.

Ryan looked sideways at Luke and shook his head - not for the first time. Brits! Strange people! Who could understand them?

Luke had always compared the school cafeteria to a rather posh version of a motorway service station; predictable and overpriced - as if the school didn’t already get enough money from their tuition fees. And GOD FORBID if you should forget to clear your plates away!

The pair joined the line, selecting only a simple sandwich to eat. Everything esle on offer looked…well, enough said. They found an empty table, then made room for Simon and his friends Toby Skerrit and Marcus Quince.

Luke picked at his ‘meal’ with little of the healthy enthusiasm Simon had for his enormous plate of fries. Toby, as usual, had brought his lunch, but was currently helping Simon with his fries anyway. The Summers brothers exchanged a few covert glances, before Simon checked his watch. Their mum would be arriving soon.

“I watched the game last night,” announced Marcus with his mouth full. “Man U v. Liverpool!”

‘Grinny Boy’ as Luke often referred to Marcus, was into soccer big time, despite having only discovered REAL football four months ago now that UK Soccer League games were available on cable. A nice-hearted kid who smiled at everyone, he had an older brother, Todd, who was a classmate of Luke and Ryan. Luke rolled his eyes, hearing Marcus talk about ‘Man U’ like some seasoned professional, but Simon picked up the topic and the two discussed the game.

After a few more minutes, Luke covertly peeled back his jacket sleeve to check his watch and muttered, to no one in particular, "I just gotta go do something - I'll catch you guys later." Knowingly, his brother, Simon, nodded and watched him disappear through the door, before turning back to the others to continue the soccer lesson.

Ryan studied the brothers with a tinge of exasperation. Brits! Strange people, he mused. And who cared about soccer anyway?

Checking that nobody was following, Luke hurried to his locker in relief, knowing that Simon had understood and would keep Ryan occupied for a while yet. Gathering up his gear, he quickly stuffed it all into his backpack. It was time, and he went straight to the reception area where his Mum, true to her word, was already waiting.

Buckling himself into the family minivan, he began what he hoped would be the final leg of the journey started three years ago and thousands of miles away.

* * *

Three years since they emigrated – actually, going on four now. He’d been twelve and well into year seven - his first year of senior school. An ordinary kid from an ordinary suburb, Luke Summers lived what he felt was an ordinary, but perfectly acceptable life. That is, until his Dad had totally RUINED it!

He vividly remembered the day when they – his mum and dad – sat he and Simon down, and calmly informed them that they were moving.

‘Where?’ he’d complained, wondering if he’d still be able to walk to school, or whether he’d have to take the bus.

‘America.’

His dad worked in the overseas finance department of a bank and had been asked to take over some obscure department on the US side. He and their mum had decided to accept.

‘It’ll be good for all of us,’ they had both said. ‘A new start; a better life.’

There'd been no discussion; they already had plane tickets that would take him from his comfortable way of life, in the south of England, to make a new one in Atlanta, Georgia.

What the hell was wrong with the OLD life – the one where HE HAD ONE!!

Luke had been furious at the time. ‘NO! Tell them you WON’T DO IT! They can't MAKE you!’

‘It's already decided,’ they said firmly.

‘It’s all about you isn’t it!’ he’d raged impotently. ‘It’s always about you! What about what I want – or Simon? Why do I even bother being in this family?’

None of it had changed the inevitability of seat 23D on the Delta flight from Gatwick to Atlanta. He’d never flown before, but refused to enjoy even THAT. He gave them the silent treatment the whole flight, eating the crappy nuts and ignoring the even crappier movies.

The four of them – himself, his brother Simon and their parents – had touched down at Atlanta Hartsfield airport, around nine hours later, with the sum total of eight cases and four pieces of carry-on. Nearly two hours in the queue to get through customs didn't help his mood. The one ray of hope was when the official at the customs desk looked through his spanking brand new passport and stared at him, intently. Luke glared back defiantly. Go on – throw me out – do us both a favor! But, instead of putting him back on a plane to where he rightly belonged, he’d brought his stamp down in final judgment.

Sitting for nine hours and then waiting in endless lines, had been exhausting. By the time they’d taken the packed underground train and been herded up the escalator into the main terminal, even HE was glad to see the man with the sign with their name on it.

On their behalf, the bank had already arranged temporary accommodation. Recovering their eight cases from the conveyor belts, they were driven from the airport through an unfamiliar city, straight to the house. They rented there for several months, before eventually buying a home of their own. The rest of their belongings were either being held in long-term storage or were to be shipped by container.

But stuff was just stuff. What had really pissed him off was being made to leave all his friends, his school, and the familiarity of his world, to be dropped there just north of Atlanta.

Maybe 'dropped' didn’t cover it.

DUMPED was better! Dumped where he had NO friends and NO life.

Now okay, eventually even he’d had to admit that the house they finally bought wasn't bad. It wasn’t that their family had lived in some pokey three-bedroom semi in the UK; far from it. He'd always thought their old house was pretty good, but this…?

Compared to ‘normal’ houses in the UK, this was SOMETHING ELSE!

They'd sold their UK home easily enough. With the comparative housing market values and a good exchange rate, his Dad had been ecstatic.

They did the rounds with realtors, looking at properties and, by this time, even Luke showed some enthusiasm when it came to deciding which one they would buy. His dad had been all for ‘investing’ in something that was only still on the market because nobody else wanted it. ‘Do-er Up-ers’, he euphemistically called them. That way, he told their mum, they’d reap the benefit of taking the chunk of change that would be left and investing it for the future.

She wasn’t interested. She ‘suggested’ three that nearly made him choke!

But she got her way and they ended up in a BIG place - and, by big, Luke meant detached, with an enormous backyard and a lawn that actually needed a ride-on mower to cut it all. They even had a huge airy basement with more square footage on that one level than in most ordinary houses in England.

Their new house was relatively new, and, unlike the other wooden, flaky paint houses they'd toured, it was brick. Everything seemed more spacious and more open plan than iany of the places he remembered back in England. There was even a huge, open wood fireplace though, after they experienced the sweltering heat of a Georgia summer for the first time, he had no idea what the hell they would need with one of those. More importantly for Luke, it was in a sub-division close to where many of his newly made school friends lived.

Gone too were the days of queuing up to use the loo!

There was a big family bathroom but, on top of that, his Mum and Dad’s room also had its own en-suite and he and Simon even shared their own en-suite, set between them and accessible from either bedroom. Did everyone here live like this, he wondered? He didn’t really know, but grudgingly appreciated the house anyway!

At first, he had prayed that his dad's job would be temporary. A year, maybe? A year would be okay, he decided...with a trip down to Disney to top it off. After a year, he could still go back to his friends and his old life. Everyone would think it pretty cool and welcome him back like a well-travelled hero, letting him drop instantly into everything as it had always been. But the year passed; and another; and then more, until it was becoming entirely possible that they might be staying for good.

But, like all kids, he was more resilient than he realized. He and Simon had settled into their new life without really expecting to.

They settled into a new school, too. A private school – the Academy. An 'all boys' institution, the Academy had been chosen for them, based on a number of recommendations, through his Dad's contacts at the bank.

Schooling was high on their priority list he knew, and he learned, in time that it had been one of the key factors for them (particularly for his mum) in deciding to move the family to the States in the first place. Though he didn’t know it, she'd been quite reluctant to uproot the family, but education pressed all her buttons!

Back in the UK, they had been attending the local comprehensive schools in their town. The primary school had been okay and Simon had still been there of course. He was personally quite happy with the senior school, mainly because all his mates had gone there too, but his mum and dad were not impressed with it AT ALL! In the transition from primary to senior, they had tried hard to get him somewhere ‘better’, but ‘better’ was outside their catchment area and, much to his relief, was denied. However, after doing less than a year in the local place, they'd had enough.

They'd left the country in early June, and both of the boys had been pulled out before the end of the school year. At the time, the only benefit that Luke could see was that he missed the stupid end of year exams!

It gave them the summer to settle in. His dad was obviously being paid well in this new job, because they had enrolled the two of them at the private school. He and Simon were welcomed into the Academy seventh and sixth grades respectively, for new term beginning in mid-August.

However, at the start of the semester, he had been truly pissed at having to cut his hair!

The dirty blond locks were carefully tended to look unkempt, although he had to abide by his mum's rule that his hair had to be clean. Long, messy and slightly wavy, it had been his trademark look for years. He was Luke Oliver Summers and to his mates in England, Luke Oliver had been 'Lol', or more usually – Lolly. His hair was his look, and to be forced to have it cut down was a bunch of crap.

Worse still, both he and Simon had had to take an entrance exam and be interviewed prior to being admitted to the Academy. The idea that you had to have some kind of 'getting in' test to go to school seemed ridiculous – as if anyone cared enough to want to be there that much! And then to have to pay for that privilege each day too?

MADNESS!

The test had been surprisingly ‘testing’. It took most of the morning, covering various subjects and putting to bed his belief that American kids were all Hollywood airheads. He felt he'd done pretty crap and, despite his distaste of being in that country, was disappointed with himself (particularly because he knew Simon had probably sailed through it, without even blinking).

Expecting the worst, it had been quite a surprise - and unexpectedly a relief - when they still accepted him.

At the interview and in the admission papers, it had been made clear that students at this school were expected to wear a uniform. BIG DEAL, he'd been wearing school uniforms all his life. They also pointed out that for all students, including him, hair had to be well off the collar.

CRAP RULE! It was NEVER like that at his old place, he complained to his mum. Still irritated by his previous educators, she'd said she wasn’t surprised!

Despite the draconian hair regulations, Luke had to admit that the school wasn't that bad. He quickly made friends with kids who were in awe of the British boy, who used to live near London. On the very first day of term his mum drove him to the main campus (Simon was still in the Elementary campus, several blocks away) and the Principal himself had met them at reception and escorted him to his new class. After being formally introduced, he’d sat down, embarrassed as hell; heads twisting all around the room to get a glimpse of him.

Even so, it surprised him how friendly they were. That would NEVER happen back in England! There, if a new kid arrived, it was better to treat them with a bit of suspicion until you found out what they were really like. New kids had to EARN the right to join existing friend-groups. It took weeks, even months!

Here, they almost fell over themselves to welcome him and help him out if needed. It was actually quite nice.

Living where they did just north of Atlanta, near Roswell, wasn't bad either. Usually his mum or dad drove them to school, or sometimes they caught a lift with someone else. Many of their friends from school lived near by and gradually it all grew on him. One day, for reasons he didn't remember, he realized he quite liked his life here; the people, the house, the friends, the school, the lifestyle, cable TV...even the weather!

* * *

Extract from Luke's Diary:

The WEATHER?

If you ever want to know about the weather then you could keep a Brit from the London area talking for hours. The weather in the UK was something I did NOT miss.

Here, it was almost always sunny, about as sunny as it was wet in England, which meant going brown, not rusty! Mind you, sometimes it got TOO hot and sticky for comfort. Then, we were all thankful for air-con that kept the house cool and made it possible to sleep at night.

Water was a lifesaver – swimming pools, I mean. Sadly we didn't have a pool ourselves, but there was a communal one in our subdivision, and several of our friends had them in their backyards. It was all a million miles (well, not quite) from foggy London town where, with his passion for sailing, the only one who had ever spent much time on or in the water was Simon.

I didn’t plan on feeling settled at all – in fact, quite the opposite. It kind of snuck up on me! The cynical emails back and forth with my friends in London became less frequent, until they just dried up. Life became familiar: the days, the places, the routine, the friends. I remember during our second Christmas there, Mum reading out a bit of a letter that came with the card from her brother, asking us when we were next coming home.

It struck me then that we WERE home and I never really looked back.

Okay, the grass wasn't really proper grass – not like in England - and the red fire ants were minor demons, but other than THAT it had become where we belonged.

* * *

What came as a complete shock to Luke, was homework. Lots of it. All the time! Two or three assignments an evening and more at weekends and, what's more, they were expected to even DO it! In his old school, they were sometimes given homework but he and his friends always felt that it was up to them whether they bothered with it. It was personal choice. If you didn't get round to it, who cared? Certainly not the teachers.

At the Academy, his expectations were radically realigned!

A 'school learning contract' existed, though he never remembered being invited to sign anything. It was an ‘agreement’ between those who taught (the teachers), those who learned (himself) and those who should be minding their own business (his parents!). Outnumbered two to one, he didn't stand a chance.

It was utterly brutal! If you didn't get it done or started lagging behind, there would be detention and then parents got called in and 'measures' taken. They expected you to 'achieve' at the Academy - whether you liked it or not. By the following year, he hated to admit it, but his mates back in the UK wouldn't have recognised the Luke who studied hard and discovered he actually DID have the ability to stay focused and achieve. He even managed a social life with it!

In fact, he even began to enjoy it! How ridiculous was that?

But homework wasn't the only surprise. What Luke had been even less prepared was the world of the circumcised dick. In this respect he discovered he was unlike almost everyone else of his age that he encountered. In fact, until then, he had never even HEARD of the term!

Circumcision, not dick...keep up now!

It had been quite a shock when he got an eyeful of those funny shaped willys that turned up in the locker rooms. Three days at the Academy was all that it had taken to upend his world. Carting his brand new kit and following the class to the locker rooms for his first exposure to American Football, they’d stripped off afterwards and taken to the showers. It was then, through the shampoo, steam and lively banter, that he noticed his very first clipped cock.

Taken aback, he immediately thought the kid was malformed somehow! Where the tip was meant to be, the poor guy had a huge mass; a weird lump of some kind. Perhaps it was a growth, like a tumor, or perhaps he’d been born that way? Either way, it had to be impossible to pee through!

He’d looked away quickly, knowing that the kid must feel bad enough without having people stare at him but, as the mass of both black and white skin bumped and jostled for space under the shower-heads, he looked round further and it became apparent that they’d ALL been born that way!

Anyway – and forgive the pun – cutting a long story short, whatever it was about (and it took some time to finally figure it all out), it seemed that just about everyone, at least in HIS class, had as they often described it, been ‘cut’.

They called it circumcision and, while THEY all seemed to know lots about it, when it had been done to them, why and even how, he was completely clueless! Once the first weeks of politeness had passed and his school friends got to know him a bit more, he then found himself being ribbed for the rather long, dangly piece of skin that hung off him. It wasn't mean, just a bit of friendly cross-cultural teasing although the term ‘anteater’ wasn't his favorite!

To be fair, it turned out he wasn’t the ONLY one with a foreskin, but he was definitely part of a small minority. This was completely unlike his last school where, down there, absolutely everyone looked like...well, like him actually. A place where kids had normal willys. Willys that ended with the skin bunched tightly together at the end where you peed from. Conversely, most of them were just as surprised to hear that basically NOBODY – at least no kids he’d known – had been circumcised in his country!

‘Why not?’ many had asked curiously. ‘Don’t you have insurance?’ The way they discussed him, he got the impression that they felt HE was the one that had the problem and that he should probably get it fixed.

Until then, Luke had never thought much about stuff to do with his dick. In fact nothing much to do with sex had ever entered his experience. Before the move he'd happily undressed and showered with his classmates, without ever giving it a second thought. Though he knew what a foreskin was, he’d never been friends with kids who apparently didn't have one! For reasons he was yet to discover, he still didn't know that the peculiar mushroom shape he was noticing, also existed like that inside all the skin that hung off his own appendage.

But, what he quickly decided was that here, showing that ‘head’ was the norm, being circumcised was the only way of getting to it, and it was him that was the odd one out! He actually felt quite self-conscious about the issue and tried to avoid showing his privates, when he could.

However, life had gone on. As they all began to pass through puberty and, as his dick seemed to get even more gangly, theirs filled out and, in contrast, the many well-cut dicks he saw were nicely shaped and (he had only latterly admitted to himself) were quite sexy looking.

In the meantime, he got on with school and with life. In many subjects, like science and math, he was on a par (or even slightly advanced) with the standard being taught. However, there were other areas in which he was a long way behind. History, for example, was all American history and Geography only related to the States. In those, he had a lot of catching up to do – but he did so, and began to fit into the country and culture.

* * *

A couple of years later they got a desktop computer at home with the idea that he and Simon would be able to use it for their studies. Because they had fought too much, arguing who’s room it should go in, it went downstairs. He had to be careful who might come in and see the screen but, like all teens, he explored a bit and found out things that his parents would NEVER think to tell him!

Because it still intrigued him, he used it to get more background on circumcision, careful to cover his tracks afterwards. Why it became such a big thing for him he was never sure but finally, after three years of living there, he decided that if he was going to grow up in this country (and it was looking increasingly probable they were here to stay), he didn't want to remain the odd one out. After all the frustration of being made to emigrate there in the first place, he had no desire to leave and what was crystal clear was that American guys were circumcised.

That was how it was done here. It was normal. They liked it and he liked it. It made them look right and he wanted the same.

So, eventually, he screwed up his courage and announced to his parents that he wanted to be circumcised, too. Even that took a few false starts as he kept chickening out before, apprehensively, he finally told his Mum what was on his mind.

Well, that didn't go down well at all!

* * *

“Excuse me?” Lucy Summers had picked up both Luke and Ryan from tennis practice. Simon was already home, so, after she had dropped off Ryan, it was just the two of them in the van. Luke had decided this was his moment and spoke up.

“Circumcision – I want to be circumcised,” Luke repeated.

“What?”

“Circumcision,” Luke tried again. “It’s when you…”

“Yes I know what it is! Luke, for heaven's sake, why on earth would you need to do that?” Pulling onto the drive of their home, she killed the engine. “And what do you know about circumcision anyway?”

“Mum, I’m fifteen, not five!”

“I don’t know where you’ve been getting this from Luke, but the answer's NO – absolutely not!”

Following her inside, Luke threw his backpack on the kitchen floor. “But why not? I’m not a kid – why can’t I decide for myself what I want? What’s wrong with being circumcised? Everyone else here is!”

"Luke, I have to confess, I'm not at all comfortable with any of this,” she replied. “I hear what you’re saying and I realize most boys in this country are circumcised, but that doesn't mean you have to be.“

“Mum, that’s easy for you to say – but it’s not something you have to face! It’s what I want! Why are you making me wait 'til I’m old enough that I DON’T need your permission!” He tried not to make it sound like a threat, but he was frustrated.

His mother shook her head inflexibly. “Sweetheart, any kind of surgery, especially down there," she emphasized the word enough for Luke to twitch uncomfortably, "is never to be taken lightly. And most boys here are done that way when they are babies. What you're suggesting is completely different.”

Luke couldn’t believe his ears. What was her problem? He went to hang up his jacket and, when he returned, banged the kitchen door angrily. He saw her purse her lips, but when his she spoke again, it was in a different tone, one she used when she was trying to reason with him or Simon. "Luke, it's not like your dad and I don't care what you think…."

Sure!

“…it’s just that it’s such a big step. Think about it; you can't just decide to be circumcised and change your mind the next day! Why don't you give it time...and maybe, when you're a little older, you'll feel differently?"

"I HAVE been thinking about it. I'm not STUPID you know!" Luke raised his voice, unable to curb his anger. "I didn't just wake up this morning and make it up, you know! Are you telling me I can't have it done?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Luke,” Her voice hardened and he could tell she'd made up her mind. “So let's just leave it there shall we?"

"He can't do what?" Geoff Summers, Luke's father, walked in the door and slung his jacket over the back of a chair.

"Nothing," Lucy snapped at her husband. "And PLEASE, could you hang that up properly?"

"It's NOT nothing! “ Luke shifted his attention to his dad. “I want to be circumcised!"

Geoff's eyes flicked from son to wife and back, blinking several times, completely out of his depth. Lucy came to his rescue.

"Luke seems to think he needs to be circumcised.” She glared at her son, daring him to challenge her. “That's all."

“That’s NOT all,” ground Luke, taking up the challenge. “I’ve been thinking about it for ages!”

"Of course, I told him that it's totally out of the question,” said his mum, overriding him.“ Don't you agree?"

Realizing he’d stepped into a war zone, Geoff took a deep breath. He sat down and looked Luke in the eye. "I don't get it. Why would you want to be circumcised?"

"Exactly, hon."

"Jeez - thanks for the support, Dad! You don’t understand," Luke muttered.

“Then explain it to me.”

“I just want to be circumcised, that’s all. There’s no law against that is there?” Luke shrugged uncomfortably, less prepared than he thought for justifying his request.

"No law, no – but there is common sense and I think Mum's right.” His dad’s calm approach ate into Luke’s resolve and he slumped over the table, crestfallen. “Son, I've no idea where this has all come from, but in any case an operation like that isn't going to be covered by insurance and, like Grandpa always used to say, 'If it's not bust, don't fix it!'"

And that had been their last word on the subject.

* * *

Luke was disappointed, but if they hoped he would just grow out of the idea in a couple of days, they were going to be disappointed too. He picked himself up, refusing to budge from the journey he wanted to take.

Over the next months, he didn't let the topic die, but did his research and made SURE they got it; deluging them with papers and reasonable arguments about health and cleanliness, culled and sanitized from info he’d gleaned off the web.

Simon thought he was COMPLETELY NUTS!

He and Simon were quite close, with Si being just 14 months younger; but close in ways that were more than just a slim age gap. The pair had grown up to be the kind of brothers that actually liked each other rather than dropping into the usual sibling ‘ignore mode’. Open and frank about most things, neither had been that happy about moving to the USA and, for many months, the only friends they'd had were each other. That had changed as new friends began coming round, but he and Simon still remained close.

The pair were similar and you could tell straight away that they were brothers with their dirty blond hair and warm hazel eyes. Girls usually thought the boys were pretty cute - particularly when they heard their British accents, which seemed to elicit purrs of delight (at least in this country), from females 8 to 80!

Luke explained his reasons for being cut as best he could - well, at least he told him about the 'fitting in' bit. He brushed over the other thing that he tried to hide from everyone. The truth was, he thought about sex ALL THE TIME these days - and you couldn’t think about sex without bringing your dick into it!

It wasn't like Simon to ridicule people and their ideas, but after hearing some of the details of foreskin surgery, he did go for a bit of brotherly teasing.

"Crap...you'd let them go ahead and cut your willy off? Isn't it going to hurt?"

Luke rolled his eyes, but took it well. "Nah... it might be a bit sore for a bit, but it'll look great when it's done!"

Well, he hoped it would. If it ever happened, that was.

Simon wasn't convinced. "I'm hanging on to mine," he said confidently.

Simon would never admit it but, like many younger brothers, he often looked to Luke to decide things if they were important enough. Would this be one of those things, Luke wondered? Something like the day Simon had walked in on him when he’d been right in the middle of jerking? Talk about NUTS!

Give it a couple of years, Luke smiled to himself. We'll see…we’ll see…

3. In Flagrante Delicto

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

In Flagrante Delicto
(translated as the act of getting caught with your pants down!)

It was half way through a typical day at school and, during the lunch recess, many of Luke’s friends were crowded around the school desk, on which the magazine lay open. Scott Landon pushed his way to the front. “OH FUCK – she can do that to me anytime!”

“So, we know what Scott’s gonna be doing tonight!” Cody Mitchell sniggered. He made a ring shape with his thumb and finger and jerked it up and down. Everyone laughed, even Luke, though he had no idea what Cody was on about.

“Fuck off, Mitchell.” Scott colored and showed them where to stick it.

The pictures were quite an eyeful. A porn mag that Cody had smuggled into school from God knows where, they had it open at a page where a guy and a girl were squashed into the back of some car. Both were naked and she was straddling him and had hold of his huge, full-on dick.

Standing near enough so that he could see and hear, yet far enough away that nobody would ask his opinion, Luke was astounded. The couple were splashed across a double spread. The series of pictures that documented their encounter showed that, whatever she was doing, he was really enjoying it!

The finale was a close up. She had her hand wrapped tightly around him, just under his enormous, circumcised, bell-shaped end. Her long red fingernails contrasted both the deep purple flesh and the white stuff that she seemed to be squeezing from the tip. The camera caught a string of it, as it joined a puddle of the stuff on his stomach.

It didn’t look like pee – unless the guy had some disease – but what it might be was beyond Luke. While he had no idea, picking up on the colorful descriptions being tossed around, it seemed everyone else did! A solid lump formed in his trousers and, throughout the rest of the afternoon, the lasting vision of that rampantly proud, circumcised dick, kept it there.

Later that evening, sitting alone on the toilet, he’d carefully experimented.

While he’d begun to have regular boners, he guessed that the white stuff was going to be yet ANOTHER thing that he'd grown up not knowing about. Maybe it was something that only circumcised guys did?

He was in for one HELL of a BIG surprise as he copied what it looked like the girl had been doing. Before long, his tentative approach became bolder as he discovered some quite delicious sensations. Unprepared for where it was leading, it had caught him off-guard. Unnerved, he’d stopped, zipped back up and scurried downstairs.

Ten minutes later he was back.

Locking the door to the bathroom and not holding back this time, he’d squeaked as quietly as he could when he’d finally climaxed and unloaded his own white stuff. He’d been hooked on it ever since and now, like most teens, he jerked and came whenever he needed it...like MOST DAYS!

* * *

Extract from Luke's Diary:

Getting caught your with trousers down can put a real kink in your day. Even if it’s by your little brother.

Actually, ESPECIALLY if it’s by your little brother!

About two years previously, and not long after I’d first started whacking off (a rather late bloomer I’d come to discover), Si had caught on quite quickly. He bloody well walked in on me when I was right in the middle of shooting!

After a few months of giving ‘it’ plenty of ‘practice’, I got it to a fine art. On that fateful day – the day when Simon had walked in on me - I was just in the process of bringing to an end four days of enforced celibacy.

* * *

It wasn't uncommon for the tennis squad (of which Luke was a junior member in those days) to travel to regional competitions, against other schools in the State. What was more unusual, for someone born on a small island, was that it took so long to get there!

On this occasion, they’d been away four days and three nights.

Leaving straight after school one Thursday afternoon, a full coach carried both junior and senior squads, teachers and various hangers-on. They’d driven for three or four hours, before stopping over at a pre-booked motel. They’d spent half of next day, the Friday (school day as it still was), ivisiting some sites of dubious historical interest, being made to write pages of copious notes on what they saw. Their ‘school day’ complete, they got back on the bus, to arrive at their destination in the late afternoon.

After being welcomed and fed, they’d been bedded down for the night, close by, at yet another motel.

The matches had been good and, as was traditional, the host school (a private academy, similar to their own) had arranged a celebration on the Saturday evening. A special dinner, which was nice, followed by a disco party, which was even better!

The culminating matches, in every age group. were played on the Sunday morning. Neither he, nor Ryan, had made it that far, so they’d cheered from the sidelines. After an early and simple lunch, it was back on the coach for the long, tedious drive home, with few breaks.

But it’d been three nights of sharing accommodation, with four to a room and him sharing a double bed!

Each day, Luke had awoken uncomfortably stiff, but could do nothing about it, other than sneak into the bathroom to shower and dress, hoping his morning wood wouldn’t be spotted. Even in the motel bathrooms, he was completely paranoid that he might be heard and dared not deal with it.

They'd eventually made it back to Atlanta and he was relieved to be home for dinner. It was later that evening that Simon had walked in on him, right when he was stroking himself to a long awaited, and desperately needed, climax.

* * *

They'd eaten dinner and he’d known everyone was downstairs watching TV, but locked the bedroom door anyway. Tired, but horny, he’d unpacked his bag before stretching out on his bed, shedding some extra clothing. When he jerked, Luke preferred to take everything off; at least from the waist down. Boxers just got in the way.

It didn’t take long. Just over a minute later, it was with some relief that that familiar, powerful moment arrived. As he rode it through, spurting and grunting, something rather LESS welcome arrived, as Simon walked silently in - appearing through his side of the interconnecting doors - the ones that led through the bathroom they both shared.

The ones he’d forgotten to lock.

Having noiselessly passed through the bathroom and out into Luke's room, Simon stared in shock, and then with bemusement at the appearance of his naked brother playing energetically with his stiff willy. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke eventually realized he wasn’t alone.

"CRAP, SIMON!" he shouted frantically, diving off the bed to scoop up his clothes. Covering his dick ineffectually with his hands, he burned scarlet. "GET OUT – I’M BLOODY GETTING CHANGED!"

But Simon wasn't having any of it.

"That's not getting changed. You were playing with your willy!” He pointed to the freshly sprayed jizz that Luke was trying to wipe off with his boxers. “And what's that stuff?"

The cat was truly out of the bag, and Luke was at a complete loss to do anything other than to continue swearing wildly at Simon, who left in a bit of a huff! Once he was dressed, he sat on the edge of his bed and tried to calm down.

Why the hell didn't he lock the door?

Despite the humiliation of being caught with his trousers down, he knew it really wasn’t Simon’s fault and he should go apologize or something. At the very least he had to do some damage control. It could have been worse, he knew; it could have been his mother who’d walked in, and THAT didn’t even bear thinking about!

Tentatively, he passed through the en-suite and tapped lightly on the door Simon had slammed behind himself, on the way out. Slipping inside, he waited, feeling awkward. Simon remained studiously glued to a book, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

"Look...I'm sorry,” Luke began. “I was just...well, I just didn't expect you to walk in like that."

"You should BLOODY WELL lock the door then!" Simon huffed, still refusing to turn and face him, from where he was sitting at a desk, which, unlike Luke’s own, was always neat and tidy. He continued to work at some homework that didn’t need to be in for a week.

Luke sighed at the theatrics, but knew Simon like no other. His brother couldn’t stay mad for long. It just wasn't in his nature.

“Okay...okay...you’re right. I should have done that...and I said I was sorry!"

“Sorry for what?” Simon returned relentlessly, still staring into the pages of his textbook.

Oh for God’s sake!

“I’m sorry for swearing at you...okay?”

Simon put his pen down and relented. Swinging around, he glowered and then pursed his lips curiously. “Apology accepted. Now, what were you doing?”

“Nothing – I was just getting changed!”

“You were playing with your willy, you dirty git, so don’t deny it! And what was that stuff?”

“What stuff?” Luke cringed uncomfortably at the recent memory of his semen, splashed for all to see.

SHIT!

“You know what stuff. I can always go and ask Mum if you want?” Simon crossed his arms and waited.

CRAP!

How the hell do you tell somebody about this kind of thing, Luke wondered? The birds and the bees talk. Wasn’t that the stuff parents were meant to do?

Just like they DIDN'T for you, he reminded himself.

It was true, the only way he’d found out about the most important thing he knew of to do with sex, was via some dirty mags. And they’d been brought in by guys at school who he hardly trusted at the best of times! Better it come from him, than that.

"Well?"

Luke took a deep breath. "It's called masturbating...." he began, flushing at the admission.

The blank look he got back put to rest any hope that the mere use of the quite embarrassing word would be enough. Resigned, he tried again.

"Okay...well have you ever heard of wanking?"

Simon’s brow furrowed innocently. "You mean like calling someone a wanker? What's it got to do with that?"

Pretty much everything, Luke smirked to himself. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he went on to give his fascinated younger brother a potted version of what he'd discovered. Of course, that same curious brother had to try it straight away!

"So you just rub it, you say - and it feels good?" Simon demanded.

"It's amazing...trust me!" replied Luke, heaving himself off the bed, to return to his own room. He turned at the door to find that Simon had already pulled down his zip and flipped out his smallish, limp dick. Yet he made such a hash of attacking it that Luke wasn't at all surprised when, after half a disappointing minute, he complained that his arm was aching. It was hardly even getting stiff!

"You’re not doing it right,” Luke admonished. “You're gonna pull it off in a minute!" From his vantage point, leaning against the doorframe, he shook his head in exasperation.

“I’m only doing what you said!”

“But you still have to do it right.”

“How do YOU do it then?” snapped Simon, looking humiliated by the lack of results.

“Do you want me to show you?’”

Simon pulled a face. “Bog off! You’re not touching my dick!”

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Luke evenly, turning to leave. He hardly made it through the bathroom and out into his own room again, before Simon called after him.

"Okay...okay! Just this once," he warned, "and don't you ever dare tell anyone!"

Luke grinned and came back across, prepared to take over to show his brother how to do it properly. Up till then, Simon had just unzipped and had been attacking his cock as it stuck out through the opening; a reluctant and somewhat bashful worm.

Clearly, that wasn't getting him anywhere, Luke thought, so suggested what usually worked for him. "Come on. Jeans off!"

Simon was dubious. “I’m not taking off my jeans!”

"Look," said Luke reasonably, "if you're going to do this, then at least learn to do it properly."

“Why does that mean I have to take my jeans off?”

“Because it just feels better, and stuff doesn't get in the way, that’s all!” replied Luke, exasperated again. “That’s how I do it, and I’m only trying to help! But if you think you know better, I'm happy to leave you to it!” he looked pointedly at the door.

There was an uneasy pause, while Simon tried to decide between the best of two evils: lose this potentially important lesson, or lose his jeans.

“I’ll pull them down a bit – that’s all!” he negotiated, finally. “And if I like it enough, then I’ll maybe take them off next time. Please...can’t we just try it like that for now?”

Luke relented. To be fair, it was quite a big step Simon was taking.

“OK, I’m sure it’ll be fine that way. Just pull them down so they don’t get in the way.”

Simon nodded in relief and quickly peeled his jeans off his backside and down to the top of his legs. While Luke went to lock BOTH the doors to his brother’s room, he told Simon to sit back on his bed and pull his tee-shirt up out of the way too.

Anticipation had played its part. Even now Luke could see that the ‘worm’ was plumping up, pressing out firmly against the inside of Simon’s traditional, tighty-whitey, ‘Fruit of the Loom’ briefs. He smirked. That’s what you got if you let Mum buy them for you!

"Now what are you laughing at?" muttered Simon.

"I was just thinking you might want to try going out and buying some boxers or something." He grinned, kneeling down next to the bed to get into a comfortable position; a bed that was the sibling of his own. "You're getting a bit old for underpants like that!" He’d told his Mum, some time ago, that guys of his age wore boxers, and had dumped the briefs as fast as he could!

Simon shrugged, unimpressed. "What's wrong with them?"

What was right with them was the better question, but Luke let it drop.

"OK, fish it out," he said.

Simon nodded and pushed down his white briefs. Not much, but enough to release a quite respectable looking dick; one which, even now, had begun to protrude proudly. However, while Luke had already sprouted quite a few bushy pubes, Simon was WAY behind!

Abruptly, Simon sat up again and covered his expanding dick with his hand. "You're not gonna hurt me are you?"

"Do you want to do this or not?” Luke sat back on his haunches, wishing his brother would make up his mind. “Look, I'm not going to hurt you,” he placated, “but, if you don't wanna do it, just say!"

"OK...but...well, I don't know...just be careful!"

"Trust me...you’re really going to enjoy it!" Luke grinned encouragingly as he reached over to give Simon his best shot!

Using finger and thumb, he moved the skin of the shaft gently, setting up a simple yet seductive rocking motion, with the intent of eliciting a response. Simon grunted and wiggled, aware that what Luke was doing was quite different to his own attempts. The technique successfully completed what had already been well under way. Within thirty seconds, Luke could see he was ready.

As he lengthened to his full size, Luke examined it critically, astonished to discover that the little brother he’d grown up around, could be as capable of an erection as he was himself! Though still rather thin, the shaft was respectably long and now completely stiff.

He took it in his full grip and, pretty expertly – at least, he thought – Luke continued to manipulate him.

* * *

Extract from Luke's Diary:

Looking back, I guess it was the first time for both of us. I knew what was about to happen. It was likely he was gonna cum for the first time, and it was the first time I’d ever done it to someone else. I admit we were both excited!

His cock looked pretty much like mine; a bit smaller, and less the hairy bits, of course. Back then, we both had what I assumed to be the normal uncircumcised version. I think if somebody had told me that the tip was meant to be loose and skin back down the shaft on its own accord, to show off the glans when stiff, I could have saved myself months of irritated frustration. But mine didn't and his didn't and there were no other foreskins around I could compare them too.

Please don’t think badly of us.

Maybe it shocks you that we did that together? For us, it wasn’t really like that. Maybe we were naïve, but we never considered it as wrong or bad. As brothers, we trusted each other. It was just one of those things that happened, as we lived and learned together.

I often wondered if the future could have turned out differently if it had never happened? Maybe it was my fault? What if he’d never walked in on me? What if I’d locked the door?

* * *

It didn't take long before the stimulation was beginning to make Simon squirm, as it induced something he'd never felt before.

“See – like this,” Luke explained, making the most of his role as class tutor. “You don’t have to grab it hard – just hold it lightly and roll the skin up and down the shaft.”

"God, Luke, this is incredible,” Simon shivered, staring intently down at himself. “Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

"You didn't ask, dork!" Luke smirked, happy his brother was enjoying the ride. Of course, he hadn't been doing it long himself, but wasn't going to tell him! “The really sensitive part is near the top - you just have to try rubbing in different ways to see what you like."

"When did you get hair?" Simon asked curiously. "You do have hair, don't you?"

"Pubes you mean? Of course I have them! Don't worry, I’m sure yours will come soon enough."

Simon grew quiet. Hearing his breathing change, Luke knew he was getting close.

“When you get some practice, you can squeeze the end and keep it in the tip, but until then, you might want to have some tissue paper handy,” Luke advised. “If you’re not in the shower, that is.”

“Tissue paper? For what?”

“For this…”

Simon had become increasingly flushed and agitated. Abruptly, he reached down to stop the hand that was playing him.

"Eh...Luke it's kind of weird...I feel funny. I think I need to pee..."

"Aha," Luke said, brushing his hand away. He’d once been exactly where Simon was, and wasn’t about to let him chicken out! "Here comes your first one. You're in for a bit of a surprise!" Without explaining what he meant, he speeded up.

The slightly strangled grunt caused him to look up to see his brother's eyes tightly shut.

“I’m not sure,” Simon gasped. “I think you’d better stop. Something’s wrong.” Even as Simon uttered those words, he knew that, whatever it was, it was too late.

His face screwed up and, after a few moments, his fists grabbed the bedding and he groaned, as he balanced on the brink of climax. Dreading the unknown, he instinctively squeezed muscles that tried to hold back the inevitable, unaware that it would just make the impending explosion more devastating.

Agonizingly pleasurable, he lost the battle. It detonated and the poor lad was swept over the edge, squealing and digging his heels into the bed with the intensity of what consumed him. Luke continued to pump him through it, and several respectable squirts of a clear fluid shot from his dick, onto his tummy. He moaned in pleasure, as the aftershocks diminished. "OH MY GOD! What was that?"

Luke watched him fondly as Simon slowly came down from his first-ever ejaculation. There would be many more, but those he would be quite capable of handling himself!

Still flushed and breathing heavily, Simon slowly sat up. "Hell, I didn't know it could do that...that was awesome!"

Luke got a tissue and handed it to his brother.

"Welcome to sex, little brother!" He grinned and held out the bin for the sticky wipe.

What Simon did after that day, he never knew and certainly never asked. What he did know was that, from that moment on, Simon often took as long in the shower as he did!

4. Harry, Hedwig and Homosexuality

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Harry, Hedwig and Homosexuality

He liked Ryan Alexis. So? There was nothing wrong about that, Luke decided, as he watched his friend drift around on the water in front of him.

A little smaller than himself, Ryan's short-cropped, black hair complemented a dark complexion. Either he spent a lot of time in the sun, or he was just lucky. In time, Luke discovered it was a bit of both. The pair hung out a LOT, and it was handy that Ry’s place was an easy bike ride from his.

Three years ago, almost to the week, Luke mused, as he sat on the edge of the pool. Three years since he’d come to this country. Three years since he’d first walked into their class at the Academy and been introduced as ‘the boy from London’, by the Principal.

During those first weeks, however, if you’d told Luke that the dark haired kid drifting in the water in front of him, who’d seemed so obnoxious at the time, would become his closest friend, he would have been REALLY surprised. While everyone else was flocking around his celebrity status, Ryan had been distant, unwilling to even say hello.

Popular guy or not, Ryan Alexis had seemed - in the Queen’s English - a bit of prat!

Dangling his legs in the water, he watched Ryan fondly and shook his head, wondering how it had gone so fast.

It was a roasting summer's day. A school day - hot and long, like most others that mid August. Being only the first week of the fall semester, at least the homework schedule hadn’t yet kicked into high gear. The final bell had come and the school emptied rapidly. Thirty minutes later, after dumping his bags in the house and quickly changing, he’d biked over to Ryan’s for a swim.

* * *

Extract from Luke's Notes:

I headed over to the Alexis place, for a dip, as fast as possible after school that day. I changed quickly into the swim shorts I'd brought and, joined by Ry, threw myself into the cool water, in relief. Man, it was good! His parents were in, but we stayed out of their way. To be honest, I didn't particularly like them, but Ry wasn't like them AT all.

After messing around in the water for a bit, I pulled myself out and lay back on the edge of the pool, with my feet dangling over the side. I loved their pool. It was big – not Olympic big – but big enough to make a splash! It would have been a brilliant setting for a pool party, for a birthday or something, with room for dozens. However, for other reasons, he never had friends around like that. To be honest, with parents like his, who would? Usually it was just the two of us. That worked okay.

The sun was just right. My life was just right. It was just…perfect!

It’d been a long day at school but, to be honest, I was glad to be back. Ry went away on holiday with his family at the end of the summer break and the last week and a half had been painfully slow. Now he was back, the new semester was under way, and we just picked up where we left off.

Sitting up to rest on my elbows, I smiled to myself as he drifted around in front of me on his back. He was lying on one of those air filled waterbeds that make pools more fun, kicking his legs gently in the water for steerage. The sun glinted off the rivers of water that occasionally washed across his torso. He was unbelievably brown, having really caught the sun that summer. I guess we both had!

“It’s the tennis tryouts tomorrow,” murmured Ryan, his eyes closed against the afternoon sun. “I assume you’re going for the team again this year?” Neither of us expected NOT to be chosen for the squad, but you still needed to attend the tryouts.

“Actually I was thinking of doing football.”

Amusement crossed his face, as he continued to drift lazily in the sunshine. We both knew it was unlikely. Football and I did NOT get on. If he’d wanted to, he could probably have made the team – he just couldn’t be bothered.

“I hear they’re looking to start a cheerleader team. You’d be good at that.”

“Piss off.” I grinned amiably, kicking water that sprayed across him. Ours was an ‘all boys’ school and the likelihood of there being cheerleaders was about as far fetched as coach going on his knees and begging me to try for quarterback! Ryan ignored the soaking. In this part of the world and at this time of year, I’d long since got over the fact that you didn’t jump up screaming, if cold water landed on you. Beads of water formed on his skin, and I followed them as they hurried to make their way back to where they’d come from.

Observing him critically, I followed the tanned skin down to the black hipster swim trunks he was sporting again that day; the ones he’d picked up earlier in the summer. He often had them on. Dark colors, even black, looked good on him.

Not me - I liked wild, garish patterns!

I passed over the trunks and then caught up with his tanned skin, as it reappeared on muscular thighs. Legs where dark hairs now grew; no longer kid’s legs. With a pool just outside the back door, he swam like a fish and made good use of those muscles.

In retrospect, what happened next was a critical turning point for me. Maybe you would call it a watershed moment; as much a watershed as it was for those beads of water, slipping off his flat abdomen, deciding to go down either one side or the other. A turning point because, after following the tanned skin to his knees, my gaze turned and I walked it back up to the trunks to study the sleek dark material stretched tightly over a distinct bulge in his groin.

What I was thinking was rather a surprise. It went WAY past anything normal I’d ever entertained with him. With any guy really. Even though I knew quite well what he looked like under there, I found myself trying to conjure it up in my mind, secretly willing the trunks to evaporate!

It was hypnotic and the more I thought about it, the more my dick stirred; and that continued, uncontrolled, until he turned his head towards me and smiled.

Uncomfortable, I quickly shifted down into the water.

Diving, I swam along the bottom to the far wall before surfacing, to push gently back through the water towards him. Now, of course, that smile probably meant nothing. How could he have ANY idea what thoughts I was having as I’d watched him?

It pulled me back to reality with a sharp jerk. Shit, what was I thinking? I shook water from my eyes whilst trying to shake the unwelcome images from my head.

That was when it started – that day, at his house, in the pool. Since those moments in the cool waters, I begun to notice him in ways that’d never been there before.

It was a bit disturbing.

* * *

It’d been round about the same time, that the Summers family officially got online at home. Just after the summer of their third year in the States, Luke's parents had got a desktop computer, for him and Simon to share. For the sake of 'homework research', it came with a modem. He'd begun to ‘explore’, and it wasn't too long after that he’d first approached his mum and dad about his desire to be circumcised.

The computer had also brought him Facebook.

Everyone was getting into Facebook and Luke was no different, though how he’d ended up with Damon Jamieson as a Facebook friend, he wasn’t entirely sure. It was, most likely, during a time when he was adding more people than he was deleting. The guy probably came from some long list of ‘people you might possibly know’, sent to him from someone else’s 'friends' list. He was tending to say yes to lots of them, thinking he could always get rid of them later, if he wanted. Anyway, it was quite cool for others to see you had a lot of friends on your Facebook!

Cool or not, Luke had eventually posted a disclaimer on his Wall, to tell everyone that he was pruning his lists, offering apologies if he inadvertently knocked off anyone that mattered. Okay, maybe the wording could have been better! However, Damon had come back to him, with some quite amusing reply. On the strength of it, Luke had left him on and from then they started dropping the odd note to each other and commenting more frequently on each other’s postings.

Damon was just an ordinary guy – about the same age as himself - who lived somewhere up near New York. And that was it. That was all Luke really knew about him to begin with. Yet, through Facebook, an easy friendship sprang up.

Eventually they’d chatted and Luke found him surprisingly easy to talk to. He even found himself perusing Damon’s friend and group lists. You could tell a LOT about someone, if you looked to see who their friends were!

As he explored, he got the distinct impression (from the various subjects and comments, and the groups Damon subscribed to) that the New Yorker was possibly – no, probably - gay. Nothing was ever said between them that made Luke feel uncomfortable, and it was still only a light acquaintance. They chatted, maybe once every couple of weeks, if they happened to be simultaneously logged in, but nothing more.

* * *

It’d been on a cold, wet and completely boring Saturday afternoon, around four months later, just after Thanksgiving, that Simon wandered into his room and sat on the bed, looking out of sorts. From where he was reading, comfortably curled into a soft chair, Luke glanced inquiringly over the top of his book. Nothing was immediately forthcoming, so he ignored his brother.

A small noise got his attention, and he looked up. Simon seemed to be teetering on the edge of something, but the moment passed and he became distracted by a noise from outside and wandered out. Still, it was obvious something was on his mind. Luke shrugged and went back to his book.

Simon’d left both interconnecting doors open and, from where he was sitting in his chair, Luke could see him standing by his own bedroom window, staring out into the drizzle. He disappeared from view and Luke went back to reading. Some minutes later, engrossed in a good chapter, he glanced up again, to see Simon standing quite close, watching him.

"Okay, what's up?" Luke put down his book, fully expecting to hear how life...and particularly parents...were against him in some new and evil way.

"Oh...nothing...I'm fine..."

Sure, Luke thought to himself, with mild irritation. He opened up the Harry Potter book once more, only to find, looking up a few sentences on, Simon was still there!

"Do you mind? I'm trying to read!"

"Oh - sorry."

"Anyway, I thought you were going out?"

"I am...was...it's raining." Simon moved to peer out of window and Luke tried to ignore him, going back to his re-read of 'The Prisoner of Azkaban'.

Over the next minutes, Simon wandered aimlessly, picking things up and fiddling with them for no apparent reason. Luke watched him out of the corner of his eye, amused. After a while, he left, went back through into their shared bathroom and began messing with the lights. Luke could see him staring into the mirror, as if what he was seeking would somehow be staring back.

For Luke, reading the Potter book had taken him back to life in England - and Harry was as British as they came; not that any of the Summers family had lived in castles or flew broomsticks. They didn’t - at least that he knew of - and he'd never met anyone else could. Still, England was special. It’d always been the place that made him - him. At least he'd always thought it had.

Maybe not anymore? Did he miss it?

Yes. No. Maybe? Actually, the truth was, he hardly thought about it anymore.

Maybe it was only the idea of England that he missed.

It would be Christmas soon and he kind of missed Christmas in England, although perhaps it was still the idea of Christmas that he missed. And the Pantomime. ‘It's behind you!’, they would all squeal, seated up in ‘the gods’. He missed that.

And snow. That was the big thing for ANY kid - would it snow on Christmas day? They’d all used to hope so but, of course, near London, it hardly ever did. Snow was even less likely, near Atlanta!

Christmas. Dumbledore and Privet Drive; Harry and Hedwig in the snow at Hogwarts...

He drifted back from his musings as Simon, yet again, wandered into his room. Unexpectedly, his brother went to the door that led out to the landing, closing it softly.

What the heck did he want? Guessing he wouldn't say until he was ready, Luke just waited.

“Luke...I...can I ask you something…?"

“I wish you would!” Luke replied, dryly.

“What…?”

Luke shook his head, in exasperation. “Forget it – just tell me what you want!”

“Oh…well…err…nothing….”

"Oh, come on. ENOUGH already!"

Simon looked uncomfortable, before finally blurting it out. "What do you think about being gay?" There was an awkward pause. “I was just wondering…you know…”

THAT got Luke’s attention. BIG TIME!

A ripple of dread disrupted his wellbeing, as the unwanted question hung there menacingly. ’What do you think about being gay…?’ He looked up sharply, but Simon wouldn’t look him in the eye and was now fiddling with one of his nails, waiting.

In fact he thought LOTS about that topic these days, though not for one minute did he really believe that he, himself was gay. Of course, there were plenty of people who were – even some quite famous ones - but it wouldn't ever happen to him. It couldn’t. That would be WAY too weird and he could think of no scenario where having that happen would EVER be good.

Not that there was anything particularly wrong with gay people he reminded himself. Other than they were just...well...homosexuals. So why did it feel wrong to be a homosexual? Wasn’t that even illegal in some places? Maybe. But gay? No, gay was probably OK. It just sounded...well, a bit better. More acceptable.

Of course there were plenty of other words, not quite so kind, and he’d grown up calling people 'Poofs' for all kinds of reasons. None of it really meant the kid was actually gay. It was just a word. What’s wrong with a word?

Still, it was better to be gay than be a homosexual, ‘cos being a homosexual put you on a par with the queers and all the other poofs.

Get a GRIP! He tried to clear his mind and focus. While he accepted that he’d been looking at guys quite a bit, mostly he was just curious. It was a phase. Still, he HAD been thinking about it.

Even so, he definitely couldn’t be - WASN’T - gay.

Suddenly, it hit him like a ton of bricks. He grew cold and then hot. That was it, wasn’t it? It HAD to be! Simon really believed he WAS gay, and this was his way of broaching it. Could he be read as easily as the book that rested on his knee? Vainly, he tried not to appear flustered.

"Oh...I don't know...nobody ever asked me that before." Already several versions of adamant denial were forming in the back of his mind. "Why do you want to know?"

Luke thought fast. What had people been saying? Had they noticed something too and been talking behind his back, added a few assumptions and started pointing fingers at him? Is THAT what Simon had come to warn him about? He looked up fearfully, expecting to see the accusation and already getting angry about it, but Simon was still unable to look him in the eye.

"Oh...nothing. Just wondering," Simon shrugged.

Just wondering WHAT? The conversation stalled and Simon went to stare out of the window across the back lawn.

"So...have you heard of someone who’s gay?" Luke voiced his fear, already dreading the answer. He needed to find out what it was that Simon suspected. “Someone at school?”

"At school? I guess so...maybe."

Shit. It was ominous.

"Listen, why don't you just tell me what's bugging you?"

Simon shrugged and came and sat on the edge of the bed. His face was a mask.

Luke began to panic. “Come on – what’s wrong?” He waited, but Simon still didn’t seem prepared to come out and say it and he swallowed hard. “It’s not what …" he started. "I mean whatever they’re…”

"Well...I...it's..." Simon interrupted. The mask collapsed and his distress became apparent. Tormented, he tried to gather himself and hold it together. Finally he just sobbed. "I don't know if I want to be gay. I...I'm really scared!"

For the briefest of moments, all the wrong things went rushing through Luke’s head.

OH MY GOD! He’s a homosexual!

Embarrassment. Fear.

Poof.

“Please don’t hate me. I’m sorry.” Simon gulped out his words. “Just don’t hate me, I couldn’t bear it…”

Luke wondered if his brother had heard those silent condemnations and felt sick; sick with himself, that he’d been so quick to treat him like some leper.

His own brother.

SHIT…this was NOT what he’d expected. At best he’d expected to hear some juicy gossip about some kids at school, caught with their pants down. At worst, about himself. Not this!

Quickly, he shifted from his chair and came to sit next to him on the bed, putting his arm around Simon, as he shook. Some corrupt place in his soul told Luke that his brother had just confessed to being a queer, and here he was, cuddling him. He told the voice to piss off and held Simon, securely, as he tried to get his words out.

After a few moments, Simon got hold of himself and calmed down. Frozen, he stared at the floor.

”You think you might be?" Luke ventured carefully, trying to get him to talk.

Simon shrugged. "Yep!" he said forlornly. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

"Errr…why?" It seemed such a difficult thing to be sure of, Luke felt. From his own research, he knew people thought lots of different things about what it meant to be gay – and why it was that people ended up that way.

Simon was quiet for a few moments, and then sighed. "I like guys." He kept his eyes off anything but the floor.

"Oh."

And that was it. All those psycho-babble musings were swept away. Simon liked guys; and wasn’t that what homosexuality came down to in the end? Luke faced the word head on this time.

He considered again what he thought about gay people. There were some openly gay kids at school. Not many - a few. They seemed nice enough, though he couldn't say he knew them that well. In fact, he only knew about it because someone had pointed one of them out. Some kids were a bit nasty to them but, on reflection, those were the kind who were nasty to anyone, if they got a chance.

He wasn’t at all homophobic!

Really...?

Well, at least he’d thought about it a lot and had read stuff about gay teens on the web.

‘Not a choice,’ many decided.

‘Genetic makeup’, they claimed.

Maybe I am gay, he’d wondered at the time? He certainly had little interest in girls, but he’d dismissed it. For God’s sake, he was only fifteen! Anyway, stuff like that only ever happened to other people – ones who usually had lots of other weird issues as well. Nope, being gay wasn’t anything that really affected him.

Until now.

Until his own brother had walked into his room, a few minutes ago.

But then there was Ryan, he reminded himself. Ryan Alexis. That had been a disturbing dilemma for some time and one that he was determined to keep to himself. He turned back to Simon.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

And Simon did. In the privacy of his room that day, several weeks before Christmas, he unloaded. Luke did nothing more than listen for what felt like an age, though it must have only been a few minutes. He listened as, piece by piece, Simon spilled it all out, needing someone to talk to; someone to tell, in safety. Finally he stopped talking and looked relieved. Luke knew that the burden had passed to him and Simon expected him to put it right. Make sense of it, like he always did.

He sighed. What was he supposed to think anymore? The Prisoner of Azkaban, still lying on the bed beside them, could give no answers. Unlike Harry or Hermione, there was no spell or incantation that he could offer. No cloak of invisibility that could make it disappear. He pulled Simon closer in another side-by-side hug.

He repeated what he’d read. "Si, I think we often have no choice about these things." He wondered if that was true. It sounded right. "Maybe the important thing is to be happy with who you are. And if you prefer to be with other guys at the moment...” he shrugged, “…then, why not?"

Simon brightened considerably. "You're cool with it then?"

"Very cool!" Luke assured him, putting aside his questions for now, and making his choice, repeating the hug.

Simon smiled and hugged him back. "Thanks!"

Luke got up, to stretch his legs and to ease the tension. He picked up his book and slid redundant Harry back on the shelf. “Come on, I was going to make a hot chocolate. Want one?”

Simon brightened. “Are there any packets with the marshmallows left?”

“I think so – let’s go look.”

The pair went downstairs, to find their dad throwing logs onto a newly lit fire. THAT was more like it, Luke grinned as he watched it crackle energetically. This was why they had fires in houses like theirs!

In the corner, the well-decorated tree glistened, filling the room with the rich scent of Christmas fir. A fire and a warm room that made it home and drew them together. Perfect for days like today.

“We’re making hot chocolate, Dad. Do you want one?”

“Mmmm – that sounds nice." Geoff Summers looked up as he threw the last of the logs into the growing flames. "Are there any of the marshmallow ones left? Oh – and while you’re heading that way, can you bring in some more logs?”

After putting the kettle on, the boys went through the connecting door to the double garage. Along one wall, a huge pile of drying wood was hoarded, and Luke held out his arms for Simon to begin stacking.

"So, is there a particular someone that this is about?"

“What?”

“You know what I mean,” Luke teased.

Simon looked coy. "Well, I really like Toby," he finally admitted.

“Toby? Toby Skerrit?” The realization that being gay was more than just an ‘idea’, and actually involved real people that Luke knew, took some getting used to. Simon chewed his lip uncomfortably.

"Oh, he's nice," Luke agreed quickly, actually not at all surprised, now he came to think about it.

He was a nice kid. He and Simon had hit it off within a few months of them arriving in the country. They spent lots of time together, even though Toby had a tendency to be a bit prickly and, when the two of them first started hanging out, Si would frequently get TOTALLY fed up with Toby's ability to go off the deep end! More recently, he seemed to have mellowed and came by their house often. He could see how Simon could like him.

"Really? Do you think so?" Simon looked up hopefully. “You think he’s nice?”

Toby. Toby Skerrit. Cute, if a little fiery at times! Used to wear round-rimmed glasses, just like Harry, Luke smirked to himself, though he had noticed more recently that they’d gone. Contacts probably.

"Absolutely - I mean it's not like you don't know anything about him. Does he ...errr you know..." Christ, thought Luke, this was new ground! "Does he, I mean, is he like you?"

Simon just sighed. "Is he gay you mean? I think so. Maybe. I keep wondering.” He hefted a couple of equal sized chunks of tree, weighing one in each hand. “But is he really? I don't know. Probably not! Damn, how do you know if someone likes you?"

Don't ask me, Luke thought, wondering the same thing. Not a clue.

"Take your time, I guess?“ he hazarded. “And, if you're gay; if that really is how you are, then it probably won't go away.” Briefly, he wondered - as with a number of things he’d said over the last twenty minutes - if that was actually true! “Perhaps there's no way of really knowing, other than by being with someone and seeing if that's what you want?"

Luke looked thoughtful. "I guess you need to be careful though...with who you tell, I mean," he added, a sense of caution reasserting itself. “Even with Toby…until you’re sure.”

"Maybe." Simon nodded as he considered both that and the wood in Luke’s arms. "Enough logs?"

The pile stacked in Luke's arms was getting heavy. "Just one more - that small one, maybe?"

Simon picked it up, but hesitated nervously. "You're not going to tell Mum and Dad, are you?"

Now that was something Luke WAS sure about. "Not a chance! Right now it's just between me and you!" He thought a moment and then qualified. "Actually it's between me, you and Toby!"

They both sniggered. It seemed a good place to stop. Simon flicked off the lights and they returned, with the logs and to make the drinks.

Frothy marshmallow in hand, the family congregated around the blazing fire, and Simon seemed to get back to more of his usual, irrepressibly confident self. Half an hour later, despite the on and off rain, he pulled on a coat.

"I'm going out - I'll see you later."

"Going where?" Luke teased.

"Mind your own business!" Simon flicked the top of Luke’s head with his fingers and smirked. They both knew where he would be. He left Luke sitting with Harry and Hedwig, staring into the roaring flames, still trying to make some sense of it all.

5. Food for Thought

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Food for Thought

February rolled around. It was a weekend and the Summers clan were out for lunch because, on most Sundays, they usually worshipped at that greatest of American institutions.

Longhorns Steakhouse!

Luke felt that a good Sunday lunch made up for Sunday afternoon. Okay, to be more honest, usually it made up for Sunday evening; a time often consumed with trying to complete the homework assignments, that were currently coming thick and fast.

Most Sundays, they ate out. Because America knew how to do food!

Back in England, other than to McDonalds or to a pizza place as a treat before the movies, they hardly EVER went out. Here, people seemed to do it all the time. He knew some families that almost never dined at home, spending the week trailing around the huge variety of restaurants. IHOP, Chilli's, Cracker Barrel, TGI Fridays, Frankie & Benny's, Outback, Ruby Tuesdays; Luke was happy to eat at any of them, but 8 times out of 10, they all voted for Longhorns, for a serious meat fest!

* * *

Luke's Notes

Even Dad had been seduced by the eating culture, and would often leave the house early on a workday, to 'do' breakfast. It was code for an early morning start to the work schedule; a business meeting with colleagues, over hash browns. No wonder he’d put on weight!

I'd been out to breakfast plenty of times too. Trust me, I've got no problems eating the food. It was working through the choices that had been freaky, at first!

Back in England, the few times we'd eaten breakfast in a restaurant (usually if we'd been doing B&B in some hotel), there had usually only been a couple of options. You could either go for the artery blocking ‘Full English’, or the less than appetizing, and slightly anemic, ‘Continental Breakfast’. That was it. Whatever option you chose, you got whatever was dropped on the plate in front of you.

Not here. Here, whatever you ordered, the choices were complicated. It went something like this:

“Eggs?”

“Oh, errr, yes please.”

“How?”

“On a plate...?”

“Boiled, fried, scrambled, poached, steamed, baked, coddled, omletted, benedicted...?

“Oh, right…mmm. What was the list, again? Never mind…I’ll have fried.”

“Over hard, over medium, over easy?’

“Over here would be good…”

“Sunny side up?”

“What’s that?”

Then you had to go through it all again, with the bread, having access to every variety and stage of toasted-ness!

“Grits?”

GRITS? Now there was a culture clash! For a young lad, like me, coming here from London, the idea of eating grit seemed hilarious!

The first thing to avoid getting confused with, were WalMart Gritters. They were a different kind of grit altogether. Theirs was a grit you couldn’t eat it; neither would you find the Gritters in the huge parking lot, throwing sand at everyone, just in case there was snow on them! No, the WalMart Gritters were a bunch of extremely jovial old folk (clearly well into retirement), who wore the WalMart uniform and stood at the door to grit (greet) you, as you entered the store.

Paid to ensure you were having a nice day, the Gritters were fabulous people!

Okay – ‘nuff said about food!

* * *

However, though it was the weekend, that particular day wasn't a Sunday. In fact, it was Saturday, and the Summers family were heading up to the lake. They were due to go over to the Kears the following day, and that messed up the normal schedule. To make up or it, as they headed to the lake for an afternoon of sailing, they unanimously voted to worship at Longhorns on the way. Arriving at the restaurant well ahead of the crowds, they planned to eat early. Inside, it wasn't busy, at all.

The four of them were promptly seated around one of the secluded round booths they preferred and, within a few minutes, a girl came to take their order. They recognized her at once. She'd been there a couple of months - one of the many young people, of Luke’s age, who took part-time jobs in places like Longhorns, to earn extra cash.

"Hello Stacey." Lucy Summers smiled brightly, as the young girl first gave their table a quick wipe-over with a cloth, and then whipped out her pad and pencil. “How are you today?”

"Hi y'all," she beamed. “I’m good thanks!” The smile wandered over to Luke and twinkled. "This is a nice surprise. Don't you folks usually come in on a Sunday?"

Simon smirked and kicked Luke under the table. Retaining a polite demeanor above the waist, he kicked back. Stacey pressed on. "So - what can I get y'all to drink?" They ordered their usual iced, sweet tea, and she bustled off.

"She’s a nice girl," Lucy Summers noted, to nobody in particular. "I think her mother teaches at Creek Elementary." Unlike many of the girls her age, Stacey didn’t doll herself up with layers of make-up. However, that didn’t mean she was plain.

Stacey returned promptly, balancing huge glasses on a tray; not that they actually needed to be big. That was the other thing that made America a great nation - free refills!

She distributed the drinks and pulled out her pencil again. "Y'all ready?" she chimed in her dulcet southern tones. They nodded and she began to work around the table, until she got to Luke. "Will that be the Ribeye, as usual, Luke?"

He tried to look cool, whilst his innards remained fully flustered. Oh my God, he thought, a little embarrassed. Not only had she remembered my name, but even what I liked to order! "Oh...errr...yes, I guess so." It came out, in a less than distinguished croak. "Errrr...thanks." As Stacey eyed him coyly, he saw his dad smirk from behind his menu.

"You're welcome!" She beamed at him. Luke happened to be sitting on the end of the circular seat that curved around their table, and she 'accidentally' nudged him, as she leaned over to gather the menus.

Once she was out of earshot, Simon made some rather obscene kissing noises. "She has SO got the hots for Luke!"

'Pack it in!" Luke muttered.

His dad's smirk grew. "She does seem nice..."

Actually, he was right. She was nice. In fact she was a stunner, with a personality to go with it. It’s not that he wasn’t flattered – it was just things were a little more complicated than that.

"She's not my type..."

"Oh yes - and what is your type then?" teased his Dad, leaning back, amused. "It's obvious she likes you. You could date worse! Why don't you ask her out?"

What was his type? To that, Luke had no answer and sipped at his drink, glowering at the table, in silence. Simon giggled, earning him another kick.

"Ouch...stop it," Simon whined and rubbed his leg, milking the moment. "Mum, tell him to stop kicking me!"

"OK - break it up you lot,” ordered Lucy. She’d been watching quietly from the side, and came to Luke’s rescue. “When, and who, Luke chooses to date is his own business. He certainly DOESN’T need you two to arrange it for him! Let's change the subject shall we?"

"Well, I'm going to the salad bar!” Simon sucked at his drink and then scrambled out of the booth. “But, I think I need a pee first."

His mum called after him. "Don’t forget to wash your hands!" She considered the menu again. "I think I'll pass on dessert today. I'll have some salad too." With that, she followed her youngest out of the booth, leaving Luke and his father alone, both of whom holding out for meat AND dessert.

As they waited, Geoff Summers picked up the menu again, squinting at it. He took off his glasses and squinted again, trying different combinations of glasses and distance, to see if any of it made a difference.

"Either I need new specs, or they're making these menus smaller!" he grunted.

Luke couldn’t hold back a grin. "It's ‘cos you spend all day looking at computers and spreadsheets, Dad. And you're getting old!"

"Alright, alright. I know you think I'm an old fart,” laughed Geoff. “You don't need to remind me!" He gave up trying to see the menu and put his glasses back on. The two of them were sitting next to each other and he stretched out his legs, comfortably. Lowering his voice, he broached what had been on his mind that morning. "Mum and I were talking about you last night.”

“Oh yes? Good or bad – and what about?”

“Surgery.” Geoff paused and tried not to grin. In the circumstances, grinning wouldn’t help. “Mum and I got the last paper you printed out for us.” On a regular basis, for months now, Luke had been printing out, and passing them, what he saw as relevant information, with regards to circumcision. He'd become a persistent little blighter...a bit like his father, Lucy had complained!

“Did she read it?”

“I think she glanced through it," It was a generous claim. He kept his voice low, for which Luke was grateful. They’d been talking about the subject, on and off, for a while now. It wasn’t new. "I see you’re still keen to have the operation?"

"Nothing’s changed, if that’s what you mean?”

Playing with the glass in front of him, Geoff nodded. However, it had been going on far too long. Enough was enough, and these endless ‘papers’ needed to stop. It was time to put this one to bed and to talk some sense into his son. "Luke, what if we’d still been living in the UK?"

"Meaning what?"

Geoff waited a moment, while some other diners passed out of earshot. "I mean would you have still wanted to be circumcised, if we were there?" Surely Luke could see what the point was.

Luke shrugged. "I doubt it..."

Bingo!

"...but we're not living there are we," he finished.

Geoff’s forehead furrowed. "But, then why..."

Luke interrupted. "Dad, will we ever go back to England?"

The question took him by surprise. It wasn’t as if he and Lucy had never thought about that particular question before. He’d always assumed they would always go back – when the time was right. Wondering where Luke was going with it, he sat up, leaning into the rounded table, as he considered the question again.

"Sometime, probably. When, I'm not sure." He shrugged as he computed the options. "At the very least, it won’t be until schooling for the two of you has finished; probably college too. Then would be a good time to go back.”

“But why would we want to?”

His son’s question surprised him. “Why wouldn’t we? I don’t get you? It’s…”

“Home?” Luke completed, with a wry shrug. "That’s the thing, Dad. It's not home anymore. Not for me." Luke spoke softly, pouring salt from the shaker onto the table, stirring complex patterns into it. “When we came here, I admit, I hated it - but that's years ago. It’s different now. Everything I know is here. All my friends. I’m even beginning to sound American, for goodness sake!" He’d never really verbalized it quite like that before, and he could see his dad considering him in a new light.

"What about you?" Luke took it a bit further. "What if I did fall in love with someone from around here - maybe even married? Simon too? Would you go back to the UK, or would you stay here with us?"

Geoff shrugged, at a loss. He had no answers. "This is a bit heavy for Longhorns isn't it?" Belatedly, he realized that his sons would need to make their own choices in life.

"Yep - a bit, you're probably right.” Luke grinned. “But you started it! You're the one who wanted to know if I’d still have wanted to be circumcised, if we’d been in England."

At that point, Stacey swung by to check on them. "You folks need a refill?" she inquired, checking the glasses.

The conversation switched.

"No, we're good thanks!" Luke smiled at her. She was nice. He just needed to stop being uptight about it, he realized.

"Have you made a mess, Luke?" She scolded him playfully, seeing the trail of salt scattered in front of him.

"Oops, sorry..."

She reached across him and skillfully magicked it away, leaving him with a faint scent of roses.

"Thanks." Luke had leaned back to study her, as she did her job. So what if almost every other conversation at school these days was about some girlfriend? He didn’t have one, but that didn’t mean there was anything wrong with him – at least Stacey didn’t seem to think so, and that had to count for something!

She moved on, and he observed her as she began to take the order from another table. "The thing is, Dad, supposing I did date and get into a serious relationship with someone here?"

"Someone like Stacey?"

Luke turned quickly, and could see he was being teased. “Don’t start THAT again!” He smiled, rolling his eyes. "Who knows? The point is, everyone here is used to young guys, like me, being circumcised - if you get what I mean. It's the norm. That's why I want to be the same - because this is where I live now. The truth is, when other guys in the locker rooms see me, they tend to think I'm a bit of a freak – it’s not cool! What if I married someone here, and they thought the same?"

"Oh..." Summers senior had never been good at anything related to the birds and bees, and had left all that kind of thing to the boys’ mother.

In fact, neither of them had been much help in that area but, as the other two returned with bowls of salad, Luke hoped that the penny was dropping for his dad at last. As the food arrived and Stacey made sure they were all ‘good to go’, he had the uncanny sense that things were going to work out.

Stacey passed by their table quite frequently and he enjoyed chatting; relaxed and quite friendly. Whether he would ever date someone like her, he’d no idea, but he was sure that, in time, the girlfriend thing would eventually sort itself out.

* * *

Comfortably fed and watered, they returned to their van and Geoff Summers checked the tow hitch.

Again.

Geoff knew he was like that. A bit careful. Give him a column of figures, or a clever financial strategy, and he’d sweep through it. But, when it came to going back to check whether he’d actually locked the front door?

Every time!

He was glad they were going to the Kears, again. As much as anything, Anne Kear had brought a good friendship to Lucy, and friends here – at least, in the way they’d had friends in England – were hard to come by. Of the two of them, it had been harder for her in this country. He’d got his office and his work, and plenty of colleagues that he counted as friends. But, Lucy? Well, she’d struggled.

Of course, everyone here was so warm, and had been genuinely welcoming when they’d first arrived, and this new world seemed to offer everything they’d ever wanted as a couple. A beautiful home. Top quality schooling and the potential that offered, for the boys. A good life, and money to spare, that would top up investments, for them and for the boys, in years to come.

And everyone was so friendly…except ‘close’ friends were hard to come by!

Steven Kear – who was also from the UK - had a theory. Friendship, he’d once quite aptly said, was a bit like the games of baseball played by the Braves, down at their stadium in the city.

It went like this: take the UK, or in fact, anywhere in Europe, he’d explained, it often took ages to get a good friendship going. It was tough to get to first base. But, once you got there, moving on to 2nd and 3rd base, to deepen that friendship, could happen quite quickly. Here in the USA – at least in their part of it – you hit first base almost immediately… to find that there was no 2nd or 3rd! Those didn’t seem to exist!

At least not in the way Geoff and Lucy had been used to.

The outcome was this: over here, it was easy to know lots of people who, in their own way, would be delighted to count you a friend. But what did that mean? They would rarely invite you into their home to share a family meal with you, other than ‘doing lunch’ out at some restaurant. Dropping in, uninvited, for a cuppa, was frowned on.

Even the schools were different, with their 'drive through' culture. On the daily school run, dropping off and picking up the boys, Lucy found that she couldn’t easily meet other parents. There was no tradition of finding a place to sit and natter, while waiting for the children to come out. Here, parents drew up in their minivans (and the queue of vans often stretched way out the parking lot and down the road), until they arrived at the pickup point. Doors slid open. Kids got in. Doors closed. Drive-through school!

Although it took some getting used to, it was at school that the boys had found good friends fairly easily. Lads like Luke’s pal, Ryan; a great kid, though his parents were total crap, Geoff Summers thought. No, it was the adults that had found the transition harder and, for his wife Lucy, families like the Kears were a godsend!

When they moved their family to the States, both boys – particularly Luke – had been steaming mad with them. But that had passed, as he knew it would. Now, to hear Luke talk about this place, as being ‘home’? That was quite a turn around!

He and Lucy hadn't talked about it much, but both assumed they would eventually return to the UK – probably when his job called for it. But, to hear Luke describe the life that he and Simon now lived, even though it made complete sense, had touched a nerve. Could it be that they, and any future generations of Summers family, would become American residents?

It was a price he'd never anticipated when he'd done the math to cost out the move. Would they ever be able to go back to the UK if the boys made there lives here? Could Lucy even contemplate that?

The tow hitch was fine, of course. But he noticed he hadn’t bothered to lock the attached boat before they’d gone in to eat. Strange that - the place was rubbing off on him. Like most, these days he hardly ever bothered to lock the van before they went to shop in Kroger. Now, THAT you would never get away with in England!!

The boat had been a rash promise he’d made to Simon. When they’d left the UK, and the Sailing Club that he loved, they’d agreed to find a way for him to continue the sport in America. Making promises was easy; delivering on them a lot harder - and that one had come back to haunt him! They’d finally got the sailing dinghy, though it had taken quite a bit of negotiating to agree the when, what and how much. Not just for Simon, but for Luke too, who’d had to be bought off as well!

They’d eventually got Simon linked into a club, one that centered up at the lake. But it wasn’t cheap! Mind you, having your own boat cut the rental costs substantially, so maybe it was a sound investment after all.

It wasn’t a large craft; a one or two man racing dinghy that he’d bought off a colleague – a guy who’d claimed that the two greatest days of owning a boat were the day you bought it and the day you sold it! Still, he’d pushed for a good price, and it’d come with the trailer. The van already had a hitch, so they were good to go.

The purchase was in lieu of both Christmas AND birthday presents for that year – plus a TON of goodwill thrown in. When it had come to budget, and the actual style and standard of boat they should buy, the negotiations with Simon had been intense. Budgets he was quite happy with. Boys – particularly teenage ones – were a lot harder to understand!

Naturally, Luke stuck in his own oar, complaining that it would be completely unfair for Simon to get such a gift, and he get nothing. He’d bartered his own package deal (covering his birthday and Christmas gifts, of course). He ended up with what HE really wanted. One of the new MacBooks.

Now THAT was something that Geoffrey Summers could understand. Like his eldest son, he loved anything Apple!

Lucy had said it was all a small price to pay.

Sure!!

It WAS just money, he’d tried to convince himself, and he couldn’t deny it, the boat had been something they’d all come to enjoy over the last couple of months. As the two of them sat together on the bluff and proudly watched their sons skidding across the choppy waves in front of them, he realized she was probably right!

Simon steered the boat close into the Point, and he waved to his boys, watching as they sliced across the water, laughing; eyes bright through the spray.

‘You won’t have them for long’, a small voice whispered.

As any parent does, he realized the natural way of it. As Luke had instinctively known that lunchtime, the day would come when they would eventually make their own way in life. Did it have to be so soon? Watching the lively pair, the sadness of it touched him.

He sighed, coming back to the present. Now was as good a time as any. Whilst the boys cut through the water, he talked to his wife about another cut they needed to reconsider.

In the latest article that Luke had pushed at them, there had been a reference to what had been called, ‘The Kindest of Cuts’. A clearly pro-circumcision stance, the article had been an exploration of the cultural and positive health aspects of the procedure. He’d read it, but ignored the conclusions; and ignored what was right in front of him. Maybe, for Luke, in the life that he now led - the life that he and Lucy had forced on their boys in the first place - he needed this more than they realized. Perhaps it would be the ‘Kindest of Cuts’ after all?

* * *

After an afternoon on the water, the family had made it home around six. Quickly polishing off a couple of homework assignments that just HAD to be done, Luke fired up his MacBook to log into Facebook, checking to see if anyone had left any messages.

Over the last six months, he'd added quite a few more friends. Basically, almost everyone from school was on Facebook, though by no means did he add them all! Neither of his parents were on the social network, and thought the whole thing ridiculous. How on earth can you have so many friends, his dad had asked him once? Do you actually know them personally? Of course he didn't, but on Facebook, the term ‘Friend’ didn't really carry the same meaning that they had grown up with. He knew they would never get it!

He logged in, and up came his page. His username, on almost everything, had always been 'londonlolly' (from the old nickname, lolly) and his Facebook page was to be found at www.facebook.com/londonlolly.

Since that fateful day in December, when Simon had spoken about his sexuality for the first time, they’d talked about it, on and off. When it came to Toby, Luke hadn’t pried.

With the purchase of the boat, Simon went to sail on the lake as frequently as he could. He would get up to the club (where the dinghy was normally moored), alone if he had to, picking up lifts from other club members. Toby had come along a couple of times, but wasn’t keen at all. During the last couple of months, Simon seemed to see a lot less of him and Luke had even begun to wonder if the gay thing had been a passing phase, after all.

But, when it came to guys, Simon wasn't the only person that Luke knew who seemed to be gay. As he logged into Facebook that night, he noticed the other one, currently registered in the 'online now' box at the bottom.

On impulse, he flicked up the messaging box.

[LUKE] "Hey!"

There was nothing for several minutes, as his message waited patiently. He was about to give up and log out when the reply popped up.

[DAMONJ] “Hi Luke - how's things?"

[LUKE] “Cool thanks. You?”

[DAMONJ] "I'm good! Bored …"

Luke grinned to himself. From the number of recent Farmville requests Damon had generated, he could tell!

He’d been wondering for a while, but why Luke decided to ask that particular question, just then, he was never sure. They chatted about nothing of importance for a few minutes, before he got round to what was on my mind.

[LUKE] "Can I ask you something?"

[DAMONJ] "Sure...shoot…"

[LUKE] "It's a bit personal..."

[DAMONJ] "OK, try me...(smiley)"

It was personal and Luke hesitated after he’d typed the short phrase. He decided to go ahead and press send.

[LUKE] "Well…I just wondered if you happened to be gay?"

After it fired off, there was a pause, before Damon replied.

[DAMONJ] "Damn - that's quite a question!"

[LUKE] "Sorry - too personal - forget it!"

Embarrassed, Luke had typed hurriedly. There was a pause again – long enough to make him squirm, wondering whether he’d crossed the line, big-time!

[DAMONJ] "Well, if you really want to know…yes, I am. Is that a problem?"

Now what to say? He’d broached the subject, but without any idea where to go with it. He had to say SOMETHING.

[LUKE] "I kind of thought you might be...from stuff on your pages, I mean. No, it's no problem at all. I didn't mean it like that."

[DAMONJ] "So why do you ask? Are you?"

The reply had come quickly and felt probing.

[LUKE] "No, but..."

Luke paused a moment, thinking it through. There was no way he was going to identify Simon, and reveal what his brother had told him - even in a private Facebook chat, to a guy he hardly knew, in New York! On the other hand, it wouldn’t do any harm to get another perspective. He continued typing.

"...someone I know - a friend I've know a long time…is gay, I mean. I was just trying to understand it more."

There was an extremely long pause before the reply popped up.

[DAMONJ] "He actually told you that, or are you just guessing?"

[LUKE] "No, he told me. We go back a long way."

[DAMONJ] "Oh. Well, he was brave!"

[LUKE] "Why do you say that?"

[DAMONJ] "It takes a lot of trust in someone, to tell them something like that. Trust me – I know! So, how do you feel about it...and him?"

That was easy.

[LUKE] "It was a surprise, I guess - but he's still my friend. It makes no difference in the end."

There was another long pause.

[LUKE] "Are you still there?"

[DAMONJ] "Sorry...was just thinking...I need to go...talk soon...bye."

[LUKE ] "Bye..."

Luke was a little surprised by the abrupt end, and stared at the screen thoughtfully. He read a few of the messages that had piled up on his email, sent out a number of replies, then logged off and went to go run a long hot bath, in preparation for bed.

6. The Welsh Type

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

The Welsh Type

Ryan wasn’t the type of person to let it beat him, and he took another swing, determined that this one was going to go fast, high, and right to the flag. He swiped at it with conviction, but the club head clipped the top of the ball.

"Oh, for God's SAKE!"

"Ryan Alexis - and you've just been to church!” Luke grinned. It bounced away about a dozen meters and, unhelpfully, rolled to a stop. “What would the vicar say?"

"He's probably taking communion down at the Irish bar," Ryan grunted, as he placed another ball on the tee. "You wanna go ask him?" He limbered up again. It was a glorious Sunday morning that found them on the driving range.

Just not for him!

* * *

Luke rarely went to Ryan's place on a Sunday. Partly, it was because his friend’s parents were home most of the day, but also because the Alexis family went to church. Sunday mornings, rain or shine, they would be there. It seemed quite bizarre to him, as they weren't the slightest bit religious.

Later that afternoon, along with the rest of the his family, he’d be going over to the Kear’s, but that wouldn’t be for ages. Over breakfast, Simon had got a call from Toby, asking if he wanted to come round. So, rather than sit alone and bored, he’d made a call himself and secured Ryan’s release for after church. The service was always done, on the dot, by 10:45, and he’d arranged for Ryan to come over, and stay for lunch too.

It was too nice a day to stay indoors. There would be enough of that in the summer, when the overbearing humidity forced everyone to head for air conditioning so, on the phone, they’d made a plan. Later that morning, Luke got on his bike. With a handful of irons precariously balanced across his handlebars, he’d headed to Ryan's.

Resting his bike as neatly as he could, he walked up to the ornate, columned facade and knocked politely on the imposing front door. Even after three years, he would never, ever consider going around the back, uninvited.

Holding a bottle of Budweisser, Ryan's father, Captain Ethan Alexis, opened the door. Frowning, he looked intimidating. He always looked intimidating! It wasn't because he was shirtless and carried an unmissable tattoo, etched into his forearm. It wasn't even the smattering of healed scars, that reflected of a life of violent action. In Luke's opinion, it was because he was just plain nasty.

"Good morning, sir," he said, politely.

Captain Alexis glowered slightly, and part turned into the house. "Ryan!" he bellowed through the huge hallway. "It's for you."

"If it's Luke," a familiar voice called down the wide stairs, "tell him to go around the back."

Alexis took a swig, before giving Luke a perfunctory flick of his head as he shut the door. Glad to escape, Luke hurried around the side of the house, passing through the iron trellis gate and into the grounds.

If he'd thought their house was big, it was dwarfed by most on that exclusive, gated estate, where Ryan lived. The Alexis house - the word 'home' didn't quite fit - extended on three sides; the two arms embracing the large, heated, outdoor pool. The fourth side of the pool opened up to the considerable gardens.

The main section of the house would have been more than enough room for a dozen, let alone just the three of them, and was a double story. The two arms reached out as single level, open-jaw, extensions. Along one side, the buildings housed a well-endowed gym, as well as a function room and home cinema. Across the other side of the pool was a separate apartment, though who’d really want to live there, was beyond Luke. A year ago there’d been a live-in maid, but she hadn’t lasted long.

Attached to the main building, there was also a massive, three-car garage. Within a few moments, the side door of that garage opened and Ryan wheeled out his bike.

“Why am I doing this?” he complained, going back in and returning with a couple of his own golf sticks.

“Because you love the game?” Luke hazarded, unable to stifle a grin.

Ryan grimaced and they saddled up, to head to the golf course. More specifically, the driving range.

The pair had only started playing recently. Even then, Luke found he really only enjoyed whacking balls up the range, bored by the drudgery of walking from hole to hole in the time-honored way. It wasn’t like he was even any good at the game. The great thing was, at least when it came to sports, it was almost the ONLY thing he knew of, at which Ryan was TOTALLY CRAP!

* * *

“Oh, bad luck! Try another one?” Luke counted up the number of balls that hadn’t made it more than ten meters. "Do you want some help?" Maybe it was a bit mean, but he knew the offer of it would really rub Ryan up the wrong way.

"Nope." The replies were getting as short as Ry's patience. Luke grinned as the next one headed over someplace to the right. He teed his own, eyed it up, and took a controlled swipe, watching with satisfaction as it lofted high and straight, straight down the range.

Ryan stared at it, stonily. "How come you're so good at this, and I totally suck?" He glanced around, relieved to see nobody else he recognised. Thankfully, there weren’t many people out on the range that morning.

"I'm English - it's probably in the genes,” Luke shrugged, smug with the taste of victory. “The next generation of Summers kids are bound to be world-class golf pros!"

Ryan shook his head morosely. Every time he came here with Luke, he optimistically believed that, by some miracle, he would 'get' it. He reached for another ball, with the forlorn hope that this one might leave the tee with some modicum of grace. Bottom line? He was absolutely useless at golf and, if it came to any genes HE had to offer, God help the next generation!

Luke watched him with interest. With smart shorts and an expensive looking polo shirt, Ry looked the part - that is, until he actually hit the ball! Other than that, Ryan was one of those guys that could probably have any girl he fancied. Even the Stacey's of this world! Then again, he'd never dated anyone that he knew of.

"Ry....?"

"What?" Despite the interruption, Ryan kept his attention on the ball and tried to stay relaxed. He went back to taking small practice swings, hoping to gauge its position again.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?"

The movement of the club head halted momentarily, resumed for a few swings, before stopping altogether. Ryan turned, looking quizzical.

"Nope. You know I haven’t. You?"

"Nah....."

"So, why d'ya ask?"

"Dunno...I just wondered..."

"Wondered what?" Ryan continued to watch him, waiting for more.

"Well, it's just that there's this girl that works at Longhorns,” he confessed, prodding at a couple of loose balls. “We were there yesterday."

Ryan grinned and gave up on the golf, in exchange for a full interrogation. "My God! You fancy some waitress?"

"Nah...not really." Luke shrugged. Even to him, it sounded lame. “It’s not like that.”

"So what's her name?"

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you!”

“NAME! NOW!”

"Stacey."

"Stacey who?"

"I don't know. I only know she's called Stacey."

"So, let me get this straight,” cackled Ryan, gleefully. “There's this girl you know nothing about, other than she's called Stacey and is good with iced tea.” He counted off her qualities on his fingers. “Oh - and you have the serious hots for her!"

"Give over - it's not like that...." Luke rolled his eyes, wishing now he’d never mentioned it. He ignored Ryan, to take another swing of his own: a shot which went skidding to the right, almost to where Ryan’s had ended up.

Ryan smiled. This was so good! "Hell, it looks like this girl could really mess up your golf game - I would stay well away from her!” He leaned expectantly on his club. “So, when are we next going to Longhorns?"

Luke shook his head. Sure - as if he would subject himself to THAT! He shuddered. Not a chance!

Finally, much to Ryan's relief, they ran out of balls and headed back to the Summers house, for a light lunch. There was no rush and, as they passed along the crisscrossing golf-cart paths, Ryan was contemplative.

“Joking apart, does she like you? This Stacey, I mean.”

Luke glanced at him, but didn’t see any teasing. “Maybe.”

“And you?”

“She’s alright, I guess.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m just not sure I want a girlfriend right now, that’s all. What about you?”

“Does she have a sister?”

Without even looking, Luke could hear the return of the goading undertone, and shook his head, grinning. “Actually, I think she does. I heard she’s about ten. Should be about right for you!”

* * *

His mum had prepared sandwiches for lunch, and Simon and Toby had arrived in time to tuck in, too. She shooed the four of them onto the back deck with their food, and they sat round a table laden with sandwiches and cold drinks. Simon and Toby both seemed bright and cheerful and, as he had numerous times in the last couple of months, Luke observed Toby curiously.

Since that day, just before Christmas, when his brother had come out to him, Simon had begged Luke not to tease, and definitely NOT say anything weird when he was around Toby. He’d promised, and kept his word, and had done his best to treat the two of them normally. At the same time, he couldn't help wondering what Toby was really like behind those enigmatic eyes.

Over lunch, Simon was full of himself. In full flood, he was explaining the techniques of small boat racing to Ryan, who seemed quite interested. The hot sun moved around as they ate and talked. Luke watched, as Toby, who didn’t look like he saw the sun too much, dragged his chair nearer to Simon, getting back under the shade of the wide umbrella.

They were a curious pair. Simon, on his favorite subject, and Toby watching him with a light smile. To the casual observer, pulling his chair closer meant nothing – and it probably was nothing, though he couldn’t help it, and his imagination went into overdrive.

What if there was something going on between the two of them, he mused? Something Simon hadn’t told him about it. Were they together? A couple? Had they done any kissing yet? What had that been like? Nice?

“Luke likes it a lot too…”

Luke stirred uncomfortably, not knowing how anyone - even Simon - could know this to be true. He didn't even know himself! Somehow, it didn't compute. He could see Simon was speaking to him - and expected an answer.

“Don’t you?” Simon added, waiting.

“Sorry...what…?” He tried to pick apart the bits of conversation he’d heard, hoping to get some clue as to what he was missing.

“Leaning out the side, to keep the balance in a strong breeze!”

“Oh...THAT. Errr...yes.” Distracted by the idea of Simon kissing Toby, his reply was half-heartedly pathetic. He tried to think of something more definite, but Simon had moved on, explaining to Ry how easy it was to flip the boat.

In fact, in strong winds, it was extremely tricky to balance the forces when the light craft began to lift out of the water, and Luke didn't have the same feel for it that Simon did. On several occasions, he’d dumped both of them in the drink!

As Simon pressed on, Luke went back to studying Toby in fascination - that is, until Toby glanced his direction with dark eyes, forcing him to look away, hurriedly. He tried to wipe the unhelpful thoughts from his mind, feeling guilty he’d drifted to thoughts of guys. Again.

* * *

After lunch, Toby and Ryan took off on their bikes. The Summers family packed a few bits into their minivan and made ready to drive over to the Kear’s. It would be a BBQ, though Luke presumed that it would be one of them would actually cook the meat again. Steven Kear was a bit hopeless in that area.

The Kears were Brits. The Welsh type.

They’d only been in the US for nine months. Steven Kear had taken a computer job, working for some minor world-health agency, which had offices nearby. They had a son, Owen, who was Luke's age, and a precocious twelve-year-old girl, Becky. Becky really had a thing for Simon, which made being with them a whole lot of fun - for Luke!

Purely by chance, Lucy had first met Anne Kear in a checkout line in Wal-Mart. She’d picked up on the musical, Welsh accent of the lady fumbling with cash in front of her, and they'd got talking. Discovering that Anne and her family were newly arrived in the area, Lucy decided to take her under her wing, helping her with the mysteries of cross-cultural survival.

Even so, things were not going well for the Kear family.

The first two or three months had been fine. Unlike the two Summers boys, the Kear kids had been more than happy to exit south Wales, taking a flight, bound for the promised land of life in America. But it hadn’t lasted.

That afternoon, as the two older boys masterminded the grill, the fathers talked about savings and investments, and Simon hid from Becky, the two mothers caught up with mum stuff.

"It's warm today!" Anne Kear fanned herself as they sat around the scruffy kitchen table, sipping a hot cup of tea. ‘World Health’ didn’t pay well, and the type of place they’d been able to afford came with AC units out of the ark! The fan did it’s best to stir the air.

"Goodness, Anne, this is nothing," Lucy laughed, lightly. "You wait ‘til the summer comes. Then it really heats up!"

"If we're still here." Anne sighed, reminded of the problems that enveloped her little family.

"Oh..." Lucy understood what they were facing. Seeing Owen mooching around, she already suspected the ongoing cause. "The kids are still unhappy, then?"

"Well, Becky's fine now – she’s made some good friends at last. But Owen's just become so negative.” Anne shook her head in frustration at her son's moody outbursts. “He's makIng it completely miserable for everyone."

"Our two were exactly the same, Anne, it just takes time."

"Yes, I know. You said that before. But he says he doesn't belong here, and doesn't want to try to fit in.” Anne hung her head. Family life was horrible and she felt such a failure. It would be so easy to weep and give up. As the tears gathered, she shook her head in frustration. "I mean, what's the point?" She paused, and the fleeting anger slipped away. It was she that was a failure, not her son. A useless bloody parent! “If he can't, or won't, make an effort, what kind of future is he going to have, if we stay?"

Lucy was at a loss for what to say and reached out to hold her friend’s hands supportively.

At the same time, Luke was out on the back deck, talking to Owen. The deck needed work; the garden was untidy; the home was missing something. It all reflected a family, in crisis.

As far as he knew, the Kear’s place was rented. Maybe that was part of Owen’s problem, he wondered? They hadn't bought here. Bridges hadn’t been burned and, unlike for him and Simon, the Kears still had a home back in Swansea. It was being rented out, but the option to crash out of life in the States, remained. He watched the burly, welsh teen push burgers around the rack, with little enthusiasm for the task.

"I can't help it!" sighed Owen. His welsh lilt was strong. "I just want to go home, but they won't listen!" He was fed up with America and fed up with the totally crap existence that was his life.

"What's the school like?" Luke hoped there might be something positive he could draw out of the guy. Owen went to Creek High and Becky was in the middle school. As far as local schools went, he'd heard good things. “Made many friends?”

"Oh...it's OK, I guess." Owen shrugged and kicked a loose stone off the deck. "But I hardly know anyone. They all have their mates, but I never seem to fit in." He shoved at a sausage ineffectually. "You wanna do it?" He gave up the slice to Luke, before slumping down on a chair.

Taking over turning the meat, Luke felt for him. He'd been there - for a short time anyway - but at least he'd made friends. If you didn't have anything worth looking forward to every day, it could get really bad. And Owen looked pretty low.

"It took me a year before I really began to feel settled, you know."

"A year?" Owen shook his head, took off his glasses and wiped sweat from his unfortunately spotty face. The zit god had not been kind to him that day. He needed fresh air and sunshine, rather than mooching around inside the house, day after day, "But, that’s it. I don't want to feel settled,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “I just want to go home."

Luke had no answers. There was no quick fix. In fact, for some problems in life, there was no fix at all! Fortunately for him, occasionally, life could give you a few breaks. He had little idea of what passed between his parents as, in the seclusion of their bedroom later that night, they talked about him.

* * *

“What you said yesterday,” Lucy began. She put down her book as Geoff crawled into bed, alongside her, “about this whole circumcision issue, with Luke.”

“Oh yes?”

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

He knew she felt torn. As they'd talked about it by the lake, that’d been clear. On the one hand, she was dead against surgery, and thought the practice of circumcision on boys or men, quite barbaric. On the other hand, she agreed with him that they couldn’t just keep ignoring their son, his feelings, and the need to make his own choices in life.

“I was talking to Anne, this afternoon.” She seemed to change the subject though, for her, it was all part of the same thing. "About Owen."

Geoff knew what she was referring to. “We’ve been lucky, you know.”

“With our two?” Lucy nodded, knowing he was right. “Did Luke really talk about living over here permanently?”

Geoff nodded. He'd told her about the conversation that he'd had with Luke the previous day. She, like him, had recognized the truth in it, but, even so… “They’re growing up fast, aren’t they?” he sighed. Luke had his own future to make. They'd both agreed on that. 'Family' could be a complicated thing, and he knew how lucky they were that neither of their boys was in the kind of hole that Owen Kear had fallen in to.

“So, what do you suggest?” Geoff pushed her forward a little.

“About circumcision?”

He nodded. He’d no qualms that, in the end, it would be her decision that counted. It wasn't as if she wore the trousers in their home - far from it - but she had opinions, and could be as stubborn as hell if she wanted to be. And when it came to the boys, she wouldn’t be swayed! Even when they’d first left the UK, despite his lucrative job offer and the opportunity to take great leaps up his corporate ladder, they’d only made the transition because she gave her blessing.

But he’d learned over the years both how to direct her, and to give her the control she needed. So he waited. She needed time to work it through, that was all.

“What if we make an appointment for him?” said Lucy, acknowledging that it was time for her to make room for a small step: for her and for Luke. “Just to get some advice?”

"A professional, medical opinion?"

She paused and nodded.

Geoff smiled to himself. Whatever that opinion turned out to be, he knew she would be guided by it, as he hoped Luke would be, too.

Good result!

* * *

Two days later, after being dropped off by Toby’s mum, who’d done the school run that day, Luke strode into their kitchen. His mum was just hanging up the phone. He watched her write the word ‘consultation’ on the calendar that hung off the fridge.

“Two weeks on Friday,” she informed him.

“For what?” He opened the fridge and retrieved the milk. As an afterthought, he found a glass and began pouring.

“To see a consultant.”

“Is something wrong?” He paused and looked up sharply.

“For you. To see a urologist.”

It wasn’t hard to equate ‘urologist’ to ‘circumcision’. “You’re kidding!” Was this a wind up? His excitement brimmed as much as the milk. “You’re getting me an appointment to get done?”

“Yes and no,” his mum clarified, smiling at his enthusiasm and passing him a cloth to clean up the mess. “It’s a consultation, with somebody who knows what they’re talking about. ONLY to get some advice, mind, that’s all.”

It was a start, thought Luke. “When did you say it was?” he gabbled excitedly,

"Two weeks on Friday. It was the first available appointment they had."

* * *

Extract from Luke’s Notes:

Dad made me laugh when I told him about it, later that same evening. I asked him ‘why now’? He’d smirked and said, ‘“to be honest, son, we keep running out of paper for the printer!” Idiot!

My God, did the days go slowly. Those two weeks were worse than waiting for Christmas Day, back when we were kids! I know it sounds stupid but, as the time got closer, I became really nervous, even though it was just a consultation.

By the time it finally arrived, I was really uptight. It felt worse than the morning of some PSAT exam! Mind you, like any well prepared student, I’d worked hard to arm myself with a wide array of good-sounding arguments, ready to convince the doctor that what I wanted was both reasonable, and do-able.

I just hoped to God he'd listen!

I remember sleeping REALLY badly the night before. I had a dream, in which some weasely looking surgeon had taken one look at me, and then put me on a plane straight back to England. It was one of those weird unending dream loops. In it, I’d been sitting, stark naked, in an aisle seat, unable to move. Some little girls, carrying refills of iced tea, kept walking by. They would take one look at my excessively long, ugly dick and giggle hysterically! Over and over again…laughing at my strange willy!

* * *

The day of the appointment, just over two weeks later, finally came. Straight after school, his mum would be picking him up from reception, straight after school, to take him to the circumcision specialist. Time dragged as, every few minutes, Luke rechecked his watch, thinking about what he was going to say to the doctor. How he was going to explain why it was important. Frankly, he was somewhere else!

In the middle of his closeted little world, he began to sense a voice. Finally, he realized that something - someone - was speaking. To him!

"Hello...earth to Luke!” Todd Quince was right in his face. “Anyone in there, dude?"

"What? I mean...yes?”

“LUKE!”

“WHAT?" Luke mentally shook away the disjointedness. "OK - you don't need to shout!"

"Dude...where are you?" complained Todd. "You keep drifting off someplace!"

As they stood together on the open grass, Luke looked sheepish. "Oh...sorry...just something on my mind, that's all. Err...what were you saying?"

Todd rolled his eyes in dismay. "Sorry, dude, I'm not going to go through all that again! If you weren't listening, ask Ry!" He left the two of them, pacing off in a huff.

"Was he still talking about Fion?" That had been the last thing Luke had any memory of. Fion was Todd's ex.

"You really were somewhere else, weren't you? What's up with you these days?” Ryan studied him, in bemusement. “To answer your question, yes, he was talking about Fion. You obviously somehow managed to miss most off it."

“So?" Todd was still carrying a flame for Fion. Who cared anyway?

"Do you want to come round this afternoon - after school?" Ryan changed the subject and raised his eyebrows hopefully.

Any other time? Absolutely. Luke loved going round and hanging out with Ryan. Just not today. "Oh, sorry Ry....Mum wants me for something." It was a bit shallow. "What about tomorrow?"

"Army cookout."

"Oh. Right." Luke grimaced. He knew how much Ryan hated that particular monthly gathering. "Sorry."

Ryan didn’t press and they moved on to something else. Well, Ryan moved on - Luke just went back to what was consuming him!

The minutes passed excruciatingly until, finally, the end of day bell sounded. Now, after all that hanging around, the clock was ticking, and he hurried out. Simon would be getting a lift with Toby, so it was just him and his mum in the van as they pulled away from the school.

Thankfully, the traffic was still light. The two of them made equally light conversation on the journey. He flicked on the radio, tuning to a station that he quite liked and his mother just about tolerated, and listened to that as she drove. Even though they were taking the highway towards the city, he realized he’d got no idea where they were going.

"Is it far?" They pulled down the ramp, off the 400 and onto the 285.

"No, not too far." Lucy negotiated their minivan into a middle lane and matched speed with the traffic. "About forty minutes."

Forty minutes? Just round the corner really.

When they came to live in the States, it was one of the many transitions they'd quickly made. Back in England, if they were forced to go more than a few miles in the car, he and Simon had been naggy travelers. Here, people took distances in a completely different way. Even driving an hour, to go to the shops, was no biggy.

It’d taken them eight hours, in the nice minivan in which he was now sitting, to get down to Florida, on vacation. The journey down became part of the holiday. They'd talked a lot. He and Simon had listened to music and watched a few movies on the fold down screen, and there were always plenty of cup holders for the drive-through meals!

When people asked him about the differences between their two countries, his dad had a saying. It was this: for a Brit, a hundred miles is a long way; for an American, a hundred years is a long time! Actually, it was pretty true, though the rest of them got fed up of hearing him quote it.

Only half-listening to the silly banter coming out of the station, Lucy exited interstate 285 that encircled Atlanta, and headed into the city. They travelled through an area of expensive looking office complexes, without a strip mall in sight – and you can imagine how much Luke and Simon had giggled, when they first heard THAT term!

Ten minutes later they arrived. Crossing through a break in the traffic, his mum pulled into the medium sized parking lot, that served what looked liked a sizable medical center, and parked up. As she turned off the engine, he checked his watch. Perfect timing!

"Sweetheart, remember what we said? This is just a consultation.”

Luke nodded. They’d covered this ground several times.

“We're seeing a urologist,” his mum continued. “Doctor Marsh recommended him." Doctor Marsh was their family doctor. "I know you feel strongly about the whole matter, but don’t forget our agreement - to listen to, and abide by, his recommendation.” The way she saw it, Luke just needed some help; a little positive encouragement in the right direction. Someone, other than she and Geoff, to tell him that it really was okay to keep things as they were.

“If the specialist advises that the procedure is unnecessary,” she continued, “then let that be it." She felt reasonably sure what the outcome would be.

Again, Luke nodded - but only on the outside! They got out of the van and he took a deep breath as he followed her into the building.

Welcomed by pleasant air-conditioning, they approached the expansive reception desk. A receptionist greeted them. She was both attentive and courteous, as well being young and quite pretty – and she clearly knew her job. She glanced at Luke, dressed in his school uniform as he waited next to his Mum, and smiled. Politely, he returned the smile, asking himself if she was the kind of receptionist that read patient's notes. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering whether she was thinking something like 'he-he, here comes another school-kid penis patient!'

The thought was off-putting and, while his mum completed the preliminaries, he studied the floor carefully.

"If you just want to take a seat," the receptionist said, once the paperwork was in order. She gestured to a bank of plush seating and picked up the phone. "Doctor Tiberius will see you shortly."

They took their seats to wait.

Luke's immediate impression (similar to most times he went to their family Doctor's office in Roswell) was that this was NOTHING at all like going to the doctors in the UK. At least to no doctor’s surgery he'd ever attended!

A nice building; a cool, comfortable and rather plush reception area; a polite welcoming receptionist and not a single copy of Good Housekeeping Magazine anywhere! What also seemed missing were sick people. Rather than being surrounded by dozens of old people, coughing and shuffling, or screaming young kids being held down by desperate mothers, the small number waiting with them that day all looked remarkably well.

It felt more like a health spa, than a sanatorium!

They only had to wait a couple of minutes, before the Doctor himself walked out into the reception. Luke observed the middle aged, bow tie sporting, professional, speak quietly to the receptionist. He took a folder from her, before turning in their direction to stride purposefully towards them.

'Mrs. Summers." He smiled widely, holding an outstretched hand. His mum popped out of her seat rapidly and took the proffered handshake. Politely, Luke stood and the man turned to him and held out his hand again. "And you must be Luke. I'm Jonathan Tiberius."

For the briefest of moments, Luke feared that the doctor was planning on having the consultation right there in the waiting area. It was a relief when he invited them to follow him. He guided them through the building, making several turns, to finally reach a door bearing a golden plaque. It read, 'A. Jonathan Tiberius', followed by a long bunch of letters. Briefly, Luke wondered what the 'A' was for but, as A. Jonathan ushered them into his office, he decided it didn't matter.

As doctor’s offices go, it wasn’t small. The desk was definitively NOT the type you could pick up at a yard sale! Behind it, a leather executive swivel chair, waited. Partly obscured by a curtain, he spotted a standard doctor’s couch at the end of the room. By the look of the place, he would definitely say there was money in penises!

The physician guided them to a couple of informal, overstuffed, sofas, set around a knee-high coffee table. A bowl of various fruits added to the decoration and Luke stared at the banana, in amusement.

"Mrs. Summers. Luke," Tiberius opened, smiling genially as they all took their seats. "How can I be of service?"

Luke was sure that the man had to realize that the ONLY reason HE was there was because he was the patient, not his mother. Unfairly, it felt his question was posed to the wrong person. He’d come too far to fall at this point, and there was no way he was letting his mum decide the flow and tone of the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her leaning forward to speak. He got in there fast!

"I want to be circumcised!" he blurted. There was a slight pause, so he filled it... awkwardly. "If you can do the surgery for me, I'd like it…please…" A further pregnant pause followed, as he immediately thought of all the better ways there would have been, to launch his campaign.

7. The Appointment

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

The Appointment

"I want to be circumcised!" Luke blurted. There was a slight pause, so he filled it...awkwardly. "If you can do the surgery for me, I'd like it to be done!" A further pregnant pause followed, as he immediately thought of all the better ways there would have been, to launch his campaign.

* * *

In the office of A. Jonathan Tiberius, the doctor steepled his fingers. “Ah...indeed!" he offered. Unblinking, he seemed to consider Luke.

Luke cringed. That didn't sound at all promising.

His mum kicked in. She didn't quite glare, but her version of ‘children should be seen and not heard’ was unmistakable. She cleared her throat.

"Well, as Luke has expressed, Doctor Tiberius, he feels a...desire...to explore the pros and cons of circumcision - for someone of his age, that is. We thought it best to take some professional advice."

Luke glanced over to her, irritated by this clash of wills that continued to unfold. Still, it could have been worse. At least she hadn't outright said, 'and naturally, sir, it’ll be over my dead body!'

"Exactly," nodded Tiberius.

The enigmatic doctor turned his way, and smiled. Encouragingly? It was hard to tell. And what the heck did 'Exactly'' mean? Exactly what?

"Am I to assume that, from your accents, the Summers family hail from England?" Tiberius repositioned himself on the sofa, leaning back to regard mother and son with professional interest. They both nodded. "And I see that Luke attends the Academy? An excellent school, by all accounts." Luke’s uniform was distinctive. It didn't take a Sherlock Holmes to figure it out.

With a tinge of pride, Lucy nodded. "We relocated over here about three years ago. Luke’s been attending the Academy, ever since."

"And, compared to the UK, how do you find life in America, Luke?" It was only later that Luke began to realize that this had been the start of the doctor’s patient examination.

"It's okay," he shrugged. Short but not surly.

Tiberius nodded and looked thoughtful. "Circumcision." He seemed to get to the point at last. "As I’m sure you already know, other than for religious traditions, it's not the norm to perform the procedure on either babies, boys or young men in most parts of Europe."

Luke's heart sank. Was that it? Game over?

"This is exactly what I've been trying to explain to Luke," Lucy said, looking entirely too satisfied with the direction in which the discussion was headed. "This kind of sensitive surgery does seem rather unnecessary. Particularly for someone of Luke's age."

Leaning forward, Tiberius opened up the file of patient notes he’d left on the table. Turning the pages, he glanced at the details. "I see that Luke is… fifteen."

"Nearly sixteen," Luke added. I am here you know!

"But I presume only babies are circumcised – even here?" Lucy shot her son the ‘look’, again.

Mum! He groaned to himself, but Tiberius shook his head, though he wasn’t dismissive. "Far from it," he said, "My experience is that men of all ages choose to be circumcised; and for many reasons."

"But babies don't choose it, do they?" Lucy noted, tetchily.

The Doctor smiled, and nodded slightly to acknowledge her point. He’d probably heard it hundreds of times before. "It's quite true. Requested Infant Circumcision - RIC as it’s often known - is a common practice in the United States. Opinions regarding the practice vary but, for young men such as Luke, the request for circumcision can be for many reasons; religious, personal hygiene, medical necessity, cultural expectation, or even just plain old personal preference."

"Personal hygiene?" Luke nodded and took a side-glance at his mum. See, I was right! That was the one he'd often quoted to his parents.

"For sure. Many would suggest the course you're considering is potentially a lot healthier for you.” Tiberius gestured, with an open palm, towards him. “Of course, that isn’t to say that a boy can't be shown how to properly clean around and under the foreskin, to maintain good hygiene." He glanced at Lucy, who shifted, looking guilty.

"But, there’s no doubt that many find a circumcised penis easier to maintain and keep clean. There’s a lot less of a tendency for it to become sore or infected, or suffer from a range of medical conditions; aliments that I won't list for you now."

Luke nodded, hopefully. This was EXACTLY what he'd been telling them for months!

"Can I hazard that you also find yourself a little outnumbered by your peers, Luke?"

He was surprised by the directness of the observation. Outnumbered? You don’t know the half! "If you mean, are they all cut?" he replied, inadvertently slipping into the slang. "Yes, I am. It's why I want to be the same."

"Completely natural, let me assure you.”

“It is?” Luke couldn’t help himself.

“Absolutely! Maybe, it would surprise you to know that a great number of young men, around your age, come to me for similar reasons.” Tiberius paused and Luke felt hopeful. "But you're mother’s also right. The penis functions perfectly well in its natural state. No surgical procedure should ever be embarked on, lightly."

His heart and face fell and his mum sat up straighter. This time, it was her nodding supportively.

“That said, the procedure is not particularly invasive and, for the vast majority, can be completed in a few minutes and under a simple local anesthetic. Normally, we can do it right here in the Center.”

“An injection? Like at the dentist?” Even HE could handle that, though he’d only ever had two fillings.

“Exactly. Just like that.” Tiberius sat forward again. “So, we’ve touched a little on the cultural realities for Luke amongst his peers, as well as the hygiene aspects.” He counted them off on his fingers. “I imagine that you’re not exploring this because of religious reasons, or you would have said. I also assume we can discount medical necessity, for the same reason. Other than those, it can come down to plain old personal preference!”

“Preference?” Lucy grimaced. It beggared belief!

“Actually,” suggested Tiberius, “it's why the vast majority come here. Not because they HAVE to be circumcised, but because they WANT to be.”

“They want to be?” Lucy blinked, unable to get her head around why that would be. She pursed her lips. “I don’t know; the suggestion of ANY kind of surgery, when it seems so unjustified? I’m not comfortable with that, at all”

“I am, Mum,” Luke said hurriedly. It's my dick!

“But sweetheart,” said Lucy, turning to her son. “We’ve no real experience of circumcision in our family. The thought of cutting into such a delicate area. What if something went wrong or…?” She trailed off.

Doctor Tiberius took a deep breath. “I think I understand. I have children myself, though they’re grown, now. Any good parent is right to be think about it carefully. All I’m trying to show you is that the reasons men choose to be circumcised, are not always straightforward.”

Luke shifted slightly. If only they knew!

"It’s not my role here to decide for you, one way or another,” continued Tiberius. “I can offer advice and make you aware of the different issues, but what you do with that, needs to be up to you.” He looked from mother to son and back. “May I make an observation?”

“Please…” Lucy nodded.

“It IS a big step to take Luke, and your mother is right to counsel you to avoid being hasty."

Luke opened his mouth. This was getting away from him. However, Tiberius pushed on.

"On the other hand, it seems clear that, you personally, very much want to be circumcised. I get the impression you’ve been looking into it for some time now?”

Sitting adjacent on the sofa, the pair nodded. It was true.

“He’s been researching for months,” Lucy admitted.

“And, in understanding Luke’s motivation and commitment, THAT makes a great deal of difference."

“I know, though it doesn’t make me any less uneasy."

Luke kept quiet. From the sound of his mum’s voice, he could tell it rested on a knife-edge.

"The question many come to, is this: circumcised or uncircumcised? Which is best?" Tiberius held out two open palms. Luke gazed intently at the invisible options, hoping for the scales to tip in his favor. "My usual response tends not to help." He paused, seeming to enjoy stringing it out. "Either is perfectly acceptable."

Despite his hopes, this was not quite what Luke had expected. He'd been anticipating a more competitive battle with his mum, over invasive surgery, where the Doctor would pick out the winning contender after the final round. The prize would be circumcision…or not! They’d hardly got started and it looked like the fat lady was tuning up!

Damn, he liked this guy!

"It's just so uncommon in our country."

“That’s not my country mum.” He could tell from the way her eyes flinched, that his dad had told her about what he thought of that, and felt a little guilty. “I mean, not at the moment.” She looked quite torn.

Though he probably didn’t really understand what was going on between them, Tiberius tried to be supportive. "I understand but, if it eases your concerns, let me put it this way. There’s a reason why, each year, hundreds of thousands of men, in this country alone, choose circumcision for their new-born sons – and it’s not just out of a sense of family tradition. Fathers are happy for their sons to be circumcised, because it’s been something they’ve come to appreciate. My wife and I only had girls, but if we’d had boys, I think I would have approached it the same way myself.” He smiled at Luke before looking back at Lucy. “The point is, after having had the surgery as young boys themselves, it hasn’t harmed them, or damaged them emotionally as some like to suggest. To the contrary, they’ve fully enjoyed the benefits of living that way.”

“So, if you asked me to get off the fence, it would be to say this.” Luke held his breathe as A. Jonathan Tiberius came, at last, to the money shot. “As I said before, Luke, you would be surprised how many men come to me, out of personal choice, requesting to be circumcised. I can also tell you this: of those that are, very few are not completely satisfied with the outcome; enjoying the enhancements in both form AND function. Most tell me they wished they'd got around to it a lot earlier in life.”

"Oh..." Lucy seemed deflated by the simple verdict.

'Oh…' is what Luke thought too. Enhancements in function? If it didn’t sound like some mathematical formula, that could even be quite hot!

“Would it help if we talked about the surgery itself; perhaps look at what circumcision involves?” Tiberius suggested.

His mum nodded, and Luke sensed the tide was turning.

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

He got out a model – and no I don’t mean a person! I mean one of those plastic life-like things. An educational, over-sized, plastic wiener, that came apart. Talk about a big dick – it would’ve made a shocking boner!

With that, and with pictures and diagrams, he explained what circumcision, compared to being uncircumcised, looked and worked like. I’d seen it all before, of course, but, I could tell Mum was a bit embarrassed, looking at guys penises, even by plastic ones. I had to work hard not to grin!

All the pictures were of guys, soft. Of course, he couldn’t really show stiff ones but, at the prospect of looking like some of those in front of me, I began to get hard and could feel my own lump, pushing up in my boxers. As we went along, he touched a bit more on what he meant by form AND function. OMG, even I got a bit warm at that. What mum thought, I’ve NO idea! I did know that, beyond doubt, I wanted this. I just hoped that she was being convinced too.

* * *

“Before you finally decide, we should just take a look. Just to make sure there’s nothing we’ve missed.”

Luke's eyes widened, as Tiberius stood and pulled back the curtain in the corner. The one that had been screening the medical couch. He drew a length of disposable sanitary paper, from a thick roll at the foot, over the surface. “Why don’t you just hop up on here, Luke, so that I can examine you?”

OH BLOODY HELL!!

Take off his trousers? His underwear? Have the doctor scrutinize his cock? Here and now, with his mum watching? Crap and double crap! He hadn’t anticipated this, at all.

He stood and stared nervously at the bed. SHIT – he still had a cracker of a boner!

"Just slip down your trousers and underwear a little, Luke,” Tiberius requested. “That's all that's needed." He picked up a box and extracted some latex gloves.

BUY TIME!

He couldn't exactly call ‘time-out’, say he was peckish and ask for a banana, so Luke did the next best thing. Kneeling down to undo his laces, he pulled them into a knot.

"Come on Luke, Doctor Tiberius doesn't have all day," his mum chided, as he fumbled.

"Sorry. I got a knot in it." A BIG one!

Eventually, he teased the lace loose, but it had been enough time to let things settle, and he felt it safe to start unbuckling. He snapped the button on his regulation, black, school trousers, and pushed them down to his knees. Then, as they both waited, he climbed up onto the couch as requested, and shuffled back against the raised backrest. From the look his mother’s face, he could tell there was only ONE thing on her mind: ’that pair of underwear had SO better be clean, young man!’

Pulling on the surgical gloves, Tiberius drew the curtain slightly, obscuring the line of sight from anyone entering the door.

Clearly, his mum didn’t count herself as ‘just anyone’ and, to Luke's distinct unease (he hadn’t displayed his private parts to his parents since he was ten!), she slipped past the curtain, before it was drawn. As he finally pushed his boxers down out of the way, she took a spot at the bottom of the couch.

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

OK, I laugh about it now but, at the time, I was totally mortified!

You probably think I was completely naïve. Maybe I was, but I just didn't see it coming! Why, I've no idea, because of course he would need to examine me. That's what docs do!

Mum was on a knife-edge with it all and I knew, with my hope to be circumcised, I still had a BIG 'ask' of her. I wasn’t that happy with her joining the party, but wasn’t prepared to piss her off by telling her to take a hike! Even so…damn, I could have been freeballing! OK, I admit, I’d never considered going without underwear myself, but I knew what the word meant. The thing was, I was no longer a kid - and had all the hairy bits to prove it!

Do you blame me?

I lay on the bed and he reached into my quite bushy pubes, lifted out my penis – which, acutely embarrassing, wasn't actually that soft - and pulled it out straight! I tried not to think about it as he examined me, sliding my fingers together back behind my head, trying to appear nonchalant. I stared stonily as he played with me - pulling and twisting my penis. I guess, to get a full idea of what might be needed.

Almost immediately, he frowned and came out with a 'mmmmmmm', before going on to make a careful examination of all of my genitals probably to make sure there were no unexpected lumps or sores, or anything else weird down there!

* * *

Finally, after the thorough, but mostly silent, examination, the specialist gave his professional opinion.

"Well, Luke, overall everything looks healthy..."

Luke nodded, assuming he was meant to give some kind of response.

"...apart from, as you may be aware, you’re more than a little phimotic."

A little phim-whatic? Oh…! With a rush, it suddenly dawned on him. He meant Phimosis!

Even now, as part of his ‘research’, he remembered surfing to a page about Phimosis – apparently one of the medical indications for circumcision. He’d started reading, but then clicked on a link that said ‘paraphimosis’. He'd been shocked. The link had brought up a picture that was so horrendous, the words that went through his head at that moment had been quite unprintable. He did NOT have that! He’d closed the windows and didn’t read any more. Phimosis and paraphimosis? Whatever they were, he DEFINITELY didn’t have them!

Did he? The room felt warm and the back of his neck prickled. "I have Phimosis." He didn't mean it as a question, though Tiberius took it as such.

"Yes. You suffer from Phimosis, I'm afraid."

"He does?" Lucy looked completely confused.

Tiberius glanced at his mum, raising his eyebrows. The blank look confirmed his prognosis. "I assume you didn't know?" She shook her head.

"What is Phimosis?" asked Luke, believing he should be involved. Why the hell hadn't he kept reading that page!

"Yes, Doctor, what is it?" added Lucy, with some trepidation. "I've not heard the term before."

I have.

"Phimosis is a medical condition," Tiberius replied. He saw her eyes widen. "Now, you don’t have to be alarmed," he added, "it's quite minor, but it is a problem.”

“A problem?”

“A minor one,” Tiberius reiterated. “Phimosis is the term given to a non-retractable foreskin. The condition affects a very small percentage of men." Perhaps sensing that he was in danger of losing them, he picked up Luke's penis again. "It's probably easier to demonstrate." Using him as the model, he gave them a quick recap in human anatomy. Reminding them of what he’d explained through the model, he pointed out the main landmarks; prepuce, glans, meatus, sulcus, inner and outer foreskin.

"So, you can see around the tip here,” he said, pointing out the prepuce, “there’s a tight band of skin.” He pulled at it lightly. “That’s what’s effectively stopping Luke from being able to draw back his foreskin. Let me show you what I mean." Slowly, but firmly, Tiberius began to attempt to retract him, pulling down on the outer shaft skin down to the base and into his pubic hair.

Fascinated, Luke tried to dissociate the procedure from ANYTHING to do with the way he masturbated! Bit by bit, he watched doctor skillfully pull down the excess. He knew exactly what would happen, and wasn’t at all surprised when the skin jammed around the top. That was what it normally did. Despite the doctor’s previous explanation, he wondered why the man actually expected anything different. Then, his assailant kept going, forcing the skin shaft back, tighter and tighter.

Finally, and quite painfully, a small part of the inside was exposed.

"Ouch!" he griped, surprised by the pain. Flip, that hurt! Something was being forced out through the constricted opening, as his dick tried to give birth to what, he suddenly realized, was his very own glans!

"Ouch…!” Tiberius mimicked in agreement. “Exactly! Luke, this constriction is what’s called Phimosis and, for several important reasons, it’s now highly recommended that we get you circumcised."

Luke stared at his partly exposed glans, bemused. His mum seemed a little shocked, too. He didn’t quite get how it had suddenly changed from ‘hoping he could convince them, to agree to the procedure’, to a ‘you really need to have this done’. And what was wrong with his dick anyway? It had always seemed OK to him.

Still firmly holding him in his most retracted position, Tiberius kept him in what looked suspiciously like a mini-boner, and continued the explanation. "Firstly, as I'm sure you are already aware, Luke, when you’re fully erect, your foreskin doesn't retract further than this?"

He blanched as he and his mum stared at the offending article.

SHIT! That was hardly fair! Being forced to admit to his mum that he had erections? Why not admit he masturbated several times a week while he was at it? There seemed no way out and he nodded, feeling terribly guilty that he had a penis that frequently went stiff. He didn’t DARE look at her!

Tiberius continued, apparently oblivious to the discomfort. "As a result of this failure to properly retract, there’s been a substantial stretching of your shaft skin.” At last, he let go of his grip on the shaft. Instead he took the loose tip, and pulled out a huge chunk of offending skin. “As you can see," he demonstrated, "it’s left you with an excessive amount of loose skin, covering the glans."

This, he did know about! They call me 'Anteater' he muttered, inaudibly.

"The problems are three fold,” Tiberius explained. “Firstly, aesthetic - it doesn't look so pleasing, and secondly, practical - it's almost impossible to keep clean, and that can lead to infections. If Luke hasn’t had any to date, then he’s been fortunate.“

“And the third,” asked his mum.

Yes - what’s the third, he silently demanded.

“Well, the third,” Tiberius continued, with utter frankness, "is that, when Luke becomes sexually active, the inability to draw back his foreskin is going to make sexual intercourse rather painful."

OH MY GOD!

Glad it had been his mum that had asked and not him, he still blushed furiously. He’d never had sex in his life before, but, if it was the same as jerking, he didn’t expect to find it at all painful. Quite the opposite!

That said, he did have that chunk of skin hanging off the end of him and, though he’d never liked it, it gave him plenty of slack. When jerking, he’d never found the need to pull it any further back; certainly not in the way he’d just experienced. Actually, he could masturbate quite well and could even squeeze the loose skin at the tip when he came, holding the jizz in there, if he wanted. Afterwards, it was just a case of getting a tissue to squeeze it into. It was handy to avoid messes, though now didn’t seem the time to bring them up to speed with his jerking habits!

"I'm so sorry, Luke! As you were growing up, I never thought to check something like this with you." His mum looked crestfallen. ‘You never had a physical with our GP in the UK. I hadn't realized it was a problem!"

He stared at her, bemused. What problem, he wondered? He didn't even know he had one, until now.

The specialist eased their difficult moment. "Not to worry. The important thing is that it's going to be easy to rectify. Better to sort it out now, than put up with it for years, don’t you think?”

And be able to enjoy sex? God yes! He nodded rapidly.

“And it certainly means that your insurance would cover the costs, as a medical necessity."

Well that would certainly please his dad. Perversely, it pleased him too, and seemed to end any further argument as to whether he should be allowed the procedure or not.

Tiberius motioned to him that the exam was over. While he dressed, he observed the doctor pick out a booklet from a stack on the shelves.

They gathered around the coffee table again, and opened the booklet. Describing a handful of conditions that could affect the penis, it was packed with full-color horror stories! There was as whole section covering "Phimosis". Paraphimosis was in there too and – like all guys would – he squirmed uncomfortably at the images of the painfully swollen, distorted dicks. He turned the page back quickly and returned to good old common or garden Phimosis, showing a series of side-by-side images. One side described a correctly working foreskin; the other, another poor soul afflicted by the condition.

He compared the two variations. The 'normal', as he could now see, was where the foreskin was made to skin back down the shaft on erection, revealing the glans. The realization that uncircumcised guys got to see their heads, too, was a surprise. For some reason – and it seemed stupid now -he’d always assumed that the only people whoever saw that mushroom–shaped glans, were cut people. People, like all the guys at school.

The second version looked profoundly like him. Showing pressure being applied, in an attempt to pull the constricted foreskin back down the shaft. “So that’s what I have? This Phimosis?” He didn’t need convincing, he was trying to get his head around it. It was like looking in a mirror!

The doctor nodded. “Yes, you do Luke – but, as I said before, Phimosis is treatable. Sometimes, the skin can be stretched but, with the extent and thickness of the stenosis, I recommend circumcision as the best approach.”

He didn’t know the hell what stenosis was, but who cared? The fat lady had sung!

"Will it make any difference?" Lucy asked.

"Any difference? In what way to you mean Mrs. Summers?"

“Will Luke have to go into hospital for the surgery to correct it, now it’s like this?”

"Oh, I see. In fact, not at all. The procedure is simple and the removal of the phimotic tip is straightforward and won’t affect the outcome in any way.“

“I can still have it done here then?" he said, relieved that hospitals were out of the equation. "Like you said?”

“Certainly you can, Luke,” Tiberius nodded encouragingly. He stood, and Luke watched him return to the shelves. "Can I take it from you that you would like to proceed?" He slid the booklet back into place.

Luke couldn't help it and grinned widely as he answered for them both. "You bet!"

The Doctor glanced briefly at his mum and she nodded, too.

“Excellent!” Assured, Tiberius got down to business "Luke, as you're only fifteen, we can try things that wouldn't be possible in a fully matured adult. Your penis isn't yet fully developed and, in your case, the shaft skin is not particularly thick.” He went behind his desk and slid open a drawer. “I'd like to suggest we use a SmartKlamp, rather than a freehand resection." Once more, mother and son looked blank, as he retrieved a small package. Sitting once again, he opened it up, and lifted out the contents. “This is a SmartKlamp.”

Luke studied the bizarre looking item, apprehensively. It reminded him of a wine bottle corkscrew...the type that has two arms, used to pull out the cork. Tiberius turned it in his hands, and then passed it to him to play with. A SmartKlamp? He’d concentrated on why it should be done, not how, and he’d certainly never heard of a SmartKlamp. He got his first look at the mechanism that would end up modifying, not just his anatomy, but his whole world!

“It’s a device that offers a simple and bloodless circumcision, and is frequently the best approach for children and young people.“

Luke twitched. It was the first time anyone had mentioned blood. Even the bloodless type!

Unable to take his eyes of the slightly weird looking contraption, he shivered at the thought of a wine bottle screw, grinding down inside his dick. If it didn't do THAT, it was obviously designed to circumcise someone. The question was…how? To make sense of it, the doctor took the mechanism back, and broke it apart.

"This tube,” Tiberius explained, “sits between the foreskin and the glans." He slid it over his finger to demonstrate.

Jeesh!

"The outer framework creates a tight grip around the rim, at the point where we want to remove the excess foreskin.”

Luke tried to visualize what that meant, but decided just to take his word for it.

“We'll need to make an initial releasing cut, to get past that tight ring at the tip,” Tiberius continued, “but then everything will be quite simple. The pressure applied by the SmartKlamp fuses the layers of skin together as they heal. When it's removed, it will have effectively, and rather neatly, completed your circumcision."

“Well, that sounds pretty good, don’t you think Luke?’” said his mum.

It sounded complete gibberish to him, but who cared! He nodded, enthusiastically.

"We’d fit the SmartKlamp here at the clinic,” continued Tiberius, “and Luke would wear it about ten days. It’s quite unobtrusive and isn’t particularly uncomfortable. There would be no reason he would have to miss school.” A slight rising of the eyebrows passed the subtle message to Lucy. “And, with the procedure done in this way, there’d be no need for sutures.”

Nearly finished with his presentation, Tiberius slid the device back into the loose packaging. “You’ll need to come back here after the ten days, one last time, for me to take it off. By then, the skin will have then healed sufficiently across the line where the layers are fused. After a few months, you would hardly know how it was done!"

“That sounds good, don’t you think, Luke?” His mum seemed particularly enthused by the apparent lack of excuse not to go to school.

Frankly, he was more impressed by the apparent lack of cutting and blood, though not missing school wasn’t that bad. The way he saw it, by not disappearing for several days, he wouldn't need to explain what was going on or, in his case, coming off. It fitted in well with his plan to keep his circumcision procedure private; at least until it was fully healed. It would mean missing the showers but, with a bit of luck, he could even hold out well through the summer term, before he had to reveal it.

"Let's have a look at the appointment book shall we?" Tiberius stood and crossed to his desk. Luke and his mum stood too, and followed.

Monday, he thought to himself.

I'm free Monday...or Tuesday, if it had to be. He could wait ‘til then - just. He watched the Doctor, as he started leafing through various pages of a neatly maintained desk diary.

"Ah, here we go - actually I can get you in quite soon; and it would be a Friday too, which would give Luke a few days over a weekend, to get over any temporary discomfort."

YES!! Next Friday! OK maybe Monday had been a bit hopeful, but he could probably hold out ‘til Friday.

"Three weeks from today, if that suites you?"

Three weeks? NO!! That was FOREVER! What happened to three days? "There's nothing sooner?"

"No, I 'm afraid not, Luke." Tiberius flicked through the pages again. "Often the waiting list for surgical appointments stretches to several months, but this space opened up quite recently. It would be a 2pm appointment, if that's manageable?"

Lucy checked her planner, and made a note. "Yes, thank you. That will be fine."

As they gathered up their things, Luke looked at his watch. An hour. My God, what an hour it had been!

As they were leaving, the Doctor passed him a small booklet. "You know Luke, not all circumcisions are the same," he explained, as he walked them back through the corridors. "Everyone has their own expectations, and often people prefer a particular kind of look and outcome. Even using the SmartKlamp, it's possible to make the result - the style of circumcision - exactly how you want it. This booklet explains what I mean. Why don’t you have a look through it, and then we can go through it together when I see you next time."

There were styles? Like a haircut? Intrigued, Luke stuffed the booklet in his pocket before his Mum could take it. She didn’t seem to notice. He'd been buzzing with the excitement of it all, but she was quiet as they left the building.

* * *

"The traffic's quite heavy," he noted, trying to kick-start the conversation. Once they'd navigated back out to the 285 circular, his mum had settled into an inside lane, joining all those trying to make the exit to the 400; all jostling to escape the city and head north. Eventually, they'd exited the junction and broken out of the bottleneck, heading for home.

"Friday teatime on the 400," she agreed. "Poor dad has to do this every day!" She paused. "So, are you happy with how it went, sweetheart?"

He glanced at her, tentatively. "Yep, I think so Mum. You? What did you think?" She'd been a little quiet and he wondered if she was bummed with him for some reason.

She chewed on her lip and paused before replying. “I think it went well, though I feel I’ve let you down.”

“Mum, why would you say that?” he muttered in surprise.

“Let’s be honest, I haven't been exactly supportive of you the last few months!” She looked across, before returning to the road in front. “Luke, I’m so sorry that I didn't think to check with you that everything was all right...um...down there."

Relieved, he grinned to himself. 'Down there' seemed to be a euphemism for dick. "It's all right Mum – don’t worry about it. Nobody was to know. I didn't even know myself!"

"Even so..."

"Honestly, it’s fine. You're okay with the idea of me being circumcised then?"

“To be honest, sweetheart, I think I was even before the Phimosis issue came up. Doctor Tiberius was quite convincing, wasn’t he!"

He nodded. “It was nice to hear that I wasn’t the ONLY teenager who’s ever felt like this," he admitted. And it was a bit of a relief to hear that he wasn't a freak. "You’re definitely okay that I’m having it done?” He just needed to be sure.

"Of course!" she said immediately, "You really need it!" She paused and looked thoughtful. "I think I'd better check Simon though. If he has this Phimosis too, we’re going to need to get him circumcised as well."

Luke grinned to himself. Si might be in for a bit of a surprise! "What about Dad?” he ventured, his lips curling.

She seemed to take it well. "Okay, your dad may be a greater challenge, but we'll see!"

They both laughed out loud. He knew she was only kidding, but sharing the joke took away the last of the tension between them and they chatted easily throughout most of the journey home, discussing what they’d found out that afternoon and what it meant. He though it was going great until, out of the blue, she caught him with a broadside.

"Well, while we’re on the subject,” she said, unexpectedly, “perhaps it’s high time we had a talk about sex?"

"MUM!" Luke turned his head fast, and winced. Talk about subtle!

"What?" She grinned as she negotiated the turning into their subdivision. "There's nothing wrong with sex!"

"For goodness sake, Mum, I'm only fifteen!"

"Nearly sixteen, I recall you pointing out to Doctor Tiberius."

"We still don't have to talk about it, though." He grunted adamantly, crossing his arms. "Trust me!"

She was relentless. "Trust ME," she returned, "we DO! Like the doctor said, you've reached an age where you’re becoming sexually aware. We NEED to talk about it!"

"Why now? Can't we do it some other time?" he pleaded.

"Now's the perfect time - the van's moving and you can't get out!" The way she said it, Luke had to laugh. "And for heaven's sake Luke, I wasn't born yesterday! I do know what teen boys THINK about - and DO - you know!"

He flushed. She hadn't come right out and spelled it letter by letter, but he guessed she was talking about masturbation! Holy shit! He wondered if she even thought he might be having sex with someone? He studiously avoided looking at her, guessing there was more to come.

"Don’t be a prude! There's nothing to be embarrassed about!" She glanced across, apparently amused by his discomfort. "Before long, you'll meet someone, which may lead to a physical relationship."

My God! He’d never had this kind of conversation with his parents before! She was definitely talking about sex now. She was probably thinking about Stacey too!

"Maybe some nice young lady will steal your heart?"

"Don't you start! Dad's bad enough!"

"Start what?" The angelic face didn't quite disguise a smirk. "Oh - you mean Stacey. Well Dad's right. She's quite a catch."

"Leave off - it's not like that."

"Fair enough. But you wouldn't be the first young man to fall head over heels! Whatever 'type' you prefer, it's bound to happen, sooner or later."

He totally and utterly got the wrong end of the stick with what she meant.

His 'TYPE'?

He looked across sharply. "Mum! How could you even think that? I'm not gay!" Even as he said it, the penny dropped. She'd meant girlfriend type! He wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Way to go, Luke, make a big scene, why don't you!

His mum pulled into their drive, stopped, killed the engine, and turned. Clearly a little surprised at his tone, she turned to study him as he twitched. "That's not actually what I meant."

He squirmed as the moments passed, wondering what was going on behind those probing grey-green eyes.

Eventually, those eyes seemed to soften. "Luke, all I’m saying is, as you grow older and begin to explore sexuality and relationships, then Dad and I are always going to be on your side. I know everyone gets plenty of 'Sex Ed' classes at school these days. You're lucky. We never had such things in my day." She reached over the back and retrieved her purse. "Even so, take it from me. Relationships can end up being a bit more complicated than just knowing how babies are made!"

"Mum!"

"Mind you," she smirked, as she opened the door to get out, "I can always ask dad to give you the birds and bees talk, if you want!"

"Oh, please," he groaned. "Spare me!" Kind of a bit late too, but never mind.

"Just so you know that we’re here when, and if, you need us.”

He regarded her in a new light; beginning to see a person that he thought had disappeared from his life several years ago. "I know," he sighed. "And thanks."

Later that evening, he went through the circumcision booklet he'd been given by Doctor Tiberius. He took it to bed with him, and discovered the differences between high and low; tight or loose; what to do with the frenulum; outer and inner foreskin and the differences in sensations the two carried. He studied the pre-op and post-op instructions, finding out what he would need to do...including the fact he was expected to shave!

At last, he was finally able to put words to what he was seeking.

High! Tight!

Hot!

8. A Fruity Weekend

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

A Fruity Weekend

A good weekend really needed to have some kind of regularity to it; some familiarity that defined its purpose. A two day break that you didn't want to waste, it needed to be different from the weekdays.

Well, that was what Luke firmly believed.

On the other hand, while it was okay to do a few different things now and again, he liked to ‘veg’ with the familiar too. It started with sleeping in on a Saturday; staying in bed, with no hurry to be somewhere. Unless it was something he wanted to do, of course. That said, he never slept in much past 9 AM. The ones he REALLY felt sorry for were the kids, whose parents apparently had this NEED to arrange activities for EVERY moment of the day.

What a nightmare! Fortunately, his own mum and dad were better trained!

Some things were always part of their family’s weekend program. Like taking apart the paper on a Sunday morning. The Sunday AJC - Atlanta Journal Constitution - was a huge conglomeration of helpful reading, of which Luke was only interested in the TV guide. Of course, the Sunday program also had to include the worship service at Longhorns.

On Saturday mornings, however, his mum usually went food shopping - and that presented choices.

Now, if she was just going to Publix, he wasn't interested. He clearly couldn't fit into the trolley anymore, and who wanted to walk miles of aisles for no good reason? BUT, if she planned to shop at Kroger instead, that meant she was also going to the Mall. Sometimes he would tag along - to visit the Games shop, but mainly to lust in the Apple Store!

As long as it was well after 9 AM, of course.

That particular Saturday was the day after his consultation with Doctor Tiberius, and Luke was buoyant. He woke up before eight, showered, and even had the coffee pot brewing, before his mum and dad made it downstairs.

His lazy weed of a brother was still in bed!

The sun hadn’t made it around to the back windows yet, but it looked a gorgeous day outside. He opened the kitchen door and stepped out onto the deck. He loved this time of year; early spring, the equivalent of a good British summer; warm and fresh, but not yet hot enough to verge on the unbearably humid. It was a time of year that brought the promise of new things.

His nose flared at the warm sweet smell coming off the grass; grass that needed cutting. Maybe he’d do it later.

In four years, the gardens – front and back - had really come on a treat. Mostly with their mum’s hard work. When they’d first moved in, there had been a couple of beds at the front but, at the back, the huge space had all been set to grass – left like that by the builders. Over the years they’d been there, she’d transformed it, though most of the bigger trees still had a long way to go. Trees? She’d even planted a small orchard across one side!

Flowerbeds were beginning to burst into color, breaking up the lawn, but leaving spaces where there was still plenty of room to kick a ball around, or play badminton. It was a great garden, but, as much as anything, he enjoyed just sitting on the decking, near to the pond, reading and listening to the sounds of the water fountain playing across the surface.

Returning to the kitchen, he left the backdoor open to let in the fresh air, and studied the percolator as it hissed and gurgled productively. It reached a peak, and then, satisfied, sighed in completion. Next he laid the table with typical breakfast fare and then turned back to the coffee pot.

"You're up bright and early." He looked up to see his mum join him in the kitchen. His dad was still in the shower. Her nose twitched. "Is that coffee I smell?"

"Just perked." He poured her a mug, and then another for himself, before joining her at one end of the long kitchen table.

It was a large kitchen, if you could call it just a kitchen. In reality, it was more of an open plan cooking/eating/generally hanging out kind of room. They'd remodeled a bit, getting rid of the trendy breakfast bar and opening it all up, making room for a more traditional, oak, farmhouse table and chairs. Elsewhere, there was a formal dining room, but it was only used for important occasions, or if they had special guests. The kitchen table was the hub of the home.

He passed his mum the creamer, and spooned sugar into his own mug.

"Mmmmm," she murmured, taking a sip. "Perfect!"

Luke took a sip too.

"Since when did you start drinking coffee in the morning?"

She was right. He rarely drunk coffee, preferring hot tea, especially first thing. "I think I made it a bit strong." He took another tentative sip and added more sugar. "I just fancied coffee this morning, that's all.” He filled a bowl with muesli, and dowsed it with milk.

Lucy stood and began taking bread from the packet he’d placed on the table. “Toast?” He shook his head and spooned mouthfuls of muesli.

"Did you tell Dad?" His dad had got in late the previous night, having spent the day in Dallas, on bank business. With an early flight out, he’d been there and back in a day. Even so, Luke had gone to bed before his dad had got back from the airport.

“About what?”

"About the doctor’s, yesterday." What else? "Did you tell him what happened...about the Phimosis and stuff?"

"Oh. Yes, I told him."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Is he alright with it?"

"Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be?"

"I dunno," Luke shrugged, shoveling in more muesli. Did she want a list?

"Be nice to your old dad. You know, if it hadn't have been for him, you probably wouldn't even have had a consultation."

Luke paused, mid-spoon. "How so?"

"It was him that suggested it."

"Oh!" His dad? That was a surprise.

“It looks nice out today.” Lucy looked through the open kitchen door and out onto the lawn. "What do you plan to do?" she asked. "Going to play at Ryan's?"

He shook his head, wondering if all mothers were like this. Perhaps when he was six, he might have gone to 'play' at a friend's house. NOT when he was nearly sixteen! He let it pass. "It's the army cookout thing today, so he's out of action. At least ‘til this evening. I might cut the lawn later though, if you want?”

"Would you? That would be nice.” She paused and grinned. “Any chance of straight lines?”

Luke rolled his eyes. It was an old joke. Whenever Simon sat astride the ride-on mower and cut the lawn, it was like watching a geometric exercise! Every angle exact; every line perfectly straight. His own approach wasn’t quite so rigorous! It all got cut in the end – why worry?

“I’m just kidding,” his mum added. “I'm going to the Mall, first thing, if you're interested?"

"Might be...” That made it Kroger, then. “When?"

She checked the wall clock. "Thirty minutes, if I can get your dad out of the shower!"

It was more like forty-five.

Just after 09:30 that bright sunny morning, they buckled up into their minivan. ‘They’ being him, his mum and, on this occasion, his dad too. Luke figured the only reason HE was along for the ride was because he’d probably not been given a choice. Still, he reckoned it was highly likely that both of them would end up in the Apple Store.

North Point Mall was just down the road, which meant about fifteen minutes by van. Almost on their doorstep really! His mum drove. Once they got there, she pulled over into a spare bay, not far from the south entrance. He reached for the door and slid it open, ready to jump out.

"OK, I'll pick you up in an hour," she proposed. "I'll be in Kroger." Clearly an hour meant substantially longer, Luke decided. She then addressed his dad. "And darling - ask them about bifocals this time."

"Oh...you’re getting new glasses at last?" That was a surprise, but it all made sense now.

"Yes, well only if I really need them."

"Trust me darling," pronounced his mum from behind the wheel. "You need them." His dad rolled his eyes theatrically, but both he and Luke knew what was expected. Rebellion was not an option. He would be getting new glasses!

The two of them clambered out of the van but, before he could close the door, his mum called through the gap. "Luke - if Dad chooses new frames, could you help him?"

"I'm perfectly capable of choosing my own frames, thank you!"

"Of course you are dear, but a second opinion never did any harm," she returned easily. "Bye then!"

Luke could see his dad getting a reply together, so he slammed shut the sliding door, before it got out of hand. They watched her drive off. "I don't mind helping," he offered brightly. "Fancy dropping into Apple on the way?"

His dad perked up considerably, and the pair walked though the automatic doors into the cool Mall. By that time in the morning, it was already buzzing with activity and they joined the throngs, all intent on retail therapy.

He was buzzing too, and it wasn't just the coffee. He felt upbeat. Optimistic with life. That uncomfortable feeling that he was the odd one out in life seemed to be coming to an end. It was like waking up on a day when he knew he’d be picked for the team, not just left on the bench. People passed from all directions, alone or in groups, with friends or family. Many were teen guys like himself. He couldn't resist glancing below the belts of a few, knowing that, in not many weeks, he would be as comfortable as they seemed to be with what, he guessed, they'd got.

The Mall was on two levels, with lifts and escalators in abundance. It could be best described as ‘humongous’! Under one roof, you could find almost anything you could want to buy, all from brightly decorated stores, set out as far as the eye could see. Upbeat music played through hidden speakers, filling the air with lively tunes.

There was even a massive, multi-screen cinema, and he and Ryan often came down on a weekend to watch the newest movie releases. The food court was extensive too - as, it seemed, were the backsides of many who, even by mid-morning on that warm Saturday, were shoveling down food.

Passing by the food for better things, they chose fruit rather than carbohydrate. Stepping off the escalator, the two reverently crossed the threshold of the Apple Store, ready to bask in techy heaven.

Bright and clean, Apple was always packed, and the iPhone, the iTouch and the MacBook Pro were all were totally out of Luke's price league - but it didn't stop him from a serious bout of lusting! Moving through the crowds, they stopped by a well-packed display section.

"They're planning on making this available through the office business contract." Lifting up one of the new iPhones that had recently flooded the market, his dad couldn’t help a little self-satisfaction creep into his tone. "Maybe I should get one?"

"REALLY? You lucky dog!" cried Luke. An iPhone! As if there was any question! "Can't you swing one for dependents or something?"

Geoff grinned as he played with the device. Over the last few months, their mutual love of technology, and particularly anything Apple, had drawn the two of them together, making a place where they'd begun talking again. "These things run all kinds of apps, that you can download for them." He examined the one in his hand. "This seems to be mostly games."

"Games? What’s it got? Are they any good?" asked Luke. His dad shrugged. Luke got it: games were not his thing. "Well, if you get one, can I at least have your old phone?" He didn’t have ANYTHING yet.

"Maybe," Geoff allowed. "You'd have to pay for the calls, though."

A young Apple Store assistant noticed them. “Can I help you guys with anything?”

“No, were good thanks,” his dad replied. "Just looking."

The kid, wearing smart slacks and an Apple polo shirt didn't seem much more than his own age. He nodded amiably as Luke watched him go. "Wouldn't it be cool to get a job here!" he sighed.

"In my day, we did the paper round!" One thing seemed sure: the world was changing fast! "Mum said your appointment with the Urologist seemed to go well yesterday."

Luke looked around quickly, to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. Even though the store was noisy and busy and the likelihood that anyone could hear them was slim, he was glad his dad didn't use the 'C' word. "She said I had you to thank," he replied.

"For what? That you have this Phimosis?"

“You know what I mean!” Luke smiled. He still felt like a little kid whenever he thought about it – one with a birthday coming up that would deliver some new toy. He’d gone to sleep grinning, and woken up grinning that morning, too! Despite the fact that it was still three weeks and six days away, a date had been set for the surgery and everything felt right in his world. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks."

"She said it's set for next month, sometime?"

"Uhuh...."

Skipping through various apps to see what they did, Geoff dropped his voice even lower as he fondled the iPhone he was holding. "So, with this condition, it sounds like it’s also covered by insurance.”

Luke prickled irritably. He looked up from the device he was playing with. “Would it have mattered if it wasn’t? I know I have Phimosis, but that’s not why I first wanted it done."

His dad grunted. "I know. And if it had come back that the bill might have been several thousand dollars, you’re probably wondering what I would have said?"

"Dad everything isn't just about money!" he retorted, rather too loudly, irritated that this seemed to be the only thing that mattered for his dad. Several heads turned towards them, staring curiously.

“Okay, okay - I know.” His dad lowered his voice and the pair slipped into the background again. “But maybe you'd see it differently, if you were the one paying." He held up his hands, defensively. "Luke I'm not here to fight.... I would probably have done the wrong thing - been a silly old fart and said no. It's kind of hard to believe that you're nearly sixteen already..."

Luke was a little taken aback. "The wrong thing...?"

Geoff shrugged. "Well, maybe you're right. Not everything is about money."

Luke considered him, guessing he should make his peace, too. The argument had threatened to make a blotch on his, until then, perfect Saturday. He didn't really want to fight, and let it drop. “That's okay...and you're still a silly old fart – and a lovable one, too!” He grinned. He wanted to give his Dad a hug, but he wasn’t really the huggy kind of parent – particularly in the middle of the Mall. “Tell you what, you can always make it up by buying me an iPhone." It was a long shot. The MacBook sitting on his desk at home had been the recent birthday/christmas present, and he knew exactly how much that had cost. He took his dad’s pained expression to mean no.

"Come on," Geoff said, looking at his watch, "We'd better get to the opticians." With regret, they put down the phones and headed out of the door.

The opticians wasn't anywhere near as crowded as Apple, and it didn't look like they would have too long to wait. Luke sat down with his dad on a row of sensible chairs – comfortable, but nowhere near as plush as at the Urologist. There was definitely more money in ‘bits’ than eyes!

The store was part of a reputable national chain that advertised on the TV regularly. He and Simon had been here once, too. Just to get their eyes tested. Neither of them needed anything. Idly, he and his dad looked around the store at the hundreds of frames out on display, mounted on dozens of racks on the walls.

"I was thinking," Geoff mused.

Luke laughed. "Careful, now..."

"Funny boy!" His dad’s mouth twitched. "What I was going to say was that, with the surgery you need, maybe it's a good job we came here after all! Here, as in America, I mean."

Luke turned to look at his dad, curiously. "How do you figure that?" His dad could sometimes think totally out of the box. It was one of the things he did well - and why he was headed upwards at the bank.

"Well, look at it this way,” Geoff proposed. He paused and Luke could spot the familiar signs; his dad’s eyes flicking up and across, checking the logic of an argument as he went along. “If we had still been living in the UK, and your Phimosis condition had been identified there, then you would have still needed to have the surgery. Right?"

"Probably. So?" He still didn’t get it.

"Well, following that - assuming you became the only circumcised lad in your class - you would certainly have been the odd one out."

"Oh..." As they called him through for the eye test, his dad left him to dwell on it.

Damn, he was right! He could just imagine the guys at his old school making his life hell because he looked different. Stuff like that was never private. It would get out, and he would be the butt of no end of Jewish jokes about dick surgery! There was no way out of it. Wherever you lived, you needed to fit in and belong - or life could be crap! At least for a teenager it could be. Even if you had an iPhone!

Life could be full of unexpected turns!

Luke looked up, as a small group – a mom, two lads and a younger girl – came out of the area from which his dad had just disappeared. He guessed they'd just had their eyes done, too. Of the boys, the taller one looked around his own age, maybe a little older. It was quite hard to tell. The four of them started to peruse the ranks of frames, and it became obvious that it was the little girl, with the help of her mom and brothers, who was trying to find a new pair.

He found the boy interesting. Dressed in chocolate brown, baggy, cargo shorts, either he liked the sagging style or he seemed to have forgotten a belt. Something told him that, for the unknown teen, 'forgetting' would be unlikely. A choice then?

Whoever he was, he moved confidently; fluidly. He seemed sure of himself, though not arrogant with it. His eyes swiveled briefly towards where Luke was comfortably lounging, but didn't linger.

As he listened to the four speak, the accents were complicated. Perhaps, being from another country, he 'heard' accents quite acutely, and could pick up on subtleties. At one level, the family’s accents sounded American yet, scattered through their speech, he kept hearing words that seemed to come from somewhere else. It was intriguing. A mystery.

"That one!" demanded the little girl, discarding one pair for her mom to return to the rack, and pointing to another higher up. Her elder brother was kneeling in front of her on the well-worn grey carpet, helping slide frames over her ears. He looked to where she was pointing. "Those?" he said, pointing to the same place. She nodded.

Luke watched him reach up to pick a set of frames off a bracket. As he stretched, the simple short tee shirt lifted, and a pair of white briefs came into view. Pure white, with a light silver-grey waistband. Set against the cream brown, tan of his midriff, he couldn’t help but appreciate the simply presented color scheme. It wasn't overdone in the way that some saggers seemed to like, with boxers that went halfway up the belly. It was subtle; deliberate.

Nice.

Even the uncomplicated henna colored, leather, wrist bracelet looked right, though Luke never stopped to consider why he thought of it in that way. He smiled at the hair. Long, blond and wavey. Mine used to be like that - before the Academy took it, he mused. The two unknown brothers shared the same corn-blond mane.

As their little sister briskly ordered them around as she tried on multiple styles of frame, the younger lad was quickly getting bored with her antics. He was quite outspoken, and their mom tried to keep the peace. The older one looked across to him again and grinned, sharing the humor of it. Acknowledging him, Luke smiled back, surprised at how easily he'd been drawn into the small scene.

With his legs stretched out comfortably, he waited patiently for his dad. A couple of girls came into the store, chewing gum and giggling. They gathered around a circular rack, trying on designer sunglasses. He glanced at them idly, unimpressed as they attempted to flirt. Too young and too...whatever. Returning his attention to the blond haired guy, it was clear he'd noticed them too. To Luke's amusement, he rolled his eyes at their antics. Luke smirked in agreement. RIght on!

As they searched for frames for their feisty sister, Luke continued to watch the family. There was nothing else worth watching; certainly not the silly girls. A number of times over the next minutes, the guy lifted his eyes and looked over to him, making brief eye contact. Having already acknowledged him, Luke didn’t feel particularly disturbed or threatened by it, and didn't look away.

When his little sister finally made her mind up, the boy held up the frames for Luke to judge.

He nodded. They looked nice.

As did he.

He shifted in his seat. Just a nice-looking guy, he told himself, nothing more.

Frames chosen, the shop assistant took them and slipped them into a package. Luke assumed it would be to fit the lenses, when they were completed. As they left the shop, he continued to follow the family with his eyes. As he passed through the door, the blond-haired teen reached behind himself and scratched the small of his back, lifting the white tee-shirt; once again showing off the quite sensual color scheme.

A simple salute? A tease?

Then he was gone and Luke was left feeling a little out of sorts; perplexed by the simple gesture, and disturbed he'd been drawn by it. The two girls were giggling, pushing each other, trying to get his attention.

He wasn’t interested.

9. Painting by Numbers

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Painting by Numbers

Simon heard the front door as the others closed it behind them. Listening carefully, he heard the van move off the drive a couple of minutes later. Even though his room faced the garden, through the open window, he could hear the roar of the engine diminish as they pulled away. Having heard the words 'Mall' and 'Kroger' floating around the house the last twenty minutes, he knew he had plenty of time, so didn’t hurry.

In fact, waiting heightened the anticipation.

Throwing back his sheets, he stretched. The smell of perked coffee had been drifting up from downstairs, and reminded him he was hungry.

However, food wasn't the first thing on the agenda by any means, and he slipped out of bed to go relieve an overfull bladder. As he peed, the reflection in the bathroom mirror revealed the slim fourteen year-old. The fair hair, that both he and Luke had when they were kids, had darkened over time to a mousy brown - and kept neatly trimmed, to fit school regulations. He preferred it like that, anyway.

He stuffed his full-on woody back inside his dark blue pj bottoms; knowing what was coming, he was already overly 'excited'. Even so, he didn't touch it, and made himself wait.

After flushing and washing his hands, he wandered downstairs to get something to eat and drink - at the same time double-checking that he wasn’t being misled, and that he really was alone. He couldn't be bothered with a glass, and slaked his thirst direct from the big plastic milk bottle - prowling the downstairs spaces, calling out once or twice. He'd kept on his PJ bottoms, just in case, though, if there HAD been anyone around, the stiff pole tenting the soft cotton was a bit obvious.

Filling a bowl with cereal, he took it back upstairs to his room, putting his head into each of the others, on the way.

Sure now, he demolished half the bowl before going to gather what he needed. Opening the door to the built in wardrobe, he fished out the hot water bottle and carried it into the bathroom, where he filled it with hot water from the tap. Taking a towel from the rail and the bottle of liquid soap, he returned to his bedroom. There was nobody but him, so he didn’t bother closing any of the doors. He even opened the blinds to let in plenty of daylight before stripping of his pajamas.

Standing naked by the window, his dick shouted for some action, but he ignored it for the moment and examined himself carefully. His skin wasn’t too pale and you couldn’t see his ribs anymore. He’d filled out a bit and at least didn’t look painfully weedy, these days. A few sparse pubes, but his bush still had a long way to go – at least he hoped it had, ‘cos at the moment it was hardly anything to write home about! He looked behind himself at his bum. It was still there.

He fingered his dick carefully. At least that was reasonably sized and worked well enough. Well, he’d always thought it did. He’d managed to get a bit out of Luke, the previous evening, about some condition called Phimosis – which Luke seemed to have. ‘It’s when you can’t pull back your foreskin to show the head’, he’d said. ‘If you have the same thing, you might need to be circumcised too.”

In your dreams, big brother - not a chance! He shook his head, though, as he’d had a go at pulling down the skin in the way Luke had explained, it seemed to get stuck at the end in the way he’d said his did.

He grimaced. There was still no way he was having any surgery. He’d just keep his head down on this one. Moving on, he rubbed himself a few times, and a smile of satisfaction replaced the frown. It worked fine enough for him!

He went back to his bed and took both of his pillows, positioning them on top of each other, lengthwise. Then he draped the towel over the pillows, to keep them clean. Finally, he positioned the hot water bottle on top of the mound. Taking the bottle of liquid soap he liberally squirted it onto the rubber bottle, spreading it over the textured surface until it was slippery and ready to receive him. He opened the windows wider, to let in the warm spring day, and he took a moment to turn on his CD player for some background music. He was ready now and, with an empty house, he intended to take plenty of time, without the need to be quiet!

On impulse, he crossed through to Luke's room. On the bedside table was the small booklet, filled with images of guy's dicks. The one Luke had picked up, from his visit to the doctors. He wanted a closer look at that – though not for any medical reasons! He also folded back his brother’s sheets and lifted his pillows.

His erection was chomping at the bit and he followed it back through the bathroom to his own room, where he used the extra pillows to build up the mound. After caressing the stiff tube with a further covering of soapy liquid, he swiftly mounted on top of the bottle. Partly filled with hot water, he sank into the soft slick rubber. The temperature was just right, and he groaned as he began to move against his make-do lover.

He'd discovered his Hottie (it was what his mum called it and it still made him snigger) by accident when she’d popped the hot water bottle into his bed one night, after he'd pulled a leg muscle on the field. They used to have hot water bottles all the time in England, for when it was cold. She’d often place one in the bed a few hours before bedtime; it took the chill off and gave him something to snuggle against. Thinking about how he used one these days, he couldn't help but smirk, remembering the one he'd had when he was young. Warm and fluffy, it had it's own special cover in the shape of a cute green monkey. If it could see him now, the poor creature might have been quite shocked!

More recently, the night he’d suffered a dodgy leg, he'd been a bit horny and, during the small hours, had started humping the bottle experimentally...and was delighted with the outcome!

Getting comfortable, the four thick pillows raised the sensual mound high, as he straddled it. Gently at first, he moved against the rippled, but slick, surface. The heat emanating through the rubber warmed the union and he grunted in satisfaction.

The first few times he'd done it like this, the feelings had been so intense, he'd squirted almost immediately. But, with time and patience, he’d become a practiced lover and could make himself last quite a while, if he wanted to. Often he would lie in bed, positioned astride the pleasurable mound, making slow love to it, as he read a book or listened to music.

He reached for the circumcision booklet and feasted.

It came down to this: he was gay, and he knew he was different. He jerked all the time but, ever so often, he really liked the more full-body contact he got with the Hottie. Jerking was OK, but this was better. Who cared if it was unusual? Maybe everyone did it, he’d decided. Anyway, he wasn't doing anyone any harm.

The booklet stimulated him, as did the texture of what he was mounted on. Rhythmically, as he slid backwards and forwards against the seductively slippery rubber, he dreamed, as he often did, of Toby.

An hour later, showered and fed with a second bowl of cereal, Simon hit the switch set on the wall. The garage door shuddered and grunted. The grunt turned into a deep groan and then, laboriously and noisily, it began to roll up and out of the way. As it reached the end of its track, it screeched and went still, exhausted by the short workout. He pulled his bike out from underneath Luke’s, and wheeled it onto the drive.

He left the garage door open – just like the garages of almost every house around them that morning. It was perfectly safe. Of course, he knew the code that could be tapped into the outside console, to close it after he'd passed through. It was just a number, and he never forgot numbers. Still, why bother?

Their house was down one of the many side roads of the subdivision – located at the end, on the big turning circle. It was a nice spot, and the wide circle adjacent to them was ideal for skateboards, roller blades and hockey.

The neighborhood was waking up and he waved to Mr. Fernandez at 1330, who was washing his car on the driveway. They themselves were No. 1320.

He never really thought about it anymore, but at first he’d always wondered where all the missing houses were?

In England, houses were odds on one side and evens on the other – and never a missing number. Here – for some unknown reason – house numbers went up in tens. What was the point of that, if there was actually no room, in between, to squeeze in a few more?

He was known as a bit of a swot at school, and excelled at most subjects. None of it seemed overly hard to him – especially math. Numbers were important. You could trust numbers. They always did what you expected.

So what happened to all the missing ones in their street???

It had irritated him almost as much as light switches. It should have been a straightforward binary operation. Ones and Zeros. On and Off. OK, they did that, but what person in their right mind would decide that on was up? It should have been simple. Flick switch down to turn on, flick switch up to turn off. It made perfect logical sense – yet somehow, America had got that simple little choice upside-down!

Mr. Fernandez waved back and, on the strength of it, Simon smiled and pushed off, to make his way over to Toby’s house.

Freewheeling down the gentle grade on his bike, he drifted unhurriedly, through their subdivision and finally out onto the main highway. Turning left would take him further along the valley, up to where Ryan Alexis lived, but he took a right, and down again to the lights.

It wasn’t too far to Toby’s. Left at the lights, across the next junction, and then it got steeper, as he climbed up the side of the valley, up the tree lined, winding road. The last bit was quite steep and he stood up on the pedals, punching them with practiced muscles, to get over the final incline. Two hundred yards on the left, he pulled into the short driveway and dropped his bike against the wooden front porch.

The faded door was ajar, probably to let a draft through, though the external mosquito door was shut. Not that the battered netting had much chance of excluding the beggars!

Mrs. Skerrit, Toby's mum, was vacuuming the hallway. He liked her. There was no Mr. Skerrit, but that didn’t feel out of place in their home.

She spotted him through the open door. "Hello Simon! He’s in the studio.” She gestured with a smile, welcoming him inside.

He grinned, and then hesitated, a particular memory playing across his face; the day – about a year ago – when he’d unknowingly trespassed into the room Toby used as an art studio at their house.

That Toby Skerrit was an art genius, was fairly well accepted at school, and in the art block, quite a lot of his creations festooned the walls. At home, he continued his passion with the spare bedroom set up as a personal studio. Over the years they’d been friends, in the company of his best friend, Simon had been in there plenty of times.

That particular day, he was at a loose end and, with the door open and Toby in another part of the house, he’d just wandered in. But, when Toby found him in there, exploring and looking at his artwork, he’d literally exploded. It had been horrible.

He’d never seen Toby so angry, and it had scared the shit out of him. He tried to apologize – though he couldn’t really see what he’d done wrong – but Toby just kept lamming into him. Then he’d got angry too – and upset – and had rushed out of the house. He’d cried all the way down the hill.

They didn't speak for days.

It was nearly a week later before, finally Toby came and apologized. Even then, it had taken weeks to get their friendship back on track again, but both of them had missed it, so they got there eventually.

As he hesitated on the doorstep, he didn’t make a very good job of hiding the residual gut reaction to the invitation to enter that studio. He could see from her face that she saw it there, and he also knew she was well aware of where it had come from.

He noticed a fleeting disappointment cross her face, though wasn’t sure whether it was for her son or for him.

“I’ll just call him for you, if you want.” The way she offered it, he knew that she understood and held no blame for him. He nodded as she backed up the hallway with her pipework, calling down the corridor that led off to one side. “Toby…Simon’s here!”

Toby poked his head around the doorframe of his studio. “Hiya Si!” He grinned and rubbed his freckled nose. “I’m just working on something. You need to see…come on...” Grace stood to one side to let him pass by, and he flashed a grin at her, the worries of the last moments already forgotten. If he had looked back as he hurried down the corridor, he would have seen a smile of relief.

Toby’s studio was a big part of his world. A place where he created. Simon stood in the doorway, eyes trying to pick out what might be new. Color was everywhere, and it was a complete mess; at least to him it was. To Toby it was pure heaven! Half finished projects lay everywhere, though he knew Toby wouldn’t discard something he was working on – even if it took months. There were probably walls somewhere, hiding behind all the pictures pinned there. The ceiling? Well, Toby had already started to paint directly on to that; his Michelangelo, he liked to call it. In fact he'd quite expected to find him idiotically - and dangerously - balancing again on the stepladder!

So he was surprised to see the table cleared of some of the junk, and a stool set next to it, where Toby had been working that morning. A painting was set on the tabletop easel. The work of art wasn’t large, but when Simon stepped up to look, he recognized it immediately.

“Bloody hell, it’s amazing!" he exclaimed in awe, turning quickly to the still-open door, hoping that the sound of his cussing hadn’t made it out into the corridor. "How did you do it?" he asked, more quietly this time. And when? Reverently he reached out towards the image of his sailing dinghy, painted with watercolors, on thick art paper.

"Careful!" muttered Toby, quickly, but without irritation. "It's still a bit wet."

That explained the 'when', then. Even though he knew Toby had only seen the boat once, he could tell immediately that the reproduction was technically perfect. But what made it so powerful was the outpouring of energy and vitality that assaulted him.

The single occupant was pitting himself against strong winds, pushing the craft to its limits against forces of nature; forces that lifted the dinghy out of the water and threatened to overturn it. The young sailor was laughing for the pure joy of it. "It’s so perfect!” He could already see it was him. Lost in wonder, he twisted his head. “It's really incredible. Thank you!”

Later, as they sat up in the tree house, all he wanted to talk about was the picture, but he knew Toby well enough to know he didn’t mind, one bit. As they sat on the rough offcut of carpet and dangled their legs over the wide opening, he had SO many questions. Is it finished yet? When did you start it? How long did it take? How did you remember the detail? And….

“Tobe – why don’t you come up to the lake with me again? We could sail it together. I’m sure you’d like it, if you gave it a chance?”

Toby shrugged. “You know why…”

“But it doesn’t have to be,” persisted Simon. “I could help you…you could learn…”

Toby shook his head, and dropped his eyes, unable to hide the slight sense of shame. Even with the life vest, they both knew it had frightened him. “I can’t help it…I just can’t swim Si. I love what you can do, with your skill an’ all, but I can’t do it.”

Simon tried not to let his disappointment show. “It’s okay – I mean there’s no way I could paint like you do, and that one of the boat is incredible. I could never do that!” He smiled encouragingly, but his demeanor masked an underlying gloominess, as the dream disintegrated. That secret fantasy, in which the two of them were going to spend happy hours together on the water, evaporated. He knew now that any hope he and Toby might enjoy a shared experience - with the possibility that it could turn into something else - had gone.

It had all been just wishful thinking, but he couldn't help himself. They were friends. Best friends, though now he could see this was all it would remain. He smiled on the outside. Toby's mom called them for lunch and he climbed down quickly, to hide his disappointment.

* * *

Luke got back from the mall around midday.

His dad had got a new prescription and he'd done his best to help him find some suitably modern frames. But his heart wasn't in it, and he found himself glancing often towards an empty space in front of the girls section. Finally, even his dad admitted defeat and decided it was safest to bring Lucy in to have her say.

When they got back, unless someone had raided their garage, Simon had clearly gone out.

"You'd think the kid was born in a barn!" his dad grunted as he waved to Hector Fernandez, who was washing his car that morning. "Morning Hector! Great day for it." His dad went over to be sociable, leaving him and his mum to lug in the shopping. Inside, a note on the table, from Simon, indicated where he'd gone.

What the hell was HE going to do all afternoon? Bloody Army cookout!

While he had no iPhone as yet, after lunch, Luke did use his MacBook to knock off a little of the homework that had mounted up for that weekend. After he’d done enough to feel justified in the claim that the new Mac would help his schoolwork, he took a break and logged into Facebook, to catch up with the real world.

A few new friend requests were sitting waiting - most of which he didn't know, so ignored. Except one. Owen Kear had found him. He accepted and PM'ed a quick note to the Welsh teen. He was tidying up his inbox when the 'online friends' list blinked.

A message popped up.

[DAMON] "Hi Luke - are you there?"

[LUKE SUMMERS] "Hey Damon!"

Luke tapped enthusiastically. There were more than a few people with whom he would make a quick excuse to escape from a tedious chat. Damon wasn't one. Like a comfortable pair of jeans, they slipped back easily into their previous discussion.

[DAMONJ] "Sorry I bombed out on you the other week. Parents wanted something."

[LUKE SUMMERS] "Nuff said. Know what you mean - was just worried I'd upset you or something."

[DAMONJ] "Nah - it's cool."

It was a good day for Luke. A great day, in fact! Like a puppy whose tail wagged in excitement, he just wanted to tell someone about it. Maybe it was impulsive, but he didn’t really care. Fingers played the keyboard quickly.

[LUKE SUMMERS] “OK, cool. So – you told me something about you...now here's something about me, if ya wanna know?"

[DAMONJ] "Oooo...I love kiss and tell!"

[LUKE SUMMERS] "LOL! Stop coming on to me!”

A week ago, he wouldn’t have dared say such a thing, but now it seemed OK and he knew he could get away with the teasing fun.

[DAMONJ] "ROFL! You wish!"

[LUKE SUMMERS] “So, you do have three guesses at what my secret is...."

[DAMONJ] "You have secrets? Does yer Mom know?"

[LUKE SUMMERS] “Stop being rude! Are you guessing, or not?"

[DAMONJ] "Okay, okay. Three guesses? Well, we were talking about being gay - but you did say that wasn't your thing, so strike that. How about this....you're a girl??"

Luke laughed out loud.

[LUKE SUMMERS] "LOL! Nope - last time I looked, definitely not girl!! I'm shocked you could think that!"

[DAMONJ] "He-he. OK. I figure then, you're either a rich orphan, or royalty?"

[LUKE SUMMERS] "Is that one guess, or two?"

[DAMONJ] "One - they're obviously related!"

[LUKE SUMMERS] "Cheat! Wrong...and wrong! You're on the wrong path completely. Here's a clue. It begins with C and is something I'm having done soon."

There was a pause.

[DAMONJ] "Frontal lobotomy feels right...and maybe you can't spell? That's not a guess by the way."

Another pause and Luke just waited, enjoying the game.

[DAMONJ] "I'm stuck. Having some crowns on your teeth is my best shot - a bit weak..."

He grinned as he typed the reveal.

[LUKE SUMMERS] "I'm getting circumcised!"

[DAMONJ] "OMG! Really?"

[DAMONJ] "You weren't done as a kid like everyone else?" Damon added, following immediately with another text.

[LUKE SUMMERS] "Nope - they hardly do it in the UK."

[DAMONJ] "Wow, why not? Yueeeww - that's weird! LOL! I don't know what's worse...straight or uncut!"

[LUKE SUMMERS] "Hey! I've plenty of friends who are both!"

[DAMONJ] "Their loss – kind of blows away you being a girl though!" and he added a smiley and a grin. "So what brought this on?"

Luke decided to mess a bit.

[LUKE SUMMERS] "I'm Jewish."

[DAMONJ] "Like hell you are!"

[LUKE SUMMERS] "How would you know?"

[DAMONJ] "Because none of your Facebook friends have Jewish names, lame-o! It's unlikely."

Oh...that was pretty astute.

[LUKE SUMMERS] "Ok, I'm not Jewish. Actually I've got some medical thing that means I need it doing - but they only discovered that at the checkup…I don’t mind though, I’ve wanted to be done for a while.”

There was a pause

[DAMONJ] “So why now, Luke?”

It was pretty direct. Now he felt awkward. Awkward that he could have this conversation with a kid in New York, but was much too self-conscious to tell his best friends, nearby. He shrugged. Wasn't that the point?

[LUKE SUMMERS] “I guess it’s because it's more normal for guys here in the States. Personally, I think I prefer it, anyway."

Luke stirred subtly, beginning to sense the effect the conversation was having on him; sex and circumcision becoming intertwined. He moved on his chair slightly and became aware that he was a little stiff. And it wasn’t his back that was affected!

[DAMONJ] "So when's the big day?"

[LUKE SUMMERS] "Soon - a few weeks."

He stared at the screen, trying to imagine what Damon was like behind the few pictures he posted of himself. To ease the tightness, his hand drifted to his jeans and he pulled at the faded blue denim. It suddenly felt quite stuffy.

[DAMONJ] "Cool...trust me, I know what I'm talking about. You're doing the right thing. I'm sure you'll look really great when it's done!"

Maybe it was the talk of circumcision? Maybe it was the realization that he was talking to someone who was interested in guys? Maybe it was because he hadn't cum for a while? Yesterday that had been because of nervousness about the appointment. Today, he’d felt like it wouldn’t be right. That morning, he'd come to the bizarre conclusion that he’d be letting himself down by jerking. Out of respect for his doomed foreskin, he'd decided it would make sense to stay off it, until the op was done. Now, the logic of that evaded him, and his resolve began to waiver.

Leaning back on his chair and facing his MacBook screen, he let the idea take shape, along with the swelling, which quickly grew to a fully-fledged erection in his jeans. It was hard, and uncomfortably tight. Following a few tentative rubs through the material, his breathing quickened as something in him shouted for action.

He wondered what to do.

Simon had gone over to Toby's, but, even though all was quiet, his mum and dad were somewhere around the house - and, for God's sake, Damon was right there in front of him! But he needed this bad now, and kept toying with the idea – or maybe it toyed with him. He stared down at the substantial bulge, feeling the pressure every time he shifted slightly in the chair. Should he? Shouldn't he?

On a knife edge, he sat up and his hand moved as if to take hold of the mouse again. The move brought a subtle change to the charged moment that was gripping him. It almost passed. Then his minds-eye touched on an image of pure white, with a light silver-grey waistband; a boy with soft brown skin and eyes that kept watching him.

As his hand moved, it shifted direction and drifted within the vicinity of his stomach, wondering what it would have been like to touch that soft brown skin that the boy had offered. He reached under the tee shirt and rubbed his own midriff, lightly. The physical caress was like a jolt of electricity. As soon as his fingers drifted further down and touched the zip, it was already over. Once he was tugging to open the slide, it was inevitable and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't even slow down long enough, to go over and lock the door!

A small, irrelevant, voice muttered in the background. 'This is stupid! What are you doing?' But any resistance had now gone. Trying to keep at least a wary ear for anyone on the stairs or landing, he gave up the struggle and pushed both the jeans and his loose boxers down onto his legs.

It would be quick. No one would know.

Luke shuddered as he finally touched himself. He grunted, quietly and in relief, as he took hold of himself. Oh, God, that felt soooo good! Pleasure emanated from his groin and washed over him, and he shifted again in his seat, pushing his underwear further down. He SO wanted to ditch the jeans and boxers completely, but another part of him (with an unlocked door, feet away) screamed about the stupidity of such risk-taking. This way, reason pleaded, if there were a noise on the stairs, it would still be possible to yank up his jeans and hide the evidence.

He studied his dick, seeing it erect for the first time since he’d received his diagnosis. It looked exactly like it always had. The skin was loose around the top, though he didn’t pull down hard on it, like the doctor had. It was straight. If he’d known anything about lube, he would have said he didn't need it. Even in the shower he didn't use soap to make it slippery. His foreskin didn't retract, but there was still PLENTY of slack for what he needed.

He carried a normal, medium brown, bushy undergrowth. A light fuzz was beginning to sprout upwards, but nothing much on his balls. Even before reading the pre-op instructions, he’d wondered about trimming and was sorely tempted, but didn't care to draw any more attention to what was already - as far as he was concerned - an eyesore. Rocking his fist methodically, his breathing quickened and, with it, he gave himself over to the sensations.

For a few moments, he watched himself as he drew his skin up and down the shaft. The familiar signs began to appear, so he slowed down and closed his eyes, wanting to make it last.

Within moments, the wall of darkness behind his lids came to life. Appearing in his mind's eye, there they were; the three of them, joining forces, and drawing around him. Not in a malicious way, but trying to guide him; direct him; help him complete.

The first one came with a simple and pure white covering, a light silver-grey waistband, and eyes that kept turning to him. The second: the tanned strength of Ryan Alexis, floating in the water on a hot summers day, and the third, the boy from New York, waiting and watching, just the other side of his screen.

Between them, they were irresistible, creating for him a series of images and emotionally charged feelings. The erotic internal slideshow played, synchronized with some intense, physical sensations. With the warm room and full clothing, he was flushed, damp, and losing ground to the three. Throwing caution to the wind, he swiftly pushed boxers and jeans to his knees, and the urgings of the trio sent him over the edge.

The end came suddenly.

Holding his breath and trying not to make any sound, he crashed into a full body, pounding experience. It was uncontrolled, and, behind his tightly squeezed eyes, flashes of color came alongside a pounding that threatened to force air out of his lungs, into a cry of pleasure. By sheer willpower alone, he held it in check. The muscles of his back contracted, almost lifting his backside of the chair. His head went back and a mirror would have described his expression as 'anguished'!

His pulse raced, along with the fluids rushing up his engorged cock. Just in time, he remembered to pinch the end of the foreskin tight and the rhythmic pumping forced semen into a bulging containment in his overlong foreskin. He felt the growing pressure bulge the tip and rode the sensations, before finally taking a gasp of air.

Oh my God…! Though not quite shaking, he wasn't far off, and he collapsed back into the seat basking in the afterglow.

Reality kicked in. Still pinching the end of his foreskin, he hurriedly, but one handedly, pulled up his underwear and jeans. Moving to the bathroom, with his clothing still not fully in place, he let it spill into the toilet, before cleaning off the final drips with a tissue.

Watching from a distance, the three guides smiled with satisfaction.

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

I remember returning to my bedroom and being unable to face my Mac, or the chat with Damon, because of the unpleasant shame that accompanied what I'd just done. Disturbed by it, I just lay on my bed, burying my face in the cool pillow. The intense excitement had passed, leaving me alone with a sense of guilt and confusion.

It was getting worse; getting out of control. Though we hadn't physically touched, I'd just had sex with another boy – several in fact! Not some porn image. Real people. Two of them I even knew - one was my best friend, for God's sake! The whole thing left me drained, both physically and emotionally and, as I lay there, feeling quite low and quite lonely, I dropped asleep.

* * *

It must have been about 30 minutes, before Luke woke and stretched. The time and rest had helped and he felt better. A little bit more optimistic. After using the bathroom again (for more usual fluids), he returned to his computer, to shut it down. There were still a number of messages left over from Damon, before he'd also logged off.

[DAMON] "So, what do your friends think?"

[DAMON] "Hellooooo.....anyone there?"

[DAMON] "??"

[DAMON] "Hey - you seem to have gone. Hope you're OK - and hope it goes well for you...good luck with it..."

Damon had logged off and left – as had his other two guides - and Luke felt another wave of discomfort and dislocation, knowing something wasn't quite right.

Midway through the afternoon, with nothing better to do, he topped up the mower from the petrol can, and began sweeping backwards and forwards across the lawn. His mum came out into the garden too. With gloves and trowel, she started on the beds. It was nice to have the company, though it was impossible to talk above the din of the mower.

Several times, as he passed nearby where she was weeding, he contemplated stopping, killing the engine, and taking her up on her 'we're here for you, if you need us' offer. Just to talk. Ask her advice. He slumped over the wheel even further, and shook his head as he drove on. It wasn't going to happen.

Later that day, he went to the movies with Ryan. They often went, on a Saturday evening, on the day he'd been at the army cookout all afternoon. Anything to get away from them all, he’d moaned, when he’d called to say he’d be done by 6pm.

The film was okay, and Ryan was always fun to be with, but Luke still wished he had somebody he could talk to about the kind of stuff that was happening to him. But, if he couldn’t talk to his mum, there was no way he could say anything to Ryan! Stuff like that was just too risky, and a sure-fire way to mess up a friendship. And anyway, how did you tell your best friend that you just jerked with him?

He knew he was quieter than usual, carrying all those ‘questions-with-no-answers’ in his head. Whether Ryan noticed or not, he didn't push or press, but carried them both and steered them through the evening.

He loved him for times like that.

10. Another Summers Day

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Another Summers Day

The next day, the Summers family made the traditional Sunday outing to worship at Longhorns where, as usual, Stacey was serving.

After the meal, wanting to speak with her privately - and definitely not with the attention of a curious younger brother - Luke made an excuse to go back inside. He timed it so that the four of them were just outside the door, before declaring, "I need the loo...I'll see you at the van!"

Simon grunted irritably, but Luke ignored him. As they kept walking, he slid back through the doors, and into the restaurant. It was still extremely busy, and it took a few moments to spot her.

"Stacey?" He caught up with her carrying a precariously balanced tray of desserts to a table. "Have you got a moment?"

Stacey Wyeman turned in surprise, and with speculative interest. "Sure. Just let me serve these folks..."

He nodded and waited, hoping she would hurry as she unloaded her tray and restocked it with glasses ready for refills. Finally, she was done, but time had gone too. He knew he would have to be quick as she rested the tray on the bar.

"So, how can I help you, Luke Summers?"

She folded her arms and gazed at him inquisitively...and what was it with her using his surname all the time? She seemed to be studying him, trying to read his intention. She was...oh. He blinked as it dawned on him. It felt uncomfortably like she was wondering if he was going to ask her out on a date!

Momentarily, part of him considered it. Maybe it was good idea? She was certainly nice. Even his dad had thought so. Perhaps if he had a girlfriend, some of this other...stuff...would go away? He shook his head; it was complicated and he didn't yet know what he really thought about the other 'stuff'. Why add to the confusion?

"Actually, I was just wondering if you knew Owen Kear."

Clearly that was a curve ball, and not at all what she was anticipating. She frowned, but recovered quickly. “Oh? Owen?" Her expression wasn't that enthusiastic, and she wiped her hands on her towel. "Sure I know him; he goes to our school. How do you know him?"

"Oh, you know how it is, we Brits stick together."

She frowned again. "I thought he was from Wales?"

Luke shook his head, but let it go. Now wasn't the time to get into the politics of UK geographical subtleties! "He just needs a bit of help," he started, but was interrupted by a voice from a nearby table, trying to get her attention.

Her eyes flicked briefly towards the interruption, and back. Rapidly, she scribbled something on her order pad. "Call me," she whispered, pushing the phone number into his hand, before turning away. Stuffing the paper in his pocket, he ran out to the van, climbed in the back, and slid it shut with a satisfying clunk.

* * *

Not wanting to appear too 'keen', he held off calling for a couple of days. Finally, he dug out the paper and dialed her number.

"Yes? May I help you?" A man's voice.

"Oh...errr...yes...errr, hello. Can I speak to Stacey...please?"

There was a pause. "May I ask who's calling?" The tone sounded just a little suspicious.

"Oh...mmmm...it's Luke." Luke guessed he'd got Stacey's father. "Luke Summers," he added, just in case there was a confusion with all her other Lukes. Partially muffled by a hand, he heard the man call out.

"Stacey! It's for you." There was silence, before the man returned to his ear. "She's just coming."

The phone muffled again, but he could still make out the words. "There's a Luke calling - from the UK." Further words were exchanged, but they were quiet and he couldn't make out what was said.

Listening intently, he jumped when it became loud and clear once more. It was Stacey. "Hey there, Luke Summers!" He could hear the smile as she finally took the other end from her father. "Dad thinks your calling from England!"

"I get that all the time!" he joked, relieved to have got through to her at last; and he enjoyed hearing her laugh. "You can call me Luke, you know!" She seemed to have this thing for calling him by his full name all the time!

"But Summers is such a nice name!" she replied, playful and unrepentant. "So, how can I help you? I wondered when you were going to call..." She left that hanging.

"Well, it's about Owen...." Luke spoke quickly, a little flustered again.

"Ah, yes, you said. Owen Kear. What's Owen done now?"

"Nothing that I know of." He was intrigued. "Why do you say that?"

"Oh - no reason. Actually he keeps to himself much of the time. Never seems that happy...."

"Well, that's true. He's not." And he went on to explain to her what Owen was going through. "He just needs friends,” he concluded. “Is there anything you can do?"

There was a pause and he waited. On the other end of the line, she seemed to thinking. "Maybe,” she finally said. “But it'll cost you!"

"What...how so...what will it cost me...?" He smiled, realising again that she was quite a character!

"Oh, I don't know," she said slyly. "I'll think of something."

They chatted a bit more before coming to an end. "Thanks Stacey. I owe you one!"

"That, you do, Luke Summers. That, you do," she murmured, before hanging up.

That night he had another weird dream! He actually dreamt about Stacey.

Somehow, in it, they had got together and dated. And then they got married and were blissfully happy. It was one of those dreams where the detail was fuzzy, but, for those few moments of waking, it felt as real as it could get! In fact, so believable that Luke almost felt like he should go and pick up the phone right away - middle of the night or not - and tell her everything was OK and that he really did want to be with her!

As he lay, hot, on top of the sheets, he sighed before going back to sleep. Perhaps he might even go back to the dream again? He drifted off, wondering whether there would be any kids, relieved that he was pretty normal, after all.

* * *

For the boys of ‘The Academy’, another weekend passed – as it did for teenagers worldwide – unnaturally quickly. Monday morning blues arrived, but that passed too as teens got back into the business of being students, before arriving at the zenith of the school day and lunch recess.

The school ‘restaurant’ as the Principal liked it to be called, or ‘cafeteria’ as everyone else called it was one of half a dozen stand-alone building scattered around the campus that held the prestigious school. Well endowed with extensive kitchens and plush tables, chefs turned out a reasonable diet for those who’s parents were willing to spend the money – and hey, once you’d paid the term’s hefty tuition fees, what was a few extra dollars a day?

Usually Luke and his friends ate hastily and left for better things before the afternoon lessons rolled in, but that day they remained gathered around the remains of demolished meat pie dressed with some less than attractive rabbit food, much longer than normal.

"Oh God - that's just so gay!" sniggered Scott Landon. “You have to wonder what they get up to in their meetings?” Most of the small crowd that had gathered that Monday in the school cafeteria, sniggered too. The topic up for discussion being the recent development at Creek: the new G.S.A. – Gay-Straight Alliance group.

"Maybe they sit around discussing which hole is better to stuff it in?" someone suggested crudely. More raucous laughter erupted.

Luke laughed and, glancing across to Ryan at the other side of the table, caught him grinning too. Simon, on the other hand, was standing quietly on the fringes, wearing a blank, unreadable face. At once, Luke faltered and felt uncomfortable.

It had been in the Sunday papers and it seemed that everyone knew about it – at least if they didn’t before, they certainly did now. He had read the article too and, whoever had written it, had done their homework, unearthing G.S.A. school groups around the country, and talking about them.

The author had written an extensive article:

A school counselor in Maine summed up the view of many educators I spoke to, when she conceded that her school was ‘totally unprepared’ for younger openly gay students. We always knew school was a time when kids struggle with their identity,’ she told me, ‘but it was easy to let anti-gay language slide because it’s so embedded in middle and high-school culture and because we didn’t have students who were out to us or their classmates. Now we do, so we’re playing catch up to try to keep them safe.’

Clearly, it wasn’t just High Schools either and she’d gone on to note:

As a response to anti-gay bullying and harassment, at least 120 middle schools across the country have formed gay-straight alliance (G.S.A.) groups, where gay and lesbian students — and their straight peers — meet to brainstorm strategies for making their campus safer. Other schools are letting students be part of the national Day of Silence each April (participants take a vow of silence for a day to symbolize the silencing effect of anti-gay harassment), which last year was held in memory of Lawrence King, a 15-year-old gay junior-high student in Oxnard, Calif., who was shot and killed at school, by a 14-year-old classmate. Still, the younger they are when they come out, the more that youth with same-sex attractions face an obstacle that would be unimaginable to their straight peers. When a 12-year-old boy matter-of-factly tells his parents — or a school counselor — that he likes girls, their reaction tends not to be one of disbelief, dismissal or rejection.

“No one says to them: ‘Are you sure? You’re too young to know if you like girls. It’s probably just a phase,’ ” says Eileen Ross, the director of the Outlet Program, a support service for gay youth in Mountain View, Calif. “But that’s what we say too often to gay youth. We deny them their feelings and truth in a way we would never do with a heterosexual young person.”

It seemed that the school administration at Creek had tried to block the formation of the group, citing a belief that it was wrong to sexualize young children in this way.

The paper had discovered that the school’s principal initially balked when students asked to start a G.S.A. ‘She argued that it wasn’t age-appropriate, and worried about having to deal with negative editorials in the local paper,’ an insider said. But, because the school had other extracurricular clubs, ‘the principal was made aware that blocking a G.S.A. from forming is against the law.’

If the Principal had wanted to avoid adverse publicity, she'd blown it, as a court order had been threatened, and could have easily been procured, maintaining the rights of the school children to form whatever group they wanted. It had hit the papers, and now everyone was talking about it.

"At least we'll never have such a fucked up gay group here," Landon suggested, with a malicious twinkle.

"And why would that be, Mr Landon?" Heads turned to the source, and a hush descended. But Landon was unrepentant. He smirked at Carter, one of the sports coaches. Carter was okay. A junior coach, he merited lowly tasks like cafeteria duty, and was on hand that day. Carter wouldn’t stay at the Academy long – there were too many existing senior coaches for him to advance up the ladder that quickly. But, to have the Academy on his CV wouldn’t do him any harm whatsoever! Either way, Carter was okay. Pushed you hard, but was okay.

"No chicks, coach!" Landon grinned, still keeping carefully to protocol in addressing the teacher. "It would have to be the G.G.A. No girls here, so it would have to be a Gay-Gay Alliance!" he added, triumphant in his own logic.

There was a smattering of sniggers, most wondering how Carter would respond. The coach gazed hard at Landon, who wondered if he’d gone too far this time. Todd saved him. "I think Scott wants to start one, sir," put in Todd with a grin. "It seems right up his street! You go for it Scott...maybe you'll pull someone at last!

Even Luke laughed at that, as did Carter, before better judgment broke in. "OK boys, break it up. I'm sure homosexuals are people too." With that everyone drifted away, leaving just Luke and Simon.

"Si...." Luke began quietly, but his brother shook his head tiredly.

"It's okay, I've heard worse," he said, but it was obvious he was hurt. Gay kids got no breaks.

"Come on Luke," shouted Ryan, standing at the door of the cafeteria, waiting for him.

"It's okay - I'll see you later," murmured Simon. “I’ll take these.” He walked away, taking their empty dishes with him. Luke watched him go, discouraged, and then turned to walk towards Ryan, who was grinning like an idiot. It irritated him – and he scowled slightly, disappointed that Ryan had joined all the others with the bout of crude, anti-gay humor.

‘You mean like you laughed too?’’ a voice in his head condemned him.

Suddenly he realised why Simon had looked so down: it was because of HIM! He’d gone and done exactly the same as everyone else and ridiculed gay kids. ‘But, you know how it works - if you don't play along, you'll get picked on too,’ he argued back. But he knew EXACTLY what the bottom line was. What it comes down to is that you’d prefer to leave Simon to face the crap and save your own hide?

Feeling bad, he followed Ryan and the others outside into the bright sunshine. As they walked across the newly cut grass, back towards the main building, they noticed one of the kids everyone knew to be gay, surrounded by a group. It was hard to tell whether he was being heckled or supported, and Luke didn’t really want to find out.

“Come on guys – let’s have some fun!” chirped Landon, seeing an easy target and steering towards it. Luke was still fighting his own demons and froze as the group turned expectantly towards the action.

Unexpectedly, Ryan halted and shook his head determinedly. “Leave it, Scott. We’re not starting on Kyle.” Several halted with him.

“I’m not saying starting on him – I just wanna talk to him a bit,” smirked Landon. “You know - ask him about getting a G.S.A. going here.”

“I said leave it!” Ryan replied stonily.

“Ooooh – Ry! You got the hots for him or something?” replied Landon. Ryan face darkened as Luke, finding his voice and his values, jumped in at last.

“For God’s sake guys, Ry’s right – leave Kyle and the others like him alone! It’s not their fault. What if it were YOUR brother we were talking about?”

As soon as it came out, he regretted it and his mouth went dry as. It seemed inconceivable that they wouldn’t realise he was talking about Simon. But then Todd spoke up and covered his rising panic.

“I agree with Luke and Ry. Come on guys – we should be better than that!”

Something ugly flashed briefly across Landon’s face before he shrugged and backed down, and they continued walking back to the main buildings.

* * *

Back home, after they'd finished dinner and he was skipping though the channels to see if anything was on, his dad started lifting cushions and going through the magazines under the coffee table, looking for something.

"Where is it?" Geoff grunted.

"Where's what, Hun?" Lucy looked up from her book.

"Yesterday's AJC. There's something important in it."

Luke turned his attention from the TV. The paper? Was his dad looking for that article? Were they going to have a discussion about GSA groups? Simon wasn't there, but he wouldn't mind knowing what his parents thought, all the same.

"It's already in the paper pile, in the garage." His mum looked inquisitive. "What's important?"

"Something Daniel saw - said I should look, too." Daniel was one of his dad’s office friends, Luke knew. His dad went out, leaving Luke to consider what his parents opinion was going to be.

'What do you think, Luke? Do you know any gay boys?' they might say.

Like your youngest son, you mean?

'A filthy perversion. That's what it is.'

He shifted uncomfortably, considering what else they might say. He suddenly knew he didn't want to hang around for ANY of it, when his dad foiled his exit, holding the AJC in one hand, and scissors in the other.

"Now, where is it?" He started peeling away sheets. Luke stared at the TV screen, but had no idea what he was watching.

"Ah! Here they are!"

"Here's what, honey?"

"There are some coupons." He looked triumphant. "Good ones, too. Chilli's, and even one for Longhorn!"

"Oh, for GOODNESS SAKE!" Luke cried. He threw down the remote and, to startled looks, stormed out of the room.

* * *

A couple of days later, getting in from school, Luke walked into the house to find a letter waiting for him on the hall table. A small logo on the back of the envelope showed it was from the Doctor's office. He picked it up carefully and examined the front and back in detail before opening it, appreciating that his Mum had not just opened it on his behalf, but had respected his privacy. She was, however, hovering and he got the impression she expected to be reading it shortly!

The letter was a confirmation of his appointment date and time. It also contained a few photocopied pages that gave more information about the SmartKlamp, and he slipped those into his pocket to take upstairs to read more carefully, later. Additionally, there were some medical release forms that needed to be completed and brought on the day. And, lastly, there was a covering letter with instructions on preparing for the operation. He skimmed through it quickly and was quite relieved to read the following paragraph; 'As we will be using the SmartKlamp as discussed at the consultation, it will not be necessary for Luke to have to fully shave his pubic hair, as is indicated in the information booklet you received. Nonetheless, in the interests of hygiene and to minimize the risk of hairs becoming trapped in the mechanism, it would be helpful if he could trim the hair reasonably well around the base of the penis.’

Thank God for that he thought...well thank God he didn't need to shave! Trimming? Well, he was actually becoming quite motivated by the requirement...for medical reasons of course!

He went through the photocopied sheets in more detail, later in the evening. It explained the things he already knew, but with pictures! There was also a website by the company that produced the SmartKlamp. Well, at least he now knew what to expect and, in his head, he ticked off the days one by one as the time slowly dwindled towards the allotted moment!

* * *

On the last day of that week, Simon was leaning over a large piece of thick art paper that looked remarkably like a coal miner had sat on it - leaving behind black and rather indecent markings! The Art Block was not his favorite destination!

One of the half dozen separate buildings on the campus, the Art Block was probably the oldest, yet least invested in. Art was not high on the Principal’s list and, if it had to be there, it damn well wasn’t going to cost him too much! The building itself used to be the old cafeteria, and had had the insides ripped out, some stud walling put up, but not much more. The Head of Art, Marcus Daniels didn’t mind, quite happy that the Principal kept out of his way.

Whilst Art was not Simon’s forte, he usually put up with it as well as the others who were similarly leaning studiously over their work that afternoon. Some of them were quite good – though none anywhere near as talented as Toby Skerrit.

Nobody was.

He glanced around again at his classmates, who came in all shapes, sizes and colors. There were only fifteen of them (class sizes were kept deliberately low at the Academy) and he pretty much liked them all. This class, and three others of a similar size, made up their year, here at the Academy. Most of those around him had come up through the middle school, and before that had attended the Elementary school that was in a nearby campus. Even though he had only joined them more recently, they’d taken him in like a long lost cousin.

And, at that Friday afternoon’s Art lesson, the fifteen were all in the middle of a series exploring pencil and charcoal. For Simon, the end of the lesson couldn't come soon enough, as he just could NOT get the hang of it, at all. He picked up the sheet and eyed the miner's arse (that was meant to be a piece of fruit) skeptically, wondering where he’d gone wrong. Just behind him, a voice sniggered cheekily.

"That looks like someone’s backside!" giggled Toby who had wandered over for a look.

“Shit - is it that bad?" Simon muttered helplessly. "How do you do it?" He could just not get hold of the idea of using the subtleties offered by rubbing charcoal streaks with his fingers to add tone. Putting down the paper once more, he stroked on some more charcoal, rubbed it down, and the miner’s bum miraculously transformed into a pair of cow’s udders!

"I give up!" he moaned. "Come on then, let's see yours." He flicked the charcoal across the desk and followed Toby to his corner.

Toby had his own space in the Art Room. Not that it was his solely, but it was an area where he had access to a wider range of materials – provided by Marcus Daniels – to work with. Nobody else really minded. Frankly, why take on more to cock up, if you didn’t need to!

Simon shuffled behind Toby’s desk, gazed at the creation he’d made, and sighed. Damn, it just wasn't fair! How did he do it? Whilst most of them had been trying to faithfully represent some object on the desk in front of them, Toby hadn't bothered with such limitations. Instead of an apple (aka miner’s arse, aka cow’s udder) Toby, purely from memory and creativity, had beautifully mastered their tree house!

It was incredibly real, detailed and subtle. You could almost hear the breeze whispering through the branches, caressing the leaves; stirring them into movement. And how the hell did he make it look like the sun was shining with charcoal, for God’s sake? There was a person sitting with his legs dangling over the edge looking away into the distance. It didn’t need the detail of a face for Simon to know instinctively, that it was himself! He smiled inwardly at the way Toby shared this moment with him. Knowing him, it was the whole purpose of the drawing!

Still, for the sake of personal pride, he tried to appear offhand. "My backside is better!"

"Really?" Toby smirked, allowing his eyes to go wide, eyeing Simon’s butt with a malicious grin, and added a passable British accent. "And you're comparing with who, may I ask?"

"Bog off!" he grunted, grinning affably. "I meant the picture!"

"That's your bum you drew?" Toby laughed and looked horrified. "Shit Si, you need to see a doctor quick - you need some kind of cream!" Simon couldn't help it and sniggered much too loudly, drawing the gaze of Daniels, their Art master, who glared at them.

"Perhaps you would like to share your little joke with the class Mr Summers," Daniels intoned dryly.

"Oh - ah no Sir. Sorry Sir..," Simon scuttled quickly back to his desk. Marcus Daniels was all right, but, despite the fact that Toby was his star pupil (and, according to Toby, his Mum spent much more time than was strictly necessary, with the man), he would have no hesitation in handing out a detention to either of them, if he felt it was deserved.

* * *

Later that afternoon, as they waited for their lift, he laughed with Luke as he showed him his 'Fruit' drawing. He had it in his portfolio and it would be marked for the end of term exams, so, despite his better judgment, couldn't just throw it away. Instead, he changed the subject to the weekend.

“I'm having a sleepover at Toby's tonight." He did it regularly – it was no big thing. "Maybe we'll come back over, sometime tomorrow, if we get bored." As they waited, he could see Toby slowly walking up the pathway to join them, hefting a weighty bag over his shoulder. It looked like he would need a new jacket soon; he'd begun to sprout - as had his long messy hair, which was well down on his collar.

How the hell did he get away with that?

As they watched, he stopped, tugged off his tight jacket, and threw it over his shoulder. It had been a hot, heavy, sultry day, which had left everyone worn out and looking forward to getting home, to change into something less stifling.

"How's it going?" Luke asked quietly, nodding towards Toby as he lumbered their direction. There was no need to explain what he meant...they both knew.

He shrugged. "Yep, good..." He smiled easily enough, and successfully kept a tinge of something else out his tone. There was nothing really to say. Some things never worked out.

On the school run that day, Toby's mom arrived and pulled into the parking lot, to let them in. As usual, Toby quickly slid alongside him into the back seat of their beat up Nissan, leaving Luke to take the front. The air-con had bust a long time ago and Toby's mom didn't seem have the inclination to mend it - but at least the blower worked. Not that it helped much.

"Good day at school, boys?" Grace joined the line of cars waiting to pull out onto the highway that would take them home.

"Simon did an incredible charcoal, in Art." Toby couldn't keep the smirk out of his voice. "Daniels thought it was amazing!"

"Really, Simon? Well done." Simon could see Grace smiling encouragingly in the driver's mirror. He also noticed the corners of Luke's mouth turn up, but took it well. "Maybe we should have Marcus round to dinner soon?" she added.

"MOM!"

Now it was his turn to grin, as Toby sat up, looking aghast. It was hard not to laugh!

In the driver's mirror, he could see amusement in Grace's face. It was hard to tell with her; was she really planning on asking Marcus Daniels to dinner, or was she just treating her teasing son to a bit of his own medicine?

Twenty minutes later, she stopped off at their house to let them out, and came in to chat with his mum, while he and Toby ran upstairs, so he could change, and pack for overnight. Five minutes later he was ready but, by that time, Grace had a cup in her hand and the mums were catching up. He and Toby went out into the back garden.

“We’re working on the tree-house this weekend – yes?”

Toby nodded. “I’ve had some ideas.”

Simon grinned, unsurprised. Toby would keep having ideas until the day he died! “Okay – what is it this time?”

Sitting on the back deck, they hardly noticed the time go as they talked about ways and means of getting what they were looking for.

* * *

“So – you still wanna do it today?” Simon stared up towards Toby’s head as it poked over the side of the bed, looking down on him as he lay alongside, on the pull out mattress. He stretched comfortably. It was a Saturday morning and neither of them was in any hurry to get up, though they could sniff tantalizing smells of cooking, drifting down from the kitchen.

He grinned. “The food lift for the tree house? You bet!” They’d spent most of yesterday evening in the tree house. Eating. Talking. Planning.

The tree house. It had been a long time in the constructing had that piece of real estate! Even now, they were still working on various bits of decor and adding gizmos that contributed to the style and functionality of the place.

They’d started on the project the previous summer, when Toby's mom had only one requirement; that it was safe. 'If you plan to do this,’ she’d said, ‘do it properly!' And, give her her due, she’d backed that up with hours of long hard slog, helping fix up the secure mesh of beams that straddled several huge branches up in the old oak.

Satisfied it wouldn’t go anywhere when the wind got up, she left them to it, and he and Toby were doing the majority of the ongoing work. They worked well together, but, when it came to the building, he led the way.

Toby was an endless source of intriguing and creative ideas, but not so good at following through, to turn those ideas into working plans and action. This was where he, Simon Summers, excelled. He knew how to take fledgling ideas, add his flare, and then make them work. With Toby's creativity and style, and his planning and practical skill, it was turning out to be one of the classiest tree houses in the State! They both loved it up there, way above the ground, hidden amongst the thick branches, and loved being alone together to talk endlessly about life.

But, if you were balancing stuff, trying to climb the rope ladder to get food up and down safely, was a problem. The previous day, they’d decided they needed some form of lift mechanism that could be drawn up and let down – big enough, and stable enough, to hold plates and trays without tipping. During the evening they’d planned it. Toby drew it. He measured it. They both were excited about this new addition.

Lying on the pullout mattress, Simon’s nose flared. “Is that you? God, that stinks!” He caught a whiff of a demonic odor that competed with the cooking smells.

“Toby grinned. Could be!” he wafted his sheets.

“Crap – stop! That’s making it worse!”

“Okay, okay – I’m going to the bathroom. I’m having a shower – do you want one?”

“Nah – maybe after we’ve finished the lift.”

Toby crawled out of bed and went to the window, opening the blinds to let in the sunshine. He only wore boxers to bed, and the sun streamed around him, bringing to life the semi-translucent material and bathing him in light. Simon looked away, knowing it wasn’t helping him.

After Toby had gone, he got up himself and quickly exchanged the PJ bottoms for the clothing he’d brought, and then began to tidy up the room. Folding his sheet and blanket neatly, he set those and the pillow onto the chair and then shoved the pull-out mattress back under Toby’s bed. It fitted perfectly, and he liked that. It made sense. It was like a good complex equation – everything should be balanced and in its right place, for it all to look tidy and work properly. Even simple equations were meant to work;

XY = XY

SIMON = TOBY

But, however much he did the math, it just didn’t work. It was an ache.

Standing at the recently vacated spot by the window, he opened the window to let in some fresh air and to look out across the backyard to their tree house. There were good days and there were not so good days. There were days where he felt at peace; comfortable and whole. Then there were days when he couldn't shut out the sense of ‘missing-ness’ - and times when even wind and sail couldn't fill the void.

It wasn't that he was just some crazy horny teen wanting to be fucked, sucked or any other opportunity for some kind of sexual outlet. He only wanted to be wanted, and for who he was to make sense. Almost anything would be better than a bloody hot water bottle! He wondered which part his mum and dad would be more disappointed in, if they found out; that he was fucking a rubber bottle, or that what he really wanted was another boy?

But why did it have to be Toby? Why couldn't it be someone else that didn’t matter - some other kid that he could have a happy, purposeless, crush on - and be satisfied with that? At least then he would have somewhere else to be, to feel normal. As it was, Toby was a big part of his life, and he was around him all the time.

And it didn’t help when Toby stood around in his underwear, like he was flaunting himself!

And why do you have to keep looking?

The words from earlier that week still chimed like death bells in his ears. 'Homosexuals are people too", Carter had declared. Without someone to share stuff with, would he be condemned to ever only be half a person?

It couldn’t be helped, and it certainly wasn’t Toby’s fault. All he could do was…nothing. He opened the window wider and took a deep breath, then sighed to himself as he went through into the kitchen to see what was for breakfast.

“Morning Simon! Sleep well?”

“Yes thanks, Mrs. Skerrit,” he replied. She had tried to get him to call her 'Grace' endless times, but he just couldn't. It didn't feel right. Eventually, even she had given up! “Toby’s in the bathroom,” he added, unnecessarily feeling the need to point out that he wasn't in there with him, watching him shower.

“Hungry?”

He just nodded; further words might be incriminating. Seeing a pile of bacon being kept warm, he watched Grace turn on the plate, in preparation for making pancakes, too.

That was the worst thing for him. Disappointing people. Lying to them. Toby’s mum was really nice – but only because she didn’t know what he was really like. That was the worst bit. Hiding. Deceiving. It’s when he hated himself the most. And if she knew that he was a homo who thought about touching her son, she would hate him too – even more than his own mum would.

Letting everyone down. He couldn’t bear that.

He sat quietly, watching the pile of pancakes grow. After a few minutes, Toby appeared, hair wet and still wearing only his underwear.

“Did you run out of clothes?” Grace asked dryly. Toby shrugged and sat on one of the breakfast bar stools. “And did you wash your hair?” she probed, as she continued to add to the growing tower of pancakes.

“Kind of…”

“What does that mean?”

“Well – it’s wet…”

She rolled her eyes. ‘It’ll have to do – you need it cutting!”

“Awe, Mom!”

“Today!”

“But we’re building in the tree house!”

“You either go and get it done, or I’ll do it here for you. Your choice.”

Simon grinned. Some choice! He perked up a bit. “We can get some wood together at the same time,” he added brightly.

Toby turned and gave him a slightly weird look. Simon watched it become a smirk and turned a shade of red, realising what he’d said. Grace was staring at him as well, and he had a terrible feeling she knew exactly what ‘wood’ was, too!

Grace gave her son a piercing glare. “Breakfast is in five minutes, Toby – giving you time to go and get dressed, AND make your bed. In the meantime, Simon and I will have a sensible conversation for a change!” Toby slunk off, grinning, and she turned back to him. “Okay – now this lift you boys want to build. How is it going to work…?”

He smiled gratefully and began to explain what he had in mind.

11. Cutting it too Close for Comfort

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Cutting it too Close for Comfort

With the date of his procedure now etched firmly into the calendar, Luke tried to settle back into the routines of daily life: school, home, weekends, Longhorns.

If only it were that easy!

The upcoming surgery was ALWAYS on his mind and he couldn’t stop himself going over the papers he’d received. He also continued his online research; scouring the web just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything important. Google was fine, but not as educational as the real thing, so at school he couldn’t resist surreptitiously examining the other guys in the locker rooms and under the showerheads, whenever cleanly circumcised cocks went on show. With newly acquired knowledge, and an understanding of different styles, he looked with increasing interest to see what was what. Even so, he had to be careful – he wasn’t a perve, but getting a reputation for staring at dicks in the showers was a short cut to extinction!

Almost all were cut, though a number of those seemed quite loosely done; at least it seemed that way when soft, and the folds of remaining skin slipped some way over their heads. He assumed they were clipped, but you could hardly tell. Perhaps, at birth, they had been done that way, he wondered? It raised lots of questions. He had little idea of how a doctor would circumcise a baby, though it obviously happened every day. A baby was so little…how did the surgeons manage to do it right? Was it potluck as to whether they turned out to be loose or tight when they grew up, or could the surgeon create a specific style for a baby? Did they do it straight away on the day they were born, or some time later? Did it hurt? Did they get an injection? Did any of them ever remember it?

Some - not all - of his friends also had a dark band around there dicks. Like an off-colored tattoo, it seemed to be at the point where what was left of their inner foreskin met the shaft skin. What was that all about? Why did some have the mark, and others didn't? None of his research offered an explanation, and it remained a mystery.

And the biggest question - he wondered what it would be like to start life without a foreskin at all, and grow up never having any idea what it would be like to live with one…? At least he was making a choice though, to be fair, his foreskin didn’t work properly anyway. The question was, would he have preferred to have gotten rid of it at birth? The answer: the way he felt right now, DAMN RIGHT he would!

That afternoon in the locker rooms, he let his eyes carefully drift once more and picked out several that were loosely cut - he called them ‘half and halves’, with the foreskin rolling down to neither here nor there. To him, the loose version didn’t look good at all, and the booklet the doctor had provided had suggested that it was best if the glans - the mushroom head - was clear of skin at all times.

Todd was unlikely to have read the pamphlet and, as one of those who was quite loosely done, probably didn't actually care. Standing a little way down the row, Luke observed Todd give his black and rather hairy balls an easy scratching before heading to the showers, humming some unrecognizable tune. Music wasn't his strong suit either!

No, he noted as he pulled the shirt over his head, the booklet the doctor had left him – and which he frequently studied – was spot on. Tighter was best. Just like Ryan's, he decided, briefly glancing up at his friend as he sat down to extract himself from the football pants he'd been wearing for the sport period. Within moments, he dropped his gaze, tasting that subtle tinge of guilt that always came whenever he thought about or studied his friends in this way.

They were in the new sports block, recently paid for by their extortionate fees. However, you had to hand it to them, when the school built something on the campus, there were no shortcuts or cheap choices. They put a lot of good money into deigning the new sports block and most agreed that it had been money well spent. Sadly, there hadn’t been enough to install a pool, though rumor had it, it was in the pipeline and there was certainly the space. There was, however, a dip pool, which was better than nothing, as well as fully equipped weight room, a gym, indoor basketball courts, lavish storage space and even several teaching classrooms for those taking sports science classes. The locker rooms were plush and quite extensive and the class spread itself around the available space. He and Ry had their usual spot. Didn't everyone?

In the new sports block that day, Luke looked around the familiar hubbub of noise and horseplay of the locker room and smiled to himself. They still called it ‘new’, though they’d been using the facilities for a couple of years already. Grass stained pants and grimey tops were being discarded. Steam billowed from the shower room; good enough to tempt even the shyest sweaty teen under the heads. The showers were always hot and powerful and he’d be in there shortly himself.

"Good play out there, son!"

Luke had sensed rather than observed the approaching head coach as he stalked across the locker room floor, a hushed wash trailing in his wake. Well into his 60's he still had the build and presence to intimidate any who dared stand alongside him on the touchlines! Luke lifted his eyes again to see the coach stop by Ryan for a ‘chat’, and smothered a grin. Coach only called you 'son' if he was a) in a good mood and b) impressed. The likelihood of hitting THAT combination with the old sod was slim. Ryan stood to military attention, despite his state of undress, wearing only the jockstrap that was compulsory for contact sports at the school. Luke was wearing one himself; the padded cup protecting his ‘nads.

"Thanks, Coach," replied Ryan, eyes staring ahead. Some instance away, Scott Landon scowled. Ryan's stunning performance in the football game had mostly been at his expense.

"We could really do with you on the team, Ryan," Coach continued.

"Yes, Coach," replied Ryan, though Luke could see it was non-committal and that Coach could see it too. He also knew Ryan was invested heavily into the tennis squad, and that the man was poaching.

"Just think about it, that's all I ask. There's always a place for a guy like you."

As soon as he'd forged on, there were smirks and grins from those near as they ribbed Ryan. "Coach likes your body, Ry!" sniggered one as soon as the man was safely out of earshot. Even that was playful and most were also genuinely impressed with his performance. Ry shook his head in pity and offered him a finger. Before long, the banter back to speed, most of the others left for the showers for a quick power massage before Chemistry, leaving just the two of them. As Luke watched him, Ryan slipped off the sweaty jock he was wearing and began searching his backpack.

What was it about Ryan he wondered for the umpteenth time to himself?

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

I liked Ry because he was funny. He was also bloody clever! Throw in my witty, generous and thoughtful and we made a good team!

Okay, joking aside, Ry was a good friend and as solid as hell. Sometimes I thought I knew everything about him; other times he was a complete surprise, even to me - like the way he reacted that time, when everyone was talking about the G.S.A. group at Creek. On the other hand, it wasn't surprising that, on the field that day, Landon had been repeatedly driven into the ground! Ry was as solid as hell in that way too; built very much like his dad.

That afternoon, just before facing the Periodic Table, I found myself watching him out of the corner of my eye as, piece by piece, he pulled off the sports gear and, having slipped off his jock, stood there very much naked, fishing for a towel out of his bag. I just couldn't help staring – for purely medical reasons of course, as he looked – well, pretty good. If I didn’t know him, I’d have stuffed him into my ‘well-built, but intellectually dim’ category – other than the fact I had to work my butt off to keep up with him in class.

When it came to circumcision, he VERY definitely was. The truth was, even though i tried to ignore it, to me Ryan looked great down there, and I couldn't help but admire him. I could tell his was a 'high and tight' circumcision. Or maybe it was only medium-high and tight? I mean I couldn’t exactly ask, or pull at it a bit! His dick actually wasn't very big - certainly shorter than my dangly anteater. Up until recently, I hadn’t thought about it much, but studying him once more, it was definitely thicker, but well proportioned as it rested easily over his sack. He was probably a grower! He also had that intriguing dark band. Of course, I’d seen his dick plenty of times, but everyone has to wonder what someone else has to offer once they’re hard. Don't they?

At that moment, as I gazed at him in the lockers, he was completely soft and yet still no foreskin covered his glans. I smiled to myself, as I used those terms with ease now. That was exactly the style I knew I wanted.

More recently, Ryan was also quite well trimmed - I mean his pubic hair. It matched the top of his head, where he sported what looked like a regulation army cut.

It was becoming quite common these days - trimming, I mean. A lot of the guys, now we’d sprouted curls of hair, were doing it; neatly cutting back their pubes, to one degree or another. Where it came from, I don’t know, but it caught on and wasn’t thought of as unusual anymore.

Even being completely smooth wasn't out of the question.

Leroy was one of those; one of several African American guys, who wore their groins as smooth as a baby's bum. His dick was an anaconda but, being 6'1" and pushing 190lb, nobody tended to take issue!

Not all African Americans were like that, by any means. Guys like Todd, for instance, who, when it came to trimming or shaving, didn’t seem to care about such things! For everyone else, I think the general feeling was, that in the hot, humid weather of the Deep South, being smooth, or well trimmed back, helped keep the smell and heat in your undercarriage at bay. It was also undeniably sexy. Maybe that was where Todd had lost the plot with Fion?

Me? I was just a shy English boy and, for various reasons, had never dared - although that was soon going to change!

As I said, Ryan was one of those who trimmed down there. Extremely well trimmed, actually. Truth be told, it made him look quite good, which was probably the reason I was tempted to try it myself; not weird or girlish - in fact, quite the opposite - it enhanced the physique of his groin in some way. The way he did it left a little more in the middle, but trimmed very close at the edges. I even wondered whether he shaved it smooth towards the sides in some way, although I couldn't really ask!

Did he have any hair on his balls? Now there was a question…did guys shave there? Did smooth Leroy take it off his sack too? Did Ry? SHIT – that was a thought. It was hard to tell at this angle. His hair was dark, so it should probably show up quite easily...

I was lost in this reverie of gazing as his cock and pubes, when a voice rocked me back into reality.

* * *

"Luke. Dude. You're staring!”

Luke’s eyes flicked up rapidly. He glanced around, but there was nobody else in earshot. Even so, he’d been caught red-handed and, caught between the rows of benches and oncoming doom, he stared at Ryan like a rabbit in headlights. Then he made it worse worse by coloring. But, rather than spitting mad and ready to floor him, as Landon had so recently been, Ryan rested his hands on his hips, and remained calm and quizzical…awaiting an explanation.

"Sorry Ry...I…" Luke paused and swallowed, petrified as Ryan continued to watch him with patient interest. The seconds ticked by as he came up with the ONLY thing that would hold any kind of water. "I… Well, it's just that I'm thinking about getting circumcised. I didn’t mean to stare – sorry about that." He kept hs voice conversationally low, hoping to God nobody else was listening. "it’s just…well, I was wondering what it was like?"

"Circumcised? You?" Ryan’s eyes widened and then dropped automatically to the jockstrap at Luke’s groin. "Oh!" Some light of understanding seemed to creep into his face. "That's right - you have that snaky thing dangling off yours."

Luke nodded in relief. He really hadn't planned on telling anyone about that - even Ryan – but, in a tight corner, it was the only plausible response he could come up with.

“Hell!" Ryan grunted and sat down and stared. "That’s a surprise! So, when did you decide that?”

“I haven’t yet," lied Luke, hurriedly. "I was just thinking about it, that's all.” Teetering on the edge of disaster, he was relieved that Ryan seemed ready to accept the possibility that he would want to get cut. He strove to keep his breathing even and not to look guilty.

“So, how long have you been thinking about it," pressed Ryan, placing his bag on his knees and going back to searching for his towel. "And why didn't you tell me?"

Luke shrugged.

"Where's my towel?" Ryan seemed to pass on the need for real answers and peered around for any telltale signs of sniggering and other evil doing by his peers; but nobody was there to care. He stood and glanced suspiciously at Luke. "Did you pinch it?"

"Your towel? Why? Are you scared of the Vogons?" Luke was thankful or the change in subject.

"What?"

Luke grinned and the humor helped him banish his recent panic. Ry had never got the idea of 'Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy'. Ryan shook his head in bewilderment, and bent over to search under the bench.

BAM!

There it was – and, as he stared, Luke wasn't thinking about a towel anymore.

Ever since the previous summer and that day in the pool at the Alexis house, the coals of Luke’s sexuality had been smoldering; a fire set without him knowing how or why, or when the flames would finally alight. Without realizing what he was doing to him, as Ryan leaned over and his smooth, tight backside came up, and it was as if he had blown on those ready coals. Unable to help it, Luke took a sharp breath as they sputtered, hot and red.

After long moments of staring, and a little shocked by what he was entertaining, Luke tore his eyes away. Even though, unlike Ryan, he'd worked hard to stay out of trouble on the field and wasn’t all that sweaty, he’d been looking forward to the massaging hot showers. Now something else threatened, and he knew he should stay out of trouble in the lockers too! Bypassing the showers, he pulled off the football shirt, liberally sprayed his pits and pulled on his school shirt.

"So?" said Ryan, standing straight, after peering under all the benches. He pierced him with a stare. “What happened?”

Luke swallowed guiltily. I never touched you, it wasn’t me. "What d’ya mean. I didn’t do anything?"

“This circumcision thing," returned Ryan patiently, continuing where they'd left off. "You never mentioned it before. Come on, why didn't you tell me about it?”

Despite the fact that he and Ryan had been naked together more times than he could count, Luke hesitated to take off his jockstrap. He’d never thought twice about it, before. However, he’d lingered too long looking at Ry’s backside and now didn’t seem the time to put his dick on display. He held his shirt in front of himself defensively. "I didn't think you'd be bothered. It's not THAT important!" He cringed inwardly. That had to be the understatement of the year!

Ryan shugged, as if he didn't actually care either. Resting his hands on his hips, he scanned the benches for his missing towel, one last time. "If you're not showering, can I use your towel?" he pleaded. "I think I must have left mine at home.”

“Oh, sure. Go ahead.” Luke pulled out his own towel and threw it across.

Ryan caught it easily. “So, when are you having it done?” he asked conversationally. “You should you know.”

Luke bit his lip. This was dodgy ground. Whilst he wanted to drop the subject fast, he also yearned to know what hIs friend was going to think - both now and for when it was done. "You think so?” he asked.

“Sure. Why not? About time too, I'd say!”

"Why d'ya say that?" He tried to sound uninterested and forced his gaze to stay at shoulder level , at where the towel was carelessly tossed across Ryan’s shoulder

"You boys have three minutes before I lock you in! Move it!" The coach's stentorian threat boomed across the locker room, interrupting what Luke was keen to hear.

"Take my advice," Ryan still offered as he turned to follow Todd to the showers, "you'll be much happier being properly trimmed down there - and I don't just mean the pubes!" He grinned as, cheekily, he drew his fingers across his own close-trimmed hairs.

Forced to look down, Luke had to fight hard to avoid an audible groan, as Ry blew steadily on the smouldering coals once more. Shamelessly, he lifted his dick from where it hung softly, to examine his own circumcision. One last time, he blew upon the glowing fire.

BAM!

‘Oh My God’, Luke groaned inwardly as, wide-eyed, he watched Ryan fondle himself, moving the shaft skin slightly, so that it began to curl up over his well-shaped glans. The coals finally burst into flames. Ryan was facing towards him, and there was nobody in the vicinity as he examined his trimmed foreskin, turning his dick in his fingers. As far as Luke was concerned, they could have been standing in the middle of Macy’s, and he wouldn't have cared! Behind the shirt that still covered his groin he came to a full erection, which strained inside the tight jock.

Unaware of the carnage he was causing, Ryan released himself, snagged the towel around his waist and moved in the direction of the showers. He hesitated, stopped and turned back again. "If you ask me," he began, but he got no further, as Coach interrupted, shouting from some distance away.

"Alexis! If you're not out of that shower in thirty seconds, so help me, you'll eat detention for a week!"

"Yes, Coach!" Ryan barked. He scurried away, leaving Luke staring after him, his mouth hanging open. He never did hear what Ryan was about to suggest but, deep inside his being, the flames took hold and burned steadily.

Disappointingly, Ryan didn't seem interested in getting back to that particular conversation that day and Luke didn't have the nerve to bring it up either. However, once he was home later that afternoon, he decided he was quite ready to heed his friend's advice.

It was high time to trim his pubes.

It had to be done, he knew that. The upcoming surgery had already demanded it. He'd actually been holding off until there would be no more school locker room settings - the better to keep everything under wraps. However, the way he was feeling that afternoon, that hardly figured anymore! It was all he could do to not run upstairs to find a trimmer the minute he got in the house!

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

Toby's mum dropped us off at home as usual, just in time to get a wave from mum who was going out to do some shopping. Perfect! She said she would be an hour, so I guessed I had an hour and a half: plenty of time for what I had planned.

I'd already figured out what I would do, and knew Dad had some hair clippers with an adjustable attachment for different lengths. He'd gone through a phase of wearing a beard. Me and Si called it his ‘midlife crisis’, which was quite an apt description for the straggly thing he tried to grow! Mum had got him the trimmer, which was a good one and had various attachments, to try to help, but it was a lost cause. He still had the timmer, though it was rarely used and he kept it in a drawer in their bathroom. The machine made quite a buzzing noise, so I knew I would have to do this when Simon was out too, or he’d immediately come investigating, and THAT I could do without!

My plan was this: when I was alone, I would plug it into the socket in our shared bathroom, do a little judicious trimming over the loo and then flush it all away. Simple!

But, damn him, Simon, who usually pushed off fairly soon each afternoon, didn't seem in any hurry to leave that day! Quite often he would go out almost straight away, to play with friends. Frequently I would even wish he would stay around more often, but today I wanted him out the door ASAP. I mooched around trying to kill time and trying to avoid looking suspicious, but it seemed he’d suddenly developed a taste for doing his homework immediately.

Good God....why now!??

Several times, I went to the downstairs toilet and had a look at my pubic bush, trying to decide how I would make the best trim of it. Most of the time, I was as hard as a rock! Bloody hell, Si! Come on! It felt like he was deliberately trying to frustrate me and I was getting irritated big time!

"I've had enough," he said at last. "I'll be at the skate park."

I nodded, trying to appear nonchalant. He'd had enough? That made two of us!

He went down to the garage and I could hear him clattering around as he picked up some stuff. As he biked away, I could see his skateboard protruding out the top of a backpack. I watched him carefully through the blinds out of my bedroom window, making sure he disappeared around the corner and didn't reappear. Then, as soon as the coast was clear, I rushed to Mum and Dad's bathroom, retrieved the trimmer, and brought it to ours. Looking at my watch, I knew I'd have to be quick now, as Mum, or even Dad, could turn up at any time.

I quickly dispensed with the jeans and boxers and then hit a snag.

Looking to where I could plug in the trimmer, the problem became immediately apparent. The length of the cord was nowhere near long enough to stretch from the socket, over to the loo. Somewhere in the house, there would be extensions, but not only did I not know where they were kept, I didn't have any time to go searching! What I didn't want was hair all over the carpet, as that would then mean finding a vacuum cleaner to sort it out. The vacuum was heavy and being caught lugging it up the stairs by mum, invited questions.

What to do? Damn, this was getting complicated.

I tried standing near the sink, with a plan to somehow lean over it, but the height and position were all wrong, and I could see it was just going to go over the floor.

The only thing that made sense at that point (and I was feeling a bit hurried) was to climb up onto the sink counter top and, without busting anything, straddle the sink itself, to trim my hairs where they could easily be washed away.

Anything was better than nothing. After clearing a good space amongst the toiletries and wearing nothing more than a baggy t-tee shirt, I hopped up onto the cream laminate top and carefully rested my knees either side of the sink bowl. The mirror covered the whole wall above the wide unit in which the sink was mounted and I stared at my mirror image as he faced me, watching and copying my every move.

* * *

Time seemed to stop as the two watched at each other, measuring up like combatants in an upcoming struggle. Slowly, Luke lifted off the tee shirt and threw it to one side. During the last couple of minutes, as he’d been fretting about how to set this up, he’d drooped quite a bit. Now, as he reached out and touched the mirror, he came up; hard and ready. Opposite him, the boy reached across too.

Impulsively, he reached to the light switches and flicked on the vanity lights that surrounded the mirror unit. The bulbs glowed seductively, enclosing the two of them and enhancing what was to come and he took a deep breath. Turning off the main lights, the room around him dimmed and the scene was set. And what was about to happen was this: he was about to have sex with another guy!

He’d watched the guys in the showers for months, though it’d never gone any further than that, and he’d held tightly onto the belief that his curiosity meant nothing; his interest only medical. Now that grip was loosening; the belief fast fading as his excitement mounted. At the same time, here was a guy, right in front of him; one who knew exactly what he was thinking, and wasn’t put off by it. In fact, he was as excited by it all as he was, and quite ready to share himself! With knees stretched out across the sink, it felt to Luke that the boy in front of him was offering him unrestricted access to every intimate part. What the boy offered, he wanted, in truth, needed...

Entering new territory, he felt breatlessly vulnerable, yet incredibly turned on.

He was ready.

Gazing at his body in the mirror, he’d never had such a full frontal and full-on, sexually charged, view of himself before. Without question, he wanted sex in the only way that he knew it. He wanted – needed - to masturbate with this boy. They would do it together; share the glorious moment. He groaned, and his toes curled as he moved the skin over his shaft. It was already wet at the end and he could have cum almost immediately – it would only have taken a few seconds – but he stopped.

Wait. Not yet. He still had to complete what this was REALLY all about. The icing on the cake, of what he sensed would be incredibly intense. He wanted to look like Ryan!

He took the trimmer, plugged the cord into the wall socket and switched it on. Like some sexually charged toy, the long black and silver instrument burst into life, buzzing as expectantly as he was himself. The beard attachment was already in place and, experimenting, he set the length adjuster high. For the last time, he pushed his fingers into his bushy mound, before drawing the trimmer down one side of it. A little hair seemed to be reached by the blades, but not much. Satisfied he was on safe ground, he took it down a few notches and shivered as he drew it across himself again and watched the curls begin dropping into the sink. Stroking repeatedly, he was delighted to see the new Luke Summers appearing.

But the need to go shorter and closer to his skin was like a drug. Just a bit more, just a bit more he kept goading himself, hanging his obsession on a doctor’s prescription and an unfounded belief that he could easily let it grow before it was noticed. He dropped the notch down further.

He still tried to style it like Ryan’s and, as he kept notching in the adjuster, everything got shorter and shorter. Unlike Ryan’s, his hair wasn't particularly dark, and it began to disappear from view at the edges. He couldn't have stopped if he tried. A fanatic driven to extremes, he pushed the guard down to its lowest setting, pressed firmly, and shed the last of his curls.

At first, he’d told himself he was simply preparing for the circumcision operation. Now, that was long gone. As the hairs were eagerly stripped away, so was any internal resistance to his sexuality. Without realizing it, as much as the trimming was transforming him on the outside, he was being emotionally recreated on the inside. It was just a patch of hair but, as it diminished, he seemed to grow in stature, becoming potent and virile. The trimmer buzzed at his roots, bringing ejaculation close.

Finally, it was done. Yesterday, he might have been appalled to realize how little was left. Now, it was superb. And it was now no longer him staring out of the mirror - the boy waiting there had become someone else.

He’d become like Ryan Alexis!

Any chance to turn back had long since passed. As he stared into the glass, the boy stared back at him. The lust and desire there mirroring his own own. The flames of his particular sexuality that had been burning since earlier that afternoon burst into a raging inferno. Coursing through him, the fire bunted indelible tracks into his psyche. In his imagination, the boy in white briefs was there, and Ryan too. “Oh, God… Ry!” he cried, finally giving voice to the overpowering feelings that consumed. Everything was stripped away, not just his pubes. His body cried out with pleasure and need and, even then, deep down, he knew what that meant.

Suddenly, Luke took the boy in the mirror in his hand, leaned into him and, with a just a few strokes, brought both of them to a screaming climax. "OH…SHIT!” It burned up through him. With a shout, he pumped helplessly with him and over him. Unable to even think about keeping things neat and tidy, the spurts of semen forced their way past his constricted opening, squirting onto the mirror.

Gradually it slowed and then stopped, to be replaced by aching in his thigh muscles from the tension of being balanced over the sink. He leaned against the mirror, perspiring and gasping for breath, staring at his jizz as it began to slide down the glass.

* * *

"Hello? Simon...is that you?” A voice called from not to far away, followed by a light tap on the bathroom door of Simon’s side. “Are you OK?” It was his mum, and Luke froze.

"Err...it’s me. I'm just in the loo." Of course he was in the loo, he berated himself! Had she heard him though? He tried to force his voice to sound normal and stared feverishly at the door, knowing full well that it was unlocked! What if she opened it and found him like this; kneeling over the sink, pressed against a mirror that had his semen dripping down it? How did you explain that?

"Oh, it’s you.” There was a pause. “Do you know where Simon is?”

“Sorry, no. I think he may have gone to the skate park…” He stayed stock still, trying not to make any sound that didn’t sound like toilet noises, and willed her to go away.

“Okay. I'm just putting the kettle on, if you want a cup of tea."

TEA? For goodness sake! His legs hurt and he just wanted to get off the sink unit, and all she was worried about was tea??. Get lost, mum! “Tea sound’s great – I’ll be down in a minute.” Down? He looked at his dick and, out of the mirror, and his mirror image smirked, reminding him it wasn’t yet true. Still, his mum seemed satisfied and it didn’t look like she planned to come in and help get him off the sink unit!

Ears now attuned to sounds outside the bathroom, Luke heard her pad away. He wondered what she’d heard? Perhaps she had only been on the landing when he’d cried out? Perhaps she only thought he coughed or something? Shit - I hope so, he prayed. For now, he had to clean up this mess - and quickly. A little painfully, he climbed down, trying not to make any noise or disturb any of the toiletries.

First things first, he wiped his still leaking dick with toilet paper, flushed it away and hurriedly dressed. Next he ran the tap and made sure all the incriminating hairs were no more. Finally, he had to do something about the mirror. It had jizz all over it and greasy spots and hand prints where he had leaned into it. He took a facecloth, wet it, and cleaned up as best he could, then took a towel and dried the glass.

The trimmer he unplugged and, checking the coast was clear, sneaked it back into the drawer in his parent’s bathroom. Checking he wasn't disheveled, or had any other telltale signs of his activity, he came downstairs to the kitchen to see if there had been any damage.

12. Mirror, Mirror…

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Mirror, Mirror…

After cleaning up the bathroom and himself, Luke had paused at the top of the stairs, half expecting to see his mum waiting for him at the bottom, arms crossed accusingly. Apprehensively, he’d padded down the carpeted steps but then tarried in the hallway, running through a variety of excuses and explanations in his head, should they be needed. Finally, he could put it off no more. Time to face the music. He joined his mum in the kitchen

"Hello sweetheart." Lucy looked up momentarily. She was sat at the kitchen table and, from the doorway he could see she studying some papers that were spread out in front of her. "There’s tea in the pot if you want some,” she added, peering again at him over the top of her reading glasses. Turning over one of the sheets, she tapped meaningfully at it with her pen. ”You’re not allergic to anything are you?"

Allergic?

"Why? Is there something in the tea?" he joked, awkwardly. She didn't sound like a mother who had just busted her son while he was unloading in the bathroom; he seemed to be in the clear. Relieved, he crossed the kitchen and filled a mug from the china teapot. He remembered how relieved his mum had been that that particular family heirloom had survived the move to the States.

"No," she replied patiently, as he added a little milk. "I'm just making sure your forms are completed."

"What forms?" He frowned, his head still consumed with cleaning the bathroom mirror.

"For Friday...the medical release forms for the doctor.” She took off her glasses and gave him a tetchy look. “Remember…you're meant to having your circumcision appointment! Don't tell me you've forgotten?"

"Oh, THOSE forms!" Luke almost burst out laughing. FORGOTTEN? Hardly a waking moment passed when he wasn't thinking about it! "No, I'm not allergic to anything that I know of." Holding his mug, he leaned against the worktop across from where she sat, blew over the surface, and took a sip.

“I didn’t think so, either.” Lucy seemed satisfied enough to shuffled the papers again, bringing a fresh one to the front to read.

“Is Dad still taking me?”

She shook her head without looking up, appearing to be searching the sheets for something more important. “He can’t, I’m afraid. He’s got to do some appraisals that morning. I’ll be driving you there.”

Luke bit his lip and took another sip of tea to mask his thoughts. For his own reasons, he would have preferred his dad to be there, when it came time to be back on the doctor’s couch again.

"Ah, here it is. It says here that you need to trim.”

“Trim?” Spectular timing! His expression remained non-committal.

“Yes, trim. In preparation for the surgery…down there…” His mum looked rather matter-of-factly at his crotch as he leaned against the worktop, making feel faintly uncomfortable. “It’s in the letter from Doctor Tiberius." She turned the paper towards him, pointing at the paragraph as proof. As if he hadn't memorised every word. "It says it here - that you’re expected to trim back your hairs a little."

A little?

"Mmmm.." Luke tried to keep his expression bland, though he smirked to himself. Even she hadn't the courage to say the word 'pubic'!

"Well, don't forget.” She slid the paper back with the others. “It's obviously important, or the doctor wouldn't have made a note of it." Feeling the need to get his crotch away out of his mother's eye line and came and sat across from her at the table. Staring into his mug, he stayed quiet. She misinterpreted it. "I'm sure it will all grow back quite quickly," she offered, covertly. "I realize it might be...a little..." She seemed to be trying to choose her words carefully. "Well, a little delicate for a young man. I'm sure your friends will quite understand, if you explained it to them."

“Explained what?”

“Well, that you had to trim a little...down there...as part of your surgery," she offered helpfully. “I’m sure nobody will mind, and it’ll grow back soon enough.”

Luke couldn’t hold back a smile. Leaning back on his chair, he even burst out laughing, leaving his mum staring at him looking a little perturbed. He knew she was only trying to be supportive but, other than the fact that he wasn’t planning on telling his friends about ANY of this (well, other than Ryan, who he’d already blabbed to), she had to be living in another century!

"Mum, it's okay," he coughed as a slurp of tea went down the wrong way. "It's not a problem! Really! Nobody cares about that kind of thing anymore. Actually I'm one of the few guys my age who doesn't trim. Everyone does it these days. Some even get rid of it all, and are completely smooth!" Of course, he didn't need to give her any of the details, but really wanted to see if she would be rattled.

"Oh...well...I..." The revelation floored her. My God, this was good! He smirked while his mum shifted uncomfortably, totally out of her depth. "Well, it certainly wasn't like that in my day," she muttered.

Briefly, he wondered what girls did around that part of their anatomy. Did they all trim? Shave? Actually, he realized that he didn't particularly care. It just wasn't his thing, and THAT was a huge turning point! He SO wanted to ask her how she knew what guys pubes were like in 'her day', it was almost unbearable. But, some places you just can't go with your mum!

"Anyway," Lucy continued, recovering, "just make sure you remember to get it done for Friday. I think there's still Dad’s adjustable trimmer in one of the drawers in out bathroom. You could probably do it with that."

"Oh, is there?" Luke did his best to sound surprised.

"Just be careful though, won't you. Don't end up cutting yourself! You can use the adjuster to..."

"Mum, I do know how to use a hair trimmer!" Rolling his eyes, he interrupted her before she could ask if he needed help. If only she knew! "And yes, I'll be careful! Scout's honor!" he added, though he highly doubted whether you could actually get a badge for such things.

"Okay, there's no need to be so touchy. I'm only trying to help!" Stiffly, she turned back to the papers and took up a pen.

Luke sighed as he heaved himself to his feet. "I know you are. I'm sorry. I'll get it sorted before Friday. Promise.” Walking past her, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head, leaving her with a smile as he took his mug of tea back upstairs.

Back in his bedroom, he remained thoughtful. Now that the earlier sexually charged moment over the sink was well past, a voice in his head tried to suggest an alternative opinion; that he was possibly mistaken and it didn’t have to mean what he had thought it meant. He stood by the window and stared out across the front lawn towards the familiar road and the opened the window to let in the warm afternoon air. He liked this time of year, and he preferred his side of the house to Simon's where the sun burned the outside walls for most of the day.

Not much traffic ended up at their end of the subdivision, but he watched what there was and let his thoughts drift back through time, remembering other important moments – all the way back to London and the life he had had with his friends there. What were they like these days, and what were they doing right at that very moment? It had been years, but people change – wasn’t he was proof of that? He'd grown up a lot since then, but couldn't help but wonder if things would have turned out differently if he hadn't ended up in seat 23D on the Delta flight from Gatwick to Atlanta? Him…and Simon too. Would things have been different?

Leaning on the windowsill with his drink, he allowed himself to examine his feelings, finding neither surprise nor guilt there. Surprised about something that he had instinctively known for some time, or guilt that he should somehow fell bad about it. The world around him was peaceful and looked the same today as it had yesterday. Nobody was pointing up to his window accusingly. Nothing had really changed today. No, that wasn’t totally true, he mused. Something had changed.

Tentatively, he slipped the ends of his fingers down the front of his jeans to feel the closely trimmed skin – the pleasure of that touch and the memory of his transition bringing a small smile to his lips. Like his groin, it wasn’t as if something was wrong with him; more a case of something was different.

Was it a mistake? Should he heed the voice?

Leaving his half finished tea on the window ledge, he went back to the bathroom. A fresh, less hurried, inspection showed up quite a few of his stray hairs, and even a spot of goo that still needed cleaning up. He studied himself in the mirror as he sorted out both the sink and his questions. Did the ‘what might have beens’ really matter, or was it the here and now that mattered the most? The memory of the potent sexual encounter with the boy in the mirror was still fresh. It couldn’t be denied and, again, he felt himself stir. Out of that same glass, his mirror image studied him and grinned, and he felt surprisingly confident and hopeful. 'Despite the fact that you're gay; that you like guys?' He spoke the words aloud to his reflection, though softly, testing their meaning and value. They didn’t demean or frighten him; rather they were a welcome relief and offered a future that made sense.

‘Yes, if that’s how I am.' There didn’t seem to be any ‘ifs’; it seemed fairly obvious.

At least he could be honest with himself about it now, and it certainly felt better than beating himself up about it all the time. He’d done enough of that of the last months, feeling guilty with every glance and passing dream; criticizing himself each time his sexual release centered on another guy, instead of a girl.

He studied himself in the mirror, as if seeing someone new, someone he’d not met properly before. The face was familiar, but there was more – so much more. Funny how so much could change in an afternoon! That afternoon he’d changed how he looked and removed most of his pubic hair; not because of medical necessity or light grooming, but because it looked hot and he liked it. He'd also changed how he thought. The total nakedness; the explosive ejaculation; his feelings about guys – even about Ryan Alexis. He couldn't quite imagine sex or even a steady relationship yet, but the things that turned him on, and the things he knew he wanted were going to be with another guy.

And it wasn't a surprise anymore. He was gay and he knew it to be true. And, whilst there would be many moments over the coming weeks that he still felt insecure - years of conditioning don't go away easily - for now, it was okay. Seeing his mum floored by a changing world of sexuality had somehow helped free him, too. The world had changed. Stuff was changing with it. He was changing and he could be himself, for who he was right now. It was okay.

First things first, he locked the doors to the bathroom and stripped off again. Unhurriedly, he examined himself, paying special attention to the look of the recent trim. Damn, it was sexy! He was fifteen, soon to be sixteen. He wasn’t ugly, he kept himself in good shape, he had plans for his life that were going to take him places – places where he might be able to meet people that he might hit it off with. And this – he pushed at his freshly aroused, uncircumcised dick – would be sorted out in a few days. Things could be worse! Satisfied, he took a long shower to wash away both the remains of the day and the mixed up past.

As the water cascaded over him and washed away the soap, he knew that, even now, he had no real idea of what happened next. He certainly wasn't going to go to school the following day and make an announcement! It made it easier that Simon was traveling the same journey as him, and when the time was right, at least he would have someone to talk to.

There was Ryan, but…

For the first time, Luke realized the truth of what Simon had said – that gay kids got no breaks. It was almost impossible to tell anyone the truth. Maybe when guys were older it was easier to be more open about being gay, but now? At his age? At a school like his? If Ry found out, that would probably be the end of their friendship; and if it got around school, that place would become a living hell because of bastards like Landon.

No. He couldn’t. Not even to his parents.

There was always Damon, though, he mused as he toweled himself dry. That might be somewhere to start - a gay guy that lived far enough away that it didn’t matter. Not that he was going to say anything too obvious right now about what he was going through, but he might be able to ask a few questions about what it was like to survive as a gay kid.

Either way, he was determined he wasn’t going to let it get him down. Clean now and after briefly admiring himself again in the mirror, he dressed in fresh boxers, pulled on his tee shirt and jeans, settled down at his desk and powered up his MacBook.

Once he’d picked up the wireless, he surfed to Facebook. A few people he knew were online but, disappointingly, not Damon Jamieson. He hadn't been in contact since he’d left him hanging that last time. But now, using the mail box, he sent a note just to say sorry he'd bombed out on the last conversation, but something had come up (literally...but he could hardly confess that!). Then he got stuck into some homework at last.

It was almost bedtime later that evening, and he was lying on his bed reading a book, when the mac made a 'ding'. It had been left on all evening, and 'dings' could be for all kind of reasons. Investigating, he saw that the notification was from Facebook (which had lain open in the background), and the cause was Damon.

[DAMONJ] "Hi! Are you there?"

Luke swung the screen up to an easily readable angle and smiled in anticipation.

[LUKE] "Hi Damon – I’m here. How's the frozen north?"

[DAMONJ] "Thawed enough so the Husky sledges can't get out to airport anymore! It's really messing us up. People are having to use the bus instead!" came the grinning reply. Luke laughed. The guy's humor was dry enough to be a Brit, and they bantered back and forth for a few minutes.

[DAMONJ] "Thanks for the mail by the way...I was worried you were mad at me." Damon typed, as they settled comfortably into a discussion.

[LUKE] "Why would I be mad at you???"

[DAMONJ] "I dunno....people get mad at me sometimes...I guess I can really put my foot in it."

Pause. Luke knew exactly what he meant, but let him grovel a bit, grinning.

[DAMONJ] "OK - to be honest, I thought I might have said something a bit past the mark.... "

[LUKE] "Mmmm…about my dick, I recall…”

[DAMONJ] "Oh....err…yes, you noticed then...I guess that was it. Sorry about that, I shouldn’t have said it."

[LUKE] "I’m only kidding ya - and I'm kind of honored! I just hope your prediction turns out to be true! So, no I'm not mad - just curious."

[DAMONJ] "Curious...crap, that sounds bad! Curious about what??"

[LUKE] "Just about stuff - I wanted to ask you about something!"

[DAMONJ] "Fair enough! But you first - did you get your circumcision done yet?"

There was a pause while Luke tried to compose a reply.

[DAMONJ] "I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Sorry – it’s none of my business..."

[LUKE] "Don’t be an idiot. I don’t mind talking about it. And nope - not yet - soon though."

[DAMONJ] "Okay – but aren’t you worried? I guess you go into hospital for it, don’t you?"

[LUKE] "Oh...no, actually it’s not being done in hospital. I think it's just a local anaesthetic - like the dentist."

[DAMONJ] "SHIT – you’re going to let them cut bits off you under a local? You're nuts!"

[LUKE] "Something like that!" Luke grinned to himself. It was too complicated to explain the workings of a SmartKlamp!

[LUKE] "Hopefully it won't be too bad."

[DAMONJ] "But nobody knows...you said you hadn't told your friends. It must bother you? What about when it's done, it'll be pretty obvious then won’t it?"

[LUKE] "I guess." It was personal, but Luke saw an opening for his own question.

[LUKE] "So what about you? Do your friends know everything about you? Do you tell them everything...for instance do they all know you're gay?"

There was a long pause and Luke waited expectantly. This is what he needed to know. How did you tell friends?

[DAMONJ] "No."

[LUKE] "Does anyone - what about your parents?" Another pause.

[DAMONJ] "No. Almost nobody. It's...difficult."

[LUKE] "Sorry - I'm being nosey now. Forget it."

[DAMONJ] "It's okay – you answered my questions, after all. I guess you’re right; there are some things that are really hard to tell people about. Even my parents...they wouldn't...well, it wouldn't go down well. I guess I only tell you because you don't know who I am."

It sounded familiar.

[LUKE] "Are they strict or religious or something?”

[DAMONJ] "Kind of..." Damon didn’t offer any more

[LUKE] "Doesn’t it bother you though?”

[DAMONJ] "What – that I can’t tell anyone? Of course it does. It’s crap. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got plenty of friends – it’s just that they… well, you just learn to live with it.”

Between the lines, Luke could hear the frustration. Was that what it was going to be like for him too? He tapped on the keys for a few moments, but then back spaced and deleted his question. Maybe it was too obvious to ask ‘when did you first know you were gay’.

[LUKE] "I suppose we're the same then," he typed after a few more moments dwelling on it.

[DAMONJ] "Meaning…?”

[LUKE] "I mean that we keep some things private because we're afraid of what people might say." Safe enough.

[DAMONJ] "Oh – I see what you mean - your circumcision op. LOL, yep I guess we’re as bad as each other. Listen, would love to chat more, but my folks just came in and I gotta go. If we don’t talk soon, good luck with the op"

[LUKE] "Thanks! G’nite."

Resting comfortably in bed when the house was quiet some time later, Luke lay there for ages thinking about what Damon had said. When he did drop off to sleep, it was deep and dreamless.

13. Prepped

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Prepped

Outside, it was a dull, unremarkable afternoon, and they’d driven from the Academy through heavy showers of rain, to finally pull into the parking lot of the Medical Center. Lucy Summers killed the engine. "Well, here we are then," she announced, somewhat unnecessarily. She glanced at her watch. “We’re a bit early yet.” Outside, the weather seemed to be clearing.

Luke stared through the rain pocked side window over towards the one story, red and grey stone building. He felt tense and tried to avoid licking his lips. All at once, it seemed frighteningly real. They were actually about to go in, and it dawned on him that if all went to plan, the next time he sat in this seat, it would be done; he'd be properly circumcised. It was almost going too quickly now! As they waited, the rain stopped.

Despite his misgvings, the previous couple of weeks of living as a closeted gay kid at school had been…well, like any other weeks. Nothing was tattooed onto his forehead. Nobody confronted him and said they’d noticed a huge change, and knew why. No other ‘gay’ marks were secretly inscribed on him as a warning to others. At the same time, he gave his friends absolutely no reason to think he was any different. He was just ordinary Luke Summers. Life went on.

The previous night, the night before ‘C Day’ he’d taken ages to get to sleep. It felt almost like another Christmas Eve. Restlessly, he'd tossed and turned for most of the night, sleeping badly. It was only in the last couple of hours before the alarm went, that he'd finally fallen into a deep sleep and dreamed something quite bizarre. Even that had been a bit…well, suffice it say, he’d woken quite agitated and with a serious woody! He knew it was just a stupid dream, because he honestly couldn't believe that some surgeon could say, 'Luke, for this next bit, I need you to have an erection!'

They wouldn't need him to do that, surely? Would they? Staring at the silent building, he grimaced. Get a GRIP, for God's sake, Summers!

To most at school, it was just an ordinary Friday - other than that Scott Landon was being a bullying prat and needed his ass kicking. He was becoming a real shithead, and like all bullies, basically weak; so who cared how much his old man made! Then there was that unexpected French vocab test and, to add a little drama, some kids got into a fight that would probably get them both suspended.

To him, all of it seemed irrelevant that day.

It had been touch and go getting away from school without having to answer difficult questions, but Simon had played along and kept Ry and the others occupied while he slipped out. He wasn’t sure what he’d tell them when he went in again on Monday morning – he hadn't really got that far. In fact, his preparation only went as far as the parking lot in which they now waited. He shrugged; he’d think of something.

He’d made it to the school office without being spotted. When he handed in his permission slip at the desk, the old bat had glared at him with beady-eyed suspicion. Lying that his mum was already in the parking lot, he got out the door as fast as possible.

That day, the weather had turned close and humid; the gathering clouds like him - darkly brooding. With only a few hours left after months of waiting, all that remained was to dwell on those questions he’d always managed to put to one side: was he making a mistake; was it going to hurt; what if the surgeon botched it and left him horribly disfigured?

As he and his mum pulled away from the school, the rain began. He didn't feel like talking and they drove in silence through the downpour, with only the swish of the wipers to interrupt the few words they exchanged. This time his mum knew where she was going and the traffic was light. Retracing the previous journey, they made good time around the 285, before threading in towards the center of town. Now, as they waited in the clinic's parking lot in their minivan, a couple of boys walked out the building with their mom. One was a bit shorter than the other, but both looked quite young.

Nibbling absently on a fingernail as he watched them cross the wet parking lot, Luke considered them curiously. I wonder if they just had it done too, he mused. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but if Tiberius was a circumcision specialist, then he probably did lots of them. How many was lots, in a week? Five? Ten? Twenty? From where he was sitting, it did look like the younger one was walking quite gingerly and he wondered if one - or even both of them - had some new piece of hardware welded to their parts and had been circumcised, just like he was about to be? Perhaps Friday was a surgery day?

Trying not to stare too obviously as they passed in front of them, he even thought he could see the shape of what was probably the SmartKlamp mechanism poking out of the youngest boy’s jeans! Unexpectedly, the kid gathered speed and took a running jump onto the back of his brother, who obliged, careering around the car park with him. Laughing and shouting, they jumped in and out of puddles - watched, but otherwise ignored by their mom, who was chatting on her mobile.

He shook his head imperceptibly and flicked his eyes away. GET A GRIP AND GROW UP, LUKE! It was clear that neither of them had just had any kind of surgery!

Finally the three got into their car and drove off, leaving him alone with his mum once more. She reached over to the back seat to retrieve her bag as well as a folder that contained all his papers. Briefly she checked the paperwork and then her watch. As he studied her, Luke tried to find the right words that wouldn't offend. "Mum…”

“Mmmm, sweetheart?” She remained concentrated on sheaving through the folder of papers.

“I’d like to do this by myself, this time - just me and the Doctor, and you wait outside till it's finished - in the waiting room…”

The look of surprise she gave him as her head flicked up was not one that seemed to come from a parent who expected to be excluded from her little boy’s medical treatment. “For the actual surgery bit, I mean,” Luke added hurriedly. “I'm sure it’ll be fine and he can always call you, if needed."

Surprise hardened to dubious and he could see she was looking for the right way to deny him. He knew she'd be like this, which was why he would have preferred to have had his dad bring him, instead of her.

“Sweetheart, I think it’s probably best if…”

“Mum,” Luke pleaded, interrupting her, “I don't want you there; I need to do this by myself!” Feeling breathless, he cringed, and then felt guilty as she blinked and looked confused; put down. “It’s just that I’m nearly sixteen and, well….you know…” God please get it…

“Oh…”

He could read the conflicting emotions and expectations playing out in her eyes. Then the confusion ebbed and her face softened as she sighed and finally made her decision. “You've grown up fast haven't you Luke...and well, yes I can appreciate what you’re saying and your need for a little privacy." With relief, Luke could see her ‘not a chance’ become something else. "If it's what you want, then that's what we'll do," she added. "I'll stay in the waiting area, until it's completed. But..." The protective parent resurfaced. "...you have to promise me that if there's anything that you don't understand or are unclear about, then you'll call me in. ANYTHING, okay?"

"Absolutely! I promise Mum." Nodding effusively, Luke already knew that he would never call for her; he knew far more about the operation than her anyway. But it wasn’t just that, it was…well, some things were private – even from mothers. Maybe especially from mothers! “And thanks…” he added, grateful that she got the message.

"Well, there's no point in hanging around here," she pronounced. Business-like once more, Luke knew it was her way of coping. "We might as well go in." Together, a few moments later, they stepped out into the humid, damp afternoon, crossed the parking lot and entered the cool aircon of the building.

“Oh, hello again,” chirped the familiar pretty receptionist once they’d crossed the foyer to her desk. “He won't be long. Just take a seat for a few minutes. I can take the forms if you have them there,” she added. Luke was impressed she didn’t even have to look at whatever notes she had in front of her to know who they were, and also grateful she didn’t announce to the rest of those waiting that he was about to be clipped... 'folks, this is LUKE SUMMERS. He'll be getting his PENIS out shortly to have the OPERATION!'

“Nice girl, don’t you think?” his Mum murmured as they took a couple of plush chairs just along from an old lady with brown wrinkly skin, who seemed to be having a conversation with herself.

“Don’t tell me you know her mother too?” Luke muttered, fearing where this might be heading.

“Of course not – don’t be silly, Luke. It’s just pleasant to find a polite and helpful receptionist these days. One that doesn’t sit chewing gum and texting, non stop!”

“Oh – I guess so.” She was right though, the girl was not only efficient, but pretty too. The fiery, red hair wasn't overly long and he couldn't even recall if she wore makeup or not - if she did, you couldn't tell.

As they waited, he glanced around the reception’s waiting area. Compared to their last visit, there were quite a few more there that day, so he guessed – rightly - that there were probably a number of doctors who had offices in the same building. It made sense. Surely not all these were going to see the guy he was seeing? Over the next few minutes people came and left, the old lady continued to mutter and nobody paid any attention to the mother and her inwardly apprehensive teenage son, until...

“Luke Summers?” Luke’s mum looked up expectantly as the receptionist called out his name. They stood and, no doubt with nothing better to do, all eyes turned on them - beady glares communicating a message the same the world over: how come they got in before me? Approaching her desk once more, the receptionist gestured them to the passageway Luke knew led to the Doctor's office. “Just go straight through, all the way down to the end, turn left and it’s just on the left. I'll see you shortly.”

They followed the directions and Luke recognized the path they had trodden on the previous occasion. Arriving at the familiar door, he tapped and a friendly, though muffled voice, returned. “Come in – please!” Opening the door, he peeked in.

“Ah, hello again, Luke!” A. Jonathan Tiberius raised his head from his desk at which he was pecking one fingered at a keyboard, and smiled.

The office was as Luke had remembered it, and he glanced over at partially curtained couch where, shortly, he expected to end up. What was new was the keyboard; that and a screen which also hadn’t been there last time. Both rested on the desk, though the main box was hidden out of sight. Luke grinned whilst he held the door open for his mum to let her in first, recognizing a computer newbie in the one finger taps.

“And good afternoon Mrs. Summers,” Tiberius added, abandoning the keyboard and standing as she ventured into the room past Luke. Shaking both their hands warmly, he gestured them towards the familiar sofas. “My daughter has convinced me to enter the computer age!” His eyes glinted in amusement. “So far, the machine and I are having a clash of wills! However, enough of that! How are you both today?”

“We're quite well, thank you Doctor,” replied Lucy.

"Call me Jonathan, please," Tiberius reprimanded. Luke nodded too, but without the confidence to believe the first name terms applied to him too. He perched himself on the edge of the soft brushed leather and waited patiently whilst his mum and Tiberius chatted amiably about the weather and family, eventually getting round to make sure everything was in order. There were a couple of copies of the booklet the doctor had given him the last time, sitting on the table, and he picked one up and glanced through it to occupy himself.

Eventually, as promised, his mum made her exit. "I'll be leaving you both to it this time, so I put my baby in your capable hands, Jonathan!"

Luke rolled his eyes in exasperation. Mothers! "You don't need to be so melodramatic, Mum! I'm sure I'll survive!"

But Tiberius, who was quite familiar with panicky parents who needed a treatment plan as much as their offspring, nodded confidently. "Of course Lucy, of course. We’ll probably be around forty-five minutes to an hour altogether. As you know, the procedure is quite straightforward and I'll let you know as soon as it's completed." She nodded, and looked reasonably satisfied. Giving Luke a quick motherly kiss, she left, passing the receptionist at the door, who gave Luke a friendly wave as she proffered Tiberius a folder of notes.

If Tiberius was at all surprised that his mum had left him alone, he didn't show it and, after seeing her to the door, he returned to the sofas, bringing the folder with him. Settling on the edge, he opened up the papers onto the table and quickly scanned the contents while Luke waited. "So, Luke," he said at last, sitting back, "everything seems to be in order. And how about you? Feeling ready to go ahead now? You know we can always postpone if you still have any worries or concerns."

"No sir," Luke replied, a lot more confidently than he actually felt at that point. He glanced at the recently closed door. Was it really a good idea for Mum to have left him? "I'm ready if you are!" Ready or not, there was no way he was backing out now.

"Well said, young man!" the man smiled reassuringly, though Luke suspected he wasn't taken in by the bravado. "Firstly though, why don't we take a few minutes to find out what will best suit you? Did you read through the material I left you with after our last appointment?"

"This?” Luke pounced on the booklet again for reassurance, feeling on safe ground as he flipped through the familiar, colorful pages. “With the descriptions about styles you mean? Yes - high and tight I think. Well - kind of tight...but not so that it looks weird or anything…but not loose, or low. Tight…ish…” He trailed off and cringed at the total hash he’d made; and they hadn’t even properly got going! “Does that make sense?"

Though it came out in a bit of a garbled stream, Tiberius didn’t seem perturbed by the tangle. "I think it makes perfect sense Luke. It’s the kind of circumcision that most young men opt for, and what I would have recommended. But, even so, let’s take a few minutes to go through the booklet again and discuss some of the options shall we? Just to be sure?" Tiberius didn't seem in any rush, so Luke nodded as the doctor picked up a second copy of the same booklet he was holding. He scanned the pages briefly, seeming to gather his thoughts, before looking up to Luke over the top of his gold-rimmed spectacles. "As I said last time, people decide to be circumcised for all kinds of reasons, and often have quite definite expectations of the outcome they are hoping for. Now, of course, your circumcision is to treat the Phimosis condition, but I had the impression that you had given it quite a lot of thought before you came to visit me?”

He paused, giving room for a response, and Luke decided to just be honest, knowing he needed the best advice he could get. “Well, yes, I guess so. It’s true we had no idea about the Phimosis until you told us…It's just I kind of wanted to be circumcised anyway….”

Tiberius didn’t even blink. “I’m guessing most of your friends at school have been?” he hazarded.

Luke shrugged and, feeling a little awkward, studied one of that week's bananas in the bowl. “I know it’s meant to be cleaner and healthier and everything – but I also don’t want to keep being the odd one out, if you know what I mean.”

Again, Tiberius didn’t seem surprised and nodded reassuringly. “So, how it looks is important to you too – not just how it works?”

Luke nodded and, with more confidence, grinned cheekily. “I still want it work properly though!”

That brought forth an amused chuckle. “And so it shall, young man!” Tiberius winked and Luke began to relax at last. “Now, do you understand the difference between ‘High’ and ‘Low’?” Tiberius added.

“Yep – I think so. A high circumcision is when most of the inner foreskin is retained and the scar where it joins the rest of the skin ends up being higher up the shaft. And a low one is when most of the foreskin is trimmed away and the rest is attached quite near the top – near to the glans.” It was like getting the question on an exam paper that you'd hope for, and actually knew something about. He tried not to appear smug.

“You nailed it! I'm impressed!" He sounded it, too. "You certainly know your stuff, Luke! That’s exactly right. And my advice is to always try to maintain as much of the inner foreskin as possible – it’s an amazing piece of skin tissue, with a huge number of sensitive nerve endings built into it; always keep it if you can.”

”So why do people ever have a low one – and cut it all away?” Luke questioned. “What’s the point?”

“Aesthetics mainly,“ Tiberius replied, turning to one of the pages in the booklet to explain. “For example, this man here has chosen a low circumcision. You can see where the small amount of foreskin he's retained has been sutured extremely close to the sulcus. The benefit is that there is hardly any noticeable scar line. The downside is the loss of sensitivity.” He turned a page. “If you’re wanting a high circumcision, it will be like this one,” he said, and pointed to a picture that Luke had studied on many occasions. “And like this, we’ll put the scar higher up the shaft. But by maintaining the inner foreskin, there’ll be a slight difference in the skin tones along the shaft. Aesthetically, it will be certainly more obvious than in a low circumcision - especially when done in later life as an adult or a young man like yourself.”

He knew about the skin tone changes. “But it’s not that way when done in kids?”

Tiberius shook his head. "It’s basically the same operation, Luke, but for a boy circumcised at birth, by the time they get to your age, and with the stretching of the skin and natural growth, it’s usually hard to notice any scarring or skin tone changes. But that reminds me of something else…” In his own booklet, Tiberius flipped back several pages to one of the examples that carried one of the brown circumferential rings that intrigued Luke. "Additionally, there are also some slight differences brought on by the surgical technique employed that you need to consider carefully, Luke. May I?” He took Luke’s copy of the booklet, opened it at the page they’d just had been looking at, then lay the two books side by side on the table, facing Luke.

The difference was on the top of Luke’s agenda. “The brown ring!” he exclaimed, unable to stop himself blurting it out.

Tiberius continued as if he hadn’t heard. "Almost all the examples here are adult circumcisions. The foreskin has been surgically cut with a scalpel and the ends joined by sutures. This can be done quite neatly, though that can also depend on the skill of the surgeon. But as you can see, it’s almost impossible not to leave some trace of those suture marks, even when fully healed.”

Luke looked carefully and could see what he meant. Turning the page back to the low circumcision, even there, though the sutures were very close to the sulcus, he could still see the small pock marked scars.

“For the majority of adults, because of the thickness of the skin, there's often no other option other than to suture.”

“And the brown ring?” Surely there was more to discover. “Why do all the guys my age have a mark like that?” Luke pressed.

“Indeed they will do, Luke, because the majority of RIC boys are circumcised in this country with either a Plastibell or a Gomco Clamp.”

They were familiar terms that had come up in his online research and an image of the heavy looking metal Gomco Clamp that looked rather like an orange squeezer, popped up in Luke’s memory.

“RIC?”

“Oh, excuse me, RIC stands for Requested Infant Circumcision – circumcisions done on boys as babies or young toddlers. Both the Gomco and Plastibell devices operate by applying crushing pressure to the skin for a period of time; the pressure seals blood vessels and induces fusion around the full circumference of the circumcision wound. On a baby, the sealing is sufficient and sutures are unnecessary. However, over time, changes in blood sediments in those tissues resolve into what becomes a distinctive and permanent, brownish-tinted, annular band.

At last! He didn’t really get most of what the Doc was saying, but he got the important bit. “Didn’t you say that the SmartKlamp thing also worked by crushing?”

“That’s correct Luke, and exactly the point. If we use the device, the outcome will, over time, lead to the same characteristic annular pigmentation; perhaps not quite as pronounced as you will have noticed with your peers, but there all the same.”

Luke sat back, trying to digest the import of this new knowledge. A few moments later, he leaned forward again. “Just to be sure, you’re saying that I’m going to end up with a scar AND brown ring from this?”

Tiberius mistook his concern or maybe sensed that the number of questions Luke had been asking were an indication of anxiety. “Luke, if you need some more time to think about it, there’s no rush.” He pursed his lips. “Perhaps it was remiss of me not to have properly explained this to you before today. We can always reschedule to another day and arrange for your circumcision to be done without a SmartKlamp and use sutures, if you prefer?”

“Yes…I mean no…” said Luke, hurriedly. Tiberius cocked his head questioningly. “Sorry,” Luke added, straightening it out,. “I mean no, we don’t need to reschedule and yes, I’d like it to be done with the SmartKlamp.”

“Are you sure?”

"Yes, sir. Honestly, I really don’t want to be any different to anyone else.” I don’t want to look any different to Ry. “If by doing it with a SmartKlamp means I’ll have the same kind of marking, that’s good! It'll look like I was always circumcised, won't it? Just like my friends. I want that!” He certainly wouldn’t entertain the idea of leaving the building that day, to wait for yet another month and a half for a repeat appointment. NO WAY!

Tiberius seemed to study him and Luke wondered if he’d revealed too much. “Well then, young man,” the doctor pronounced, much to Luke’s relief, “SmartKlamp it will be!” With that seemingly decided, he returned to the booklet. “Now, we were talking about high and low circumcisions. High and tight, right?”

Luke nodded. “But not too tight.”

‘”Indeed, though I’d suggest that, to minimize the visibility of any residual scar, we should not make it too tight.”

“I don’t want it very loose though…” pressed Luke. Not a ‘half and half’!

“No, I agree," nodded Tiberius. "A reasonably tight circumcision will keep the foreskin off the glans at all times, but that needs to be balanced with the need to retain enough slack to allow for growth, if you get what I mean.” Though his demeanor and manner remained overtly professional, the Doctor’s eyes held a mischievous twinkle. Luke knew EXACTLY what he meant and had to grin. Yet, for some reason - maybe because he was a Doctor and a professional who dealt with this kind of stuff all the time - Luke wasn't as embarrassed as he thought he might be. He nodded happily, feeling quite glad that his mother wasn’t here to hear it. The jitters that had plagued him through the morning had dissipated. This was going to be great!

“Of course,” offered Tiberius, “we also don’t have to complete a full circumcision to deal with the Phimosis. It’s also possible just to release the restriction with what’s called a dorsal slit.”

Luke had seen the description of that option too and shook his head firmly. “No – I want to be circumcised.” He hadn’t come so far to be put off with a little snip at the end.

“I think it’s best too – and in fact that procedure doesn’t always lead to a nice outcome and can leave to a lot of hanging skin that is unsightly. It’s my job to make sure you know all the options, though what you initially suggested is the best approach.”

“High and tight-ish, you mean?” said Luke.

“Exactly. The glans will be always be clear and, if we leave just enough looseness of the outer foreskin, then there will be a slight bunching in what remains; enough to be able to hide the final scar line in the folds. How does that sound?”

"Yep, that's want I want,” nodded Luke, leaning forward eagerly. “Can you do that with this Klamp you're going to use?"

"A great question, and yes I can Luke. It takes a bit of care in arranging the positioning of the foreskin before we fully engage the mechanism, but we can certainly achieve the right outcome by this method.” Seeming to have finished, Tiberius replaced the booklet on the table and sat back. "So, I think that's all the bases covered. What about you? Do you have any more questions?"

Luke shook his head and Tiberius seemed satisfied and made ready to stand “Good. If you’re ready, shall we proceed?"

Luke savored the moment, unable to avoid licking his lips this time. He swallowed and his eyes flicked towards the medical couch with its privacy curtain that was waiting for him in the corner. OK this was it, it would be hard to stop if he said yes now - there would be no going back once he gave the final word. It was a one-way journey, but this particular journey had already been a long one and he was more than ready to complete it! Four words were all it took as he nodded eagerly. "Yes sir, I'm ready."

"Excellent! Come along with me then, young man! Let's get you prepped and ready."

Oh. Prepped?

Tiberius stood, but instead of moving towards the awaiting couch, he stepped towards the door. For a moment, Luke was unbalanced by the unexpected direction and felt uneasy as he diverged from the plan in his head. This wasn't how it was meant to go: he’d been fully expecting to just hop onto the bed in the Doctor’s office; the same one he had been on last time. He was more prepared this time and ready to pull his pants down - just a bit, like last time too – so that the Doctor could quite quickly slip on this Klamp thing, and that would be it! Admittedly, the details were a bit sketchy, but he was sure he had it all worked out. It would be no problem, and he’d even been quite surprised when the guy had told his mum it would take up to an hour!

Now, he stood too and, skirting the furniture, followed Tiberius out of the door and into the corridor towards some unknown destination to be 'prepped'. And what did that mean? Prepped? Some kids seemed to go to prep school – but that was hardly the same thing. Every step away from the familiar, carpeted office was disconcerting and belatedly, a big part of him wished he had got his mum stay after all.

Without any more chatter, Tiberius strode ahead down uncharted corridors. As Luke hurried in his wake, it took all the trust he’d built up in the surgeon over the two visits not to turn and bolt. The framed pictures petered out and the deep pile of the dark red carpet abruptly gave way to a hard unforgiving surface. They finally arrive at the entrance of what turned out to be a medium sized, windowless surgical theatre. As Luke stood at the doorway, he could see a black surgical bed set alone in the middle of the space, waiting ominously under a powerful looking medical light. Entering, the space was bereft of any color that offset the predominance of theatre green and white. Lined with cupboards, it smelt so much of hospitals that his nose flared slightly with that familiar antiseptic odor. The work surfaces were stacked with intimidating trays wrapped in sterilized packing, and an annex seemed to hold sinks and more storage. But these things weren’t the most intimidating. What really caught his attention and concern was that he could see that someone else was already there.

“Hello again, Luke!” chirped the attractive young lady - girl – that he’d previously only seen on the reception desk.

Oh hell! "Errr...hi..."

Since she had last greeted him when she'd dropped off the files to the Tiberius, she’d miraculously changed from a receptionist’s dress-suit into what was obviously some kind of surgical gown, though she wore that with the same classy elegance that she probably wore everything.

She struck quickly as, uncertain of what to do, he waited in the doorway. "Luke, if you could undress,” she proposed, “you can lay your clothing just over the chair there." She pointed to one corner as both she and Tiberius started bustling around the room making preparations.

Luke's eyes shifted to find the lone chair and he swallowed in dismay. Undress? Now? With people watching? He moved to the chair and tried to gather his composure, a myriad of question bouncing around his head. What if there was more? If they needed him naked, were there going to be other surprises...?

“You just need to make an erection.” He turned fast, sure that he'd heard the Doctor say those very words that came straight out of a nightmare.

Oh shit! “WHAT?!” he gasped. “What did you say?”

Tiberius swung towards him, uncomprehending. “Oh, nothing to worry about Luke – I was just asking Ella to make a selection of instruments for me.”

“Oh…sorry...” Get a grip Luke!

“Forgive me, I’ve not really introduced my surgical assistant. This is Ella, my daughter. Ella is a med student, soon to become a qualified doctor herself. She’s here for a few months as part of a clinical experience placement.”

“We’ve met,” Ella grinned. “They’re a bit short staffed at the moment, so I help out at the desk sometimes, too!”

Daughter...! “Yes...errr, hi...again...,” stammered Luke. Well, that made her at least in her twenties, but she was still a girl. More to the point, neither she nor her father seemed to carry the same concern that he had - that a female was going to watch him undress; and more - much more – with her dad there too! How bad could this get? Feeling a little out of control, he began to divest his clothing.

He was in school uniform of course, and slowly began to take it all off. Week in, week out at school, he'd done it a gazillion times, yet this was different. Way different! Jacket and tie first, and then shoes and socks. Finally, as if on a terrible losing streak in strip poker, the shirt and trousers went, until only the white t-shirt he wore under his school shirt and his boxers covered the nakedness and designer stubble! All of it was folded carefully onto the chair; denied to him until it was done.

It had taken ages to decide which pair of boxers to wear that day, and he’d taken his time looking for a pair that looked smart and not too daggy. To be honest, choosing his underwear each day often took more time than anything else - certainly on a school day, where the rest of the uniform wasn't a choice. For the most part, he only had loose pairs of the more common black, white or grey boxers, but even so, he liked to make a choice and didn't just grab the first pair at the front of his undies drawer each morning!

His tidiest pairs were the grey ones from the pack his mum had recently added to her cart on his behalf, but for today, he’d chosen black. They were the most common in guys, and he also figured they wouldn't show up blood if there happened to be any! He stood in them now, freakishly nervous about taking the final step to remove the remaining protection that would reveal both his dick and the evidence of his recent transformation.

* * *

Extract from Luke’s diary:

I wasn’t sure what would have been worse – having Mum in the room, or getting naked with the daughter of the surgeon who was about to cut into my privates! And did she have to be so damn pretty? As she busied herself opening surgical packets, they both seemed to have forgotten I was there, but out of the corner of my eye, I looked at her suspiciously, wondering if she were waiting for a good moment to peek at me. OK, I admit it, I was a bit paranoid!

I put it off as long as I dared, but finally there was nothing else left to take off apart from t-shirt and underwear, so I turned my back to them and pushed the boxers down to my ankles - stepping out of them, before slowly folding them (I'd never folded pants in my life before, but it’s amazing the habits you take on, just to stall for time!) neatly on the chair.

Still facing away from the audience, I was just about to take off my t-shirt, when a voice behind me interrupted. "That's fine Luke, you can just leave the tee shirt on. We're nearly ready here, so come over and hop up on the bed."

I turned to face them and tried to appear relaxed. The surgery floor was cool on my feet and I tried not to think about bloody swabs being tossed there, like on the medical shows. I could see that the doctor had also exchanged his jacket and shirt for a covering of surgical green and, with the help of Ella, was tying it off around his back. I crossed the floor and joined them. Sitting on the bed, I swung up my legs, trying not to think about the now sparse pubes which were still partially obscured by the final remaining garment.

"Some people like to see what' going on. Others prefer not to.....?" Tiberius raised an eyebrow questioningly as he left the option for me.

"I'd like to watch, if that's okay," I replied. Bloody right I wanted to watch; even if I was anxious, I wasn’t going to miss a moment! He nodded, and I jumped slightly as Ella went ahead and operated the surgical bed, raising up the back so I could comfortably see.

The Doc played the final hand of cards…and I lost. "Just pull up your tee shirt for me can you, Luke? And tuck it up a little so it's fully out of the way."

Oh God - moment of truth!

I lifted and tucked. Of course I knew it would finally come to this - but, for as long as I could remember, I was usually the only person ever around when I took off my clothes, lay on a bed, and manipulated my penis. To now have two additional members to that elite group – and one of them a girl, not too much older than me - was a bit unsettling! Even though the trimming had been at his request, I felt I needed to somehow explain the trendy stubble. At the very least I was compelled to offer something to Ella, in case she thought I was gay or something!

"I err, trimmed...like you said...is it how you needed it?"

Tiberius glanced down – as did his daughter and studied me. "Perfect!" He beamed for both of them, apparently satisfied with my handiwork, and then laid a green surgical drape over my middle. The drape had a handy little hole in the middle and he wasted no time in poking my dick through the opening.

And that was it; there I was left pretty much naked and suddenly looking like a kid, laid out on his operating table! I didn't dare catch Ella’s eye. Embarrassed? Good God, it was almost unbearable!

* * *

Luke wondered what would come next, and it wasn’t long before he found out, as Tiberius started drawing on him! The surgeon took a marker pen and explained what he was doing. "I'm going to draw a line at the place where we want to position the Klamp, and it’s easier to do that now rather than guess later." Luke watched with interest as Tiberius took the end of his limp member and drew the skin tight, pulling it forward till the shaft skin at the base was taut.

At least he didn’t want him to have an erection!

Moments later, he seriously regretted that thought, as Ella then took hold of his dick and pulled it firmly, and straight up, so that her father could more easily do his drawing! He tried to think of ANYTHING except what was in front of him.

Ella let him go and he flopped back down again, allowing the doctor to make another small mark where, in his flaccid state, the groove of my sulcus lay. By then something else was worrying him. The room was cool, and he freakily nervous; under its own weight, his penis seemed to have shrunk back into itself, disappearing into hardly anything. He stared at it in dismay, convinced that was usually bigger than that. Right then, his dick looked more like a toddler’s. All he could hope was that the marks would be okay!

"Right," Tiberius said, getting down to business again, "if it's high and tight we’re looking for, we'll position the SmartKlamp up to...here." As a father and daughter surgical team, Luke guessed they worked well together because, without the need for any direction, Ella gently tweaked him forward and upwards again. With a practiced hand, her father drew a circle of pen around his circumference. "As you can see,” Tiberius murmured, maybe as much to himself as to Luke, “we'll want to ensure a pleasing appearance like this." He had drew his guideline so that it was properly angled to follow the line of Luke’s sulcus. “There...now that should be just about right." Tiberius seemed satisfied and Luke tried to follow the marks in his head, imagining what the finished result might look like.

“Luke we’re going to need to inject a little local anesthetic and I'm going to give you the ring block around the base of your penis, just like we talked about earlier, but first let's just use a little topical anesthetic spray to make those injections go in a little bit easier." As Luke watched, Ella passed him a small aerosol canister and he sprayed some liquid around the shaft of his penis that immediately felt cold. In fact the whole room was quite cool and he was glad he’d been able to keep his tee shirt.

Without being asked, Ella started painting. Him!

He’d seen enough medical movies to know that the greeny-yellow gunk she started smearing his parts with, was some form of antiseptic. A cheeky grin sneaked onto her face. “You know, if it wasn’t for medicine, I think I might be an artist!” She daubed his dick with dainty theatrical strokes. “What do you think?”

What did he think? Luke didn’t know whether it was hysterically funny, slightly risqué, or rather inappropriate!

“I’d stick with the day job, if I were you, Ella!” Her father was drily short. It was quite hard to tell, but Luke got the feeling his tone put him rather more to the ‘inappropriate’ end of the scale! As her father turned to busy himself elsewhere, Ella seemed unrepentant. Maybe she was the one that actually appreciated what he needed? She winked and, with her father’s attention diverted, threw in a few more ‘contemporary’ brush strokes for good measure.

Luke had to work really hard not to burst out laughing. It really was funny and he decided right then that everyone needed an Ella in situations like the one he was in.

He began to relax.

14. Just a Small Prick

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Just a Small Prick

Extract from Luke’s notes:

Several who’ve read through these notes – friends who already know my story and know what was to come in the weeks and months ahead with Ry and the others - have asked me why I decided to write it down. Why tell it? Well, for starters, it’s not easy to forget. Even this part! It was now several years ago, but I still remember every minute detail of being in that theatre. Trust me, you don’t quickly forget being circumcised! For the record, I can honestly say Doctor Tiberius was a good guy. I liked him and he really knew his job and I was – am –thankful for that. Ella too – I liked her, but in more ways than one, she wasn’t what I expected! I don't know if her dad's still practicing, but if you're reading this and think circumcision is for you, look him up in Atlanta.

Looking back, maybe the procedure I was having was no big thing in the world of medical operations, but at the time it felt huge. I knew in theory what was going on, but that’s not the same as experiencing the real thing. Now, I remember the place almost fondly, but then, for a fifteen year old, it was a scary, foreboding moment.

A quick recap… Ella had been painting me with a pot of some evil yellow-green stuff; some kind of antiseptic that made my bits looked quite sickly! Oh…nearly forgot…while we were waiting, Doctor Tiberius decided to stick a spoon in the end of my dick. Okay, it wasn’t really a spoon; it was some kind of spatula that looked like a spoon handle. He slipped it through the constriction and began to probe a bit. Suffice it to say, I really started squirming, and thankfully he noticed, took pity and stopped. I wondered what might be next…

"Ella, could you prepare the local – a short needle will be fine.”

Oh crap! Still, short sounded good.

I probably shouldn’t have, but it’s really hard not to watch something, when you know that watching it isn’t going to help. So, stupidly, I watched her every move as she withdrew the capped needle from a box and attached it to a large silver metal syringe. With the needle in place, she slipped a small glass cartridge into the gun barrel of the syringe. It really did seem like some kind of weapon and I almost said ‘are you going to cock it now’, but thankfully realized in time how awkward that might sound! Mind you, if that needle was meant to be short, I’d hate to see long!

The injections. I knew he had said there would be some, and that was the part I worried about most – other than treating Ella to a woody of course…

Ella passed Doctor Tiberius the tray that held the syringe with its needle. Taking it, he swiftly slipped off the cover , held it vertically, and depressed the plunger enough to allow a small squirt to erupt from the end. You see it in movies, but I never realised they actually did that for real.

“Hold my hand,” offered Ella.

“What?”

“Hold my hand, Luke,” she repeated reaching over to wrap my hands in her own, gloved ones, “just while the injections are being done. They can sting a little, and it helps.”

It seemed a bit excessive, but I did what she said and turned my attention to hold her hand.

“Just a small prick, Luke,” murmured Tiberius. I turned back and almost burst out laughing. Well thanks, mate! Then I realized that the needle was already next to my skin at the base of my dick. It sat there, as if contemplating its next move and I wondered if I should say something. Then, like in a surreal slo-mo movie, he plunged the short needle deep into the middle of my willy and squeezed.

It was all I could do not to scream! It went so far in, I was sure it would come out the other side. I was still in shock when he withdrew and stuck it in again around the other side! God did I hold her hands tight or what!! Gripping each other, she chatted away amiably. “We’ve been to London.”

“Oh….that’s…” SHIT THAT HURTS!

“A few years ago, we went on a holiday to your country – travelled all over! Visited Buckingham palace too. Wow, what a place!” She continued chatting easily as I crushed her hands, hanging on to her every word as she gave me a guided tour of London. You will not cry, I commanded myself! Fuck - what had been the point of the spray he'd used?

But gradually, as she talked about their trip to the UK, the pain dissipated and everything began to go numb. Ella let go of my hands, but we continued to chat whilst we waited, and I found myself telling her my life story; all about coming from England, about where we had lived, about Man U and David Beckham. She asked about school and I told her about the Academy and my close friends. There must have been happy juice in the syringe, ‘cos I think I went on about Ryan quite a bit. She looked at me oddly, but I didn’t care, now that the worst bit was over and we both watched my cock and waited for it to be anaesthetized. I wondered what she thought of it - my dick I mean. She probably saw dozens every week, but doesn’t every guy have to have some sense of pride?

After a several minutes, Tiberius rubbed my penis, asking if I could feel anything. I shook my head. No rubbing that I was used to had ever felt like that. He took a sharp probe and stuck it in the end of my foreskin. Okay, at that point, I gripped the sides of the bed and gritted my teeth expecting the worst, but again there was absolutely nothing. De nada. Not a thing. It was totally weird! My dick felt like a piece of lifeless rubber – one that could be detached, put in a glass jar and, had I not been looking, I would never have known it was gone. He fiddled with it provocatively, but frankly it didn’t seem to belong to me anymore, so I relaxed and began to watch with interest.

Again, he took the blunt spoon handle and inserted it down inside my foreskin, explaining at the same time. "I'm just making sure there are no adhesions between the foreskin and the glans," he said, "that would inhibit the foreskin being drawn back as we need it to be."

Next, he took what looked like a pair of hefty medical looking pliers and inserted them carefully inside my foreskin. I wondered what he was planning to do, because rather than squeezing shut, he opened the tips and began to try to force open the restricted opening. After a few moments of hard stretching, he gave up. "Nope - I was wondering if might have been able to stretch the restriction enough to retract you, but it seems not."

I wanted to ask if that would matter, but before I got there, he took another instrument that looked like a cross between pliers and a pair of scissors. Without any giving any warning, he slipped them through the opening and cut a couple of centimeters down the side of my foreskin.

Okay, I wasn’t expecting that, but it seemed a bit late to challenge it by then. There was a little blood, but not much.

"There, that should do it," noted Ella on his behalf as we both stared with rapt attention at my suddenly wounded willy. With the tip released, he gently skinned back my foreskin. Eyes wide, I got a first look at my glans. It looked rather white and gunky and I didn’t expect that either, and panicked a bit. That's not what Ryan looked like at all!

"That’s smegma," Ella explained, and I wondered if she'd heard my wayward thoughts. "It's what can often cause unpleasant smells in uncircumcised men when not cleaned properly."

Ridiculously, I felt terribly guilty for owning this smegma, despite the fact that acquiring it hadn't been a choice and any chance of cleaning, impossible. Fortunately Tiberius didn’t seem all that dismayed and, taking a thick wedge of medical gauze, he began to dislodge and wipe away the gunk. Slowly and painstakingly, he fully cleaned up my cock head. By the time he was done, it looked a whole lot better. Red and shiney, but still better and, by now, he was able to retract the foreskin much more easily! Seeing my head for the first time, all I could think was ‘wow, it looks bigger than I expected!’

I turned to Ella who, in few short minutes had become my greatest confidant and supporter, and smiled hopefully. Funny that – how you can get attached to somebody in a moment of crisis. Right then she felt more like a big sister who was going to rub it better and make it OK.

OK, maybe not good to dwell on the rubbing bit!

Actually – for anyone who has to face a similar moment - all of those fears were far from my mind by then. Honestly, you just don't think about it. Even though I liked what I saw, I knew there wouldn’t be a boner. Not now. Being totally numb down there probably helped too.

Repeatedly, Tiberius retracted me, pulling my foreskin firmly down to the base of my dick, and each time my head popped out smoothly. I couldn’t get enough of seeing that glorious bright red glans! "Luke, to get a really good high and reasonably tight circumcision, we would normally excise the frenulum, and yours is quite tight as it is," Tiberius announced, glancing up at me. "Do you understand what I mean by that?"

"Yes...it was explained in your booklet. Yes, please go ahead and do that."

"Are you sure?" he double-checked. "Some men prefer to keep the frenulum, although, as I said, yours is quite tight and would severely limit how high we could make your circumcision."

I kind of wanted to ask Ella what she would do, but it seemed a bit unfair to put her on the spot. Anyway, I was reasonably sure I knew what I wanted. "No, I'm sure – you can do the frenulum," I confirmed. I wanted to look like Ryan.

"Very well," he said, "Actually I'm in agreement with you. It always ends up giving you the best looking circumcision if you remove the frenulum. I may need to put a stitch in there after it’s excised, to control the bleeding and to make sure it heals in a good shape. It will probably come out on its own, being self dissolving, but in any case I'll take the stitch out when you have the SmartKlamp removed."

I looked to Ella and she smiled and nodded encouragingly; if she thought it was good, my mind was definitely made up! With that, I let him get on with it, watching with awe as he cut neatly, but deeply into the bed of the frenulum to completely excise it. It took a bit of time, and there was some bleeding. In fact, there was quite a lot of bleeding.

Tiberius kept dabbing, and I kept bleeding. Eventually, he gave up. "I think we'll just cauterize a couple of these arteries," he proposed. He nodded to Ella, who drew up a trolley with some gadget that looked like a soldering iron. CAUTERIZE? Whether you spelled it with a Z or an S, I knew quite well what the word meant!

"It's nothing to worry about Luke.” Ella grinned, probably seeing the look of horror on my face. “It smells a bit funny, but it's a good way to seal some of those minor bleeds."

To be honest, it was really weird! The odor of burning flesh wafted across each time the iron touched me, as if I were being branded, or worse still, tortured! It was my flesh he was burning and I wondered if it would hurt afterwards.

“It’s not actually hot you know,” said Ella conversationally as my bits were branded by the little metal loop on the end of the handpiece Tiberius was wielding. “People often think it’s like a soldering iron – but it’s not.”

“But..how…?”

“Microwaves,” said her father, without looking up. He wiped the end of the small metal wire and placed it on the side of his dry glove. As he tripped the 'on' switch, I expected to see it cut through the rubber of the glove and burn his wrist, but nothing happened.

“It’s pushing out low range, but high intensity microwaves that create heat in the immediate tissues,” added Ella.

“Microwaves? You mean you're cooking me?” I sniggered.

“Kind of.” She grinned as the oozing stopped and we watched her father expertly insert a suture to secure his work. I felt nothing, and he dabbed away any residual blood. It was ‘easy come, easy go’. In all my nearly 16 years, except for those few brief moments, I had never once had the opportunity to see, let alone enjoy, my frenulum before it was irreversibly taken away. I hoped I'd made the right decision, although it was a bit too late for that now!

The single suture in place, Tiberius retracted me once more, and even I could see what a massive difference the excision had made. WOOOAAA – I watched in delight as the whole foreskin slipped back and I got big…REAL BIG!

Even Tiberius seemed impressed, though maybe only with his own work. “Though I say so myself, “ he pronounced, “that is going to be perfect!”

I grinned deliriously. YES!

"OK, now let's apply the SmartKlamp and we're just about done," he proposed, clearly happy with the work on my frenulum. Ella opened up another set of sterile packaging, and from that, passed him some kind of measuring template. A spatula with various sized holes in it, it looked like one of the things mum had in the kitchen to measure how much spaghetti to cook! He slipped it over my dick to discover the size of my newly revealed mushroom head. I couldn't keep my eyes off it as he tried different sizes and was quite chuffed when he decided I would need one of the larger devices!

More packaging was opened and I recognized the pieces there from the same hardware I’d played with in his office. Ella passed the first bit to him and, with the frenulum and tight tip gone, he retracted me again, pulling down firmly so I poked up straight. In that position, the tube slid easily into place over my glans. He embedded it deeply down under my foreskin, turning it until he was happy it was sitting properly. Now that my beautiful glans was nestled safely in the tube, he began tugging up my overly long foreskin, gradually stretching it tighter and tighter over the length of the tube. I watched with fascination as the pen marks began to rise up my shaft. Without being asked, Ella passed the next piece and he slipped the framework of the Klamp over the tube and started manipulating it.

"Here's the tricky bit!" she murmured on his behalf as we watched her dad concentrate on the task in his hand. "He needs to get this right, as we want to keep as much inner foreskin as possible.” I nodded, comfortable to share my penis with her for those few moments. “He’s trying to get it as high as he can and, at the same time, we also need to get the right tightness for you, so you'll be happy with the end result. This is where the guide marks we made will help.”

I nodded, again desperately hoping that those marks had been accurate and I would still be left with a penis after this. After a few more minutes of working the layers, the pen marks on my shaft arrived where he seemed to believe they needed to be. Ella seemed as engrossed as I was as we both studied the deft technique her father exhibited. Satisfied, he quickly closed the SmartKlamp into place, locking it into position. As the locks clicked shut on me, I shuddered involuntarily.

“I think that’s it,” he said at last. He lifted and moved the Klamp at different angles, seeing how my remaining skin stretched on all sides. From the descriptions in the papers he had sent, I knew exactly what would happen next. Ella offered him a scalpel and, poised to strike, he looked up to me. "Point of no return, Luke!" he smiled expectantly. "Ready?"

I took a deep breath and nodded. I'd been ready for months!

* * *

Doctor Tiberius didn’t hesitate. It only took a few seconds, but the cut he then made, though a simple one, turned out to be life changing for Luke - as he was to discover over the next months. The new, sharp blade slid clean, sure and straight around the tube above where the SmartKlamp was trapping the layers of his foreskin. There was no blood. The device had already cut off the supply to that bit of his anatomy. A moment later it was done; his foreskin was cut and the surgeon tugged that piece of him away. Luke never saw it again.

After wiping everything clean (including cleaning away as much of the wide spread yellow-green stain as possible), Tiberius carefully examined the device in its locked state once more, then stepped back and began peeling off his latex gloves. "OK Luke, that's it. We're all done. You’ve been brilliant...I wish all my patients were as good as you! If you want to get dressed, then we can just go over a few things before we let your mom know you’re all ready to leave."

Still holding his t-shirt out of the way, Luke gently slid off the surgical bed and onto his feet. As he did so, his penis flopped forward, the majority of it swallowed by the unusual mechanism, and hung down towards the floor. He stepped over to the loan chair where his clothing waited, still unable to take it all in - that the thing he had waited so long for had just been performed. Okay, it wasn't completely finished yet, but he’d just been circumcised and there was certainly no turning back!

Tentatively he stepped back into his boxers and pulled them up to the top of his legs, pausing before trying to navigate everything inside.

"The SmartKlamp is made so that you can just wear it under your clothing in the normal way, Luke." The feminine voice alongside made him jump, and he quickly pulled his boxers over the new equipment, a sense of privacy reestablishing itself. Perhaps it seemed petty, considering she'd been studying his bits for the best part of half an hour, but she didn't seem to mind. Her father had gone into the annex room to wash and take off his surgical robes.

"Does the yellow stuff come off soon?" Even though Tiberius had wiped him down, his skin was still stained. Pulling his waistband slightly, he was greeted by what could only be described as 'penile jaundice'!

"It's kind of permanent, I'm afraid." Luke looked up quickly. Ella looked serious, but he wasn't taken in for a moment.

"Ha, ha!" He smirked dryly, and Ella broke into a grin as she passed him his black school trousers. “Thanks,” he said.

“Your welcome.” She waited, holding his shirt ready for when he’d got his trousers on. “It feels a bit unusual, doesn’t it.”

Luke adjusted his trousers several times, trying to find a good position, though his groin still felt totally numb. “Does it show?” he asked, tentatively feeling the unexpected lump underneath the zip.

Ella eyed his groin carefully. “Hardly – but if you have anything looser, it might be better,” she admitted. “The good news is, you won’t have to wear it for long.

“I’m sure my dad will tell you, but you need to stay away from any contact sports over the next week. The last thing you want is to damage the Klamp.” Ella passed him his school shirt. He slipped it on and buttoned up, before sitting carefully to pull on his socks.

“Thanks for your...well, during the injections.” He pulled a face; it was hard to forget how uncomfortable those had been. “You must think I’m a complete wuss!” he admitted finally.

Ella shook her head. “Don’t sweat it. Those injections can really hurt – trust me I know what painful needles can be like. You did fine – at least you didn’t scream or hit anyone!”

He grinned as he pulled on his second sock. “It was close! You must see this kind of thing all the time then…being at Med school?”

“A few.” She shrugged. “I’m in my fifth year, here in Atlanta, so the experience really helps – the money’s not bad either!” She grinned. “Anyway, trust me Luke, you did great. Dad did a good job, you know; it should turn out really nicely for you. Quite hot I think!”

Luke burst out laughing! “Now you’re teasing!” He reached for his shoes.

“A little, but don’t worry,” she chuckled, wholesome and easy. “I’m not about to jump you - I’m already spoken for!”

“That’s OK, I think you’re a bit old for me!” Luke smirked, enjoying the sparring.

She pulled a face. “Ouch, I deserved that; let me down gently, why don’t you!” She groaned theatrically, eliciting another giggle from Luke.

Tiberius came back and momentarily popped his head in the door. “Ella, can you just go through to Lucy Summers and let her know we’re done. Take her through to my office and let her know we’ll meet her there in a few minutes. If you can just wait here Luke, I’ll be done in a couple of minutes.” He left again and, as Luke began to tie his shoelaces, Ella made to leave too.

He would have preferred her to stay. “If I don’t see you again, thanks for everything…”

“Never say never, Luke…who knows!” Surprisingly, she winked. “Bye – and good luck!”

“Thanks. You too.”

Dressed now, Luke sat down on the chair to wait, studying the theatre that no longer seemed so foreboding. It wasn’t long before Tiberius returned, dressed again in his formal jacket. From the annex room, he dragged out a stool and perched on it next to Luke.

"Well, I think that went extremely well," he started. "I believe, well at least I hope, that you’ll be very happy with the outcome. Now, there are just a few things we should go over before you leave."

Luke nodded expectantly; glad to have clothes on again, but ready now to listen to anything that would help keep his circumcision perfect.

"There may well be a little swelling and discomfort once the anaesthetic wears off," began Tiberius. "Perhaps a little more than usual due to the fact we had to cauterize some of blood vessel. It’s quite normal and nothing a few Tylenol can't cope with.

"Whilst the Klamp is quite robust, we don't want any accidents, so no football or any other physical contact sports. And it's also very important that you don't play with the mechanism, because again, we don't want to run the risk of disturbing the locking levers. If that happens before the layers of skin are fully fused, it gets very much more complicated."

'More complicated' sounded ominous, but Luke let it pass. "Can I wear my normal clothes?" he asked. In retrospect, he wondered why he hadn’t thought of asking his mum to bring along something different that he could have changed into for the journey home, instead of his school clothes.

"Ordinary clothing is fine - of course nothing too tight.”

There was something else that had him quite worried and he voiced his concern. "But you’re saying that, other than an accident, it's going to be OK? Nothing that will mess it up?"

"Yes, it will be fine."

Shit, this was embarrassing. "I err...well sometimes I get...you know....grow a bit down there," Luke confessed, going bright red now.

Tiberius took it in his stride. "Oh I see.....I think I understand you now.” A light of understanding came to eyes that twinkled kindly. “Luke, forgive me. There’s no need to be worried, and I had no intention of embarrassing you. An erection is perfectly normal and nothing to be concerned about. To be honest, at your age, I was a walking woody!" He seemed so honest yet relaxed about it, that Luke couldn't help but grin with his relief. "And to put your mind at rest, the Klamp is more than up to the task! Frankly, with the alteration in sensations in that area after your circumcision, I have to warn you that that’s probably going to happen quite frequently. But, trust me, it'll be fine!"

Luke nodded, trying to get his head around the idea of ‘altered sensations’.

"You can also urinate normally too,” Tiberius added. “My advice is to forget it’s there; just get on with life for the next week and let the SmartKlamp do its job. You'll be keeping it in place for around ten days, before coming back here again, to have it removed."

Forget it’s there? Unlikely! "Will I need any injections again?"

His concern must have been apparent, as Tiberius quickly read his mind and put it at rest "Yes...they were a little uncomfortable for you weren’t they! Sorry about that."

Luke nodded stoically. "Just a little..." That was a lie – they bloody stung like hell!

"The good news is, no - no more injections. The worst is certainly over!"

A few minutes later, after having been given the remainder of his post-op instructions, they went to find Luke’s mum, who was already waiting for them back in the doctor’s consulting office. As they entered, she stood up quickly from one of the sofas and Luke could immediately see that she seemed quite tense; it had probably been a long hour for her!

“Hi Mum!”

"Did everything go OK, sweetheart?" she asked. Her voice gave her away and he could tell she was trying her best not to throw her arms around him in public.

"Yep, it was fine Mum. Great." He nodded, smiling to reinforce his words. She visibly relaxed...a little.

"In fact, it went extremely well, Lucy,” put in Tiberius. “Everything went as expected. You should be proud of your son; he handled the whole procedure exceedingly well." Luke could see his mum's relief multiply as they gathered together just in front of his desk.

"Now, once the anesthetic fully wears off, Luke may be a little sore for a few hours, but that’s normal and nothing to worry about - Tylenol will do fine if he needs it." Lucy nodded; a mum who knew doses of kid's Tylenol backwards. "As I said previously,” Tiberius continued, “the SmartKlamp device needs to stay in place until he returns to have it removed by me in ten days.

"As I've already explained to Luke, and as you can see for yourself, the device isn’t too bulky and he can just continue to wear his normal clothes and underwear. He'll still be able to urinate normally through the tube that covers the glans, but other than that, to try not to touch either the SmartKlamp device, or his penis." Luke looked studiously at nothing, but felt Tiberius' beady gaze settle on him, making sure he got the message.....no jerking or fiddling with your mechanism!

"Luke, you can bathe or shower as normal," continued Tiberius, repeating what he'd said earlier - no doubt for Luke's mum's ears, "but otherwise – like I said before - just try to forget it's there."

“The post-op instructions are all written down here as well, Lucy.” Tiberius handed her an envelope which, presumably, contained those.

"So, do either of you have any other questions you want to ask me at this point?"

They had none and there was nothing left to do except make an appointment for the beginning of the following week, for Luke to come back and have the device removed.

Turning to his desk, Tiberius ignored the computer and turned his diary to check his appointment schedule. "Ten days from now is the usual...that would make it Monday," he murmured as he perused the pages. He flipped over another page and then looked up. "But I just have no slots on that Monday. Let's make it Tuesday, shall we? One day extra won't make any difference."

Luke groaned inwardly. It would make a difference to him!

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

What difference does a day make? Or a week, a month, even a year? Would that one day really have changed anything?

Maybe…

It just seems less important now; even all those months of waiting for the appointment to get it done. But it’s still been important to write it all down. I needed to do it - if not for me, then for him; to remember. I know it’s been good for me too. Writing it, reading it – even now. In its own way, maybe it’s a catharsis.

Ella was right. I did see her again, though not in good times. But not all of it was sad – there were many great times and moments that, looking back, were so funny, so happy!

You just had to laugh.

You just had to have been there.

15. Sweet Sixteen

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Sweet Sixteen

It was over.

All that was left that afternoon was for Tiberius to escort them back to the reception area, from where Luke and his mum could make there way back out towards the parking lot. The waiting area had emptied, but to Luke it still felt as if every eye followed him as he passed through the foyer. Self consciously, he tried not to make his gating walk too obvious! He checked over at the desk as they went by, but Ella wasn’t there.

The bad weather had passed to be replaced by a glorious bright afternoon and they re-crossed the parking lot in warm sunshine. Pulling out across the highway and back in the direction of the 285, his mum kicked into action. “Well?” she demanded.

Luke returned a blank expression. “Well what?” As if he didn’t know.

Her eyes flicked across and gave him one of her looks. A hundred yards further she turned into a Dunkin Donuts that fortuitously appeared on their right. “Don’t ‘well what’ me, young man! One of these days, you’ll have children of your own; then you’ll know what a long hour that was. I think I need a coffee!” She pulled into the drive-thru and both ordered. “What took so long?” she demanded as they waited by the delivery window.

Luke grinned. He could tell she wasn’t really upset with him – she was just being a mum. “I dunno – it took a while just talking about it first, even before we went into the theatre.”

“A theatre?” Her eyes widened. “A surgical theatre?”

He grinned again. It had been a shock to him too, but that was all past now. Drinks safely stashed in the cup holders and a maple frosted donut in his hand, they set off again. As they drove, he started from the beginning. He knew he should tell her something – even if just the basics. But, relieved it was over, the more he went on the more gushy and detailed he got. For her part she seemed happy to listen as he babbled.

By the time he finished, they were up onto the 400 heading north and she seemed partially satisfied. "You need to take it easy for the next couple of days sweetheart,“ she said. “The doctor thinks you should be feeling fine by Monday, but if it's still a bit sore, just say - we can always keep you off school an extra day or so, if needed."

"Thanks Mum,” he said, already determined that there was no way he was missing school on Monday! “Let's see how it goes; hopefully it won't be needed." Fifteen minutes later, they were home.

Over dinner that night, it was like ‘20 questions’ and Luke found himself besieged on all sides as the three of them ganged up on him. You'd have thought he’d just survived major open-heart bypass surgery the way they went on. Even his dad! Of course, there were lots of jokes about being ‘a cut above the rest' and stuff like that, but he didn’t mind. Now the operation was done, it was a weight off his shoulders and he felt more relaxed as they bantered. As a result, they sat around the kitchen table much longer than normal, and by the end of the meal, the anesthetic had finally begun to wear off. There was a low throbbing. It was time for some painkillers and he winced a little as he stood. His mum saw the signs and came to his aid.

"Come on you lot. Luke needs to lie still for a bit. Dad and Simon, can you clear the table and clean everything up?" Both of them realized they weren’t being given a choice, but set about it willingly anyway.

"Luke, what say I run you a nice hot bath? And would you like some Tylenol?"

Luke nodded. Both sounded a good idea to him. He took the tablets first and then lay quietly on his bed whilst she ran the water. A few minutes later, she popped her head around the door. "Okay sweetheart, it's ready!" Standing carefully, he joined her in the bathroom. She kissed him on the forehead. "I was proud of you today. You know that, don't you?"

He put it down to tiredness and the stresses of that unusual day, but he felt quite choked up as he hugged her. "Thanks Mum...for everything."

* * *

Luke’s notes:

I can’t remember the last time Mum had run a bath for me, but she’d put bubble bath in the water and it did look nice and soapy and inviting.

First, I tested it with my hand. Not too hot; I guessed it should be fine. Next, knowing that Simon would be on the prowl, I made sure I locked both the doors. Then I undressed - extremely carefully - and gave a long careful examination of the SmartKlamp that was now firmly attached to me, lifting it carefully to view it from all angles. Most of the loose skin of the shaft had been pulled forward and past the place where the device was gripped and locked tight. Inside the tube, my recently uncovered glans nestled safely. There was no blood, but I was still covered with the remains of the yellow liquid stain. I hoped it would wash off!

Next - I needed a pee; something I’d been putting it off for a while.

I stood over the loo with some trepidation, waiting for the flow to come. When he'd plunged that agonising needle into the base of my dick, it looked like it had gone straight through the middle - right into the place where pee came through! Even though the he’d said that everything should be fine, it seemed impossible that he hadn't skewered something important. I expected the worst and held back releasing the stream.

Finally, it wouldn't be denied and I had to let it go. It has a massive relief that, other than a light stinging for the first few seconds, everything flowed fine and looked the right colour. I tore off a strip of toilet paper to wipe the drips from the end as usual, but was foiled as I realised I couldn't so easily get at the end now!

That done, there was nothing left other than to just get in the bath.

I don’t know about you, but if I ever have a bath (and it’s infrequent - I prefer the shower), I like it full. Full - like brimming! I mean what’s the point in just dipping your arse in a couple of inches? But, on that day, Mum hadn't filled it too full, and this time I didn't mind. The truth was, I’d already begun to get some first hand experience of what Tiberius had meant by ‘altered sensations’!

I knelt at first, unwilling to get my bits wet. But that became uncomfortable within a pretty short time, so I sat back, holding my tackle above the waterline before gently lowering it through the bubbles under the waves.

It was shocking! My eyes watered and it was all I could do to not squeal as shooting agony consumed my willy! OMG – with all the detailed post op instructions, couldn’t someone have told me about the importance of turning on the cold tap a bit more? As the hot water played over my open glans, to say it was a bit sensitive was an understatement! I sat up fast and put more cold water in the tub before daring to try it again. It was still quite sensitive, but I bore it and, after a few moments, the discomfort eased and I relaxed back in the tub in relief. After another few minutes I risked adding some hot water, gradually raising the temperature to a comfortable level.

I must have been tired – it HAD been quite a day, and I hadn't slept well the night before, and I drifted off.

Some time later, my eyes blinked open at the sound of tapping, and of Mum’s voice calling through the door. "Are you OK sweetheart?"

The water had gone cold and I felt a little disorientated. I don’t know how long I’d been asleep, but it had been deep. "Oh...yep, I’m fine." I yawned, realising that the throbbing had subsided, for which I was grateful. "It’s okay, I'm just getting out." Wrapping myself carefully in a towel, I headed into my room and dried off, before pulling on t-shirt and PJs.

Simon stuck his head in the door. "Come on then...let's see it!"

I sighed, unsurprised. I knew he would want more than what had been on offer at the dinner table - more being the full guided tour! Not now though. I was sore and still tired; and did I mention sore? "Tomorrow," I said. "I promise - right now I just want to go to bed!"

Thankfully, he left me alone and I crawled into bed. Mum came in with a cup of hot chocolate and a couple of medicine bottles.

"This stuff is like the 'Night Nurse' we had in England," she said, shaking the bottle and unscrewing the lid. She poured a generous measure onto an oversized spoon. “It's for colds, but has painkillers in it and also stuff that helps you sleep." I nodded and she dosed me up, though I didn’t think sleep would be a problem. I was knackered! She took out two Tylenol and put them on my table. "I'll leave these here for the night, in case you need them. And the hot chocolate is your favourite double packet because I love you! Sleep well sweetheart - call me if you need me."

She kissed my forehead and left. I sipped the drink with enjoyment for a few minutes, but couldn't get more than half finished before I curled up and went back to sleep.

* * *

Luke woke up in the middle of the night, heavy from medicine-induced sleep and disorientated in the darkness. The snug warmness of his bedding was disturbed by a penetrating urgency; the desperate need to pee. With it, an accompanying hard, and quite painful erection. His groin throbbed and it took several moments to figure out why that was. Then, memories awoke and he shifted slightly, pushing back the sheets to evaluate his predicament. The Klamp was trapped under his leg and he eased its position to release the constraint. Increasingly concerned and needing to investigate, he slid gingerly out of bed and stepped carefully towards the bathroom.

It was the first erection he’d had since being cut and the throbbing pain and uncomfortable tightness made him begin to doubt the doctor’s prescription that there would be nothing to worry about. What if he was wrong? What if the Klamp had slipped or even broken? What if, even now, he was bleeding all over his sheets. With the terrible throbbing, it felt impossible that he wasn’t severely damaged. Should he call his mum? Would he need to be rushed to the hospital?

It was too dark to see if there were bloodstains on the sheets, and stepped carefully towards the bathroom. Turning on the light, he peeled back his PJ bottoms…and breathed again in relief. His worries were unfounded and the good news was, the contraption was coping admirably...but shit was it tight!

The strain he seemed to be putting on the mechanism felt enormous, and his dick looked fat and inflamed. Even so, the Klamp was hanging on grimly to the skin of the shaft, pulling everything agonisingly tight as it did its job.

The bad news was, in this state he realized couldn't pee so easily.

Normally, with the hope of squirting into the loo rather than onto the seat, he would have grabbed the woody and forced it down to at least a horizontal position; their mum got upset if they peed on the seat! But, with the doctor’s dire warning about damage and illegal touching, there was no way right then he was going to risk grabbing hold of this unusual device in any way!

With a flash of inspiration, he compromised by locking both doors. Stripping naked, he stood in the bathtub and let go, spraying everywhere! Afterwards he ran the shower head to rinse off and wash down the tub.

Relieving his bladder seemed to help settle the boner, though it still throbbed. To deal with that, he took two Tylenol washed down with a glass of water, all of which that had mysteriously replaced the half-full mug of chocolate. With that he curled up and went back to sleep.

* * *

Several hours later, Luke yawned and stretched. Light was seeping through the blinds, announcing another day. He was comfortable and, other than getting up that once in the middle of the night, had slept solidly; heavily enough that it took another few moments to remember that it was Saturday. This time yesterday he’d been looking forward, instead of thinking back!

The house was quiet and his bedroom looked comfortingly familiar, belying the fact that something had changed. Lifting the sheets, he touched his groin gently, confirming the existence of the unfamiliar equipment and the circumcision it was protecting. Carefully he peeked under the waistband of his PJ's to double check it really was there.

No doubt about it, there it lay, nestling down to one side.

Pulling the summer duvet over himself again, he noticed the fresh glass of water and two more Tylenol on the bedside drawers, bringing the obvious question. Sore? He gently wiggled a bit. Maybe not sore, he decided; Certainly not the throbbing discomfort of the previous night. Perhaps 'jumpy' was a better word...from anything brushing even slightly against the top of the glans of his penis as it rested in the tube! He reached for the glass and took the tablets anyway.

Lifting back the bedding once more, he teased open his waistband and stared at the SmartKlamp and the promise of a new future that it now protected. He could look at it all day! But, on the other hand he decided as he glanced briefly at the clock, the day didn’t need to start quite yet. Even though it was nearly 9AM, he felt he deserved another half an hour, so rolled comfortably onto his side and dropped back to sleep. Just another half an hour....

* * *

It was well after 11AM before Luke surfaced again, by which time he REALLY needed to pee. And his cock was extremely stiff. Again. He pushed back the duvet at last, and the full daylight revealed a large and rather strange looking lump that magnified the shape of his woody, pushing out of the top of his PJ's. Similar to the previous night – though by no means as painful - the renewed erection was accompanied by a tight throbbing.

He got up and headed to the bathroom.

Leaning over the bowl and, without pressing on the mechanism, he tried to pee. It came out in a rush and, pushing instead right at the base of his erection, he fought to keep the stream down, which for some reason had also split and was squirting in two directions! Gradually the flow subsided, as did his woody.

"Lazy sod! I’ve been up for ages – and I hope you're gonna wipe that up?" Luke groaned inwardly as he heard Simon behind him. Clearly he’d heard noises and come to investigate. As quickly as he could, he covered up.

"You could always sit down and do it like a girl?" his brother sniggered helpfully.

Luke bit back a retort and then grinned to himself. Laugh it up and enjoy whilst you can little man, your time is coming...you just don't know it yet! He washed his hands and tried something more subtle. "Bog off!"

Simon seemed unoffended. "Stacey called this morning...." That got Luke's attention as, from his vantage point in the doorway, Simon smirked again looking to score another point.

"What do you mean, she called?” Phone? Door? “What did she want?"

"You!" Simon sniggered lewdly. "And how did she get our number?"

"No idea!" Luke lied. "Now out! I want a shower." Before Simon could ask any more difficult questions, he shoved him past the doorway on his side of the bathroom, and locked it. Then, knowing that his mum did not take kindly to anyone missing, he first wiped the seat, before hitting the shower. Peeling off PJ bottoms and tee shirt, he set the temperature to something reasonable and carefully stepped into the bathtub to edge under the lukewarm water.

More than anything, he was totally fascinated by his glans, trying to make up for the fifteen years head start that most his age had in experiencing theirs! It seemed to appreciate the interest. As the refuelled erection began pulling everything tight, the end of his dick seemed huge. Growing to fill the whole tube, it peeked out of the end. Tentatively, he reached in and touched it - and yelped with surprise!

SHIT! That was going to take some getting used to!

The mushroom shaped glans looked quite red and angry. Not surprising really he decided; anyone would be angry if they’d been dragged out of a fifteen-year womb and then poked! Sensibly choosing to leave it alone, he took his time washing, in no hurry to go anywhere. Drying off, he dressed simply, ready for a day sitting around doing very little.

“Morning sunshine!" His mum and dad both stopped what they were doing as he stepped into the kitchen and swivelled to appraise him. "Sleep well?" added his dad.

He grunted, still glad to see them despite his dad's attempt at being solicitous. He hoped they weren’t going to be weird. '"Yep - pretty much, thanks," he replied, easing carefully a seat. His dad ruffled his hair paternally as he passed, and he watched him as he busied himself around the kitchen.

His mum was getting packets and tins out of the food cupboard. "I'm just about to start lunch sweetheart. Can you wait?" Luke nodded. "How are you feeling today? Are you still sore down there?" she enquired much more straightforwardly than his dad. Luke smiled to himself. This was more like Mum - getting straight to the point.

"No, not really...it seems to have pretty much worn off now." This wasn't strictly true...he was as sensitive as hell...it’s just he wasn't going to talk about that!

"Well that didn't take too long, did it?" She seemed satisfied that her son would probably survive the day. "Still, why don't you have a quiet day today anyway?"

Luke nodded again, though he would lay odds on EXACTLY what she was thinking…where I can keep an eye on you! Still, that's just what he was planning anyway. Books. Lots of video games. Maybe a movie. Si would keep him company.

"The Kears are meant to he coming round for dinner tomorrow," she murmured to herself. "It dawned on me yesterday when we were checking my diary for next week's appointment for you. I've been wondering if we should cancel? It might be for the best if..."

"No, don't do that” Luke interrupted her. She looked over quizzically. “There's no need - it'll be fine. I mean, if I'm meant to be OK for school the next morning, I'm sure I'll be fine by tomorrow. I don't want to make a big deal about it, and anyway, I'd quite like to see Owen."

"Owen Kear? Why, what's wrong?"

Luke pulled a face. "Oh - come on, what's right with him? You've seen him, he's not exactly Mr Happy - I'm trying to help him out a bit, that’s all."

His mum looked thoughtful. "Well he certainly needs some friends, that's for sure. Anne is quite worried about him. As long as you're still feeling okay by tonight, we'll not change it." At that, she disappeared into the dining room leaving just Luke and his dad.

"Stacey called. She was looking for you."

Luke looked up and caught his Dad's knowing smirk.

"So I heard."

"Any idea what she wanted?"

God, he was so obvious, thought Luke despairingly. "No idea - you took the call, not me."

"His body! " A voice called from the hallway. Bloody Simon.

Another warning voice emanated from the dining room. "Simon Summers – behave! You're not too old to have your backside tanned, trust me!"

Bloody hell, muttered Luke to himself. Was everybody listening in to this conversation?

His dad unsuccessfully tried to smother a grin. "I couldn't figure it out” he asked casually. “How did she get our number?"

"OK - that's enough! Leave him alone,” ordered Lucy, marching back into the kitchen. Geoff retreated to the fridge and she took over. "Sweetheart, she said that she already gave you her number.” She paused long enough on that little revelation to make him squirm. “But I wrote it on the pad anyway," she added sweetly.

Luke grunted at them all and hoped they got the message.

After lunch was done, Simon finally cornered him as he was tidying his room. Even the hospitalised didn't get out of that chore in their house! "Come on then," he demanded. “Let's see it!"

"What?" replied Luke, blandly. As if he didn't know!

Simon pouted. "Okay - I promise to stay in this afternoon and keep you company...come on, you said you would," he pleaded.

Luke relented. "Fine...but at least shut the door!" Simon rolled his eyes, but did go and make sure both doors were closed. Luke sat down on the edge of his bed and lowered his loose sweat pants a little – slipping the item in question carefully past the waistband of his boxers. The sweatpants were old and baggy and the combination was the loosest most comfortable he could put together.

"Bloody hell," coughed Simon at once. "You..." He trailed off and Luke looked up in surprise.

"What?"

Simon seemed flustered. "It's just - I've never seen...well...I didn't know you shaved..."

Luke shook his head and took it in his stride. "If you have to know," he said, feigning patience, "it's just trimmed. I had to for the surgery, so don't push it!"

Simon blinked. "Oh..." He looked sheepish and perched on the bed, too. "Well, come on then, what did they do? And how does that thing work again?"

It took a while, but Luke explained the full procedure that he’d undergone. He suspected that Simon had sneaked more than one look at the booklet anyway, but seeing it in the flesh (so to speak) was quite different.

"You know that Mum is thinking about getting you done too," he said at last, replacing everything back inside his underwear and slipping up the loose sweatpants once more.

Simon lay back on his brother’s bed, stared at the ceiling. He looked glum. "Yep, I know. She came to tell me about it last night, after you’d gone to bed."

Through narrowed eyes, Luke studied the horizontal form that had stolen his bed and invaded his personal space. Wasn’t he the one meant to be recuperating? “Move,” he said brusquely. With an abrupt flick of the thumb he cleared it. So caught up was Simon with uncomfortable memories, that he complied without complaint, rolling off the bed and settling on the floor with his back to a wall.

"She wanted to know whether the skin around the top of my dick came back properly." Simon bit his lip and shook his head. His face said it all!

Luke settled onto his bed, lying on his side to keep the SmarKlamp resting comfortably. "Mum already cornered you?" Damn, she worked fast sometimes! Simon nodded dolefully. “I bet she didn't say 'dick' though!" Luke added, relieved it had been his brother that had suffered the indignity and not him!

Simon seemed to brighten up and sniggered. "No....not specifically 'dick', you're right," he confirmed. He looked thoughtful for a moment and studied one of his nails. "I think she actually said 'dinky'..."

Luke was completely taken in.

"Dinky? You're kidding me! She called it a dinky? That's unbelievable! Does she think your still six?" Then he caught his brother smirking and knew he’d been had. Simon laughed so hard – and he had to laugh too...slaughtered by the vision of their mum casually asking them how their dinkys were doing!

Like all good Englishmen, Simon was classically trained in how the take the piss out of the Irish, the Welsh and the Scottish. He did accents rather well, and put on an Irish brogue. "Mudder...oi tink dere's sometink wrong wid moi dinky!" His affected appearance of sheer panic was a picture!

Luke’s sides began to hurt as much as his own dinky!

“Actually, she said penis....” Simon admitted finally, shutting his eyes to try to block out that humiliating memory. “Oh God – did I really talk to my mother about my dick!!” He groaned, shaking his head in despair. “Anyway, she talked about foreskins and that fimis thing...or whatever it’s called."

"Phimosis."

"Whatever." Simon shrugged, hugging his middle. "So, I told her I didn't know and it was probably all fine. I hoped it might be enough to put her off, but you know what she's like; she insisted on checking! I had to...well...crap it was embarrassing!" He grimaced. “She made me try to pull it down...you know, a bit like if you're jerking. It didn't… pull down, I mean. I didn't even know it was supposed to!" He seemed to be rambling and Luke recalled the memories and similar feelings he'd had during his first appointment with the specialist.

"Mum said that it would need fixing if it was like that, and I would probably have the same thing as you. She said I should ask you what it was like."

"And what do you think now you've seen one, first hand?"

He never got to find out just then what Simon thought. They’d both heard the distant chime of the phone and ignored it, but now there was a tap at the door followed, moments later, by their mum popping her head in. She held out the cordless. "Luke - it's for you. It's Ryan."

The look he got from Simon reminded him how ridiculous his brother thought he’d been with all the cloak and dagger stuff the previous day. He stood to reluctantly take the phone from his mum, thinking fast.

"Hey!" He tried to sound upbeat.

"Hey..."

Luke could sense the leading edge of unspoken questions. The silence extended for several seconds before Ryan continued. "Are you okay?"

Luke tried not to bristle. "Why shouldn't I be?" he replied casually.

"I called last night. Your mom said you were in bed."

Ry had called? She'd forgotten to tell him that. He fretted, wondering what she'd told him.

"And you disappeared after lunch yesterday. Are you sick or something?"

"Oh - that..." Luke tried to sound dismissive. "Had to go to the dentist." Simon glared at him as he delivered the lie. In his mind’s eye, he imagined what it would be like having this conversation face to face with Ryan. Ry was one of those guys that it was difficult to lie to. He could just see his face – dark intelligent eyes would search him, measuring his words and body language for the truth.

"The dentist?" Ryan’s voice sounded doubtful. "I thought you had a check-up just after Easter?" It was true, Luke knew. And he'd been given a clean bill of health too.

"Toothache..."

Simon shook his head and made faces.

"Oh..." Ryan paused, as if judging the matter. Finally he seemed willing to move on. "I was gonna shoot some hoops and go in the pool this afternoon. You wanna come over?"

One-on-one around the basket, and swimming. Neither activity sat well with the newly circumcised. Luke knew he had to be careful with the excuses though. “Wish I could, but we’ve got quite a bit of stuff on today, and tomorrow we’re across with the Kears. Sorry…” The best lies always kept close to the truth and didn’t stray too much into details. He could sense the unseen shrug at the other end of the line.

“Pity. Well, see you Monday then,” Ryan murmured.

“Aha… See ya…” He disconnected the line.

“You lying git!” squealed Simon, aghast. “Toothache?”

Luke refused to be repentant. “So what?”

“You’re weird – why don’t you just tell him?”

“’Why? It’s private. And anyway, it’s none of his business.” He tossed the phone down on the end of his bed and returned to his comfortable position.

Simon shook his head, clearly still put out by his choices.

“Look,” said Luke, “I’m not like you…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

What DID that mean? Luke sighed silently; and he felt uncomfortably guilty. “I don’t find it easy to tell people stuff like this, that’s all. Can’t we just drop it?”

Simon shrugged.

“Listen, I need to call Stacey. Why don’t you get the Wii set up? I’ll be down in a bit.”

Simon brightened. “ Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” The look he got was pretty definitive. As he left, Luke recovered the phone and the number from where he had it stashed and started dialling. It was a relief that it was Stacey that answered this time.

"Luke Summers!" she purred. "I wondered when you were going to call!"

There she was - at it again, teasing him with his name. He felt quite guilty speaking to her, because actually he quite liked her - just not in the way he guessed she was hoping. Was it ever possible to have a friendship that wasn't about sex? Those seemed hard to come by!

They chatted for a few minutes. "I just wanted to let you know how things are going with Owen," she said at last, making Owen sound like some school project she was working on. Which, in some ways, it was!

"Oh, okay...and is he, you know, doing alright?"

"Well - it's early days yet, but I'm planning a party next week and I’ve invited him, to try to get him to socialise a bit more.”

“Wow – that’s great Stacey – when did you say it was?”

“Next Friday evening. The problem is, he didn’t exactly jump at the invitation, so maybe you could encourage him a bit.”

“Yep, I can do that – in fact they’re all coming round for dinner to our place tomorrow,” Luke replied eagerly. “I can mention it then.” He had no idea of the trap he was stepping into.

“Great – so you’ll be able to tell him you’re coming too. That should do it!”

Oh crap! Luke backpedalled, fast. "Oh...well, I don't know Stacey...I guess I hardly know any of your friends and I'm not sure what we're doing on Friday..." He stammered, feeling a net closing about him.

Stacey probably already knew she had him and replied easily. "It’ll be really good for Owen, and if he knows another person there – especially you – you know he’s much more likely to agree to it. Come on, it'll be fun."

"Well, okay then." Luke relented, helplessly realising it was impossible to actually say no considering it was him that had asked for her for help in the first place.

"Great!" He could see the bright smile on her face. "It's at my house," she added as he wrote down the date and time and took her address too.

"Anything else I should know?"

"Well it's my birthday party, silly! Sweet Sixteen!" Her tinkling laugh spilled out of the handset. “Don't be late," she whispered as she put down the phone.

Oh hell – how do I get myself into these things, he muttered to himself?

16. Coming Clean

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Coming Clean

"Thanks for staying in this afternoon, Si." Luke assumed Simon had plenty of other friends to hang out with, and stuff he could do with a Saturday afternoon, so was more than happy his brother was prepared to keep him company that day.

Simon shrugged. "That’s alright; Toby's away anyway. His Nan and Grandpa are visiting and they all went to Stone Mountain for the day, so I got nowhere else to go! You’ll owe me one, though!" Luke doubted that sociable Si had nowhere else to go, but was grateful anyway. After wrapping up the call to Stacey, he and his brother had retreated to the basement.

Their home, like most in their cul-de-sac, had been built into the side of slight hill. That resulted in a house that, from the front, looked like a two-story build, but from the side revealed all three floors. The back deck was raised to accommodate the levels, with steps down to the backyard. Luke had always thought it was such a great house. Like many similar homes in the area, the basement level had been done up to create various extra rooms...including for them, a home cinema!

The soundproofed, windowless space had been there when they moved in and, rather than take the trouble to rip it all out, the previous owners had even sold them the projector and sound system at a good price. Keeping it had been their mum and dad's attempt to try to wean them off England.

More recently they had plugged a Nintendo Wii into the system. It was hard to beat playing action games on a huge screen with surround sound. So, on a day when they both wrestled with their personal thoughts, they fired up everything again to play Star Wars. The lights down low, they sprawled on bean bags operating the consoles and watched the screen; as usual, making their own colorful commentary as they drove down through the levels of the complex multiplayer saga.

“So what did Stacey want?” Simon probed, without breaking focus on the game.

“Nothing.”

“She rang you, and you rang back, just to say nothing?” Simon sniggered, stepping out from behind a wall to dispatch an Empire underling. "Right..." His tone carried patent disbelief.

Thirty seconds later. "So, what did she really want?"

Luke smiled, knowing how Simon would keep patiently digging till he got what he wanted. Might as well save time… “If it bothers you, she just called because she wanted to tell me something.”

“What – that she wants your babies?” Simon sniggered again, and received a cushion on his head as payment.

"No – dork. If you want to know…”

“I want!” Simon begged.

Luke sighed. “As I was saying – if you want to know – she was just inviting me to a party next week.”

“Party? What kind of party? When?” Simon liked details.

“If you HAVE to know, her birthday party and its next Friday. And, before you assume anything, I’m only going to take Owen Kear.”

“You’re taking Owen out to a party?” Simon's eyebrows furrowed with further unspoken questions. Luke pulled a face and they continued to the next level as Luke explained what he was trying to do.

“But Stacey still rang you to invite you to her birthday!” Simon declared once he'd finished.

"So?" Luke shrugged; he had an uncomfortable feeling that Simon’s impeccable logic was right.

“So, why are you so cagey about her?”

“I’m not cagey!” Luke replied hotly.

“I bet she has guys begging at her door…yet she nearly dribbles on you every time we go to Longhorns!” Simon goaded. ”Come on – how obvious can it be?”

“She does not dribble!" Luke protested. "Don't be gross! We’re just friends, and actually it’s not like that. I hardly know her!”

Simon eyed him curiously for a few moments before returning his attention to the game. Star Wars was their current favorite, and they usually played in cooperative mode; and a good job too as Luke fell off a roof, right on top of Darth Vader. Rushing to help, Simon distracted the Dark Jedi, whilst Luke limped off.

“Does it hurt?”

Luke glanced at his life points. He'd been badly mauled. "I'm gonna need the next health stash we find."

"No, I mean your dick..."

“Oh...that!" Luke shrugged. He'd replenished on Tylenol just after lunch; not that he really needed them. "Not really. I took a few pills, but it's fine."

"Not now - I meant when it was done. Yesterday at the clinic; did any of it hurt?" Simon's eyes flicked across, the look revealing what really concerned him.

"Nah, not really...de dinky is fine," Luke replied, eliciting a chuckle. "The injections are the worst bit, but not too bad. After that I didn't feel anything - a bit like the dentist really.” It wasn’t a particularly helpful comparison as, unlike himself, he was sure Simon had never had filings.

“It was a bit sore last night for a while, but it's fine now. The doc said that removing the thing the week after next would be quite strait forward." Maybe he wasn’t being totally truthful about the injections, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. "Then it'll be your turn!" he added, unable to resist just a little gloating.

"Well, I'm not so sure. I know mum said I might need it doing but.....I don't know," Simon made a face, shaking his head. "All she said was think about it. But what do you think? Is it worth it?"

It was nice of their mum to suggest he could think about it, Luke smirked to himself, but the reality was, Simon's days of having a foreskin were extremely numbered! But it wasn't going to help anybody if he had to be tied onto a table and forcibly cut...although the idea had it's entertaining aspects! No, now was the time to try to help steer him to the inevitable, with some of the benefits.

"Well, OK...firstly, the problem with Phimosis is..." As they played, he worked Simon though the basic stuff that the Doctor had so carefully explained to him. The tight; the painful; and the potentially smelly.

"When he pulled it back for the first time," Luke admitted, "it was really horrible. White and gunky looking." He knew he was laying it on a bit thick, but Simon seemed to be listening.

"That's why you wanted it done, is it?"

THAT was a loaded question; the real answer wasn’t one he’d felt that comfortable sharing – even with Simon. "Honestly?"

Simon didn't reply and he took that as a yes. He took a breath, though they still kept playing. It seemed easier that way. "Well, I guess at first it was because I didn't really want to keep being any different from any of the other guys. It looks like we’ll be living here for quite a while and you get teased a bit for having a chunk of skin hanging off your willy. I was just fed up of it." Simon nodded and Luke suspected his brother had probably got the much the same himself as he'd got older. "How it is now - or will be - looks a lot better on a guy," he added. He thought Simon would jump on it, suggesting that he had a thing for guys dicks, but he seemed content to change the subject.

“So, Stacey knows Owen then?”

“Yes – that’s what I said. They go to the same school.”

“Creek?" Simon remained glued to the screen.

“Yes,” replied Luke, patiently.

“Where they have that GSA group, you mean….” Simon didn’t need to look up for Luke to feel the huge import of those words.

“Oh…yes, I guess so." Luke remembered the events of several weeks ago that had left him uncomfortable with himself. He knew that it would come back at some point.

"Si?" He glanced over as his brother expertly flicked the control pad, causing death and destruction in his wake.

"Aha..." Simon returned, still not taking his eyes from the on-screen action.

"How did you know you liked Toby Skerrit...more than just a friend, I mean?"

Simon played for a moment more and then dropped the game onto pause to consider Luke curiously. After a moment he restarted the game. They continued playing, until, "Why do you wanna know?"

Luke shrugged, not willing to say. "No reason..."

They continued playing and Luke assumed there would be nothing forthcoming. Then, dropping into pause again, Simon opened his mouth; and then closed it, as if unsure of the words. He started again. "Actually I don't know," he finally admitted. "It kind of snuck up on me unexpectedly. I didn't really do anything...." He trailed off, as if there were blame to be apportioned for the attraction. Staring at nothing, he seemed to see something Luke couldn't.

After a moment, he continued. "I just began to like being around him more than any of the others. He's fun..I mean you know what he's like. He can be as daft as clown one moment and serious the next. " He paused, and then went on remarkably honestly, "But I like him too – I mean how he looks...and....I kind of...well, I just think about him a lot." He seemed as surprised as Luke by the honest and quite revealing appraisal, and flushed. While he hadn’t totally spelt it out, Luke got the picture.

"I can't help it - sorry if it sounds weird to you." Simon hung his head, unable to look at his brother, as though ashamed by the things he’d admitted.

That hadn’t been Luke’s intention at all! “No it doesn’t sound weird at all – not if you like him,” he said hurriedly, but he could see that Simon still felt disturbed by his feelings.

"Sorry... I…well, I’ve never felt like this with anyone before. It's still really freaking me out. Sometimes I wish it would just go away and I would be like normal people…you know…"

Luke took all in. It sounded so familiar. "Have you thought about telling him how you feel?” he asked distantly, thinking more about someone else.

"Are you kidding?!” Simon retorted angrily. “Risk losing a friend and getting marked as a homo? Be known as 'the queer’ for the rest of my life?"

"Hey!" Luke came back at him harshly – angry at the indictment of them both. "Don't call yourself that!"

Frustrated, Simon threw down the controller and Luke watched, mesmerized, as his on-screen character became helpless to defend itself against the multiple hits that piled up. Life began to ebb away under the onslaught.

"Crap!" Simon muttered as, too late, he realized his danger. He tried to reach again for the controls to save himself. Luke saw the danger too, but was much too far away to help. Moments later, the damage broke him and Simon’s on-screen character slumped onto the floor, his life force ebbing to zero. His face darkened; morose and frustrated; angry. "But that's what they would call me wouldn’t they?" he shouted. "Nobody likes fucked-up gay kids."

It wasn’t the fear of being overheard from upstairs – they both knew that the room was well soundproofed. From someone who hardly ever swore, it was the painful outburst that really shocked Luke.

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

There's that old phrase 'sticks and stones may break my bones - but words...'. Well, you know the rest. It's total crap and whoever came up with that stupid little ditty knows nothing about how pain can be inflicted; how words can kill as effectively as a light saber!

Si was right, of course. And however much I wanted to protect and encourage him, the honest truth was - is - it's much easier to be straight. It was clear now that it was better to be straight with him too - even though a big part of me wanted to stay secret. Undercover; in the closet.

"Si..." I began, tentatively. Was there ever going to be an easy way of doing this?

"What!" His anger still brimmed as he began to reset the level.

“Just because we like guys...whatever crappy stuff people might say about us; what they say - that's not who or what we are…"

You can never plan life, and there would have been no way earlier that day that I’d have thought I’d be outing myself to my brother within a few hours. Perhaps it’s best that way. I knew I wasn't saying it very well and held my breath, wondering if he would get it, even now. In front of us the screen blinked, awaiting further instructions, but I could see his brow furrow as he worked it over, his mathematical brain trying to figure through the logic of what he’d just heard.

He stared. Surprise became quizzical; searching and hopeful, checking for wind-up or deceit. I twitched into a wan, lopsided smile and shrugged. It was enough and Simon's face took on a wide grin as the change happened.

It was worth it all, just for that moment!

I could read him like a book and saw the sense of relief written all over him. I just had this protective streak in me when it came to Si. Sure, we could fight like cat and dog sometimes, but when it came down to it, he was my little brother and I'd kill anyone who tried to hurt him. Despite his easygoing nature and cleverness (much brighter than me I have to confess), he always looked to me to lead the way in big things.

And for him, this was BIG!

I knew he'd felt lonely carrying it alone. But, at the flick of a switch, I could see weeks, probably months of uncertainty brushed away by the knowledge that he and I were alike. So who cared what anyone else thought. To him, if Luke was the same, everything would be cool.

* * *

The grin dropped and Simon's demeanor hardened. "NO SHIT! Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

Luke flinched, knowing that the swearing was an indication of his brother’s renewed strong feeling. "'Cos I haven't known myself for long," he placated.

"How long?"

"A couple of weeks..." Simon still looked affronted. "Come on, how long did you know yourself, before you eventually told me!" Luke added.

Simon's face softened as he accepted the truth of it and he got hold of himself. "Okay, sorry. You're right - forget all that." He grinned again. "I knew you would be, you know!"

Luke rolled his eyes. How the hell could Si know that? However, it was a relief just to be able to talk about it all at last, and he didn't challenge it.

Simon's delight was honest and infectious. "But how? How did you know? I thought you fancied Stacey? Do you like guys AND girls?" Questions came thick and fast.

"No I don't fancy Stacey! That really is only to help Owen!"

"Oh...oops!" Simon giggled. "I think I got the wrong idea!" His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped. “NO…so…so you like Owen then?”

“NO, I DO NOT!”

"OK - forget that!" Simon pleaded. "Tell me the rest of it! Tell me everything!" The game was pushed to one side as they continued to talk quietly and privately, down in the basement.

"So what do you think Mum and Dad will think?” Simon asked eventually. “You think they'll be mad or something?"

THAT had to be the million-dollar question, and one that had been on Luke’s mind over the last weeks too.

“Do you think we should we tell them…about being gay?”

“I’m not ready for that yet,” replied Luke quickly. “Telling you is enough for now. Is that okay?”

Simon looked doubtful. "They’ll need to know eventually though, don’t you think?”

Luke knew he was right. It was also very like his little brother to be uncomfortable keeping more secrets. “Soon.” They should talk to their parents - just not quite yet.

Simon nodded and then grinned again. “So…” He now seemed to get to what he saw as the juicy part, "if it’s not Owen, is there someone you really fancy?"

Luke wasn't quite ready to go this far yet and start spilling names – even with Simon! "Nah...not really at the moment."

Maybe Simon guessed he was holding out, but he let it go. "You'll tell me though when there is?" he pressed.

"You'll be the first to know!" Luke promised.

"You mean the second!" Simon sniggered, and that set them off giggling again for a while!

Then, unexpectedly, an 'out of the box' idea came to Luke. He considered his brother thoughtfully. “ You know this thing with the Phimosis and being circumcised?”

“What about it.” Simon grimaced at the reminder.

"Well - why don't you ask Toby?" Luke suggested.

That got Simon’s attention! "What? Ask him about my DICK?" Simon gasped, surprised. "Don't be mad, I can't do that...that would be...weird."

"Why would it?" Luke countered, more sure now. With a smirk, he challenged his brother. "Is he circumcised? And don't tell me you haven't looked!"

Simon grinned at that. "Okay, yes, I've looked," he admitted, rolling his eyes grudgingly. "And yes...I think so..."

"So...then tell him that you're thinking about getting it done too. Ask his advice about what it's like. You never know, maybe it will open up something new between you?"

Simon brightened at that. "Hey, that's actually not a bad idea. Is that what you did?"

"Kind of..." Luke replied, a little uncomfortably. If talking to a guy from New York on Facebook counted! Fortunately, Simon didn’t seem bothered to press the point and Luke stood at last and stretched. He grunted, taking a moment to adjust the Klamp so it hung more comfortably. Then he left Simon with Toby and Darth while he went up to the kitchen to down a couple more Tylenol.

* * *

They were just at the end of the traditional Sunday roast when it happened.

They rarely used the formal dining room as a family. Most day-to-day meals were at the big kitchen table. Of all the rooms in their house, Luke considered the dining room to be his least favorite. He wondered why that was? Was it because they hardly ever came in here, or did they hardly come in here because no one else liked the formal setting either?

Of course, there were times when it felt right – like Thanksgiving, or Christmas. There were also times, like with the Kears that day, when there were so many people to seat, there was no other sensible option.

Around the, admittedly, quiet beautiful table, the eight of them sat on the leather upholstered high backed chairs. For once, it actually felt okay to eat there. The table was stuffed with food and everyone was in a good mood. It had been one of his mum’s best; a full roast beef, roast potatoes, yorkshire puds, veg and all the trimmings.

“I won’t say no!” Steven Kear’s slightly glistening forehead bobbed up and down as Geoff opened another bottle of red and proffered it. “And where on earth did you find English mustard here?” He scooped another massive dollop onto his plate to join the second helping of roast beef and roasts, already there.

“Dad’ll need a snooze after all that!” Owen sniggered.

Luke had to smile too. And why was it that the Welsh still called it English Mustard? Didn’t they have Welsh Mustard?

“Luce gets it at the Farmers Market,” said Geoff. “You can get quite a lot of British stuff. Even Brown Sauce!”

“I’ll have to take you, Anne,” Lucy put in. “It’s not far.”

Geoff waved the bottle towards Anne and she nodded. “Yes, a little more, thanks.”

As he shoveled in another fork-full of roast beef, Luke studied Steven Kear. He was definitely well into middle age spread he decided. Owen’s parents seemed quite a bit older than his own mum and dad. Maybe they’d married late?

Laying his own knife and fork on the plate, he stood. “More wine Becks?” He lifted up the juice jug and offered it. Becky giggled. Even her plate was empty after the sumptuous main course, he noticed. For someone who usually pecked at her food, THAT was a minor miracle! They all watched Becky pick up Simon's glass as well. Unsurprisingly, and to everyone's amusement, it had been the precocious little girl who had arranged the seating around the table that lunchtime, placing herself center stage, next to Simon. "Simon's having more too," she declared. As Luke gallantly poured, Simon took it well.

"That, Lucy, was stunning!" Steven Kear finally declared in his strong, musical welsh accent. He pushed back his plate and maneuvered his rather portly belly to a more comfortable position. Lucy beamed with pleasure and Geoff lifted the second recently opened bottle of the red Cote du Rhone invitingly. Stephen eyed it longingly enough, that Anne seemed to take pity.

"Okay, I'll drive...." she sighed.

“Dad, you’re going to be snoring so bad tonight!” complained Owen shaking his head in despair.

Everyone laughed. It was a relief, thought Luke, that Owen seemed to be in a good mood for a change. He’d certainly cleared his plate with as much enthusiasm as his dad!

“It was a superb dinner Luce,” agreed Geoff. “Thank you! Now, anyone got room for desert?”

A stupid question really.

“Let’s just clear the debris first,” suggested Geoff, “then apple pie and custard it is!” Empty plates were passed up to one end to be stacked, ready to carried out to the kitchen. “It just shows,” he added, “You don’t have to live in the UK to know how to eat properly!”

And THAT was when it happened.

Luke knew his dad had only meant it as a passing remark; not one that was supposed to actually mean anything, but the Kear family went icily quiet and he saw their faces darken. Steven, recently warm and jovial after eating so well, became cold and stony. Owen stared at his empty plate.

“We’re…….not sure….,” Anne began, clearly dismayed as their family tension spilled out onto their hosts dinner table. “We’ve been talking about it. We’re probably going back home again…. beginning to look at flights and costs and things. It’s maybe for the best….” She shrugged helplessly and Steven took a long swig of his wine, refusing to offer any encouragement or support in that difficult moment.

Becky looked horrified. “Who said we’re leaving? I don’t want to go…Mum, I wont.”

“Becky love, we haven’t decided," Anne muttered hurriedly. "We’re just thinking about it, that’s all."

“Yes you have,” cried Becky. “That’s why you keep arguing all the time! Just because of Owen.”

“Becky love, not here….” pleaded Steven.

“WHY? Why is it only what HE wants that counts? What about me? What about what I want?” The little girl was incensed. “I won’t leave all my friends again. You can’t make me!”

Across the painful scene, the soft background music of popular ballads continued to play. Luke studied his knees.

Becky rounded on her brother. “I HATE YOU. You always ruin everything!” With that she pushed up from her chair and ran out of the room. Eyes watched, none willing to stop her go, and then returned to stare at Owen.

Slowly, uncomfortably, he got to his feet too. His face said it all. “I’m not really hungry anymore. May I be excused?” Painfully, he looked to Lucy for permission to escape the hell the meal table had rapidly become.

“Of course, Owen,” she murmured softly.

Stiffly, he too left the room.

As he left, Luke’s mum caught his eye. A subtle message passed between them. “May I be excused too Mum? I’m stuffed!” She nodded and he stood as well; exiting to find Owen.

On his way out, Simon chirped up. “Me too Mum. Becky and I were going to get our roller blades on.” Becky had some new ones and had brought them specifically to show to Simon, no doubt to get him to play with her.

Luke finally found Owen out in the backyard, sitting on the bottom step of the deck, shuffling his pack of Yugioh cards and laying them on the treated wood. He’d never been in to game cards himself; what self-respecting fifteen year old plays Yugioh, he wondered? Yet at fifteen Owen still was, and had even tried to get Luke to play cards with him before lunch.

Owen looked bleak as he settled on the top step next to him. “They hate me – all of them.” Listening to him, Luke couldn’t help but wonder how much truth there might be in how Owen saw it.

Just then, Becky came around the corner of the house, followed by Simon, carrying their roller blades. She saw Owen and glared at him. “I HATE YOU!” she screamed, and walked away again. Simon shrugged helplessly and Owen and Luke just stared at the bushes. There was nothing to be said.

“Come on – why not at least come with me to the party on Friday?” Earlier in the day, Luke had put this to Owen and tried to convince him, but with little luck.

“I hate parties!” Owen muttered. “Anyway, what’s the point, if we’re going home anyway?”

“Well exactly,” Luke countered. “So - you might be going home – you might not – but at least show everyone you can still enjoy a night out. Do it for your Mum if nothing else….”

Owen studied him, and he waited. It had been a last ditch effort - no doubt doomed to failure - to convince the welsh teen, yet he saw Owen's face twist; maybe at the thought that she was suffering almost as much as he felt he was. Luke pounced. “I’ll give you a game of Yugioh...” he pleaded, playing his last card.

Owen took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and relented. “Okay, okay, you made your point. I’ll go,“ he agreed finally. “I’ll still take you up on the game though...and I’ve got a spare deck!”

So they played cards for the next hour – a game that seemed to Luke to have overly complex rules that constantly changed. He didn’t mind that he lost all the time; it was escapism - and that was Owen all over! Who cared really? What mattered was that Owen was coming to the party on Friday. He just hoped to God that it would somehow help!

* * *

It was a typical Monday morning and the Summers household was in overdrive to get the boys out of the door and off to school. They were running a bit late that morning, and Luke felt his mum was fussing.

“Now are you really sure, sweetheart?” pressed Lucy, as he crammed toast in his mouth. “I know you’re trying to act as if everything is normal, but you HAVE just had surgery. Shouldn’t you stay off school for a few more days?” She turned to his dad for support. ”What do you think, Hon?”

Geoff Summers emerged from behind his laptop, which had joined them at the breakfast table, and from where he was already firing off a flurry of emails to start the day. He shrugged. “If he feels up to it, why not? What’s he going to do at home all day?”

Anyone could tell that it wasn’t what she was looking for. “Rest?” she replied, dryly.

“Mum – I’m fine, honestly,” Luke put in, seeing a look in her eyes that he needed to sidestep. “Look, if I need to, I can always call you to come and pick me up early if I’m flagging.”

“Simon, you need to hurry up and go and brush you’re teeth.” No doubt looking for somewhere to vent a little steam, she turned her attention to his brother as he stacked his cereal bowl by the sink. After watching him scurry out, she checked her watch and seemed to come to a decision. “Very well then, but you have to promise me that you won’t do anything stupid.” Relieved, Luke topped up his coffee and sat back down.

Then she turned her attention to Geoff. “Hon, you HAVE remembered you’re dropping them off this morning, haven’t you?”

Geoff Summers looked surprised. His eyes flicked to the wall clock and he cringed. “Oh, sure. We need to go soon, then,” he muttered. Luke suspected he’d forgotten. There was a bang on the front door, heralding Toby letting himself in.

“Come on then you lot. Move it!” nagged Lucy. “Toby’s here already!”

Not wanting to irritate her more, Luke downed the coffee fast and hurried out to the hall, nodded to Toby who was waiting patiently by the door, and made best speed up the stairs. Simon was already brushing his teeth in his usual methodical manner. Luke joined him and, when he’d finished and left the bathroom, he took a moment to study his profile.

The black school uniform trousers usually fit well – just not particularly if you had a piece of plastic in your underwear. He’d done his best to arrange it so that it didn’t look like he was on Viagra and prayed it was only obvious to him, and no one else.

“LUKE!”

His mum’s tone wasn’t good - time to go…

Even then, it still took them a while to get out of the house, as his dad’s laptop wouldn’t shut down properly, with Windows choosing that moment to do some ’updates’. At last they hurried to the minivan, where he took the front seat and Simon and Toby went together into the back. It was usually this way: their parents did the drop off, and Toby’s mum did the pickup. Sometimes they would bring Ryan back too, if he’d been stranded. His mother wasn’t that reliable.

The traffic wasn’t good, and by the time his dad dropped them at the school parking lot, they were verging on late. Simon and Toby hurried off in one direction and he hurried – aka waddled – the other, making it into homeroom only just in time for registration.

First period was Math – not the best start to any day – but Luke had a more pressing need. The coffee had gone straight through and he needed a piss, big time. As the herd meandered forward, he pushed ahead and ducked into the first restroom on the way. Thankfully, it was empty and he hurried over to a urinal to begin to attempt to get the SmartKlamp out of this boxers.

It wasn’t that easy and the weekend had taught him that the plastic frame of the mechanism had a tendency to get caught between his boxers and zip whilst trying to negotiate it out and back for a wizz. Unlike his cargo shorts, the regulation school trousers were not baggy, so now there wasn't much maneuvering room. Other than dropping his trousers completely, he could also have gone into one of the stalls for a bit of privacy, but he was in a hurry and there was nobody else there, and it would only take a moment....

…maybe that was a mistake.

The need to pee was getting painful and he swore at the device that remained stuck in the wrong place. Finally it broke free and, in relief, he shut his eyes and stood there waiting for the delayed flow to begin.

"So, how were the injections?" The familiar and friendly voice came just to his left.

It was one of those moments that computed SO wrongly. Luke got totally stuck in a loop trying to figure it out: how the hell did Ryan know anything about the needles the doc had stuck into his dick?

“At the dentist,” added Ryan, probably wondering why he was acting so dense. This was followed swiftly by, "HOLY CRAP, Luke, what the FUCK is that!"

Luke had been so focused on the zip problem, followed by the delirious moment of release, that he hadn't even heard anyone come in the door. Dragged back to reality, his head jerked round to come face to face with his friend. Spraying into the bowl right next to him, Ryan was now staring in surprise at the piece of hardware that was fixed to his penis – the combo still waving in the breeze.

Saying nothing, he tried to cover it with his hand and squeezed desperately in an attempt to end the flow. The spurts subsided, but Ryan continued to stare as he fumbled frantically with the SmartKlamp, which despite his best efforts, still wasn't going past his zip easily. Exposed and embarrassed, he felt like some spotty kid caught by an aunt with his hand down his trousers, playing snooker. It had become a nightmare that refused to end.

Shit, shit, SHIT!!! Why hadn’t he listened to his mum and stayed home? "FUCK THIS THING!" he finally exploded in pure frustration.

He guessed that Ryan could tell he was (to say the least) a little unhappy, though he remained silent and watchful. Finally he got it in, zipped up and wheeled away rapidly. Shaking and feeling quite sick, he stood at the sinks to wash his hands. He felt like screaming – it was so unfair. Less than fifteen minutes into the day, and now the worst was about to happen.

Ryan finished at the urinals too, and crossed to the sinks to wash his hands a couple of places down. His eyes flicked over questioningly, but seemed willing to keep his thoughts to himself.

Luke knew it wouldn’t last.

He was burning, not just red, but with anger - at himself, but also at Ryan. This was NOT how it was meant it to be. Now he was going to become the butt-end of a whole pile of sex jokes about penis surgery. SHIT! Why did Alexis have to come in here and spoil it? Of course, part of him realized none of it was actually Ry’s fault, but right then he couldn't see it like that and entertained things about Ryan Alexis that were not repeatable.

In the silence, he glanced along the row of sinks as he scrubbed his hands roughly under the tap. Now would be the showdown and he braced himself for the onslaught of sick humor. What he saw surprised him. Instead of the leering look he was expecting, Ryan looked worried.

"Are you okay, bud?"

Still lost in his own nasty self-pity, Luke lashed out. "Just don't, okay...leave me alone. And if you think it's funny just...just...just piss off!"

There’s something really important about a tone of voice. Often it reveal more than the words. It’s not what people say, it’s how they sya it that can speak volumes. Belatedly, hearing the real concern in Ryan’s, he knew he had it wrong.

Just as belatedly, he remembered that Ryan already knew about the upcoming circumcision op; he hadn’t ridiculed then, so why would he now? Ry wasn’t going to have a go at him over this – or at least he wouldn’t have until being on the receiving end of a verbal assault. Weeks of waiting and worry rolled over Luke. Wearied by the stress of keeping secrets he mumbled. "Fuck...sorry." He scrubbed his eyes roughly to resist the heat that was gathering there. "You didn't deserve that...but just don't laugh, okay."

He turned his head, but Ryan was hard to read. He didn’t seem angry. He didn’t seem a lot of things that Luke might have expected, but the dark eyes were considering him carefully; weighing him up.

"Luke, why would I laugh at you? I don't...well, I just wouldn't …" Ryan tailed off. He became more determined. "Just tell me, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Listen, I really am sorry...about swearing at you.” To cover his emotion, Luke ran the cold tap, splashed water over his face, and dried it on a towel.

“What are you girls doing? Just discovered wanking?" sneered Cody Mitchel, who took that moment to walk in the restroom door. Luke eyed him with distaste. Mitchel was a git, as nasty as real gits get, and one that always found others to do his dirty work. The pair ignored him and left to join the flow of traffic in the wide hallway.

“Okay,” demanded Ryan, not letting him off the hook as they followed behind the crowd moving towards their first lesson, “out with it. What’s bugging you?”

Luke looked around and hefted his bag higher on his shoulder, before angling off into a window alcove and dropping his bag down. Classmates drifted past and he reached into it as if searching for something, whilst speaking in a low voice. “Well, you remember I said I was thinking about getting circumcised?” His ears reddened as he confessed and he studied the inside of his bag

“You had it done!" It wasn’t a question and Luke guessed it hadn’t been hard to fathom it out!

It was also a little loud and he looked around hurriedly before risking a glance upwards. Ry's face was a picture. You could tell he KNEW he was right and a broad grin developed.

“I lied about the dentist…sorry…”

"You dog! That's where you were on Friday!"

Luke relaxed, and he pulled a face as his little white lie unraveled. "Yep - I had it done that afternoon. That thing you saw was some special device called a SmartKlamp; something they can use it to do it for guys our age.”

"Shit! Really? No wonder you didn’t come round over the weekend. What happened - and what the hell are you doing in school? I mean doesn't it hurt?"

Luke shrugged. He actually DID want to tell Ryn about it, but wasn't sure how to explain the difference between hurt and the bolts of painful, yet quite sexual stimulous he kept getting through his newly revealed glans.

Ryan seemed to take pity on him. "It's okay," he grinned. "I get it that it's a bit personal." He glanced down the emptying hallway. The noise was ebbing away. "Come on, we'd better go, or we'll be late."

They hurried along and caught the back end of the line into the class.

"Oh, by the way..." Ryan murmured, just before they passed into the classroom.

"What?"

Ryan pulled a knowing grin. "Congratulations!" he mouthed.

It took Luke most of the lesson to recuperate and, if asked afterwards, would have had little idea of what was covered.

The rest of that day, in fact the rest of the week at school was without incident. He stayed out of trouble and got used to having either his bag or his jacket hanging strategically in front of his groin to disguise a lump that he felt was huge, even thought it wasn’t.

Ryan didn’t let him down. He could keep secrets and there were no knowing glances or risqué jokes amongst their friends. In fact, Ry never mentioned it again and Luke got the impression that he really didn’t care one way or another. A part of him was a little disappointed by the lack of interest. However, it appeared Simon had been right all along – when it came to Ryan, he’d got overly worked up for nothing.

17. Party

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Party

Late Friday afternoon, Luke was sitting at his desk with the birthday card, wondering what to write.

He hadn't really planned on giving Stacey a card, which is why the rather cringe-worthy offering his mum had got - just in case, she said - was lying in front of him. It was a gift card. She was probably right; a voucher was a lot easier than buying a present for someone that he hardly knew! On the other hand, buying ANY girl a gift gave dodgy signals.

He picked up the card again. Either way, he couldn’t get out of signing it – and there had to be something better than just ‘from Luke’!

“Mum?” From where he was sitting, still hoping for inspiration some minutes later, he called through his open door. Pen in hand, he’d just realized that he had no idea who Stacey was, other than she was called…Stacey.

Stacey what, for God’s sake?

Even more disturbing was the reminder that she, if the card was to be believed, was turning sixteen; which put her in the year above him. For some reason, until she'd told him, he’d always assumed they were the same age. Okay, maybe they were only about 5 months apart, but a different school year was huge! He wondered if she'd think of him as a kid if she knew?

From downstairs, there was no answer, so he hauled himself upright and put his head out into the hallway. ”Mum!” He shouted again, louder this time.

“Yes?” A voice floated up from the lounge.

“What’s her name?”

“Whose name, sweetheart?”

“Stacey’s….”

“Try ‘Stacey’? ” From the same place, his dad’s pathetic suggestion drifted up helpfully.

He rolled his eyes, refusing to be drawn. “Her family name…!”

“Wyeman.”

“What?”

From where she was probably catching the early news, his mum upped the volume. “Her family name – I’m sure it’s Wyeman,” she repeated. “I think her mum works at Creek Kindergarten.”

"Okay. Thanks." He returned to his desk. Wyeman. Stacey Wyeman. Stacey Summers.

He shook his head to dislodge a nagging concern and played with the envelope. They would be leaving for Stacey’s party around 7pm, picking up Owen on the way. His mum was making a bite to eat for him anyway, as he didn’t know if there would be much food there, and his stomach was already rumbling. He tried to ignore it. Pushing the card to one side, he turned on his MacBook and logged into his account.

It was a relief to see Damon online at last. He’d not been around all week and Luke realized he'd missed him; beginning to depend on the freedom to talk that the New Yorker offered. Even though Damon didn't know - yet - they had several things in common.

[LUKE] "It's me!" Luke typed as introduction. Only moments later, the ready reply popped up.

[DAMONJ] "Oh – hi! It's me too!"

Idiot! Smiling to himself, Luke didn't waste any time getting to the point.

[LUKE] "It's done!"

[DAMONJ] "What?"

[LUKE] "Begins with C! Three guesses!"

[DAMONJ] "Mmmmm......you've just finished Cooking - or you've been forced into Child labor?"

His side of the screen, Luke cracked a wry grin.

[LUKE] "Okay, okay, let's not do this again. I just wanted you to know that I had my circumcision op a few days back!"

[DAMONJ] "Really? Hey congratulations bud - welcome to the club at last!"

He smiled to himself in satisfaction. Exactly - the club - the same as everyone else.

[DAMONJ] "So, how did it go? Not too painful I hope? No details, by the way - I'm a bit squeamish with the blood thing, let alone the idea of someone hacking at my nads with a scalpel!"

[LUKE] "Sorry to disappoint, but not like that at all - done with something called a SmartKlamp. No blood - no stitches even!"

True if you didn't count the frenulum. There was a pause.

[DAMONJ] "Damn - it looks weird!"

[LUKE] "What??"

[DAMONJ] "I just searched for it online - SmartKlamp. You've got one of those?"

[LUKE] "Yep."

[DAMONJ] "I've never heard of such a thing before..." There was a pause and then, "It says here it stays on 5-7 days and then it gets taken off."

[LUKE] "Really? My doc said it had to be 10 days. I wonder why...can you paste me the link?" It surprised him how quickly Damon had tracked all that down.

[DAMONJ] "Age maybe?? It says something about only being for children?? Hang on – just pasting it."

[LUKE] "Ha, ha. Funny boy!"

[DAMONJ] "Here ya go…

The pasted link popped up along with...

[DAMONJ] "Then it says here that it just gets cut off and it's done. Yeiuuuu! I trust they mean just the plastic thing - hehe!"

Luke sniggered and joked along.

[LUKE] "Crap...you don’t think they’re going to slice off my manhood do you?"

[DAMONJ] "I heard they sell them on the black market to Chinese herbalists, who grind them down to make an aphrodisiac powder!"

[LUKE] "I believe that's rhino horn...!"

[DAMONJ] "OMG is it? Sorry - my bad!"

Luke smirked to himself at the exchange as he looked over the website pages - one he'd not seen before. Other than the timing of the SmartKlamp removal, it was pretty much what he already knew. As Damon had said, the site did seem to all about quite young kids. Well, his doctor knew what he was doing, and as long as it worked, he would put up with a few extra days.

[DAMONJ] "Oh - there's some warnings on here about dangers and high failure rates..."

Luke pursed his lips, trying to recall reading anything like that himself. He searched the page. Where was it?

[LUKE] "Where?"

[DAMONJ] "Down at the bottom - on the home page."

With an edge of concern, he scrolled down.

[LUKE] "Where? I don't see it?"

[DAMONJ] "Hehe - got ya!'"

He knew he'd been well and truly had!

[LUKE] "God - you XXXXXXXX. That was mean!"

[DAMONJ] "Sorry - hehe - you gotta admit, I really had ya there!"

[LUKE] "I'm admitting nothing! Well OK - just a bit." He tapped at the keyboard, relieved it was only a wind up!

[LUKE] "Anyway, that's pretty much what he said. It's being taken off on Tuesday. Trust me, the day can't come soon enough!"

[DAMONJ] "Bit obvious though isn't it? I mean it’s not small!"

[LUKE] "Nah, it’s not so big really – it hardly shows."

[DAMONJ] “Actually, I meant the Klamp..."

He burst out laughing, and his mum put her head in the door. “Everything OK sweetheart?”

“Oh...yes. Just talking to a friend on Facebook.”

"Oh - that's nice." He knew she had little idea of what that actually meant. She wasn’t much into computers, let alone social networking. “Just to let you know tea’s ready in a few minutes…. and don’t forget to sign the card.”

Still grinning, he nodded obediently. "Yep, I'll be straight down." She left, leaving him to go back to his screen and to Damon. The guy was a subtle tease, and he knew that these light, but risqué innuendos were a game; one that he quite enjoyed playing! He wished he had more time that evening - because he was realizing more and more that Damon was someone that he could talk to; someone who might even be able to offer him advice. The problem was, the things he really wanted to talk about - being gay - needed time, and he didn’t have much of that right then.

[LUKE] “I refuse to speculate about size!” he finally typed.

[DAMONJ] "Sensible!"

[LUKE] "Okay - for the record - we’re talking about the Klamp – and I arranged to stay off sports for the week, so actually nobody knew it was there!" This wasn't strictly true. Ryan was one person who knew he had had the procedure done, but he didn't particularly count.

[DAMONJ] "You pretended you’d pulled a muscle or something?"

[LUKE] "Yep - something like that." Actually that was quite astute – he had been suggesting something like that to those who had asked.

[DAMONJ] "You're still quite funny about all this, aren't you?"

[LUKE] "In what way?"

[DAMONJ] "You're telling about it to me, but not your close friends."

Maybe he should have known, even then. Again, a part of him wanted to deepen the conversation and be honest. If only it were that easy...and if only he had more time.

[LUKE] "Maybe... Don’t get me wrong, but some things are just easier with someone you'll never meet!"

[DAMONJ] "True. So – busy weekend?”

[LUKE] “Kind of - out to a party tonight.”

[DAMONJ] “Cool…what’s the occasion?”

[LUKE] “16th birthday – a girl I know.”

[DAMONJ] “Nice - so what's her name?”

[LUKE] “Stacey...and yeah, she is nice” He left it there, uncomfortable about getting into the rest.

They chatted a while longer before his mum shouted up the stairs, reminding him to move it! Lacking further inspiration, he signed the card ‘from Luke’ and stuffed it in the envelope before going downstairs.

At 6.45pm, Luke knocked on the Kear’s front door. Theoretically, the party started at 7pm, but he couldn’t get it into his mum's head to think that it might be okay for them to turn up anytime after that. A stickler for punctuality, she'd been adamant. If it says seven on the invitation, then that’s when you should get there!

He could hear sounds of frantic activity behind the door and, as he waited patiently on the front porch, he eyed the sky dubiously. It was the time of year when humid air was pushed up from the gulf by spiraling cyclones, dropping monsoon-like over the southern states. It was warm and uncomfortably muggy. Thankfully, it would pass and probably be bright and sunny the following day.

He taken time choosing his outfit, and dressed – for obvious reasons - in his baggiest of jeans, and a trendy cotton, white collared shirt. He knew they looked good on him. His mum had pressed him to bring a sweater, just in case; the sweater was in their van and he planned that it would still be there when she drove off.

Finally, the door swung open and Owen appeared; his mum hovering in the background. Studying his clothing, Luke was relieved to see that the guy had actually made some reasonable effort. Despite that, he still looked distantly uncomfortable, and his mother fussed around him making it worse. She held a tie in her hand, which Owen was blatantly ignoring.

Lucy called over from her open window as the three of them crossed to the van. “I’ll drop him back here when they’re done, Anne!”

Owen’s mum looked doubtful. “Are you sure Lucy? I can go and pick them up at maybe 9.30-ish...”

Luke cringed. 9.30? Was the women MENTAL!!

“It’s fine Anne - I’m sure it’s going to be more like 11pm or so. I can do it. I’ll drop Owen off on the way home.”

“Oh…okay, then,” said Anne, clearly not too sure whether it was okay or not. “Enjoy yourself now dear,” she offered to Owen as her best shot at last minute parental advice. He grunted non-committedly. Fifteen minutes later, give or take a few seconds, they arrived at the Wyeman house.

At first looks, it reminded Luke of Ryan's place; if not the house itself, then the neighborhood, that didn't seem short of a few bucks. The properties themselves were spread out and appeared even more ornate than in the gated community where the Alexis family liced.

Even his mum seemed impressed. "Nice place," she noted as they joined other vehicles pulling into the driveway. A second driveway completed the loop back to the secluded road and they could see another string of cars leaving. Luke swore inaudibly. With all this, why the hell did Stacey have to work as a waitress at Longhorns? The closer they got to the house, the bigger it actually seemed to be.

“Call me when you want me to come and pick you up. Maybe not too late though, sweetheart,” Lucy suggested. Her eyes flicked meaningfully towards Owen, whose face was pressed to the window as he stared through the glass at the sizable grounds.

Once his mum had left, he and Owen followed the growing crowd towards a large marquee that had been erected in the extensive gardens. It made sense. Even with THAT house, with the numbers already milling around, they would hardly fit in the lounge!

With Owen trailing behind, they took one of the many smooth paths that seemed to crisscross the grounds, one of which passed adjacent to the entrance of the marquee. They stopped for a look. The covered doorway was beautifully decorated with flowers and Luke poked his head inside. His first impression was that it looked more like a venue for a wedding celebration than a 16th birthday! At one end of the floored, carpeted space, a sizable dance floor had been laid down; behind it a raised band stage that hosted a DJ, two banks of heavy speakers and a sound desk. The only incongruous note was the presence of the solid-white Chick-fil-A logos emblazoned on the side of each bass bin.

At the opposite end, white clothed trestle tables awaited; presumably to receive food. He eyed them, regretting how much he'd already eaten that evening. Filling the center, dozens of white-clothed tables were dotted around the carpeted floor. Fancy balloon table decorations were in abundance. With lighting stands adding a glowing ambience, it was stunning.

Other than a few, rather sad looking people sitting at lonely tables and playing with their phones, the marquee was empty. He had no plans to join them. Instead, he and Owen left to wander the grounds for a look-see.

“Big place,” murmured Owen, echoing his own thoughts. Passing through well cut grass and neat beds, they wandered for a while; finally settling across from the pool – a magnet to many others who were larking about at the edge.

“Wish we had a pool,” muttered Owen dolefully.

Luke eyed those tempting fate around the water. “Do you know any of them?” It seemed quite likely that someone would fall in. Owen shrugged dismissively. With nowhere better to go, the pair settled onto the grass to wait.

Luke gazed around. It really was a beautiful place and he realized how little he knew about Stacey Wyeman and her family. For starters, what the hell was a girl from this kind of home doing going to Creek?

“Now if we had somewhere like this, it might be worth living here." Owen was watching the guys at the pool.

He studied the Welsh teen. “You think so?” he replied, doubtful despite what he’d just been thinking himself. “It’s just a house.” There had to be more to life than where you lived, didn’t there?

“Don’t you think some people seem to have it easy though,” noted Owen, lying back on the grass and staring into space. Luke shrugged, wondering if he would be tarred with that same brush.

“Don’t you think people are responsible for their own choices?”

Surprisingly, Owen turned his head and laughed. His face lit up in a way Luke hadn’t often seen. He was almost a different person. “God, Luke, you sound like my old man!”

Luke grinned too, but before he could reply, a burst of lively music came from the marquee. The music settled and, from around the grounds, dozens took it as a clarion call and streamed towards the huge white tent. At the pool, the guys fooling around joined the stream.

"Is that a card?" asked Owen. They both studied the envelope he was still carrying. To Luke, there didn't seem much point in stating the obvious. "I forgot," Owen added. "D'ya think it'll matter?"

Luke hauled himself to his feet and brushed off. "I doubt it. Come on, let's go and find a table near the food!" Owen sniggered and followed him in.

A crowd had bunched up at the entrance and it took a while to get through the bottleneck. By the time they did, most tables seemed to have at least one person at it. The likeliest option seemed one that carried a nerdy guy who was still texting on his phone. He nudged Owen in that direction, edging past a group of girls dressed to kill, looking for guys wanting to pull. It was then that he spotted Stacey, surrounded by friends all vying for her attention. He couldn’t decide; either she'd looked to the doorway by chance at that moment, or she'd been checking it every few moments.

Either way, she noticed them and raised her voice above the mêlée.

“Luke Summers!”

Mortified, he tried desperately not to color when every head in the posse surrounding her, turned; eyes from tables nearby all flicked in his direction, studying him.

He grinned foolishly as Stacey abandoned her cortege and descended on them.

“So – you came!” she declared with delight and smiled fetchingly. More heads turned and he was completely unnerved. The dress was tastefully sleek: off her shoulders yet still covering pert bumps on her chest that left no doubt as to her gender! Close fitting, but not too tight, her outfit subtly picked up on the colors of the décor. Her hair flowed and her face was glowing. In fact, she looked quite stunning and nothing like the Stacey that bustled around the tables in Longhorns, serving iced tea!

“Oh…errr…yes…happy birthday…” He offered the card, which looked small and totally inadequate in the excessive surroundings.

“Luke! You’re so sweet!” Stacey grasped it close as if it contained something of value! “Come on…I’ve saved you a seat at my table.” Abandoning the rest, she captured his hand to drag him through the occupied tables to one arranged in prime position by the dance floor. “You too Owen,” she added, glancing back to where Owen still stood, having the appearance of a piece of welsh rabbit stranded in the headlights of an oncoming doom.

Stacey’s place was obvious by the number of cards and small gifts scattered there. She put Luke to her right and Owen slid in to an empty next to him. “Don’t let anyone take my seat!” she laughed, and she went back to greet some new arrivals.

Oh bloody hell, he thought to himself as they sat down. Even he had never experienced anything like this in his life. Good God – it was only a 16th birthday! He hated to think how many iPhones the table decorations alone, represented!

“Bloody hell, Luke. You didn’t tell me she’s your girlfriend!” Owen whispered, curiously. “You lucky sod!”

“She’s not!" he muttered. "I hardly know her!”

Owen stared at him in patent disbelief. “You're bloody kidding! I have a whole book full of people I hardly know – yet none of them invite me to their parties or look at me in the way she was looking at you!”

Luke shrugged helplessly as three girls, of the giggly type, approached their table. “Can we join you? This IS Stacey’s table, right?” Demurely, the girl showed off a full-arch orthodontic retainer.

He felt like an intruder; one busted by the ortho-police and stood in an attempt to look more gallant and less guilty. “Oh – yes – she asked us to sit here and keep her seat...” Owen did the equivalent of hiding behind him. The other two girls simpered, each of them part of the orthodontic brigade as well.

“Hello Owen…” The first one seemed to know him. In return, Owen grunted in what had to have been Welsh. Deciding to ignore him, she turned back to Luke. “And you must be Luke!”

“Luke Summers,” her friend added, in case he’d forgotten.

He looked from one to the other. “Oh – err – yes.” He managed to get it out finally. The toothy trio looked at each other and did another giggly simpering thing that was quite discouraging.

“He’s from England!” one declared. “Near London…isn’t that right, Luke.”

He nodded, feeling the first bite of a conspiracy.

“Ooh…” murmured the other, excitedly. “I’ve got a friend – Clarissa - she lives near London. Do you know her?” The girl looked at him quite expectantly, and he tried hard not to burst out laughing.

“Now leave him alone you three, he’s with me!” Still standing, he became aware that Stacey had returned. He swallowed as she wrapped a lazy arm around his waist protectively. This was going quickly and in totally the wrong direction. He wondered if it could get worse, when a startlingly familiar voice came from behind him.

“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman!” Followed by, “Put him down Stace! For goodness sake, he’s British - you don’t know where he’s been!”

He twisted his head to see Todd Quince, grinning like an idiot.

He had mixed feelings. The mixture being; delight at seeing a familiar friendly face, followed by total horror at being caught by a school friend with some girl's hand resting on his waist. Before he could splutter an explanation, a tall, tanned, energetic looking man bore down on them, interrupting whatever train of thought he could grab hold of.

“I think you’d better kick things off Stace!” he said. The man’s eyes glanced at the arm around Luke’s waist and then up to pierce his soul. “The DJ has a microphone.” By looks alone, it was clear he was her father.

Obviously unrepentant of the trailing arm lock, Stacey smiled sweetly at her dad. “Okay Dad, will do. This is Luke Summers by the way. I don’t think you’ve met him yet.”

Luke followed her father’s eyes as they dropped down again to study the blatant body contact. They flicked up to challenge him with a look that could only mean, ‘So who are you, and what gives you the right to have my only daughter’s arm around your body!’

With that Stacey irresistibly propelled him forward, for what suddenly felt like an interview! But even in the midst of chaos, he performed flawlessly. “Good to meet you sir,” he said, as if addressing Prince Charles. He held hand out his hand, politely. Those eyes flicked again in surprise and Wyeman took his hand in a grip that was firm, but not crushing.

“Good to meet you too, Luke.” The man smiled, without releasing him from either his grip or his piercing gaze. “Stacey’s right, we’ve not met before - and I don’t think you’re from these parts either!”

He grinned, feeling on safe ground. “No sir, my family is from the UK, originally.”

“Luke and I are at school together at the Academy,” put in Todd helpfully. Luke could have kissed him for the appearance of credibility he offered.

“The Academy?” Wyeman’s eyebrows rose and he nodded as if temporarily satisfied that Luke’s schooling somehow proved he would be unlikely to molest his daughter right there in front of him. He released him and turned to Todd. “And how are your parents Todd?”

Stacey pulled him off to one side. “That’s my Dad,” she laughed. “He seems to like you!” she added, rather too meaningfully. They took their seats at the table.

He tried to direct the conversation elsewhere. “But how come you know Todd?”

She shrugged. “Oh – we’ve known the Quince’s for ages. I pretty much grew up with Todd. We were in the church youth group together for years!”

He couldn’t help but laugh in surprise. “Todd – in a church youth group? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Her nose pinched. Perhaps she knew Todd as well as he did. “Well, he doesn’t come so much anymore, that’s true. Do you Todd?” Todd had escaped her father and joined them, and she gave him a pained look.

“Do I what, Stace?”

“Come to the youth group much anymore.”

“I leave it to you to put the odd prayer in for me as usual, Stace!”

“Now don’t joke about it!” she admonished. “You know, you should bring Luke along – he’d like it!”

Luke smothered a cough and tried not to look horrified. He couldn’t quite get over the idea that Todd Quince was a churchgoer. “So where’s your church?” He grinned at Todd. “Is it a big place?”

Todd shrugged. “I haven’t been in a while.”

“We noticed…” put in Stacey.

“It’s this side of town. I think there’s somewhere between five to six thousand in the congregation these days."

Luke’s chin hit the floor. “You’re kidding!”

“Stacey….,” From a few feet away, her father motioned her. She nodded and stepped across the dance floor to find a microphone.

* * *

While Luke seemed besieged on all sides, Owen sat alone. He watched from a distance as Luke and his friend from the Academy frequently took to the dance floor, always to be surrounded by girls on all sides. Meanwhile he sat hunched morosely over the empty table and looking regularly at his watch.

He’d really wanted to make a go of it that evening – with the hope of maybe even coming away knowing a few more people; perhaps making some friends. For the first hour, he'd made a real effort, even jigging embarrassingly on the dance floor a couple of times. It just wasn't his thing, though Luke seemed to be having a good time. Then the food had started piling onto the tables and he gnawed on chicken. That used up another half an hour. Now he'd had enough of the whole thing, but with Luke in charge of the phoning for the lift home, he was stuck.

He’d never found it easy to get to know people, though he’d tried so hard during the first months living in Atlanta. He just wasn’t interesting or cool or a whole bloody host of other things that everyone else seemed to be. For the first few weeks, new classmates had been intrigued by the arrival of the boy from Wales, but they’d soon lost interest. It was that unsubtle brush-off that got to him; you have nothing of value to offer, you don’t count, you might as well not be there.

And here he was yet again; no longer worthy to be counted. Even the Bracey Bunch - as Luke called them - had given him that look when they’d first arrived. The one that declared, ‘who are you, who invited you and what gives you the right to be at this table’? Now they’d forgotten he even existed as they tattled on about who was currently shacking with who.

He knew it wasn’t completely everyone else’s fault, but after a while he’d stopped trying. Luke had kept trying to involve him, but the girls didn’t want him; they wanted Luke. His gaze drifted out across he dance floor again, spotting Luke surrounded by chicks. Everybody wanted Luke; especially Stacey Wyeman, that much was obvious!

Tired of it all, he checked his trouser pocket, feeling the deck of cards and the pack of cigarettes he'd nicked from his dad and wondered about a smoke; the last resort of the pathetic.

It was then that he noticed the kid in the wheelchair.

Outside, the light was failing, but in the marquee, swirling disco banks cut across the low ambient lighting. The chair disappeared and then he caught it again as, across the dance floor and near the stage, he could see its occupant guiding his trendy looking wheels along the edge of the floor boundary. Pausing, he seemed to be studying the crowds, before moving on again, drifting in and out of view between the revelers.

Being in his class, Owen knew who he was, though the kid had only arrived out of the blue a couple of weeks back. He tried to pull a name…Donny…Billy…? Who cared? Frankly, he had little interest in knowing anyone's name these days. The guy was new, he knew crap all about him, and it was likely to stay that way.

But why was he here? That quite surprised him - almost as much as he was surprised at being invited himself...and already suspecting it had been a mistake to come.

Why the hell invite some kid in a chair to a dance?

Him and the disabled kid - he guessed both of their invitations were out of pity! He looked over to where he could just see Luke moving to the music, and wondered again what the shortest time they would have to stay could be. He glanced back across the other side of dance floor, but the wheelchair had vanished.

Shit - even handicapped kids got real invites! Himself - he could see little point in being here anymore. Standing, he ducked out of the marquee and into the night.

Dark was coming and it looked like there would be rain soon. If he was lucky it would break up the party and everyone could go home. Passing numerous smooching couples with fingers wandering in the fading light, he went around the side of the big house and found a seat at a small, gloomily lit, but thankfully secluded patio. Bored, he got out his pack of Yu-Gi-Oh cards and began to sort them in the half-light.

“So, is this the place where sad fucks like you and me end up then, Owen?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t heard, let alone seen the wheelchair silently approaching over the expensive marble slabs. He looked up morosely. “If you’re looking for the party, it’s over there.” Sarcastically he pointed in the general direction of the marquee, trying to cover for the fact he didn't know the guy’s name. Bloody kid. Just piss off!

The disabled boy seemed unable to take offense, and sighed theatrically. “I don’t know, I’m pretty much all danced out tonight!” For the first time that evening, Owen's features twitched as the guy shifted meaningfully in his chair and shrugged with self-depreciating humor.

"I saw you in there," the kid murmured thoughtfully. "Earlier. And sorry, I was wrong."

What the fuck are you talking about? Owen glared.

The kid shrugged at his silence. "The way you dance. I was sure you were a disabled spaz, too." There was a rumble of thunder and the kid shifted again. “Pardon me….”

“Granted.” This time, Owen couldn't help it and sniggered, surprisingly able to laugh with someone who could so easily laugh at himself.

“So – do you just have those for show, or do you want a game?” observed the boy.

“Yu-Gi-Oh …?”

“I gave up the fucking knitting a few weeks back…”

He scrutinized the kid carefully, not quite trusting him and stating the obvious. “I only have one deck...errr…Don...”

The kid rolled his eyes and shook his head. “If you're looking for a fucking name, its Olly," the boy - Olly - returned evenly, though he didn’t appear offended by either Owen's memory or his own colorful vocabulary. "As you've only got one deck, I’d better use mine then," he added. "And unless you’re carrying God cards, don’t expect to win.”

Without waiting for any further discussion, Olly spun his wheels on the spot and began to navigate towards a door in the side of the house. “Not here though,” Olly added, “we’d better go inside.”

Owen didn't move, attempting to remain his usual defiantly aloof. Olly was getting under his skin. Then the rain started, and a further rumble of thunder gave warning of a deluge. He remained sitting a few moments, bemused as heavy spots splashed on his cards. He stared at the retreating chair. For a cripple, the kid seemed quite confidant and sure of himself – Irritatingly so.

The chair stopped and Olly turned his head to offer a piercing glare. “So, are you coming, or were you expecting a lift?” The rain turned full on, and Owen gathered up his deck before hurrying after this strange, but interesting friend, wondering if the guy had a Blue Eyes White Dragon in this deck.

He tried to get to the door first, to open it for the chair, but Olly ignored him and kicked it wide, so he followed him through a conservatory and into the kitchen. It was helpfully huge and the chair had plenty of room to move between the furniture. The kitchen was occupied by people organizing the remains of the food. Olly didn't seem intimidated, but pushed himself past them and down one of the downstairs corridors. Owen assumed he was looking for the lounge.

Arriving at another door, Olly kicked hard and it crashed open, slamming against unseen stops. Owen cringed at the criminal violation and glanced fearfully back down the corridor, expecting reprimands.

“Come on, we can go in here," Olly grunted.

Owen put his head round the unknown door and hesitated. “I dunno. Perhaps we should go back to that conservatory, or find somewhere else? This is somebody’s bedroom!”

“Don’t be such a dumbfuck!” snorted Olly derisively. “Of course it is. It's mine!”

18. The Last Dance

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

The Last Dance

Luke collapsed back at the table for a break from the dance floor. Sweat dripped down his back making it stick. Todd dropped down beside him, occupying Owen's chair. Thirstily draining his glass of punch in one long swig, Luke studied his watch and then looked around the marquee to see where Owen had gone.

Despite his many misgivings, it had been quite a good evening. There had been a brief downpour, though the main storm had passed to the east. The tent held up to the weather and it kept everyone inside dry and the party humming!

His other worries seemed unfounded. Everyone seemed to want Stacy and she had spent most of the time with her school friends, to the point that he wondered if he had got the wrong idea about any of her advances.

Instead, he hung out with Todd and a couple of others from the Academy who also seemed to know Stacey through the church youth scene. The food had been spectacularly 'chickiny', though quite tasty, and the disco energetic. But now he was danced out and about ready for off. He didn't want to be home too late, as Ryan was planning to come round in the morning. With end of term exams looming, they’d agreed to do some revision together.

He stood up from the table and searched the throng for Owen. Where the hell had he gone?

One of the Bracey Babes came by. She’d been nibbling away at Todd all evening. “Have you seen Owen?” he asked her, trying not to smirk at the private look of horror flashing across Todd’s face.

She shook her head. “If he’s not in here, you could try the house – some people went there for a little space, if you know what I mean!” She rested her hand lightly on Todd’s shoulder. “Come on Todd,” she begged. “I love this song!”

Luke grinned, getting the picture, though it was highly unlikely that either Todd or Owen would be exploring some girl’s dental retainer that night! He left Todd in her capable hands.

The rain had stopped and, leaving the marquee, he walked across the lawn and then into the back of the house, through into the kitchen. With the abundance of chicken served during the evening, he wasn't at all surprised to see the kitchen occupied by young people stacking containers, all of whom were wearing Chick-fil-A branded shirts. Passing through and following voices, he put his head into the lounge where a dozen teens were sprawled out on the couches, chatting.

Not there. He retuned to the kitchen. “You haven't seen a fairly heavy set guy - about my age - have you? He has a welsh accent.”

The Chick-fil-A team were embarrassingly well spoken and helpful. "No sir," replied one young man who had to be about Luke's age. "Some guys did go that way a while back...you could always check." He pointed in the direction of another longish corridor going off one side.

Luke went to explore.

Partway down, as he passed a door on his right; it looked like it was probably a restroom. He heard a noise, and froze. Quite unmistakably it seemed that there was not one, but two people in there. Yet the sounds were...disturbing. Soft whispers; grunts that began to sound breathless and rhythmic. He picked out a guy, a voice that was aroused and pleading. “Oh God, don’t stop! I’m almost there…!”

Oh my God….Owen? He was convinced the accent sounded quite welsh!

With the unexpected shock, Luke’s mouth ran faster than his brain. Before he could stop it, the thought had actually turned into a quite audible question. In an effort to distance himself, he took a step away from the door and cursed himself (more silently this time) for being a moron! But, it was almost unbelievable – that Owen could be in there, doing it with someone. He glanced up and down the corridor quickly, hoping nobody else was around, and went hot and cold just thinking about it.

He tried to stop the thinking. Oh God – how embarrassing!

Two things happened. The first, the voice that came from behind the door, returned. He couldn't help himself and stepped a little closer again. All at once, it grew desperate and ragged and, although muffled, he could quite distinctly pick up every syllable. At least now it didn’t sound at all welsh. “Fuck...I'm close..." A haitus as he teetered; a squeak of surprise as if he wasn’t quite expecting the end so suddenly, followed by a series of heavy ragged breaths as he unloaded. A girl's voice giggled. "Shhhhh!" it commanded.

Quickly he stepped further away from the door in utter embarrassment. OMG! In someone’s toilet?

The second thing that came, moments later, was the sound familiar welsh lilt from a little further down the same corridor. The real Owen stuck his head around a doorpost and peered at him. “Yep? Did someone call? Oh, it's you.” He looked at his watch in surprise. “It's not time to go home is it?"

"What are you..." started Luke. But he got no further asking Owen what the hell he happened to be doing snooping in the Wyeman's private rooms when a wheelchair came hurtling out of the same door and shot down the corridor towards him. He stood to one side, but the owner still managed to run over his foot. He could swear it was deliberate!

"Sorry... " That was all he got from the occupant as the chair disappeared into the kitchen.

"Shit!" Luke muttered. He hopped on one leg before reaching down to rub the damage. There was a noise behind him, reminding him that someone – someones - were still there in the bathroom. The last thing he definitely wanted to know, was who!

"That was Olly," grinned Owen, stepping towards him. Luke stared at the bathroom door, wondering how Owen would know that. "In the wheelchair...the guy who nearly ran you down...?" Owen seemed bemused as Luke continued to stare stupidly at a bathroom door.

"Oh...right...." Luke gathered himself, wanting to exit the building ASAP. They went back up the corridor and into the kitchen and found Olly. Much to his disgust, the guy had raided the fridge and was drinking milk straight from the carton.

"THAT,” Olly declared, “was fucking good!" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as the Chick-fil-A guys looked on, scandalised. Olly ignored them as they gathered to one side and hid behind their branded shirts. Luke ignored them too, and got out his phone to text home.

"I guess that means we're going soon," Owen noted. He watched Luke press send.

Luke nodded. "She'll be here in about twenty minutes. I'm going back to the marquee."

"Cool - me too!" chirped Olly. "Are you coming?" He raised his blond eyebrows to Owen.

Owen grinned. "I guess - try not to hurt anyone though!" He smirked as Luke glared.

Olly stuffed the milk bottle back into the fridge. "And so it will be!" he declared theatrically. "Lead on McDuff!" Even so, he pushed on ahead, driving his chair between them. At the door, with what Luke suspected was a parting gesture to Chick-Fil-A, he stuck up his middle finger. Luke shook his head in dispair and started walking back towards the party.

* * *

Luke checked his watch yet again. His mum would be arriving in about ten minutes and he didn't want to keep her waiting. He was also MORE than ready to leave. Back at their table, Owen had recovered his seat and the incredibly irritatingly Olly – and who cared if he was in a chair or not – had decided to barge in! Pushing chairs out of the way, he’d maneuvered his chair into center stage at the elite table! Worse still, Owen and this tiresome kid seemed as thick as thieves. God knows where Stacey had dragged him up from?

Luke’s main problem right then, he knew, was the tape that kept playing. Not the DJ – in fact he wasn’t playing any music at all right then, having disappeared for a break. No, it was the other one that he couldn’t stop replaying. ‘Oh God, don’t stop! I’m almost there…!’ (rewind-rewind), ‘Oh God, don’t stop! I’m almost there…!’

He shook his head to try to clear the unwanted imagery that went with the tape and looked around to see if anyone was watching before reaching under the tablecloth and pulling at his loose jeans to free up the SmartKlamp that was hampering the unwelcome boner. SHIT it was uncomfortable! He’d quite forgotten about it all evening, but now it wouldn’t go away! Finally, with a little twisting, he freed the whole contraption so it sat better. He hoped it would go down shortly…if he could just think of something else... (rewind-rewind), ‘Oh God, don’t stop! I’m almost there…!’

He took a sip from his freshly replenished glass and looked around the room. He needed to spot Stacey so that he and Owen could offer a polite and final goodbye. "Mum’ll be here in about ten minutes,” he reminded Owen. “We'd better just see Stacey."

"And what would that be for, Luke Summers?" The familiar voice behind in spoke softly and two arms resting lightly on his shoulders.

Squirming under the provocative touch, Luke sensed a train coming. He got up fast, hoping to dislodge the arms. "Oh...Stacey...hi! We were just coming to look for you. It's just we're needing to go in a bit. Mum's picking us up."

She regarded him evenly, her mouth achieving a playful, sensuous pout. "Not without a last dance, surely. Come on, you haven't danced with me properly yet!"

It was true. Staying in bigger groups on the dance floor, he'd managed to keep out of her way. “

And it IS my birthday…” she begged. Without waiting for any excuse, she took his hand and drew him away from the table.

"But there's no music!" he muttered. He tried hard to resist, but she wasn’t to be denied and, as they stepped onto the empty dance floor, the sound system came to life. Wherever he had been, the DJ was back. If Luke hadn't have known better, he might have said it had all been planned!

At that moment, they were the only ones on the floor. Strains of The Carpenters singing 'It's only just begun' filled the tent. All eyes were on them and there were more than a few appreciative whistles as Stacey seemed to have a fixed idea of how they should dance, to what was clearly a song for lovers. She wrapped her arms around his back, such that the only place he could conceivably put his without looking a total dork, was around her waist!

“You could relax, you know,” she suggested. She could probably tell he was anything but.

“I’m not much of a dancer, I’m afraid,” he confessed. Not like this anyway!

It was the time of the evening when the lights softened and the songs with them; the moment when those who came as singles but would leave as couples, presented themselves and their intentions for all to see. Gradually, spurred on by the appearance of young love, more couples joined them on the floor. As the space around them filled, Luke became a little less self-conscious.

“So what’s with all the chicken?” He made an attempt to steer the moment towards something with little chance of being considered a romantic chat-up line.

“Chicken?” Stacey looked at him oddly. “Oh…” She seemed to realize at last what he was talking about. “Dad works for Chick–fil-A.”

“Not at a counter, I’m guessing.”

Stacey pulled a face. “No…if you must know, he works in the head office. He’s their Director of Marketing.” She seemed surprisingly uncomfortable revealing this. Glancing to the stage, Luke now realized where the sound system must have come from.

“I prefer cow,” Stacey added.

Now it was his turn to look confused.

“Longhorns?” She looked bemused as she reminded him of where they’d first met.

“Oh – beef. I get it.” He felt he was losing a sparring match.

Stacey twirled him around, back on top of the conversation once more. “It looks like Owen’s had a good night,” she noted. She turned him around again so he could see the Welsh teen at their table, deep in conversation with Olly. Whatever they were talking about, they both burst out laughing. Luke studied them as he and Stacey moved to the music. Whatever he thought of Olly, he was happy to see Owen having a good time. At least something good had come out of that night!

“He seems to have spent most of the night with the kid in the wheelchair!” he said, feeling the irritation of being run over again. “Who is he anyway? He almost ran me down earlier, and I caught him raiding your fridge for something to drink! The two of them seem to have been messing around in the house. I’ve no idea what they were up to….”

“He raided our fridge?” Stacey eyes widened with apparent consternation.

“Yep – I think his names Oliver or something. Irritating guy…”

“Olly? In the wheelchair…?”

“Yep – the very one. A friend of yours?”

Stacey grinned. “Well, no – I wouldn’t exactly call him that.”

“So what’s he doing here?” Luke allowed his feelings to spill. “He’s a pain in the backside!”

“Ah,” she said. “That would be about right – a serious irritating idiot! I totally agree!” She paused before adding, “Actually, he’s my brother.”

Luke’s jaw dropped.

Watching him, Stacey giggled in a light, easy way. He would have let go an expletive, but remembered the church connection just in time. This was NOT turning out to be a good night! “Oh gosh, I’m sorry Stacey. I didn’t mean…I didn’t even know you had a brother!” He stammered, flushing with embarrassment - which was probably lucky really, because it covered the next disaster.

“No, I’m sorry,” she sniggered. “That was mean – I was just teasing! You’re right, Olly can be quite a pain sometimes – and he has this habit of running over my friends!”

“Yes, but….” Luke didn’t get far as Stacey stepped closer. Maybe she wanted to try to soothe his discomfort, or maybe she knew she’d caught him with his resistance at a low point and was moving in for the kill?

Dropping her arms lower down his back, she pulled him close into her body. “You’re so funny and sweet, you know,” she began, and then stopped. She went quiet and stared into his face curiously. She seemed surprised, even perplexed, as though at odds with herself. Tentatively she pulled him close again and her expression changed from puzzlement to something else and Luke had absolutely no doubt that she was trying to make sense of the large and unexpectedly hard lump of the SmartKlamp resting in his pants!

OMG! It hit Luke full on. She thinks I’ve got a boner!

It was written all over her; without any doubt she’d got the idea that dancing with her had been so exciting for him, it had brought on an erection! Immediately, he twisted away to put a little space between them, thankful that he was already red, though he still added to it!

Whatever was going on in her head, she appeared to reach decision. “We could always date, you know. If you wanted to…” Slightly breathless, she watched him expectantly as, artfully, she pulled him against her again. This time he felt her nudge against the plastic lump of his SmartKlamp.

He pushed her away again. “I can’t!”

It wasn’t brilliant, but it would do for a start as Luke wracked his brains for something better. She looked uncertain, even hurt as he continued to hold her at arms length. And, for God’s sake it wasn’t actually her fault. As far as she knew, thirty seconds ago he was dead set on impregnating her with his sperm. Now he was rejecting her!

“Until I’m sixteen!”

“What?” She looked confused.

They’d stopped moving as they stared at each other. Others were beginning to notice. He forced himself to take hold of her again, but still kept his groin out of the way as they continued dancing.

“I can’t date until I’m sixteen,” he whispered hurriedly. “I’m really sorry. My parents said Simon and I couldn’t go out with anyone until then.” Of course, they’d never said such a thing, but it would do…at least for now.

Whether she was listening to him or not, he didn’t know. She said nothing and avoided his eyes as they kept dancing until the Carpenters decided it was time to bring 'We've only just begun' to an end.

Couples began to leave the floor as they remained rooted to the spot. He didn’t know what else to do. Maybe she regretted how she’d acted? Maybe she felt a conflict with her church beliefs? Maybe she felt guilty? Maybe she just felt plain rejected? Unable to look him in the eye she appeared flustered, and mumbled, “I’m really sorry Luke, I’ve embarrassed myself and you. Please forgive me.” With that, she let go of his arms and hurried off the dance floor leaving him standing alone and feeling like a crap bastard.

Many eyes seemed to watch her go as she passed through all the tables and rushed out of the marquee. Those same eyes returned to glare at him accusingly. Her father also caught him in his gaze and glowered, before striding out of the tent after his daughter.

Luke’s phone chirped with an incoming message. His mom. Trying to avoid any more eye contact, he gathered Owen and hurried out too. For the wrong reasons he felt ashamed, kept his head down, and tried not to see anyone. They got away without any more fuss.

“How was it then?” His mum was inquisitive as she drove them home through the night.

“Great!” Owen beamed; one who had actually enjoyed himself for once.

“Yeah – it was fine,” agreed Luke.

Like hell it was!

19. The Problem with Toby

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

The Problem with Toby

Simon loosened the retaining nut and leaned on the bottom sprocket of the contraption, drawing the line taut before tightening the nut again. Satisfied he pulled on the ropes that lifted and lowered the newly installed food lift. “See - it works great now! It just needed tightening.” Toby waved his approval as, high above, he sat with his feet over the edge of the tree house.

Climbing back up the ladder, he dropped the spanner on a shelf and came to join Toby perched on the edge. They stared out across the valley towards where the sun, which briefly appeared through a rent in the gathering storm clouds, splashing vivid colors over the landscape. On Toby’s knee, the Skerrit’s rather fat cat, Gizmo, purred contentedly as Toby gently scratched him just below his right ear.

Simon smiled. At that moment, he was comfortable too.

Comfortable – and full.

When Luke had begun making arrangements to be out at some party that evening, the two of them had made their own plans. Being a Friday night it hadn't been hard to turn an evening into a sleepover! He'd hurriedly packed an overnight bag straight after school, and biked up the hill to Toby's. They'd eaten dinner inside and then Toby’s mom had relented and allowed them to take a couple of huge bowls of one of 'Publix' tastier ice-creams up into the tree house. They'd demolished the bounty with utter relish. Even Gizmo had had a dollop!

There wasn’t much more work to do on the tree house that he could see, though he was sure Toby would think of some new crazy idea, given a chance. It was pretty much watertight now; dry enough to sleep in - and they'd done that several times - though not tonight. It was humid and hot; the time of year where a storm could easily break. And by the looks of the weather, that was going to be sooner rather than later. It would be a relief when it came. It had been stifling all day.

He studied the banking clouds. “I think it’s gonna break.“ Concurring, the heavens replied with a low grumble. “Perhaps we should go in.”

Toby shrugged and continued stroking the cat. “Five minutes – and anyway, I’m stuck under Gizmo!”

He grinned. “You feed that cat all the wrong stuff, you know.”

Toby covered Gizmo’s ears, startling the poor beast. “Don’t listen to Uncle Simon, Gizzy. He’s a crazy lunatic!”

“Gizzy…?” Simon rolled his eyes in disbelief. “It’s just a cat!!”

He looked down over the Skerrit house - a single, bungalow style place, it was wood-built and certainly a lot older than their own, modern brick built home. The rambling old porch on the back led out to this garden/wilderness. Whilst there might be a lot to be said for a bigger place, he liked it here. It had character and was perfect for adventure driven, growing kids…and a cat! All the rooms were on one floor. Of the three bedrooms, one was Toby’s, one his mom’s and the third was set up as Toby’s art studio.

There was a more immediate crackle; a warning of an approaching storm. Even before Toby's mom came outside calling, they were already making their way down, well trained enough to know it was not cool to sit up a tree during a lightening storm in those parts.

"Time to come in boys. Storm's coming!"

He went first, making his way back down the long ladder from the tree house to the ground, waiting at the bottom as they made use of the newly installed hoist. Toby dumped the plates and cups on the handy tray and watched as he pulled the loop rope. He watched descend in satisfaction. “Told you – look, it works great!”

Toby made ready to come down himself and scrambled over the edge to the top steps of the ladder. Descending, he paused and stretched up to slide the simple door, dropping the hook into place. It would be enough to keep out the rain. Observing from below, Simon enjoyed the view. Most of Toby's jeans were slightly battered and loose fitting. He seemed to like them that way and was never bothered about a belt, quite happy to let them sag off his backside. He caught the bright orange flash of his current pair of quite colorful boxers and his eyes locked onto them as Toby began to descend.

Toby glanced down and seemed to sense something wasn’t quite right. “What’s wrong?” he called.

Startled and knowing he’d been caught ogling his friend's bum, he dragged his eyes away. “Nothing – I was just wondering where Gizmo was."

“Oh…” Toby climbed back up and slid the door open again. He was greeted by affectionate nuzzling. “Ooops – sorry Giz. Come on – out. We’re going inside.” The cat purred and seemed in no hurry to get the message, so Toby picked it up and dumped it on the narrow walkway that passed all around the main structure. Haughtily, Gizmo stalked off and Simon knew it would find its own way down easily enough.

There was another, closer, crash of thunder.

"Don't hang around, you two,” shouted Grace as she stood at the porch door that led into the kitchen. She held it open as they gathered up the plates. Once safely inside, the heavens continued to grumble. Miraculously, Gizmo seemed to have managed to arrive inside before them and was already delicately preening himself in his favorite chair in the lounge.

They hadn’t long to wait. Less than ten minutes later, the storm arrived over the top of them. Lightening stabbed the ground, the heavens let lose a massive volley of thunder. It started chucking it down!

How could you not love it!

The three of them sat on the verandah sipping drinks as they watched the show play out in front of them.

“That was incredible!” gasped Toby as the storm finally began to pass. Simon had to agree. Whilst the thunder and lightening had lasted, it had been amazing. Powerful and energizing, he’d wanted to run out into the pummeling rain and jump and shout! Even now, as they watched the darkness across the valley, they could see the odd brightening on the horizon as lightening splashed over the far distance.

“I’ve never seen it like that before,” he agreed. "We never had storms like that in England."

“Do you think about England much, Simon?’ asked Grace.

He glanced over, wondering why she would ask. "To be honest, Mrs. Skerrit, hardly ever," he said at last. He stood, stepped out from underneath the covered porch and held out his arm. "I think the rain's stopped." They continued to talk about it for a little longer and then Grace gathered the cups and took them indoors, leaving the two of them alone.

Toby remained curious. "Don’t you miss it? England I mean. Do you think you’ll ever go back?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I dunno." Toby shrugged. "Just wondering."

“Maybe we’ll go home eventually…I guess.” It seemed an odd question and he’d given an odd answer. At least it seemed odd to him; what did ‘we’ll go home’ mean, anyway?

A few months after settling into their new country, the four of them had gone back to London - that place that he had still called home out of habit - for Christmas with Nan and Granddad and the rest of family in the UK. Their mum and dad had thought it would be a good thing...letting them catch up with their old friends. A special treat, they'd said. It had been great – and had even snowed! Maybe it was because he'd rediscovered all the things he really DID miss, having to get back on the plane and return to Atlanta had been horrible! THEN he’d felt it! Stuck between two places. He and Luke had fought and nagged for weeks.

But that had been years ago. Things had changed. Home seemed closer now. His mum said he even sounded American! Perhaps it was true.

From behind him, Toby spoke again. “If you did leave America, what would you miss the most?”

He stared out into the darkness, weighing the question but unable to give voice to the truth that popped into his head. It felt as heavy as the weather. “The food probably.” He turned and grinned. “And Gizmo, naturally.” The cat, last seen scurrying under Toby’s bed to hide out from the storm, wandered through the still open kitchen door. Purring, it pushed against Toby’s legs.

“Awwww, Gizzy – come to Daddy!” Toby picked it up and cuddled it.

“Do you know how pathetic you sound?”

“Don’t worry Gizzy, Uncle Simon is jealous of what we have.” He nuzzled the cat’s neck, who didn’t take it well and took a swipe at him. Simon burst out laughing.

He and Toby had started at the Academy's Middle School at the same time; him from the UK and Toby had transferred from Creek Middle, after his mum had got a full scholarship for him. She still worked at Creek, he knew. Both of them new to the school, they’d gravitated to each other. They’d had a few rough moments over the years, yet the friendship was strong enough to survive the bumps.

Finally they went inside and settled in the lounge. They had no particular plan for the evening and their friendship didn’t call for it. They watched some TV for a bit, until Toby's mom opened up her new laptop – an investment for her writing - and started tapping. At that, Toby plugged in a slightly battered PS1 into the TV and they started racing.

Across on the couch, Toby’s mom tapped away rapidly, the ideas flying off her fingers. “How’s the book coming on Mrs. Skerrit?” he asked. They’d kept the volume on the TV low so she could concentrate. He caught Toby’s smirk at his traditional unwillingness to call her by her given name. To him, it just didn’t seem right.

“She likes to be called JK, these days, Si.”

They both watched Grace roll her eyes humorlessly.

“Actually, it’s called ‘Tales of a Veggie Vampire," added Toby. "It’s about a vampire kid who can’t stand eating meat. It’s quite funny!”

“Veggie Vampire?” He considered Toby. “That’s quite good. Are you doing the drawings again?”

“Maybe – I’m still waiting for Mom to pay me for the first two!” Toby smirked, but if he was trying to needle his mom, it didn’t work.

She didn’t even bother looking up. “You wanted Gizmo if you remember, honey.”

"That was for the first book!"

"And I appreciate your contribution to the vet bills from the second," she returned drily.

Simon smiled at the exchange. The two sparred regularly, much more so than ever happened in their home; and certainly not in the free-and-easy way those two went at it – and she was as bad as him! When he'd first started coming over, he'd been quite shocked by the regular bickering; and embarrassed. In time he came too see it differently. And she was right, Toby had asked for the cat when her first book had been published.

She’d started writing children’s novels a few years back; at first she’d said having never written before, just to have a go. It turned out that her ‘have a go’ paid off, though she admitted freely to any who asked that it was probably Toby’s artwork that really sold the stories. After unsuccessfully submitting her first real mini novel to a host of publishers, a friend proposed she change tack, suggesting she write them for a younger audience; cut down on the text and add pictures.

Toby had finally run up a couple of dozen simple line drawings to depict important scenes, confessing to him that he thought they were crap and that he had more important things to get on with. But she’d reworked her story, added the artwork and resubmitted. It was snapped up and her first book was published. As a first time author, the returns weren’t a great deal, but it was a start. He knew that she’d wanted to give Toby half the money, but he’d opted for Gizmo instead.

Hot on its tail, the first book had led to a second, and Toby had set about the art for it much more carefully, spending hours creating and painting intricate tableau, watercolor scenes that he felt gave the book justice. He'd been unbelievably pissed off when the publishers wrote back to say they preferred the pictures in the simple, and rather quirky, line drawings that, they pleaded, had been quite popular in the first book.

Still, for his mom’s sake, Toby had redone everything, though taken more time than the first time round. He’d reverted to the original style and when they were done, even he admitted they weren’t bad. The publishers loved the package and - Toby boasted - threw money at them as a down payment to get the third book in the series out as soon as possible.

“You want me to draw you into a picture somewhere?” Toby looked smug. “I could you know – you’d be famous!”

Grace looked up from her keyboard. “I actually think that’s a lovely idea, honey. Why not? How would you like that Simon – for Toby to draw you into the next book?”

He grinned, delighted, hardly knowing what to say. How cool would that be – to end up in a book! Nobody was ever going to write a story about HIM, but to be able to point out his picture – to his friends and family, maybe even to his own kids - hidden in the middle of a famous book? Now that would be something! Yep – that’s me, guys! The one who did them was a friend of mine – a genius. We were at school together. Did I ever go around to his house, you ask? Of course I did; all the time. You should have seen the mural on his bedroom wall in those days. Incredible.

The mural was a perfect example of what made Toby's room extremely cool; a place full of the kind of artistic imagery that his friend excelled in. His own was bland in comparison - the walls washed with the standard cream that filled most of their house. But Toby's? You could almost taste it; one whole wall was given over to the huge painting that seemed to change and grow over the months since Toby had first started it.

After a while, Grace shut her laptop and they played cards together until, an hour later, she stood and stretched. "Okay boys,” she glanced at the clock, “time to hit the sack."

Stashing away the PS1, they took themselves off to Toby’s room and began getting it ready. Between them, they pulled out the extra bed; the simple mattress that was stored under Toby’s. Already made up for sleeping, they arranged it alongside; the better to talk.

“You first, or me?" asked Toby. Simon knew that Toby’s mom liked him to have a shower every night – something Toby declared she was overly picky about – and on a sleepover, he just fitted in and had one too.

“You can go first if you want,” he offered as he picked through his overnight bag.

“Suit yourself – but don’t say I didn’t give you a choice!” Toby opened one of his drawers to get what he needed, flicked it closed crossed to the door. Simon watched him go. There was only Toby and his mom in the house, and they each had their own bathroom. His mom had an en-suite off her own room and Toby had commandeered the main family one.

“Don’t hog all the hot water like last time!” he called after him as he crossed the corridor to the nearby bathroom.

While he waited, he studied the wall mural, trying to spot any new developments. The old tree, added soon after Toby had made the charcoal sketch in Art, had grown fuller and more detailed. He smiled when he spotted the recently installed food lift. The memory of Toby working his way down from above earlier that evening coincided with Toby's return from the shower. Being clad in what looked to be a sky-blue version of the same pack the orange ones came from, it just popped out as Toby stepped into the room.

"Nice boxers!"

Not surprisingly, Toby appeared taken aback by the observation. "Yeah – well, I like to wear just boxers to bed instead of PJs, now it's getting hot at night. They're pretty comfy." He slipped his fingers around the top of the band and wiggled a bit to adjust his package, even briefly looking down inside the front.

Kicking himself for being an idiot, he made a joke. “Did you lose it?”

“Funny boy." Toby pulled a face, though he continued to examine himself. "I got some new pairs. What do you think?” He peered around the back, examining his bum.

The boxers did look good, Simon decided. The colors, the fit. They were just like Toby - quite lively. "They’re quite cool – and nobody’s gonna miss you in the dark, that’s for sure!" he teased. He started getting his stuff together for the shower. “I need to ask mum to get me some new ones soon.” Packed for the following day, he pulled the well-used tighty-whities out of the backpack resting alongside the mattress. “I think these ones have just about had it!" Indeed, there was little good to be said for the pair that could easily be mistaken for a floor cloth.

“Maybe it’s time to try something different,” Toby suggested candidly as he rubbed his hair dry. “Most of us stopped wearing ones like that some time ago!”

Eyeing his bland and sensibly conventional Kmart briefs, Simon wasn’t at all surprised. Most - including Toby - wouldn’t be seen dead in anything that lifeless and unimaginative! “They’re pretty crap aren’t they,” he admitted at last, holding up the shapeless item. “Mum always gets them.“

"Do you want to try a pair of these?"

The offer took him by surprise, but before he had time to think about rejecting it, Toby turned to his drawer. Pulling out another similar, but red pair, he tossed them over. They landed right on top of Gizmo, who poked his head through one leg and looked scandalized!

"Are you sure," he checked after he’d stopped giggling. "I mean I brought pajamas." It was a moment of humor that broke through any unease he had at swapping boxers.

"Course I am. Try them - I think you'll like them. Then you can get your own."

He shrugged. “Okay – thanks.” Delicately, he removed the boxers from his friend’s pussy and laid them over his wash bag. Something came to mind as he studied the brightly colored underwear. “Tobe…can I ask you something?”

“Shoot…”

“I wondered if…” He halted, too self-conscious to get it out.

“What? You wondered what?”

He shook his head and surged up from the mattress, disturbing poor Gizmo once more. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll go get a quick shower.” With that he picked up his wash bag and the boxers and hurried out.

Standing under the hot water, his thoughts drifted and he considered his past once more. London. England. Friends. His beloved Chelsea football club, and of course, proper chips; all things that, at the time, had seemed so important.

When they’d first landed in America, the first few months had been quite exciting. Finding a house, starting a new school, making friends; so many new things to discover and experience. Luke had been the angry one at leaving London and he’d tried to appear pissed off for his brother's sake, but secretly it hadn’t really bothered him much. Who cared where they lived. Everything was better over here anyway; he even had a boat!

And there was Toby. Though having feelings for someone who would never return them was a slow torture. He shook his head and turned to something else. A few minutes earlier, he'd toyed with the idea of posing the circumcision question to Toby - like Luke had suggested - but had bottled out. He liked the idea though; if only he could work up the guts for it. As he soaped himself, he ran through a few phrases in his head that might start the discussion.

Moments later he found himself drifting and staring at the bright red boxers waiting for him the other side of the curtain. 'Nice boxers', he'd rather stupidly noted when Toby had returned from the shower wearing a similar pair. And the rest! Absently, drawn by the memory of Toby teasing a pair around his waist, he began to massage himself, but stopped quickly. He loved sleepovers, but they were becoming torture. He wanted to be with Toby, loved being with Toby, but having to sleep alongside him and try to ignore his state of undress was driving him crazy!

And now he was faced with a new trial. He was going to have to go back into the bedroom wearing Toby's boxers.

Not that he didn't want to try them. Damn well he did and he'd already decided that somehow he'd HAVE to find a way of buying his own. How, he’d no idea. He’d never been interested in going clothes shopping before. His mum did it. Luke had boxers, he knew, so maybe it was just a case of asking? Asking for a specific style of brightly colored ones might be hard to explain to her, though. He’d have to be there – but then it was going to look strange that his first interest in shopping would be to stuff packet after packet of colorful underwear into the cart! There had to be a way. He wondered which shop Toby went to. It shouldn’t be too hard to find out.

He stared at the item again. They were definitely sexy, there was no doubt about it, but it was more than that. They were Toby's; freely offered with no strings attached. Try them. If you like them, then get your own. Most of him would have preferred some strings! Part of him, though, regretted taking the briefs. He would have to put them on. That in itself was quite intimate. And then the two of them would end up like twins - one in red, the other in blue. It would do nothing more than remind him they were mismatched. The things he wanted, Toby didn't. The feelings he had about seeing Tobe in snug boxers were not shared. In fact if Toby ever read his thoughts, shock would only be the start.

All he had to look forward to was another night lying in the dark, trying to get to sleep, wishing he could just come out and say it. He knew he wouldn't. Couldn't.

Tobe, Tobe, Tobe...why do you do this to me?

He wasn't even confused by it anymore. He knew what he wanted, even though it was driving him mad! What he wanted to do was just to be able to slip his hands around Toby's waist and hold him; tell him about all the things that he loved about him. To be able to wear those red boxers and for Toby to notice; for Toby to want him enough to turn around and hold his bum and draw them together...

The inner discussion carried him along until he realized he'd gone back to scratching where it itched. With the strong images and feelings for what was in the other room, the inevitable had happened.

He felt uncomfortable about beating off in somebody else's house, but this was killing him. He was going to have to spunk off now and be done with it, or he'd be hard all night. Worse still, if he didn't get it under control, he was going to walk into the bedroom with a chub sticking out of Toby’s briefs. THAT didn’t bear thinking about!

He took hold of himself firmly - the clock was running; he needed to be quick!

He tried to stay quiet and avoid any obvious rhythmic noises, and was getting quite close when there was a knock at the door.

"Toby?"

OMG!

Stumbling in shock, he slipped and almost fell over. "It's me, Mrs. Skerrit," he squeaked, trying to keep his voice level. "I think Toby is in his room..."

"Oh - sorry Simon." Her voice carried through the safely locked door. "I was just wanting Toby's dirty laundry. I was thinking about putting on a quick load. Don't worry - I'll do it later."

After that incident, he went down fast. Maybe he could have pressed on, but was disheartened. Toby and his mom deserved better than to have him dirty their bathroom with his stupid fixations. He rinsed off and climbed out of the tub which, like their own, doubled up as a shower tray. As he dried off with the towel, he noticed a bottle of cologne by the sink. On impulse he splashed a little on his fingers to smell it. It was rich and intoxicating and not knowing what else to do, he rubbed it off on his chest. Then he slipped on the sleek red patterned boxer trunks Toby had provided.

At first glance it seemed that they would be the wrong size. The legs looked like narrow tubes and he wondered if Toby hadn’t checked the label and accidentally bought a size too small. But as he drew them up, the material seemed to give way easily and expand around his frame.

Damn, they felt totally fabulous and hugged his groin and bum like his old pairs never did! Like the trendy ones many seemed to have, the legs went down half way to his knees. Amazing!

Checking himself in the mirror, he finally brushed his teeth before collecting up the discarded clothing. Making sure everything was turned off, he peered around the bathroom door carefully, checking for Tony’s mum, belatedly realizing that he was about to walk around the house with nothing other than in a pair of her son's briefs! He heard her chuckling from the sitting room as she watched some comedy show, but even so he wrapped the damp towel around himself and quickly hurried over to Toby's room.

20. The Unforeseen

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

The Unforeseen

Returning to the bedroom, he dropped his clothing into a neat(ish) pile next to his backpack and used the towel to continue to scrub his hair dry. Toby was standing against the wall, working with colored chalk on his mural. The sky blue around his backside contrasted with the grass. With the way the light cast against the coloring of his skin, it almost looked like he were part of the picture himself.

"You took long enough!" Toby noted, turning briefly to scrutinize him before returning to his wall.

"Your mum wanted the washing basket..." he muttered, aware that it didn't adequately explain the delay. As he continued to rub his hair dry, he came to stand next to Toby to look over the growing masterpiece. "It's really coming on. I see you put the food lift in."

Toby grinned. "You spotted that then?" He was working the chalks in a previously unmarked area and Simon knew that he would develop something in chalk before finally painting it in more permanently.

"What are you working on now?”

Toby smirked knowingly as it began to take shape. “What was one of the worst thing we ever did to a dog?”

“WE?” He cringed at the memory. “That was you!” The image of the fat lady and the poodle began to come to life on the wall and he started laughing. “Do you think she ever got it clean?” The face of a rather confused poodle with spray painted pink legs took shape. The poor beast must have been awfully traumatised!

As they enjoyed the memory, Toby glanced at the red boxers that were covering him snugly. “You got your fat ass into them then?” He grinned and went back to the dog.

Simon barked in derisive laughter and shot one back. “To be honest, they’re a bit loose. I think you stretched them!”

"In your dreams!" Toby put down the chalk and dusted off his hands. "Actually, they look okay on you - and they HAVE to be better than..." He pulled a face glancing at the old white ones, still lying on the mattress, "...those things!"

He was right of course. "You think so?" Simon looked down at them again, pleased, realizing how much he enjoyed having them on. Like the trendy red briefs, being around Toby brought color to his life. Standing together, he cod see that the two of them fitted well together - Toby in blue, him in red. If only it were that easy!

"Don't know about you, but I find they keep everything in place!" Toby smirked shamelessly and Simon had to laugh.

"They're alright I guess."

"Come on," Toby goaded. "You have to admit it, they actually feel pretty good, don't they..." He lay down on his bed and pulled over the sheets.

It seemed fun to talk about stuff like this. Toby didn't seem to mind, anyhow, so maybe... He settled on his own bed and tentatively gathered his courage. “I was going to ask you something earlier.”

Toby leaned over the edge. “And…?”

“Well I wondered if you were circumcised….?”

In the middle of plumping up his pillow, Toby froze, and then turned piercing eyes. “Excuse me?”

He squirmed. It all began to feel like a REALLY bad idea. “I…shit…I shouldn’t have asked,” he muttered. “Sorry. It’s not your fault…”

“What’s not my fault?” Toby demanded. “And why do you need to know? I mean, isn’t everyone cut?” Toby halted and he fidgeted under the sharp gaze that wouldn't release him. Then the face softened into a look of understanding. Toby took a moment to sort out his pillows before settling in to consider him. “You’re not though, are you?”

He shook his head. It was a start, albeit a shaky one.

“So what? You’re saying you want to be?”

He shook his head again. “Not really.”

“I don’t get it – so why…”

Simon interrupted him, needing to get it out before he lost his bottle. “I’ve…well I’ve got this medical thing, which means I probably need it done.”

“A medical thing?”

He nodded, still feeling uncomfortable.

“Okay – you’d better start at the beginning. I’m lost already.”

“Like I said. I’ve got this medical condition. Luke has the same as me – he’s just had an operation."

For the first time, Toby seemed genuinely astounded. "Really?"

"Yep - just last week."

"You're telling me Luke just got circumcised?" Toby seemed unwilling to let it go and Simon rather regretted blabbing.

"You can't let on you know," he pleaded.

Toby shrugged. “And, whatever it is, you think you have this same thing?“

He nodded glumly. For the next few minutes, he explained to Toby the problem he was facing. For his part, Toby seemed to be willing to listen. "I know the skin doesn’t come back like it should," he ended up, "but I’m just not sure. What would you do?"

“You’d better show me," Toby said, simply.

"Show you?" His eyes flicked to the red boxers. "You want to see my dick?"

"Well, you asked me what I thought," Toby replied reasonably. "How am I gonna know, unless I see?"

"What...you mean now?" Uncomfortable again, he eyed the door nervously.

Toby burst out laughing, though it wasn't nasty. “Of course I mean now! It’s just a dick for God’s sake, Si.” He rolled back away from the edge, still sniggering, leaving Simon staring up into an empty space. He knew he was being as cagey as Luke. On the other hand, Toby was right - it WAS no big deal. At least it shouldnt be as he tried to convince himself there was difference between this and the hundreds of times he and Toby had stood together under the showerheads at school, chanting about the stuff of life.

He came to a decision and kept his tone offbeat. "No - it's okay. I don't mind."

Toby rolled back over as he pushed the red boxers of his backside and flipped out his dick. To show what he'd been trying to explain, he pulled down on the foreskin. Toby leaned in for a closer look as he kept retracting until the skin got jammed at the end, as he now knew it did. The darker red of his trapped head glared as, unsuccessfully, it tried to escape the restriction. The strident color matched his borrowed boxers.

Toby watched with interest. “Does it hurt when you do that?” he asked quietly.

Simon shook his head. "Not really – not unless you do it really hard."

“It’s not right though, is it?” Toby added.

He pulled a face. He and Toby studied the item, which pointed up out of his light curly bush as he held it on display. It was such a complicated question. Lots of things weren’t right and not just his dick. Life just wasn’t quite right; like a book that had a few pages missing, or a meal cooked without enough salt. The colorful boxers reminded him that he needed more.

There was one good thing at least –Toby wasn’t taking the piss out of him for bringing it up. In that, Luke had been right. It was a surprisingly intimate moment; one in which Toby seemed genuinely concerned as they considered his needs together. He was glad he'd had the guts to ask him now and glanced upwards, waiting to see if he had any bright ideas.

Toby pursed his lips. “Would you have to go into hospital?” he asked.

He shook his head. “For an operation? No. Luke said it was like being at the dentist.”

“Some dentist!” Toby smirked. “Still, at least you’d be the same as everyone else at last.”

“That’s what Luke said – but it’s not like that where we come from.”

“England?”

He nodded again.

"But I bet it's not normally tight like that in England either!"

Simon pursed his lips. He knew what Toby meant - and he had a point.

“I am,” offered Toby.

He knew what that meant too, and that Toby was only trying to help. “I thought you were, but it’s not the same. You don’t remember it, do you? It’s different doing it now.”

Toby shrugged. He rolled back into the center of his bed. “If it was me, I think I’d have to get it done.” Simon slipped up his boxers and adjusted the oversized duvet that the Skerrits really only kept for him, for when he stayed over. The consultation was finished though he feel anywhere nearer to either Toby or a good solution to his dick.

“So when do you have to decide?”

“Soon. I’ll have to go for an appointment for them to look at it.”

They continued to chat until, a few minutes later, Toby’s mom came to the door to put the lights out. “Come on Gizmo!” She called and waited patiently.

“I don’t think he’s in here, Mom.”

Simon smothered a grin at the blatant attempt.

Grace eyed her son, patiently. “Toby dear, you and I both know he is.” She bent down to look. “He’s probably hiding under your bed.” In her hand she had a spoon, and with it she tapped the doorframe, calling sweetly. “Gizmo…”

Right beside him, as if by magic, Gizmo poked his pert little nose out from under the bed, bright eyes followed, hopefully inquisitive. Leaping lithely across him, he scudded to the door to be unceremoniously scooped up. The door closed and they could hear poor Gizmo being dumped out onto the back porch.

“Does he always fall for that?” he sniggered.

Reaching across, Toby killed the bedside light. “Every time!”

“Good night, boys!”

“Nite Mom!” They heard her bedroom door close.

The room felt peaceful. Toby had forgotten to close his blinds and, now the clouds had cleared, beams seeping through the slats painted the room with soft moonlight. They added to the light from the back porch that Grace had forgotten to put out.

“You know Gizmo was watching you flashing your dick,” Toby murmured, breaking into a giggle now she’d gone. “He’s probably like, totally scarred for life now!”

Rudely, Simon stuck up a finger. Sniggering, Toby reached across and flicked it, but he wasn’t finished either. “It’s a good job he’s a boy,” he added, “or you might be in trouble!”

Simon grinned and, from down on the extra mattress, he let go a terrible mewling noise of a distraught pussy. They both started laughing again.

As they settled in the semi-darkness, he smiled. It had been such a great evening; the food; watching the storm; fun with Toby. He yawned, sleepy now too. Perhaps sleep would come soon after all. As he waited for it, he wondered what they would do tomorrow and whether he might be able to convince his mum to let him stay over on Saturday night as well.

A hand was draped over the edge just above him, hanging down a little to where he was resting. Without any preplanning, he reached up with his index finger and touched the end of one of Toby's fingers. It was the smallest possible contact, just a graze, and he didn't even know why he’d done it; it just seemed like a good idea at the time. Sleepily, he studied the still chalky finger with interest. Toby bit his nails - a terrible habit - but otherwise it was just an ordinary finger. ET-like, he touched the end of Toby’s finger again and held it there.

Really it was quite funny, he mused. He smiled to himself, any moment expecting some little quip or joke from Toby. It would come – he knew it; and then he would deliver Toby a stinging flick, he decided. After that he'd get up and close the blinds properly, so the light didn't disturb them and they could get off to sleep.

He waited for the quip, but there was nothing, at least no words.

Assuming Toby didn't have the energy for it, he was about to get up anyway and go deal with the window blinds, when Toby's finger moved. As he watched, the simple touch turned into a light gliding across the tips of their joined digits. As he studied the movement, it became a light swirling around his nail. If he didn’t know better, he would have almost have described it as sensual.

He frowned and still waited for the punch line. It didn’t come and, at that point, nothing seemed to add up.

He began to feel disturbed; guilty as if it were his fault; guilty because he knew his body was thinking the wrong thing and he was already stirring inside Toby’s briefs as the finger continued to caress him. He knew he had to think of something that would allow it to be brushed off as an accidental contact; a joke, a bit of fun, but his voice wouldn’t engage. Either way, he couldn't (or didn't want to, he wasn't sure) release the connection or stop what was happening in his groin.

He fretted. This was stupid! At any time, Toby could easily look down there, see the beginnings of his arousal, and be shocked - or worse. Even then, he couldn’t quite compute that this was more than just a one-sided exchange.

There was a break in Toby's breathing. With it came a subtle shift of intent as they continued to lightly brush the ends of their fingers together. Still with only one finger, Toby slipped his digit further down to Simon's middle joint and swirled around it; going deeper and deeper. Always deeper. The touch went way past the point of mere accident.

In the gloom, his eyes widened. It was slow and, to Simon, becoming provocatively sexual.

Distracted, he couldn't decide now whether he wanted it to stop or needed it to push even deeper. There were only two parts of him that stirred. One was his finger as it continued to explore and be explored. The other was his dick that had responded to an unspoken craving. He glanced down to where the muscles there contracted. He lifted slightly, pressing out against the constricting material that seemed to glow an eerie red in the half-light.

They were both exploring now and, other than the hand, he lay there immobile, gradually understanding it for what it was. He was nervous, but what surprised him was that he didn't feel as shocked as he knew he aught to be. Something kept him calmly expectant, a part of him that seemed to know what was happening and told him it was going to be okay. Without hurry, the touch became a caress that deepened as their fingers came together and gradually entwined their two hands. Without words they spoke to each other. By touch alone, they communicated everything that mattered.

Finally he felt a light tug and swallowed; it seemed easier to stay out of sight. Another tug and he raised his head to just above the edge of the bed. He came face to face with Toby, who'd turned onto his side and seemed to be waiting. While it looked like Toby, what struck him in that face was an unmistakable something that could only be described as longing; even lust. It was mesmerizing. He'd know Toby for years, yet never had he seen those deep toffee-brown eyes glinting with something so electric.

For a time, they just watched each other. He was afraid to speak, and wouldn't have known what to say anyway. Those eyes burned into him. The fact that they were entering new ground was apparent; the physical touching hinted at what that might be. Yet it had all happened so fast and he felt breathless and flushed. He knew he should say something, but nothing would come out.

"Do you want to?" Toby's leading question startled him. Normally gravelly from a voice that, unlike his, had already fully broken, the tone was tight and dry.

Did he want to?

It didn't even cross his mind to question 'did he want to...what?' He had no doubt what Toby meant and it wasn’t anything he’d asked before. EVER! Now he was plagued with questions; how had this happened; how come he'd never seen it before? The difference between daydreaming in the classroom and THIS was huge. All the while, those eyes tormented him with their intensity.

Did he want to? How could he not? In the potent gaze that held him, nothing else mattered.

Flustered, he nodded. Everything else went out of the window. His usual careful planned approach to his world had few messy edges. Now, it all went, as his mind and body sizzled with the enveloping flame that lit Toby. Before he could figure out what he was meant to do, Toby slipped over the edge of the bed, down onto his mattress. Sliding under the oversized duvet, Toby pulled it fully over them, and it grew dark. In the blackness, they lay close. In at the deep end, his heart thumped.

Now what?

An arm came over the top of him and lay still. Simple. Protective. A cuddle. It was how he’d imagined it would be. A safe place just to talk. He shifted on his side to face the shape alongside him, wondering what they would say to each other.

Then it didn't appear that Toby planned to be as restrained as him when the arm moved. A hand touched his face and his chest, before reaching down to a hold him in a way that made him bite his lip and almost cry out. He remained rooted by apprehension and inexperience. Out of the darkness, the hand reached for his, drawing it down to where he discovered something that stunned him. The hidden hand, like a puppeteers strings, guided him; sanctioning the contact and patiently instructing. When it let go, he didn't. For several moments they gently rubbed each other through the soft material. It was already a warm night, in a room where the ceiling fan hardly compensated for an inefficient air-con unit. Under the covers, his flush deepened.

Without a word, Toby moved his leg across him, bit by bit pushing him onto his back until he slid over the top. He fully expected to feel his weight, but Toby held off. The only thing he felt between them was the shape of Toby’s erection, pressing lightly onto him. They froze there, with only the sound of their breathing to mark the point of no return. Mounted on top, it was a watershed as Toby straddled him and he nearly foundered with the conflictions. They hung in the balance.

And then, hovering in the darkness, Toby moved.

Slowly at first, as if even he was unsure of what to do, he nudged once. And then again.

What was it? A tease? An offer? A last chance to back out?

Once more Toby scraped the sky blue against the bright red, patiently eroding his ability to resist reciprocation. It came again and, unable to help himself, he groaned. Reaching for Toby’s backside he ended the questions, pulling him firmly into contact. It seemed to goad Toby, who finally settled onto him to push again, and again, until a rhythm began to be established. Simon’s hands stayed gripping the bright blue, joining that rhythm.

The bedding was constricting; the still air under the covers, stifling. At any other time it would have been uncomfortable; now, it drove him and he broke out into a sweat. Under Toby's heavier frame he became hot and sticky. It felt incredibly good. Driven by the rising temperature, their movement began to escalate. It wasn’t a question of if they would ejaculate; it was a question of when.

Abruptly, Toby stopped. Throwing back the covers, he lifted himself off and went back onto his knees. Staring feverishly at his profile, Simon had no impression that it was about to end. And he was right as, in the dim light, he watched Toby push down his sky blue boxers, slip them under his knees and push them off behind him. He knew what he had to do as Toby reached for him. He raised his backside to allow the red ones to be drawn off him. Quickly, though not violent, Toby tugged – and they were gone.

Even in the dim light, the arousal Toby was carrying as he knelt before him was explicit. If he didn’t know better, he might almost have believed it was a different person crouched over him. He didn’t care as he reached up eagerly. Taking the duvet and pulling it over his head, Toby lowered himself again and covered them both.

The darkness returned.

Full length Toby lay over him and he savored it. He’d anticipated an immediate return to the frantic movements, yet it seemed like the clock had been turned back; like his world was restarting. Toby lay still over him, maybe, like him, relishing every minute sensation of the intimate, full body contact.

Maybe if they had started some immediate pounding, it would have been fine – great, even. But this? This was better. Toby seemed in no rush; it was such a gift and he loved him for it. He knew there would be more, but even if there weren’t - even if all they did now was lie together like this, it would be enough. A boy was holding him; one that felt the same way he did, and didn’t mind showing it. Now he could die and go to heaven! Every sensation was heightened, every nerve on full alert. The thought that there could be even more made him tingle with anticipation, and he knew he was quite ready for it.

What he wasn't quite ready for was dealing with was 'the WHO'. It was just easier not to dwell too much on the idea of who's aroused naked form it was that was taking possession of him! Moving his hands at last, he caressed the warm flash of Toby’s bum – a place he’d never touched in his life before. It seemed to act as a signal between them. Toby hissed softly and started moving.

With the return of the dark came a new sense of freedom. Without the barrier of clothing they began to move again; faster now, as the temperature soared once more. They became slick with sweat and pre-cum and, for Simon, the anonymity of darkness released his voice. He began to groan as his dick slipped and slid between their two bodies. The sound of his sex seemed to galvanize Toby, who reached around him, gripping across the small of his back. Locking him into place, his dick had nowhere to go and it became frantic and uncontrolled.

From above, though he couldn’t see it in the dark, a droplet of perspiration fell on him. The tired mattress seemed as energized as he was himself, giving off little squeaks which joined the soft cries escaping his open mouth as together they climbed towards release. An intense pleasure enveloped him, empowering all other senses; any comparison to sitting astride a hot water bottle on a pile of pillows, seemed irrelevant.

Faster and faster they went. In a world that would crucify them for what they were doing, two ordinary teenage boys, who only knew that it felt right to them, climbed to a peak together.

Again abruptly, Toby shifted position. Drawing up his legs, he crouched over him, straddling him in the dark with his knees either side. He couldn’t grasp what he was doing as Toby leaned, falling backwards away from him into the mattress, taking the duvet with him. He’d been so close, and he bit his lip in frustration as the subtle pressures eased. It made no sense as he felt arms slip under the crooks of his knees.

Then like a coiled spring, Toby rose back up, bringing his legs with him. It turned into the most intense and sexually erotic thing he’d ever experienced. So much so, he almost unloaded!

His legs were lifted and separated. It was totally unexpected, assertive and excited the hell out of him, filling him with a potent mixture of vulnerability and trust. Intuitively, he gripped the arms, Pinning them as he locked his legs around Toby’s back, forcing him back onto his dick again.

A titanic struggle began.

Bound together at the groin, Toby seemed intent on arching away from him, using his strength to push himself backwards in what seemed a desperate attempt to escape.

What the hell was he playing at?

Instinctively he reached out and wrapped his arms around the small of Toby’s back in an effort to force their dicks back together. Even if it wasn’t what Toby wanted, he sure as hell knew he did!

Blindly, he attempted to jerk himself against Toby, who, again rocked backwards as if to escape, though the sounds he made were not from one who wanted it to stop. Exerting himself, Simon wrenched him back, becoming confused as, yet again Toby rocked away. Each time, jolts of pleasure hit his groin as the see-saw motion worked him.

He finally got what Toby was doing, and, in a moment of clarity knew that HE wasn’t the one in control of any of it. Understanding and accepting that became the beginning of release. Yet still, the speed of thought outstripped everything else. Whatever he had imagined, it was hardly this. It was totally unplanned and there was hardly even time to pause to think if any of it was even ‘normal’!

What had remained in the background; what he'd skirted around and kept at bay in the dark under the sheets, was an awareness that that this was Toby Skerrit. Now it all clamored for attention. The familiar room; the light from the back porch; the sweaty, sexually charged boy who rocked against him. Toby, who twisted and thrashed fiercely. Toby, who was making sounds that had no meaning in a dictionary. Toby, who like himself, was about to cum and who, at the last moments, wrenched at him powerfully. The manoeuvre was so forceful that he was dragged forward over the top of him on the bed, legs pinned under Toby's tangled form.

Chest to chest, there was nowhere to go; nowhere else to look other than into a face that twisted with a grimace that was probably a reflection of his own sex driven state; nothing else to watch apart from eyes that raged with conviction and fire. Eyes that confronted any attempt to minimize the enormous impact of what they were doing. Eyes that demanded. Accept it. We're having sex. You want it as much as I do!

“OH FUCK…!” The eyes glazed. With the only two meaningful words Toby had spoken since they’d begun, his tight yelp was poorly restrained and more of a demand than anything else.

Obediently, he did what he was told. Delivering two more grinding thrusts into the slick, taut frame he’d mounted, it was like two powerful waves racing across the water from opposing directions. The waves collided and, in the resulting explosion, the spray shot high, forcing their fluids up into the tight space between their stomachs. He knew it was going to be good, yet found himself hanging on for dear life! Springing forward again, Toby collapsed over the top of him and they continued heaving into each other until it slowed and was finally was over.

Muscles cramping, Simon let go the leg lock. Toby finally rolled off him to flop on his back on what little space there was on the narrow mattress, leaving him shaking in the aftershocks.

He wondered what to say, but nothing seemed to make sense. Toby was still breathing hard and didn’t speak either. As Simon got hold of himself, his hand drifted to just above where he was still hard and discovered the spills of their semen, some of which, under the hum of the overhead fan, was beginning to slip down his side towards the bedclothes. Sitting up, he spied the sky blue of the briefs Toby had discarded. Taking them, he wiped his belly as best he could.

He felt totally exhausted; wiped out by the intense emotion. Drained, as if somehow the essence of every part of his being had been distilled into the volume of his semen and drawn out of him with the explosive ejaculation. Turning on his side he dropped the soiled underwear onto the floor.

Still Toby hadn’t spoken, leaving him with a growing sense of disquiet. Had he done something wrong? Was it his fault? Had it been a mistake?

Then, the warm duvet was drawn over them again. From behind, an arm wrapped around him, spooning in close and soothing him; an act of comfort; of love. A soft kiss touched the back of his head and his beating heart slowed. There would be time to talk later. Maybe Toby was right – now was the time just to cuddle and be still.

Feeling safe, he relaxed, happy to leave the questions alone for the moment. Tired, he dropped off to sleep.

21. Aftermath

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Aftermath

Simon stirred, not knowing whether he'd slept for a few minutes or a few hours. Precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress, he opened his eyes; the warm comfort of the body pressed close in behind quickly him brought everything back. In the soft gloom, his face was close to the screwed up pair of sky blue boxers. Smeared with the remains of their exertion, the slightly pungent odor touched his nostrils.

Behind him, the warm body moved. From the change in his breathing, he knew that Toby was awake, but wasn’t quite ready to face him yet.

And who was he anyhow?

It had all happened so quickly; too fast to make sense of how or why. One minute they were going to sleep, the next minute... The touch of flesh against his skin reminded him what those next minutes had become, and that he was naked, lying next to another naked boy. Drawn by the color, his eyes studied the boxer briefs that held their semen. The memories of how it got there replayed in acute detail. His body responded to what was both in front, and behind. Despite the unknowns, it excited him and he couldn’t stop his erection returning.

“Are you okay, Si?” Close by, the familiar, soft voice came with a touch on his shoulder encouraging him to turn.

Was he okay?

With difficulty, he wriggled around in the cramped space to lie inches from a face that waited. The burning fire that had erupted from those toffee brown eyes and consumed them both had passed, though the memory of it still lingered. Under the surface, something still simmered, though it had been joined by a careful watchfulness.

Was he okay? He nodded, though a gazillion mostly irrelevant questions pushed into his head – what time was it; where were his pajamas; what were they going to say to Mrs. Skerrit; how were they going to get the sweaty, jizz messed sheets washed, or even dried for that matter?

Toby cut through it all with a simple observation. “You’re gay,” he noted.

Inside, Simon flinched. In the circumstances, he knew it was silly. After what had happened – what they’d done - there was nothing to deny, but he couldn’t help the feeling that he’d been shamed with a terrible truth.

“Sorry.”

Toby looked surprised and watchful caution seemed to resolve into bemusement. “You’re sorry?” He pulled a face. “Sorry?” Toby repeated a little louder. The bemusement became a cheeky grin. Toby reached up and touched his nose, as if checking he was still there. “Which bit are you sorry for? That you made a mess of the sheets, or that you forgot to tell me that you were gay?”

"Both?" The exchange felt no different from their regular banter and Simon couldn't stop the beginnings of a smile. “Are you?” He knew how stupid that sounded, even as the words came out. He just couldn't get his brain working.

Again, Toby’s face creased and he laughed softly. ‘What do you think?”

Seeing the funny side of it too, Simon twitched into a lopsided grin. Everything took on a new perspective and the fears that had been churning his insides for months evaporated. Their usual humor, the gentle touch – neither came from a place or a person who was about to reject him as a freak. Of all the questions he had, one was right in the forefront. Something he had to know. “At the end…when you…” Simon paused, not sure how to find the right words to describe the bizarre and extremely intense position they’d ended up in.

Toby looked coy. “Oh that...” For once, he appeared quite bashful. “It just seemed a good idea at the time…you didn’t mind did you?”

Mind it? That was the last thing going through his head. He shook his head. He’d want to do it like that again, and already knew there would be a next time.

Toby continued to study him in the gloom, before shifting in the tight space. “Can we get into my bed?” he pleaded. “You’re to fat and it’s cramped here; I’m falling off the edge.”

Simon pulled a face, becoming playful. “But I’m warm – and anyway, it was YOU who came down here in the first place!”

Toby's eyes glinted with confidant amusement. "I think you'll find we both came!" Unexpectedly, Toby planted to quick kiss on his forehead. Sniggering, he clambered back up onto his own, rather wider, bed, leaving Simon staring into an empty space wondering yet again what had just happened. He didn’t stay there long and hurried up after him – and there was nothing in the least coy or bashful about what stood tall in Toby’s groin as he pulled back the sheets to make room. They lay close again under the cool sheets, studyng each other like familiar strangers. After years of knowing Toby in another way, it all took some getting used to – probably for both of them. It felt as if they had only just met, though it didn't seem as if Toby was as nervous as he was.

"Hey." Toby finally murmured, the first word of welcome.

"Hey," he replied.

And that was it. Two simple words that seemed to make sense of the years of friendship and experiences together that was turning into something different; something much, much better. The sheets were warming up and he snuggled closer. A hand made the discovery that he was stiff and moved over his shaft. "I get those around you!" he admitted. Growing confidence allowed him to be candid. “A lot!”

Toby released him and burst into a fit of giggles. "You should have said - I could have helped!"

“In French?”

It set them off again.

“Did you…?”. “Was it…? Two questions collided.

“You first,” said Toby.

“No, you…”

Toby remained impassive. Simon recognized that familiar heartless demeanor when his friend was determined to get his own way. Resigned, he chewed his lip. “Was it okay…you know…I mean did you enjoy it?”

“By ‘it’, you mean did I enjoy squirting all over you?”

“Tobe!!” He grouched - not a little uncomfortable - still trying to get used to the idea.

“What?” Toby was unrepentant and seemed to revel in trying to shock him.“That’s what we did! Was it good? Fuck, yeah - it was!” His tone turned sexy. “What about you?”

He didn’t usually cuss, but decided now was as good a time as any to make an exception. He lay back on the pillow, put his hands behind his head, and grinned happily. "Fuck, yeah!" After a few moments, he turned to study Toby. “So what were you going to ask?”

“Actually I just wanted to know if you’d stolen my cologne – and don’t lie, I can smell it on you!”

He smirked silently. Getting comfortable, he stretched out on his back, stealing one of Toby’s extra pillows to push behind his head. "I always thought that...well, that it was just me," he confessed. "How long have you...."

It seemed Toby knew what he meant. "That I liked guys? A long time...years."

A long time? Years? It was almost shocking to consider. He tried to think about how it could be that Toby had seemed so sure of himself when he'd pulled the duvet over them – and came to a conclusion. "Have you ever done anything before...with anyone else...?"

A shadow passed across Toby's face. "Does it matter?" He seemed uncertain as his eyes flicked away. A moment later, he shrugged. "There was someone - It was a long time ago. Before we lived here."

Did it matter? Somehow, yes. From what he’d just seen, Simon sensed there was more, and wanted to know, but Toby changed the subject.

"What about you?" Toby asked. "How long have you known?"

He shrugged, but he knew exactly when. "It was when you got contacts."

“What? When I got contacts? You’re kidding - that was just last year!”

Simon nodded. “You remember the Harry Potter glasses you had?” That was what Toby used to wear when he’d first started at the Academy.

Toby pulled a face. “The wire framed ones?”

He smirked. That was them; the round, gold frames that had given him the appearance of cute, defenseless and dorky when they had first met. It was a friendship that had surprised him. Toby was nothing like most of his friends had been like back in London. Instead, he was quiet and withdrawn; even slightly geeky with his glasses. Yet they had hit it off, and grown close within their circle of friends at school. He had soon discovered, behind those glasses, a wicked humor similar to his own, was hiding; one that had got them into trouble on numerous occasions! Quickly the two had hung out.

It was at the start of the Fall Semester that Toby had exchanged his glasses for contacts. He'd turned up wearing them instead of the usual geeky frames. Everyone said it was a general improvement, but for Simon it felt like a total transformation! Toby became more confidant in himself too, and it showed - as did his eyes, no longer hidden behind frames; deep and full of life. And, as Toby began to fill out physically in other ways too, he’d begun to struggle with feelings he’d never experienced before.

It had scared the shit out of him.

"Yep - then. You kind of got my attention!" he admitted.

A head loomed over him in the semi-darkness. Lips brushed his. He gasped. A little more firmly Toby kissed him again. In his whole life, he’d never been kissed on the lips before – and never that sexually on any part of his anatomy! He could still taste the minty toothpaste. "Did THAT get your attention?"

No reply seemed necessary. Yes, it got his attention, along with the hand that had picked up his dick again. It felt glorious and he happily spread his legs wide to allow Toby unrestricted access as they wrestled their tongues. The hand on him picked up a slow unstoppable rhythm, and only in his wildest dreams did he imagine it would be like this. He began to writhe under the onslaught and knew he would shoot again pretty soon.

He got his mouth back and grunted. “I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that…”

Toby stopped movng and Simon bit his lip with the frustration of being left hanging at the edge.

“Really?” Toby sniggered and let him go. “I’m shocked!” Then he turned and switched on his bedside light.

Simon blinked, dazzled by the sudden brightness. Quickly the room took on a more subtle glow as Toby lowered his lamp onto the floor, and slid it under his bed.

“What’s that for?” There was just enough light to recognize the messy hair and cheeky smirk.

“I want to see what you look like…” Without further ado, Toby pushed the sheets off them both. He wasn’t given much time to think about feeling embarrassed by the odd request; it was suddenly just there.

He guessed Toby was right – at some point everyone had to look. Whether it was the ‘just marrieds’ first time in the bedroom together, or the date suddenly getting serious, every guy had to pass through the gauntlet of showing his arousal to his partner. Feeling self concious about it had nothing to do with age. Girls had it easy; aroused or not, nothing changed. For a guy, fourteen or forty, it's the elephant in the room. In their case, a pink one!

Unexpectedly, Toby mounted him, sliding over the top once more. Simon wondered if was going to be like the first time as the two erections pressed together between them again.

“Don’t move!”

“Why n..?” Simon didn’t get any further as a set of warm lips nibbled his. Staring into Toby’s eyes, he watched the fire reignite. Something vibrant and commanding returned. Something compelling that took control. Ever so slowly Toby began to move and he shuddered, knowing they were about to do it again.

Still rocking gently against him, Toby’s lips grazed once more, but then slipped down onto his neck. It was all he could do not to squeak. Then, rather than coming back up to his mouth, Toby went down past his stomach. He felt a light tongue brush up the length of his dick.

“Shit Toby - what are you doing?!" He half giggled, half groaned and made a grab for the tousled hair.

Toby lifted up his head, grinned and then deliberately took Simon’s wrists in a firm grip and held them down by his sides on the bed. "You have to promise to be quiet!" he warned and then Simon almost screamed aloud as, unexpectedly, Toby went down on his shaft.

"Tobe!! Oh God...!" he moaned, struggling to release his hands to do something about the sensations that assaulted him. But, though he squirmed, Toby was determined and refused to release him, gripping his wrists and lying across his legs, fully immobilizing him. All he could do in the soft light was watch as Toby bobbed up and down on him. In contrast to earlier, when they had moved hard and fast against each other, this was completely different. If anything, being unable to move heightened the exquisite sensations.

After only a few moments, he hissed. "Tobe...you're gonna have to stop.." It made no difference. He tried to move his hands, but Toby wasn't having it. "I mean it," he gasped urgently. "You need to stop...I can't...I'm gonna..."

Something detonated and his vision exploded with stars.

After it was over, it took a few moments to even start breathing again. Nothing he’d ever imagined had prepared him for what he'd experienced that night. Both times had left him shaking! In his dreams he had hoped for closeness. Cuddles. Maybe even a bit of rubbing together! But it had been explosive sex like he had never known before!

Toby crawled back up alongside him again, eyes bright and alive. "Quite tasty!" he announced. "You taste quite nutty!"

"Oh God...I think you just killed me..." Simon groaned, spent in the half light. "Oh fuck - don't tell me you swallowed it?" The thought was an unbelievable turn on.

"I might have." Toby smirked and reached down to rub Simon’s extremely sensitive dick.

"Stop...stop!" He screeched as quietly as he could, pushing the hand away "That's too much!"

"Hey - you seem to be living again - thank God for that!"

Slapping his hands away, he finally pushed Toby on his back and leaned over him. Audaciously for him, inserted his tongue back into his mouth. There was an unfamiliar tanginess as they tasted each other again, and he knew it was his own jizz.

"Now, what was it that you were doing....?" Slyly, Simon began to drop down to Toby's groin. It took a little time to get the hang of it and, unlike Toby, he wasn't quite ready to risk tasting the stuff!

Afterwards, they talked more, and then slept. Waking again just before dawn, they did it again and before he knew it he was yet again giving up what Toby was waiting for. Then, not wanting to be caught sleeping in the same bed, he returned to his own mattress at last.

* * *

Across the dark miles, past late traffic that still crisscrossed the night roads around Atlanta, Luke slept; his dreams confused and troubled, taunted by the memory of a boy, pleasured to climax behind a bathroom door. Because of the SmartKlamp, it had already been a week since he’d last been able to ejaculate and the tension tormented him. At first, despite feeling wiped, he’d tossed and turned, unable to drop off. When sleep finally came, he was plunged into a vivid nightmare.

He found himself trapped in a bathroom that, surprisingly, seemed to have a window installed in the door.

Trapped in the unknown room, he seemed somehow immobilized in front of a girl who could have been Stacey. When her mouth opened, she showed a full mouth of orthodontic wire that marred her smile. She was dressed only in a simple bathrobe. In his dream she approached him, coming close to reach down to lift the SmartKlamp device from his body. She seemed intent on playing with it and he twisted and turned to try to get away, desperate to say that the doctor had told him it was dangerous to touch it. She was deaf to his pleas and the invisible bonds held him tight.

But what was in the room paled alongside what was just outside. Beyond the door was something sinister. Malignant. Angry. Unreal, yet carrying a hidden power waiting for him; waiting to maim and destroy. The door to the room had the round porthole window and, in his nightmare, he screamed when the dark face twisted against it.

Inside, the girl seemed unaware of the terrible danger they were in. Still playing with the SmartKlamp, she found a lever that would unlock it, though he’d never noticed it before. She toyed with it, teasing him as she began to pull at it.

“No don’t – please – not now – I can’t. Not yet. Not until Tuesday!” In his dream he began to stir.

She pulled the lever and the Klamp suddenly snapped open and fell away. Mercilessly she reached over to caress his newly circumcised penis and he came alive in her hand.

“We could always date, you know, if you wanted to…” She spoke at last, convincing and soothing. The bathrobe parted to reveal a lithe, sensual body. Provocatively, she seemed insistent on pressing herself against him. He tried screaming, but nothing came out as he fought to escape. There was nothing remotely exciting or enjoyable for what would normally have been any teenage boy’s dream. Instead, he was frightened.

Outside, through the glass, the face continued to glare, becoming vicious and darkly foreboding. Mouthing words at him that made no sense, the black presence terrified him.

Inside, where he remained trapped, she moved gently against him, teasing him again and again; urging him until his member would not longer obey and the hardness rose up to meet her. Despite his anxiety, the agony and ecstasy multiplied.

She reached behind him and massaged his back pulling his waiting arousal closer. “You’re circumcised, Luke,” she goaded, gently caressing the slick head. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? You should have said.” She chided him, but seemed to know more. “So, if it’s not for me...who is it for?”

He shook his head, refusing to say. He wanted to scream. For help, or maybe it was for release – of any kind! She held his body firmly against her to still his struggling, pulling him closer, as she continued to rock against him.

“NO!” He stared in horror at the joining, as his head slipped in.

“Oops!” she giggled. The sound of it was like vitriol. Then she shifted her balance and weight over him, plunging him deeply inside until his designer stubble met her own smoothly shaved skin. There was no beauty in it. No satisfaction. No joy. He shook his head from side to side trying to dislodge something that had desecrated his whole being.

“There,” she purred, “That wasn’t so bad was it? Now tell me you don‘t want this?”

He cried in revulsion, as she violated him. But, she moved against him repeatedly with a thrusting rhythm, lowering his will to resist the onrush of seed she was coaxing out of him.

“I can’t!” he cried, desperately, “I’m not sixteen yet!”

“Who is it Luke? Who is it that you really want?” Fully mounted on him now, she speeded up her assault, pushing him far beyond the limits of his ability to resist her demands for the truth.

At the window, the face grew black and deadly. The bulging eyes judged and condemned him. The hand contained a hidden weapon. The handle moved and he knew, without doubt, that it wasn’t locked. He wanted to scream; to beg; to plead that it wasn’t his fault; that he wasn’t a homosexual. The door began to open and, in that final moment, in shooting pain and sexual torment, he succumbed.

He awoke and found himself thrusting through his pajamas and into the sheets. Within those secret moments on the borders of the unconscious, he cried out in ecstatic agony. ‘Ryan – it’s Ryan! Oh God, don’t stop! I’m almost there…!’ Then, groaning like the boy in the bathroom, he emptied himself.

He awoke fully, dripping with sweat, shaking, and terrified. In distress, he stared at his door, fully expecting the dark presence to enter the room, coming for him. Even after he’d turned on his bedside light, he watched the door fearfully.

Finally his heartbeat slowed and he got hold of himself. He knew he'd had a wet dream but, awake now, felt no pleasure. He sat up carefully, aware that he'd been humping with the circumcision device. He winced. It was impossible that he hadn't broken it. Peeling back his PJ's, the mess was considerable and the end of his penis was a livid red. It throbbed from where he’d somehow caught it in the sheets. The bedding was stained, and jizz still dripped from the end of the tube as he softened.

Thankfully there seemed to be no damage to the mechanism, so he stripped off his PJ's, used them to wipe the rest of the mess and crawled naked back under the sheets. Not daring to turn off his light again, he fell back to sleep, exhausted.

* * *

With Simon on a sleepover at the Skerrits, Lucy surveyed the remainder of her brood at the breakfast table. Despite getting to bed late, she was surprised that Luke had got up even earlier than his normal normal time for a weekend. He’d even put the washtub on!

Ryan was coming round - supposedly to do some revision - but she also knew Luke didn't expect him until after ten. No doubt Ryan would be sleeping in - like any normal teen except her own! She shook her head. Teenagers - her parents had warned her they could be strange!

"Another pancake, sweetheart?"

Across the breakfast table from her, Luke had pulled up a chair alongside Geoff and the pair were peering into his computer screen. At the offer, Luke shook his head. Geoff, on the other hand, lifted his plate soundlessly as he tapped on his laptop. She resisted the temptation to tell him where to stick it. Men!

"Hon, you ARE going to do the lawn today, aren't you?" She took the proffered plate.

Geoff looked surprised. "I just did it!"

"It was two weeks ago, Hon!"

"Was it?"

She studied him through narrowed eyes until he flinched. "You know it was, so try to tear yourself from your spreadsheets or whatever it is you two are engrossed in. It really needs doing!"

"I don’t mind doing it," offered Luke.

"There you are, Luce! Luke'll do it." Geoff gave his son a grateful smile.

"If you pay me," added Luke.

The smile diminished.

Lucy smirked. Got ya Geoff, baby – caught between a rock and a hard place now, aren’t you! She applied a little oil. “There you go Hon – great idea. At least it’ll get done!”

Geoff wavered. “Just give me a few minutes. I can do it. Anyway, Ryan’s coming round isn’t he, Luke?”

“Not 'til later Dad. And anyway, I could do it this afternoon too. Come on – I’m trying to save for a new dongle; one of the apple USB sticks.”

It was so unfair, Lucy mused. Sadly it just wasn’t quite right in the current climate for any proper parent to question their son as to why he felt he was in need of a new dongle – especially when the poor lad had just been circumcised!

Probably because it had a scent of computers, Geoff seemed to relent. “Okay – I’m happy to give you a few bucks.”

“A few bucks?” Luke seemed scandalized. “It costs twelve just to get my hair cut and that only takes ten minutes!”

“Five then.”

Lucy almost rubbed her hands with glee as Luke crossed his arms inflexibly. This was going to be good! Gosh, he was SO like her!

Geoff shook his head. “Okay – ten bucks – final offer!”

She just couldn’t resist. Geoff might be a hotshot in the bank, but he was such a complete twit when it came to negotiating with his kids! “That’s great hon. That’ll really help us to get the grass done! Now what about the flower beds and the edges?”

Geoff glared at her, but Luke jumped on it. “Okay, I’m happy to do the beds for another ten.”

After that, she added the bushes, and the negotiation got fierce. She hated to point it out, but for the time Geoff spent on trying to keep the price down, he could have jumped on the mower and done most of the lawn anyway! In the end, they agreed on twenty-five bucks for a full makeover. She hoped Luke would be able to get himself a gold plated dongle for that!

With a big task to get on with, Luke left them to go and get on some work clothes. After he’d left, she glided up behind Geoff and wrapped her arms around him, letting her hands drift teasingly to his belt. He appeared to be studying some computer peripherals website. “I’m thinking about getting you a new dongle too, Hon."

He smacked her hand, though not hard. “Behave!” he grunted. He tilted his head back. “And anyway, if I remember correctly, that’s not what you said last night!”

She giggled and their lips brushed together.

“Eeeewww – can’t you guys get a room or something?”

She decided just then that if your teenage son hadn’t quite gone upstairs and managed to catch you snogging, the best thing to do would be to ignore him – so she did.

Luke had only been out in the garden for ten minutes, when Ryan arrived. She heard his voice and it wasn't long before the pair joined her and Geoff in the kitchen. She welcomed him warmly. “Hello Ryan!”

Geoff looked up from his screen too. “Hey there, Ryan!"

“Morning Lucy,” Ryan replied. “Hi Geoff.” He seemed to notice what Geoff was perusing. “Found anything good?”

“Not yet,” Geoff replied, flicking the mouse to scroll down the page again.

She smiled as the three of them scanned the site. Boys and their toys!

There were just so many reasons why she liked Ryan Alexis – not the least of which was that he confidant and outgoing enough to be able to call her by her given name without it sounding inappropriate!

Frankly, the boy had the potential to be any parent’s worst nightmare. The type of kid who was good at everything; impossible to keep up with. The kid who made your own children feel inadequate; who could lord it over them with his achievements. The kid that everyone wanted as a friend, who had everything, but with whom no parent could compete.

Ryan was not that. Yet he truly could be, if it had been in his nature.

She watched him fondly as she lifted the pancake skillet again. "Breakfast Ryan? I'm just doing pancakes."

He looked up from the screen. "No thanks, Lucy. I already ate."

"You ate?" Luke sounded incredulous. "It's only just gone 9! What time did you get up?"

Ryan shrugged. "I dunno. Around 7, I guess."

Luke's eyes bulged and he shook his head. "You’re raving mad! It's a Saturday!

"I was bored," Ryan returned evenly. "I assumed you'd be awake by now - and anyway, if your folks have you working on the garden, you probably need help."

"Paying him to work on the garden, you mean!" An indignant Geoff surfaced again. "And if you're getting Ryan involved, you should give him some of the cash!"

Luke grinned. "I'm always willing to take on someone looking for work experience." He knew quite well that the last thing Ryan Alexis needed was money. Ryan just rolled his eyes patiently.

Lucy watched the exchange in amusement. Despite coming from an 'old money' privileged background, Ryan had never been the type of kid who expected others to DO things for him - rather, he'd would often go out of his way to help others. He was a complicated kid. She might have asked how his parents were doing, but she knew home was not the easiest of places for him. By an unspoken agreement, they never referred to it. Once, several years earlier, they'd invited Ryan and his parents to dinner.

She remembered it vividly. It had been a disaster.

The woman was drunk before she even arrived, and Ryan's father - some army guy - was a type she recognized. Authoritarian and abusive, but still clever and controlling. He put down his wife constantly, and you got the idea that, however well his son did in life, it was never going to be enough.

Yet, despite the crap parenting, Ryan had still turned out okay. The unpleasant scene around the dinner table had been tough on him though, and it had been weeks before he could be coaxed round to their house again.

That was the question that she often considered these days...was it nurture or nature? Did children only become what their circumstances made them, or would bright, well-behaved kids (like Ryan) going to tend to be exactly that, whatever it was that life threw at them? Was it learned or was it instinctive? Did genetics deal each one with their own special, unchangeable and individual hand, or could you play the pack with skill, to end up with the final straight flush?

Either way, this particular young man had managed to blossom and had always been a good friend to Luke. Fondly, she watched the two of them as they went back outside to work on the backyard.

22. Studying Something

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Studying Something

Luke grinned as Ryan flew by again on the riding mower, whooping like a ridiculous kid. Out in the backyard, Luke had opted for the gas weed-wacker and was going around the trees and under the shrubs, levelling anything that looked like it wasn’t a flower. Memories of his disturbingly weird nightmare had passed; it was a new day and he was up for whatever it had to offer!

A few minutes later, Ryan ran by again and they both cut the revs until the two stoke engines ticked over calmly enough to be heard. "I'm going round the front,” Ryan said, reaching for the throttle again. “It shouldn't take long.”

He was off...and back again fifteen minutes later. By this time, both of them were covered in grass. "Okay, now what?" Ryan asked, parking up and getting off for a stretch.

Luke offered him the weed whacker. "I'll let you go whack around the front if you want. I'll start on the bushes." He smirked wickedly, knowing full well what he was saying.

Ryan rolled his eyes and stared back coolly. "Does your mom know that your such a crude, fucked up retard?"

"I dunno, Ry." He flicked his attention over Ryan's shoulder. "You could ask her..."

Ryan was already turning in alarm before he realized he'd been had and swung back to pull a face. "Dickhead."

Luke sniggered. It was the small victories that were the best.

Thirty minutes later, they'd both had enough. Downing the tools, he and Ryan messed around the basketball hoop until his mum came out and gave him 'the look'. Of course, his mothers 'looks' could be any number of things depending on the day and time, though he reckoned this one was balanced finely between 'If you've finished, I thought you had study,' and 'I believe the doctor said no contact sports!'

She was right of course. "Come on, we'd better go in and get on with it." Having long since discarded their shirts, they glistened with sweat. "And I stink....I gotta get a shower first!" He picked up his tee and used it to wipe sweat from his face; still finding grass there too.

With the back of his hand, Ryan wiped his forehead. "Oh," he said, looking down at himself, "I didn't bring anything....it's okay I'm fine."

Seeing the glistening perspiration and guessing Ryan probably smelled similar to himself, Luke grimaced. "The hell you are! You're not making a mess of my bed in that state!" There was only one chair in his room, and he knew Ryan usually hogged the bed when they hung out there. "I've got plenty of stuff you can borrow."

They went in, stopping by the kitchen first, where he pulled open the fridge looking for something cold. His mum was there, in the middle of some baking and, for her benefit, he found some the tall glasses from the cupboard to fill with Coke for them both.

"Thanks for helping with the garden, Ryan," Lucy said, slapping Luke's fingers as he tried to sample the icing mix.

"You’re welcome, Lucy!" Ryan laughed. "Let's be honest - someone has to keep him from destroying the flower beds!"

Luke emptied his glass and refused to be drawn into their conversation. The two of them usually ganged up on him. "We're just going upstairs to shower off, Mum. Then were going to get some study done."

As they left, his mum called him back. Ryan continued up the stairs while he paused. "If you want to get changed," her eyes flicked meaningfully to where the SmartKlamp still remained, “Ryan can always use our room if you want?"

"It's okay Mum, it's no big deal. He knows all about it anyway."

She actually seemed pleased. ‘Well, there you go – I told you your friends wouldn’t mind if you explained it to them."

“Yes Mum,” he sighed. Whatever. He turned and bounded up the stairs.

Her voice persisted after him as he escaped. “Tell Ryan he can use Simon’s towel. It’s fresh. And maybe you can lend him….”

He closed the door to shut her out without feeling the need to lock it. She wouldn't just walk in, now she knew showers were on the schedule. Simon was out, and anyway, locking the door of a room in which you were about to take off your clothes with another guy felt totally gay! Ryan had dropped his backpack by the desk and was waiting patiently.

Luke kicked open the bathroom door. Someone needed to make a decision, and it was his room. "You go first."

Ryan hesitated. "You're sure you don't mind?

“I mind you stinking up my room!” he retorted. “Go! I'll dig out some clean clothes and stuff for you. Just use any towel in there." Ryan acquiesced and walked into the bathroom, closing the door and leaving Luke to sort some clothing.

As he heard the water running, he started making two piles on the bed. Two set of everything; loose fitting cargo shorts, tee shirts, boxers and sports socks. He chose the underwear with care, making sure it was two of the best pairs he had; one black and one white. It wasn’t often that someone else might get to wear them - particularly a guy he had an interest in! He did his best to make a pile that he thought might work for Ryan. A few minutes later, he heard the water stop in the bathroom. Ryan came out looking refreshed and with a towel wrapped around his waist. In his hand he carried a tight bundle of sweaty clothes. These he stuffed directly into his backpack.

Luke did his best not to stare, and covered by pointing to the bed. "Pick a pile. If you don’t like the tee, there’s more in the second drawer down."

“’Thanks…” As Ryan moved further into the room, they crossed paths and Luke closed the door of the bathroom behind himself.

As he stood under a cooling spray he wondered what it was about Ryan that seemed to press all his buttons - the ones that made a mess out of his emotions? At times he felt like an elevator being operated by a little kid who liked to see all the buttons lit up at once! A familiar friend now, the Klamp swayed at his groin, but he was too irritated with himself to dwell on it. Instead he began to prioritize in his head, deciding which subjects needed the most study.

He finished off and scrubbed himself dry before tucking the towel around his waist and returning to his room. Dressed now, Ryan was lounging on his bed, reading a book. Luke grinned to himself. Ry’s pile - the one he was sure he’d go for; the one with the black boxers - had been taken.

"I can go if you want me to?" He caught Ryan's eyes straying to the door, and read between the lines. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising considering the way he fired off at him earlier in the week. He hesitated only briefly. There were only three options.

One: he could ask Ryan to leave; make him stand out on the landing... but that was rude.

Two: he could take his clothes into the bathroom to change in privacy, but that seemed equally petty.

Three: three was, "I don't care," he grunted, shrugging casually. "You've seen it all before."

Strictly it was true; there had been countless times over the years - the locker rooms, the showers, even changing at the Alexis place to jump into their pool - that they'd displayed their nads without a second thought. But, however much he tried to believe otherwise, now was a little different, and he was acutely aware of two things: the first, that he’d just been recently circumcised and had hardware mechanically bonded to his body. The second? Totally frankly – these days, Ry gave him erections!

After getting that straightened out, his eyes flicked from the bed to the pile of clothes, and from the clothing to finally rest on the towel around his waist. Now he had another problem – or maybe he was only creating the problem inside his own twisted mind? The problem was, after already brazenly declaring that he didn't care a toss if Ryan sat there while he changed, he was going to look suspicious if he acted as if it really DID matter. He had to remain indifferent, not look jittery! He decided to play it cool. First he used the towel to dry his legs and then dropped it on the floor to reach for his boxers.

“My God! You weren’t kidding!”

He turned back to catch Ryan grinning widely. “What?”

Ryan sniggered. “You said earlier you were going to cut back the bushes. Holy cow! You weren’t kidding!!”

Luke traced Ryan’s gaze back to his groin and, caught off guard, shifted uncomfortably. He'd actually forgotten about the results of that little activity.“Oh that!" It was funny how quickly he'd got used to seeing himself like that! Doggedly he stuck to the script. "I had to trim it for the operation.”

Ryan smirked and then gave him a surprisingly detemined look. “Well for God’s sake, at least show some respect for yourself now and keep it trimmed back.”

Luke studied himself. It seemed an odd thing for Ryan to say. He kept his tone offhand. “We'll see. Maybe.” Not a chance he was letting it grow!

Ryan pointed. "So that’s the Klamp thing you were talking about?" His question didn’t really need an answer and there was no point in pretending it wasn't there. "Yep - it's called a SmartKlamp." He picked it up in his fingers, studying it again too.

"I only saw it briefly when you got it stuck in the restroom last week,” Ryan continued. “Come on then, let's have a look. You actually promised me you were going to tell me about it!"

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

You know, I honestly wondered if Ry could hear my teeth grinding!

Since the incident in the restrooms the previous Monday, I’d waited patiently all week for him to show some teeniest, weeniest bit of interest in the fact that I’d just done something huge...and nothing. Not a whisper! And suddenly NOW he wants to see? Now, when I’m standing in my room with ZERO clothes on?

CRAP!

I struggled to bite back a rankling irritation. "I'm not some bloody zoological specimen, you know!" From the look on Ryan’s face, I knew I’d been a bit sharp. I also knew I had a problem. I mean, almost any time would be better than this, but Ry was perched on my bed clearly - like every other 'normal' guy - not seeing any problem with my current state of undress. His face also reminded me of how crap I'd been to him earlier in the week. I didn't want that again and softened quickly. “Come on then, if you need a gawp!"

"A gawp!” Ryan laughed out loud. “What’s a gawp?? You Brits have such weird words!"

“We have weird words?” I shook my head, affronted. “Don't you dare start on that! From a nation that's wrecked the Queen's English, that’s ripe!“

Ry just ignored me - it was an old battle. He perched on the edge of the bed and waited as I tried to make it look that I didn't have a gay bone in my body! "Come on then," he smirked. "Let's have a gawp!"

He seemed to have no intention of getting off the bed, so I had no choice but to step over so that he could see. His head bobbed around my groin and it didn’t take many moments before the potent image of me standing with my well-trimmed pubes close to his mouth was a bit much. It seemed sensible to sit and just hope it would be over soon. Leaning back my elbows, I tried not to think about the obvious as Ry settled in for a close-up.

"Does it still hurt?" He didn’t seem in any hurry to end the examination.

For God's sake, couldn't questions like that be saved for when I had clothes on? "Now, you mean? No, not anymore. I’m not sure what it will be like when it comes off though."

“Wow – it’s amazing!”

Shit! I chewed my lip. The whole proximity thing, alongside his choice of words were not the most helpful.

"You can see how the mechanism works. Can I...?" Ryan glanced up, asking for permission to touch.

Double crap! How the hell had I got into this situation? But what else could I do now? Tell him to piss off and get his own? I nodded. BLOODY HELL - just try to think of Gran Hibbert, I commanded myself. Gran wasn't the hottest chick on the planet these days! Trying to control my horror, I watched as Ryan picked up the Klamp in his fingers and began to gently manipulate the device.

"It's so simple when you actually see how it works," Ryan murmured, twisting the device to see it from all angles. It was no good. However much I tried to pretend that Ry was actually Gran, it wasn't working. A real problem was growing.

Literally.

I tried to stop breathing. I tried to stop everything in an attempt to keep as still as he could, knowing that any tensing of those particular muscles was likely to result in something spectacularly disastrous! Ry clearly had NO idea what I was struggling with as he played with the SmartKlamp. The uncomfortably awkward feeling was unsuccessfully competing with the impact of lying naked on my bed with Ry holding my dick in his hand. Even with the help of Gran Hibbard, it was impossible to ignore. Before it even became obvious, I could feel that the inevitable climb had begun. I knew I had about ten more seconds, before it would become noticeable.

"Err....have you finished yet? And anyway what are you doing?"

Ryan continued to fiddle. "Gawping!" he declared, using the most ridiculous pseudo-posh English accent; one that even Simon would crack up to.

Oh CRAP!

It was the worse thing that could have happened. The way Ryan came out with it, even in my delicate situation, I couldn’t help it and coughed out a belly laugh. The result of that little outburst was immediate and I started filling out and lengthening. Okay - time was way past up for letting this go on like this. I HAD to get covered up - and fast!

“What happens if I do this?” Ryan sniggered, but not in a way that sounded good.

"What?" I was leaning forward, already preparing to get up off the bed to get something on and was totally unprepared for what happened next.

"This!" The grin Ry flashed was distinctly evil and there was no time to react before he reached his finger through the end of Smartklamp tube and scraped the tip of my exceedingly sensitive glans.

I screeched. Literally - an earstopping squeal of sharp agony erupted as I launched off the bed. I heard Ryan screech too - with laughter. Wheeling around I could see him rolling over on the mattress holding his stomach. However, all the screeching wasn't the biggest thing going on. My dick didn't seem to know it hadn't been invited to the party. Everything came together and it began to rapidly rotate upwards. With the device now pointing way past horizontal and fast extending, I grabbed for anything in my pile of clothes that might cover it up!

"Ry!" Outraged, I held my boxers in front of me in an effort to hide what had now become a fully-fledged erection. "What the fuck did you do that for?"

Ryan was still curled up laughing. I wasn't sure what he'd seen of my boner. Before I could get an answer, a voice came from the landing. "Luke...are you OK? I heard a shout?"

OH SHIT! GREAT FUCKING TIMING!

* * *

There was a tap at the door and Luke stared frantically at it. How the hell was he going to explain why he was in his bedroom, completely naked with his best friend and sporting a major erection, to his mother? Could it get any worse? Trying to not think about the fact that he was now as hard as a rock in front of Ryan, he rapidly shoveled up his clothing and fled to the bathroom. Just in time, he closed the bathroom door as his bedroom one opened. He heard Ryan cover for him in a remarkably cool voice. "Oh, he's just in the bathroom getting dressed after his shower, Lucy. I'm sure he'll be out in a minute."

From behind the door, Luke caught her reply. "I've cut a bit of cake for the two of you. It's just downstairs for when you want it." With that, she padded away.

Even though the coast was clear, he made sure he was dressed before he came out again. On his bed, Ryan was still grinning. If he was trying to appear contrite, it wasn’t working. Luke glared at him, a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “What the hell did you do that for?” he demanded.

It seemed to do the trick and Ryan became more apologetic. “I’m really sorry. That was mean. It just came back and I had to know.”

“Had to know what!” He was still pissed.

“Mom’s sister – well actually her kid, Justin. Not that he’s a kid anymore…” Ryan broke out into a grin again.

Interrupting him, Luke remained angry. “Who the fuck is Justin?”

Ryan’s face fell and, from Luke’s outburst, he seemed to realize just how far he’d overstepped the mark. “Bud…I’m sorry.” He sobered up and went quiet.

That was the thing about Ryan. When he said sorry, he really meant it – and it also hard to stay mad with him. Luke rolled his eyes, hit him with a cushion and let it go. “Forgiven." He'd chalk it way to experience he decided. It was not every day he got to show off his woody to Ry and get away with it - if he even saw it at all. He pulled a face and then broke out a wry grin. "Now who’s Justin?”

“Mom’s, sister’s…”

“Yes – you said – your cousin.”

A smirk returned to Ryan’s face. “I mean this was years ago – before you came here. They live down near Macon. We were visiting and I heard them talking about Justin. The poor kid was waddling around looking like a constipated duck! Someone let on - his sister I think it was – that he’d just been circumcised and that it was really sensitive. I think he was done in a hospital; stiches and all. He must have been about six then.”

Luke grunted. Some of it sounded familiar. “How the hell do you put up with it?”

"Put up with what?" replied Ryan. He looked puzzled.

"You know.” It seemed pretty obvious to him. "The sensitivity - with it cut I mean. It's unbearable!"

"Oh?" Ryan seemed to consider the question and stretched out comfortably on the bed again. "The end of mine isn't sensitive at all - at least not like yours seems to be - but then I was done when I was a baby. I guess it's all I've ever known. Maybe it wears off after a while?"

"That what the Doctor said, too," Luke nodded, remembering now. "Christ, I hope it doesn’t take long!!" It was one thing to be a little more sensitive for a while, but something else never to be able to touch the damn thing again! As he cleared up the towels, he didn’t notice Ryan picking up the small booklet that he’d forgotten was still on the bedside table.

"What's this then?" Ryan started leafing through it and Luke saw his eyes go a little wider as he took in the images of penises that formed the main content of the circumcision booklet Tiberius had given him. Successfully, he stayed calm enough to reply nonchalantly, "Oh, the Doc gave it to me to explain the whole circumcision deal. Styles and that kind of thing….you know…."

"Styles?" Ryan replied. “Like a haircut?” The surprise was evident, becoming a smirk. “So, you’re telling me that you got given a special style for that trim you’re sporting down there! What do they call it? The ‘Crop and Cut’?”

“Crop and Cut?” Luke rolled his eyes. “Is that the best you can come up with? There’s a bit more to it than that!” He sniggered but was also on safe ground. This was something he knew a whole lot about – and didn't mind sharing his wisdom!

Ryan beat him to it. His eyes gleamed challengingly. ““Okay - for starters, why did you want to get cut in the first place?”

It might not have been the first question he was expecting, but it was still one was one that Luke was quite ready for. He took the booklet from Ryan, turned a few pages and gave it back.

“Phimosis?” The surprise was written across Ryan's face, and his eyes were scanning the page. “Oooohhh…that’s not good!” Luke guessed he seen the image of a foreskin that couldn’t retract. “You have that?”

“Had.”

Ryan seemed genuinely shocked that he seemed to have missed something important. He looked quite put out and grimaced. “You should have told me.”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe…probably.” It was complicated.

Ryan seemed to gather himself. “Okay, well you need to tell me about it now. And about the op too. But first, your mom said there was cake.”

The questions and answers started even as they were going down the stairs. They retrieved the plates of cake and returned to his room. Deciding they needed liquid, he popped back to the kitchen and picked up the bottle of Coke. His mum wasn't there, so he skipped on the glasses. By the time he returned, Ryan had found some jazz on his music center and was back on the bed, studying the booklet again.

Looking for the best place to park himself, Luke settled down on the floor with his back to the bed and took a swig before passing the bottle up.

Ryan chugged briefly and then replaced the cap. “So,” he said, getting back to where they had left off, "how long did it take?"

"Only about an hour - forty minutes in the theatre."

"They knocked you out for it then?"

Luke shook his head. "Injections - locals, like at the dentist."

“Youuch!” Luke turned and grinned as he caught Ryan grimacing. But his friend also seemed ready to keep listening as he explained most of the operation. It was one thing he'd been waiting all week to do and he began to enjoy letting it all out. Ryan asked questions now and again, laughing at the funny bits, grimacing when the knife started slicing!

The more they talked, the more Luke relaxed and his confidence grew. If anything, it was Ryan that made sure they stayed on topic, clearly feeling he had the right to know everything. Luke didn't blame him - he was probably right. Stuff he would never have dared to reveal just slipped out naturally. He even confessed to the part about having a huge boner in the night after the procedure, and having to pee in the bath. Then it had seemed quite worrying. Now it felt totally hilarious and they both nearly wet themselves! Ever so often, he would refer to something in the booklet that he learned. Resting on the bed, Ryan looking over his shoulder, reading along.

They went on to talk quite animatedly about circs and the differences between being cut and uncut. There were some moments of frank honesty as they touched on how dicks looked both soft and hard and what difference it made for the cut and uncut. If there had happened to be an exam on circumcision that coming week, they would both pull straight A's. Or in his case, not so straight...!

It was okay. In fact, it was fun and he really enjoyed it. As far as I could tell, it seemed Ryan did too.

It was going great!

And then there was a tap and his mum poked her head around the door. He was releived to see Ryan, who was holding the booklet, drop it out of sight alongside the bed. His mum was holding the cordless phone. It had to be for him.

"Who is it?" Standing, he stepped to the door to take it.

"It's Josh Wyeman," she mouthed softly. She appeared to mistake his look of horror for something that looked like he had no idea who Josh Wyeman might be. "Stacey's father?"

Luke swallowed. From the look on her face he had the impression she had already spoken to the guy. She held out the phone and he gripped it. There was a long, rather uncomfortable moment where she didn't let go and her beady eyes drilled him. It was impossible to read her, or to know how much trouble he was in. He took the phone and turned away, walking slowly towards the bathroom to try to put some distance between himself and her and Ryan.

"Hello?"

"Luke?"

He recognized the voice of the tall man, last seen glaring at him at the marquee, who was Stacey's father.

"Yes....good morning sir..." His tone was formal and tight, painfully resigned to the idea that he was going to get dragged across the coals. Wyeman had probably already given it all to his mum and there would be another toasting once Wyman had finished with him.

"Good morning to you too, Luke." The easygoing nature of Wyeman's reply surprised him. "I was just speaking to your mom." Luke stiffened again.

"Yes sir..." From plenty of experience, he knew it was usually better to 'fess up' first when he'd done something wrong. His mum was usually a little easier on him if he told the truth up front before she got it out of him. He was still trying to work out how best to apologize for what he hadn't done to Stacey, when Wyeman really surprised him.

"Luke, I called for a couple of reasons. I was looking for a contact number for your friend, Owen. My son Oliver was trying to track him down."

"Yes sir."

"Lucy just gave me that."

Lucy? He was calling his mum by her first name? It sounded...hell, he didn't know how it sounded.

"But I needed to speak to you too."

Here it comes.

"To apologize."

"Apologize?" His mouth flapped. It sounded completely the wrong way round. "I...I don't understand, sir." His eyes flicked to where Ryan was lying on his bed, watching him. Thankfully, his mum had already left.

Wyeman came in his ear again. "Luke, it seems I was wrong about you and I felt the need to put it right."

"Sir?"

"I have to confess, when Stacey ran out of the tent last night, I'm afraid I thought the worst. She'd been with you on the dance floor, and then...well, it was only from talking to her after that I found I'd misjudged you, and for that I apologize."

He felt really uncomfortable. "Mr. Wyeman, honestly, there's no need."

Wyeman rode over the top, but not unpleasantly. "For me there is. My daughter explained that it had been her that had put you in a difficult situation." Luke cringed wondering exactly WHAT she had told her father about what had literally stood between them on the dance floor?

"Let me say that your respect for your parents' wishes says a lot."

"Yes sir," he muttered, feeling a complete fraud.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for coming to Stacey's big night, and I hope it won't be too long before we see you again."

"Yes sir. Thank you."

Shell-shocked, he disconnected the call and Ryan pounced on him. "What the hell was all that about?"

"Nothing."

"Your mom said it was Josh Wyeman. Stacey's father? You were at her party last night."

Luke frowned. "How did you know?" He may have said he was going out, but he knew for certain he'd never mentioned to Ryan that it had been Stacey’s do. It was a petty thing, but it perplexed him.

Ryan seemed unconcerned. Picking up the bottle, he took another swig. “No, you’re right, you did try to hide that dirty little secret! Todd told me after school – asked me if I was coming. He seemed to know you were expecting to be there.”

Luke sat back down on the floor with his back to the bed and took the bottle. It made sense.

"So - come on," Ryan pressed. "What happened?"

“You really don’t want to know!” He took a long swig from the bottle.

“I really do! I can always ask Todd, you know…”

“If you want to know, I think she fancies me, that’s all.”

Ryan grinned. “And you fancy her?’

“Not really.’

“But you did something – why else would her father be on the phone! Shit Luke, have you been a bad boy?” Ryan looked evilly gleeful.

“It was nothing like that. He rang to apologize.”

“HE rang to apologize? To YOU? My God, this gets better! What the hell happened?”

Luke held his head in his hands. In the cold light of day, it seemed totally bizarre. He started sniggering and Ryan looked over his shoulder, completely bemused. “She got the wrong idea. That’s all.”

“About what?”

“She thought I had the hots for her.” He was beginning to giggle uncontrollably.

“What’s so funny?” Ryan had started laughing too. “Come on, I don’t get it?”

He was losing it now. It all just seemed so stupidly hilarious. “My Smarklamp...”

“The plastic thing you have for your circumcision?”

He nodded. “She wanted me to dance with her. I think...well I think she felt it.”

Ryan’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God… no…”

He was almost crying. “Yes…I’m sure of it…”

Ryan squealed. The penny had dropped. “She thought you’d popped a chubby on her?”

Luke moaned helplessly. “Oh God – it was awful!” Ryan fell off the bed and rolled onto the floor, completely wasted.

It took some time to recover, but eventually they got back to the circumcision booklet. "So, you asked for a high and tight...like this one" Ryan indicated one of the images, and then sniggered. "Stacey'll be happy. If you want, I can cut it out and mail it to her!"

"Piss off. I do NOT fancy Stacey Wyeman!"

"Better still," Ryan hooted. "Send her that and a picture of the SmartKlamp side by side, with a note, 'spot the difference'"

He stood his ground. "You're just jealous!" he replied, smugly. "If you've got it, flaunt it!"

"Seeing the pitiful thing you were sporting earlier, in your dreams!" Ryan shot back, laughing. He finished the last of the coke and tossed the bottle at the waste bin. It missed. Luke winced ever so slightly. It sounded like Ryan really had seen his unfortunate woody after all!

Ryan seemed to sober up too. "Okay – final vote - here's my opinion." He started pointing to the various styles that were laid out on one spread, discarding them one at a time. "No....no....definitely not....possibly....no...." Luke's unease passed as it seemed Ryan didn't care about his earlier display. Finally Ryan stopped on high and tight. "That one. That's hot. That's what I would chose. That's what mine's like."

Luke nodded appreciatively, carried away again by the frank conversation. "I know. Yours is really sexy - I like it…"

A potent silence descended. He bit his lip, realizing what he'd let slip out. The disquiet continued. A vacuum of nothing filled the room.

Fuck, just start speaking he commanded himself as he thought of all the better things he could have said if it were possible to turn the clock back. Something like ‘Yours is nice…’? No, that didn’t sound right either. What about ‘Yours is done well…’? No, that sounded like a barbequed sausage! What about just saying nothing, and going on with life normally. Yep – that would have been best….

I know. Yours is really SEXY. I LIKE it!

SHIT! What the hell was that? Why didn’t he just come out with it, with something less obvious like ‘I’d like to touch your dick Ry!" He studied the empty Coke bottle that had rolled away from the bin and the seconds extended. The bottle offered no answers, so he stared at the booklet, willing for some conversation, desperate for something from Ryan that would indicate that what he had said had meant nothing. Or maybe something!

Finally he could bear it no more.

He tried to sound brash, though to him it sounded false. “Okay, that came out wrong. Fuck…it was even a bit weird…” He risked a backwards glance. Ryan was watching him, silent and unreadable. In the background, the plaintive saxophone did nothing to diminish his sense of disquiet. Ryan reached out his hand and touched his shoulder. It felt tender. “Luke,” he whispered.

There was something about the voice that felt strange. As Ryan touched his shoulder, it felt as if time stood still. He was frozen by indecision – yet the room felt overly warm, even claustrophobic. Resting on the bed just by his shoulder he could feel Ryan’s presence and hear his breathing.

Luke’s mouth went dry, and it was all he could do not to tremble. He shook his head; the fear of making the BIGGEST mistake tore at him. This was horrible. But what if they really were both the same? Just two ordinary guys who happened to be gay, but didn't dare to say or know the right way to tell each other? On the other hand, he knew what Simon meant now. It had to be all a stupid daydream, and he was just about to ruin a friendship and become a pariah with everyone that mattered.

But the hand resting gently on his shoulder couldn't be ignored. He was just about to reach up and touch Ryan’s tenuous gesture in recognition of his own feelings, when Ryan whispered again, deep and husky this time. “Oh babe," he gasped, though it didn't sound the least bit sexy, "I love it when you talk dirty!” Ryan burst into paroxysms of laughter as Luke turned back and glared at him in shock!

Bastard!

He was caught between outrage, nausea and huge relief that, by the narrowest of margins, he'd only just avoided total life disaster. With his heart hammering in his chest, he played out the game, just to make sure he was on the safe side. “Oh God, Ry,” he squealed in a high falsetto, “ I want your babies – let’s do it…now…right on my bed!” The stupid voice covered his breathless panic. Then he stood up, grabbed a pillow and started beating the crap out of Ryan, who curled up on the bed, almost crying with laughter.

Ryan moaned deliriously. “Shit Luke – you should have seen your face! It was priceless!”

At that moment, there was a shout from the bottom of the stairs. "Luke.... are you in?" Simon was back home.

23. Cookout

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Cookout

"Boys - are you up yet?"

Awakened by her voice, Simon heard Toby’s mom as she shouted from the hallway. Towards dawn, he’d slipped down onto his own mattress. Neither of them wanted to risk her finding them curled up together. It was a bright day, with light pouring past blinds they’d never closed the night before.

“Hey Mom.” Above him, Toby grunted. “We’re just getting up!”

A bleary eyed face popped into view from above. Simon studied the face carefully as the familiar features yawned.

Toby rubbed his eyes. “Do you know what time it is?”

Simon shook his head and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those toffee colored eyes. Those same eyes found the bedside clock. "Looks like it’s gone nine-thirty.” Toby scratched his nose as if they were having the most normal observation in the world. “And it's no good,” he announced. “I need a pee!" Toby didn’t seem at all self-conscious as he pushed back the sheets and, completely in the buff, climbed over Simon to take his morning woody with him to the bathroom. He put his head around the door to make sure the corridor was clear and made a dash for it.

Some moments later, there was a tap at the door. It was Toby’s mum. “Toby, are you decent?”

Decent?

He doubted that a whole range of things that he and her son had been doing were activities she’d describe as ‘decent’! He sidestepped the question. ‘It’s just me Mrs. Skerrit. Toby went to the bathroom.”

Her voice filtered again through the paneled wood. "Well I'm just going food shopping. I’ve left the cereal out for the both of you, and there's bread to make toast if you want it. I’ll be about an hour”

“Okay.” Moments later, Simon heard the front door open, but she had one more parting shot. “And maybe you can open the windows!" With that, the front door closed, and he heard the car back out of the driveway before accelerating down the hill.

Immediately, Toby was back – though his piss had done little to minimize the rampant boner. It made Simon smile as he tried to take stock of the situation. Whatever it was that had gone on between them, he knew he didn’t want it to end – and by the looks of what Toby was blatantly sporting, neither did he!

“Move over!” Toby squeezed onto the mattress and under his duvet, clearly without any concerns that they’d been in bed together most of the night, and seemingly quite happy to get back there again. The more Simon thought about it, the more excited he got. It didn’t take long for Toby to find that that he was hard.

"Don't you need one?" Toby asked.

With some renewed confidence, cheekiness returned. "I think I already did it.

“When?”

“In your mouth."

"I mean a piss, you asshole!"

"So did I!" Simon squealed with laughter.

"Eeuuu - that's gross!" Toby beat him with a pillow until, still hiding under the sheets, Simon begged for mercy. Then Toby pulled back the bedding, to take a look at what seemed quite ready for attention.

He suddenly felt rather skittish and covered himself with his hand. Past Toby’s shoulder he saw something move at the window. "Oh my God!" Hurriedly, he pushed Toby away and pulled the edge of the duvet protectively over himself again. Then he saw what it was and swore. "Hell – Toby! The cat's watching us!"

Toby turned and looked to the window from where, past the open blinds, Gizmo studied them. He burst out laughing. "I told you so! Now look - you've turned him gay, flashing your dick an' all!"

He pulled a face. "Get rid of him. And close the blinds. People might see us!"

"It's the backyard, for God's sake!" Sniggering, Toby crossed to the window and banged on it. Startled, Gizmo jumped off and scurried away. He partially closed the blinds. "Come on – Mom’s gone out. Let's get a shower."

He swallowed, deliciously horrified. "Together?"

Without answering, Toby strode out, leaving the door open invitingly. He stared at the waiting gap for a few moments and sly smile broke out on his face. Pushing back the sheets, he hurried after him.

* * *

“Move over!” Simon giggled, as they jockeyed for position under the refreshing water. Under the shared shower, he and Simon bantered and played.

From behind, he felt arms snake around his middle; Toby clearly relishing the intimate body contact. He had to admit - it felt good. “What’s that for?”

“Just checking you’re not some fairytale dream…” Toby wiggled his fingers, demanding attention. "Put some shampoo on my hands."

“Why?” He couldn’t be bothered to wait for an answer and poured anyway, going back to lazily rubbing shampoo through his own locks. A moment later, he started giggling. “What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s obvious isn’t it? Washing your hair!” Toby’s hands had dropped down to begin shampooing his curly light colored bush. “The last time I saw, it was matted with jizz!”

Simon sniggered. “That was your fault!” He giggled. “That tickles!” Then he groaned. “Tobe – now what are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Extending the lathering process, Toby kneaded him with his hands and began to work on him. “Like I said,” Toby murmured. “I’m proving you’re not a fairytale dream." He paused as he continued to manipulate through the shampoo. “Although, if it was,” he added. “It would have to be Aladdin!”

By the time he’d stepped into the shower alongside Toby, Simon had already become pretty excited. As if he hadn’t seen enough the night before, Toby then wanted to take time for a full examination! It had been fun and completely frank, and had washed away most of his lingering awkwardness.

“I seem to remember,” Toby sniggered, “that you had to rub it a bit, before anything came out – the lamp, I mean…!”

Simon hissed softly as he looked to where the hands were working him. In fact he really did have the appearance of the spout of Aladdin’s legendary lamp – and he knew he was more than happy for Toby to conjure something forth! He was getting really close, when Toby stopped. He grunted in displeasure at being left high and dry. “Awe – come on – you can’t leave me like this.”

Toby wasn’t dismissive, but there was a glint of something unyielding in his eye. “Maybe later.” His tone became conciliatory. “Anyway, Mom will be back soon and the water’s getting cold. We’d better get out.”

The idea that Toby’s mum might return at any moment doused his excitement like a bucket of cold water and they quickly got out and dried off.

* * *

After the shower, they’d made it back to Toby’s room to dress. He’d looked critically at the pair of white briefs he’d brought and then started searching under the bed, where he unearthed the red boxers Toby had lent to him the previous evening. He’d found the jizz covered blue ones, too!

"You can have some clean ones, you know!" Toby had offered, as he held up his prize.

"Nope - these are cool. I'll have to bring them back unwashed though." He flashed a knowing grin. "Mum might get a bit of a shock if they turned up in the basket!" With that he’d slipped them on, admired them a moment and then pulled on the rest of his clothes that he’d brought with him, fresh for that day.

In the kitchen, a little later, they cuddled gently, waiting for the kettle to boil. Toby filled a bowl with cereal and added milk. “Mom will be back soon.” He sighed, "I wish it was just us…" It echoed something Simon was thinking.

“I know – but we’ll have to tell people eventually though, won’t we? What about your mum?”

“Mom knows.” Toby counted her in his ‘just us’.

Simon leaned back; shocked that Toby seemed to want to count her in his ‘just us’. “Your mum knows?” Suddenly he felt panicky. “About us?”

Toby shook his head quickly. “No – just me. She knows I’m gay. Not you.”

“Oh.” He found it almost impossible to compute. “Doesn’t she mind?”

“Why would she mind?” Toby replied quite sharply and then went back to the cereal

Simon shrugged, still feeling nervous. There suddenly seems a huge amount he didn’t know about the Skerrits. He could think of lots of reasons why most mums would mind. “I can’t tell mine. I mean I want to, but…” He trailed off and his eyes widened. “You won’t tell your mum about us though, will you? You mustn’t!”

‘Why not?” Toby upended the bowl to finish the rest of the milk. He seemed unimpressed. "I tell her everything."

“Because she might tell my mum and dad and I’m not ready for that. They’ll probably say I can’t see you.”

“Oh,” Toby seemed to consider it. “I never thought of that. Okay. No parents.”

For a while they cuddled. In his head Simon considered the day in front of them. “What do you want to do today?”

Toby sniggered. ”What do you think?” It didn’t take much guessing what kinds of things HE had in mind. “And you could always stay over tonight again.” Before Simon could respond, Toby blinked. “Oh - I completely forgot!”

“Forgot what?” That he was going somewhere?

“I’ve got something for you! Come with me - there's something I want you to have." Determined, Toby took him by the hand and pulled him towards his studio. At the door, they paused. "I've finished it at last. I was going to give it to you today anyway." With that, he pushed open the door and Simon followed him in and saw immediately what waited on the easel.

"Me and mom got it properly framed."

The frame was new. Light colored; teak. Simple but by no means cheap looking. The painting of the boy, sailing a boat. His boat. If anything, the colors had become richer; the energy more vital; the exuded passion for the wind and wave, palpable. "I picked the frame specifically for your room," Toby rushed. "Do you like it?"

Wordlessly, Simon crossed to the easel, and for the second time, he reached out to touch it. Even when Toby stood behind him to hold him, there were still no words, and none were needed.

It came on him powerfully, unexpectedly. What was in front of him was such a gift; something that probably few people ever received. Someone he knew so well had become so much more precious. It burst out of him before he could stop it.

“I love you…”

At once, he winced, cringing at how silly it sounded. He turned fearfully to find that Toby didn’t seem either outraged or amused by his outburst. A satisfied smile reached Toby’s eyes as he murmured. “I SO wanted you to say that first!” Then the front door opened and closed and, reluctantly, they parted. Toby called out. "We're in here Mom!"

"Give me a hand with the shopping can you!"

They found her in the kitchen, bringing in two of what turned out to be many bags. “I was showing Si the boat,” Toby said. His mom stopped what she was doing and looked genuinely pleased.

“It’s really fantastic, isn’t it, Mrs. Skerrit?” bubbled Simon.

“Mom helped choose the frame,” said Toby. Simon’s face redoubled in pleasure.

Grace smiled. “I’m glad you like it, Simon. Our little gift to say thank you for keeping Toby out of trouble!”

Toby rolled his eyes, and changed the subject. He seemed to be eyeing the bags. “You’re not feeding an army are you? How many more are there?”

“A few – be a good lad and bring them in for me.”

“I’ll do the dishes,” offered Simon. “Do you want a coffee Mrs. Skerrit?”

“THAT, young man, would be perfect!”

Finally, all the bags were in. As his mom settled onto one of the breakfast bar stools to drink her coffee, Toby started nosing through the bags. In one, he found burgers, sausages and chicken.

“I thought we’d have a BBQ tonight,” Grace said.

At once Toby seemed suspicious, though Simon jumped in with enthusiasm. “BBQ? I love BBQs!”

Toby continued to glare at his mom skeptically. Simon knew that their old gas grill rarely saw use. Normally it was when they had guests other than him. You can’t go wrong with a BBQ, she usually said. Finally Toby seemed to see it. “Mom who’s…”

“I met Marcus in the store today,” Grace interrupted, sipping her drink, observing them over the rim.

“Marcus? Who’s Mar… Oh..”

“Marcus Daniels.” She confirmed Simon’s uncomfortable guess. “He was shopping too.”

“Our Art teacher?” He was incredulous. “Does he shop?”

Grace smiled. “You’ll find everyone shops, dear. Even teachers. He and I were talking about James Bond.”

“Daniels watches Bond movies?” Toby shook his head. It seemed unlikely to Simon as well.

“His name is Mr. Daniels to you, Toby. And yes, even teachers watch movies!” She paused and considered them. “We decided we might go this evening, to go see the new one. It’s just out and everyone says its dynamite!”

It hung there between them, gradually sinking in.

“You’re dating Daniels?” Toby screeched, aghast.

She remained calmly aloof. “Mr. Daniels,” she repeated, “and no I’m not ‘dating’ him. We’re just going to the movies.”

"There's a difference?"

His mum ignored him. “We’re going and you two can come too, if you want. Popcorn, coke, the works.”

“That’s blackmail!”

Simon could see that Grace seemed unmoved by Tony’s outburst as she went back to sorting the shopping. Toby glanced at him, silently questioning. He shrugged. Both wanted to see Bond. Everyone was talking about it. But with Daniels?

Toby seemed to come to a decision. “Do we have to sit with you?” he asked his mum.

“Honey, you can sit where you like. Just be nice over dinner.”

Simon’s eyes flicked to the bags and back to Grace as the penny dropped.

“He’ll be here at four.” Her determined smile left him with no impression other than it was a done deal.

Toby let loose. “DANIELS is coming for DINNER? You can’t do that!”

No - he didn’t sound too excited either thought Simon.

“It’s Mr. Daniels, Toby dear,” she replied patiently, “and yes, I invited him for a BBQ. We can go to the movies afterwards.”

She returned to the bags, then paused. “He’ll be bringing his daughter.”

Two chins hit the floor and both he and Toby squeaked in horrified unison. “DANIELS HAS A DAUGHTER??”

Grace couldn’t hold it in and, as they stared at her aghast, she creased up with laughter. Within moments tears were streaming from her eyes. She slapped the table with her hand, trying to get her breath as the two of them watched her, baffled. “Oh my goodness,” she whooped. “Sorry, I just made that up! You should have seen your faces!” For a few moments, she lost it again, holding her splitting sides. “Oh gosh, that was priceless!”

She looked so hilarious – and it was quite funny - Simon fell to a grin Toby glared at him accusingly, and he didn’t blame him. He was the one who was going to have to live with it afterwards! Eventually, it seemed that even he was going to admit that it was funny and soon they were all laughing.

Before the feel-good factor passed, Toby made his bid. “Can Simon can stay over again tonight?"

Grace didn’t seem particularly bothered. “I don’t see why not. Do you want to sleep over with Toby for another night, Simon?” Perhaps she felt it was a fair exchange.

It caught him on the hop. “Oh…errr…yes. I mean…no…” OH CRAP – now he sounded guilty. “I’ll have to check with mum, but if it’s okay with her, that would be great – thanks.” He caught Toby’s eyes. They had that familiar glint again.

After they’d cleared up from breakfast, the first thing he wanted to do was to take the framed panting back home and mount it on his wall. So, wrapping it safely in a backpack, they biked down the hill. Once they got in, the downstairs seemed deserted, but noises were coming from upstairs. He stood on the bottom step and shouted. "Luke.... are you in?"

* * *

The afternoon heat remained and, at the Alexis home, the grills were on overtime.

After they’d been interrupted by Simon and Toby, he and Luke had got down to some study, but the sound of intermittent banging coming from Simon’s room as the pair tried to hang one of Toby’s painting was a pain. Eventually he and Luke had retreated to the back deck and worked there. Over some hastily demolished sandwiches that Lucy had made for them all, it came out that Simon and Toby were planning to go to the mall that evening, to see the new Bond movie. It seemed a great idea and he and Luke had quickly decided to do the same. Finally he’d had to leave for the cookout and had last seen Luke getting ready to hit the garden again for some more pruning!

Back home now, delicious smells now wafted across the pool as the mountains of ribeye grew. Children, young and not so young squealed and chattered in the pool. The beers flowed and juice stained the mouths of little kids. In an ideal world it was meant to be perfect American pastime, but Ryan hated the monthly regimental officer cookout with a passion. However, years ago, his father had made that abundantly clear that it wasn’t a tradition he had permission to miss.

The regular BBQ for the regimental officer 'elite' and their families was meant to be an informal, team building, social activity. But if you wanted to get on in your career, God forbid if you didn’t attend regularly. Informal though it was meant to be, it was just another war game, with all the rules of engagement in place. So, obeying orders, he was there, playing the game.

From behind the defensive buffer of a book, he lazed under one of their sun canopies and studied the crowd. There were probably representatives from fifteen or twenty families that day. A big turnout. He cold see most of the usual crowd plus a couple of new additions, who's kids, still new to the game, played shyly to one side. Almost all the officers were family men, though theoretically it wasn’t a requirement. Across the scene, wives flirted shamelessly with younger models of their husbands, or sat together and exchanged army gossip. Several of the men jockeyed for position in a common field of conflict; the meat!

Top dog: the alpha male in this setting? Without doubt it was always the guy who took control of the grills and wielded the tools. And, irrespective of whether he was the highest-ranking officer in play or even if the cookout was hosted at someone else’s house, his father invariably took charge.

All of it was so different from the type of family life he got to see at Luke’s home. He’d exchange it at the drop of a hat! He’d been around there that morning. They had meant to be studying, but that had got dumped when it became clear that Luke was keen to talk about other things!

Now THAT had been surprise!

After that, they’d got down to some work. He’d stayed for lunch and they’d done a bit more cleaning up in the garden before it had come time to get home for the cookout. Hearing that his brother was planning on seeing the Bond movie that night, Luke had suggested they make a night of it too. He’d jumped at it. What better way to wash away his distaste of having to sit through yet another one of these tedious afternoons!

From his quieter corner of the pool area, Ryan watched his father as he presided over what he deemed to be lesser men, giving them instruction as to how to properly cook the thick steaks. He was a medium sized bullish man, full of bile that was usually tempered in these settings. Mean and powerful - the All American Man.

And here too was he, the son his father required him to be. Ryan Alexis -All American Boy, doing what was expected, as he played the game.

From where the twin gas grills sizzled on the patio, his father turned his gaze his direction. The glower spoke volumes; he expected his son to engage the enemy, not hide behind a book. He also knew that, as far as Captain Ethan Alexis was concerned, everyone was the enemy!

Ryan looked away and back to his book. He had on trendy dark swim shorts, but with Fern Blackman in the pool, there was no way he was going in!

He was tired of so many things - not the least of listening to his father who, at times like this, frequently bragged about his top class, winner of a child. The truth was, this was the only place - amongst his own army peers - that his father seemed to realize he had a son, let alone recognized any of his achievements. He grown up never expecting to be complimented or encouraged other than when it’s only purpose would be to brag to those he saw as his inferiors, declaring that he, Captain Ethan Alexis, was a winner and sired only the best stock.

It was central to the less than subtle parental advice he picked up from his father - that mating with an Alexis was a true goal for any reasonable woman to aspire to! And he made it rather clear that, the big man that he was, in his time, he'd mated with many women other than Ryan's own mom. Ryan suspected that he still did.

Whether it was because they wanted All American Boy sperm or not, Ryan was often besieged by girls desperate to date him, or at least get him onto a bed for however long it took! This afternoon, a short while ago – yet again - he had already been severely grappled by the Blackman girl. At a BBQ like this, she liked to play with any kind of meat and he'd just about escaped with his manhood intact.

Still he played the game.

His mom was a manic-depressive. She was on a high now, flirting with some of the younger guys at the pool. Though she was well into her 40’s and still good in the kind of bathing costume his father encouraged her to wear for others to see, but not touch. She was a pawn in the game too, and he guessed she probably knew it. She would crash later and drink herself into oblivion. He pitied her for what she'd become, yet despite it all, he loved her. Maybe he should have hated her for being weak, for not standing up to his father, for being unable to protect him, but he couldn't. And at the times when the real mom dared to surface into moments of clarity, he knew she needed him.

Alcohol, shopping and endless therapy were her life, and she could afford the best, bringing plenty of old family money into the marriage. It was that money that also put him through private education - and some indomitable part of her survived to resist putting her family money into her husband's name. He knew it because he'd heard the arguments. He also suspected it was a big reason his father constantly put her down and debased her; angry because he didn't hold all the strings.

Why the hell did they all stay together? He had no fucking idea! He was just relieved she had already said he could go out for the evening.

And here they all were, playing the game of the All American Family who had everything they could want, living with success and luxury. He often wondered what some of the other happy looking families he watched around the pool were like behind closed doors. For the most part, the officers were old enough that their offspring were teenagers or grown up, although there was a scattering of babies that the girls cooed at. Even most of those were from round two or even round three marriages.

He wished Luke were here, though he knew it would never be allowed; a strict ‘Army Only’ policy applied. Even then, he'd never subject Luke to this world if he could help it. It's not that the army was a bad idea in itself - no, it was just some of the people in it who were rotten.

A stentorian voice boomed over the lawn towards him. "RYAN!"

He put down the book and trotted over, the obedient son/slave. Even in swim shorts, he still turned out in front of his father with military precision.

"Yes sir?" He oozed parade ground like attention, putting his ‘All American’ qualities on display, ramrod straight and shoulders back. It was actually quite impressive! Just play the game, he told himself. It’ll be over soon and you can disappear again. He watched his father study him, checking for the straight back and attentive demeanor. He seemed to be satisfied.

"Is it a good book, son?" His father’s eyes flicked to the lounger.

In fact, it was a great book; hilariously funny, yet complex and deep. He shook his head, choosing his words carefully. It was in the eyes; dismissive. His father had spoken. "Not really, sir." He affected a twinkle. "Gum for the eyes! I was about to go in the pool, but can I get anything for you?"

The lesser men looked on and laughed, impressed at Alexis senior's winner of a child. His father seemed satisfied with the response. "You should read more, son,” he declared, self-righteously. “It's good for you!" Ryan kept his face still.

"What are you reading Ryan?" The voice came from behind his father and he leaned to one side to locate the nearby easy chair and the individual who sat easily in it. Colonel Piper missed little and seemed as hawkish and commanding as ever. Despite himself, Ryan grinned. The Colonel was one of the good guys and, from his father's rants, the reason why Ethan Alexis had never advanced past Captain.

"Hello, Sir.” Ryan relaxed a little. “Actually, it's called 'The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy.'“ Luke had mentioned the book enough times that he'd finally stopped off at Waterstones and picked up a copy. It wasn't his normal genre, though he read voraciously. He'd been surprised at how good the book was.

‘Ah…” Piper’s eyes glinted with amusement. “So long, and thanks for all the fish!’”

Ryan laughed and threw one back. “Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and they ask me to pick up a piece of paper!” He wasn’t surprised at the exchange. It was typical of the Colonel that he would think widely enough that he would know a book like ‘Hitchhikers’. His father on the other hand, looked fit to bust a gut. A man whose pastimes flicked between the channels and the bar, he clearly thought the two of them had lost it.

“DON’T PANIC!” The additionally quip came from someone else and, from the glare he got, Ryan could also tell Alexis senior didn’t appreciate not being in the know.

"Son, just go to the fridge and bring some more beers. The coolers are nearly empty and I'm as dry as week-old camel dung."

"Yes sir!" Ryan smiled widely, trying to sound appropriately amused at his father's predictably pathetic humor. Play the game. He about-turned and headed to the kitchen, passing through it to the wide double garage where the oversized two-door fridge was stashed with slabs of drink. There was nobody else there and he relaxed. He planned to hang around for a few minutes, killing time before going back outside. He was in the process of lugging a 12 pack out of the fridge when a pair of feminine hands snaked around his waist, resting just above the waistband of his swimmers, caressing the bare skin over his tight stomach muscles.

He froze. SHIT, not again!

"I heard that Fern was planning to have you right there in the pool!" crooned a silky voice.

Ryan relaxed - mad with her at first, but unable to hold it long. "Don't be a tease Mel...and give me a hand with these drinks will you?" He turned round to face Melissa Piper. "And do me a favor will you? Ride shotgun on me for a bit?" He grinned at an attractive, 21 year old blond bombshell, acknowledging the only other human being on planet earth that knew that he, Ryan Ethan Alexis, preferred guys.

“I didn’t see you earlier? When did you arrive?” Damn, was he relieved Mel had turned up! At last the afternoon might even be bearable.

“I told Daddy I would make my own way here. What can I say…traffic was bad!” She shrugged. “Rank hath its privileges!” she added, grinning. He pulled a face. Ryan knew she was probably the only one in the whole set that could get away with it.

Effortlessly lifting several slabs, she followed him out. Those snaking arms carried formidable strength and God help the guy that got the wrong end of a pistol from her! After tipping the fresh cooled beers into the cooler, he abandoned his lounger and the pair settled down into a quiet corner of the lawn, well past far side of the pool, where they could talk without being overheard.

They made a cute couple he knew, though she was quite a few years older. A number of those around the pool were jealous of the easygoing friendship and made assumptions – though he never saw Mel in that way. She was, however, quite a stunner and more than one of his peers in the army set had challenged him, trying to find out if he was privately bonking her.

But what nobody else but Ryan knew was that, when it came to girlfriends - and Mel in particular - she already had one! How this unlikely partnership between himself and Mel Piper came about was a long story, but suffice it to say, they both shared secrets and both played the game that was expected of them.

"And how is the delightful Ella?" Ryan smiled, speaking softly and referring to the sparkling redhead that was Mel's love.

Melissa pouted. "Sadly, not here. Out of town all this weekend, I'm afraid."

Maybe that was why Mel had ended up here again, he wondered. Probably not. He suspected the only reason she regularly came to the officer cookouts with her illustrious parents was to make sure he was okay.

"And have you snagged Luke with your boyish charms yet?" She teased him playfully and Ryan glanced around discreetly. There was nobody in earshot, but it didn’t do any harm to be cautious. He saw Fern Blackman glaring at them from the other side of the pool; a look somewhere between distaste and frustration. Discreetly, he edged closer to Mel for protection.

He’d gone through a stage once with Mel when he had kept babbling on about Luke Summers. Luke was there, Luke did this, Luke said that, etc etc. By then she already knew about his sexuality - as did he, hers - and had caught on fast as to what was behind his enthusiasm for the ‘Luke’ in question. She could be quite persuasive and had cornered him in the pool one day at one of the cookouts. He smiled as he remembered the scene as she’d threatened him with a determined look in her eye; ‘Tell me about Luke, and the truth mind you, or I'm going to rip these trendy swim shorts off you, and then call Fern over!’ He knew Mel well enough by then to know she would do it too! He decided to be honest and had told her all about his feelings for the boy from England.

That had been nearly two years ago.

He shook his head. "Nah...just a dream I guess. Mind you," he added, brightening up and hoping to shock her a little, "he showed me his penis today!"

If she was surprised, she was much too skilled an adversary to let it show, and just shrugged. "I never really grasped what you guys see in dicks? They seem overrated to me!"

Ryan sniggered. She was good. Very good.

“He was just circumcised wasn’t he…?” She let it hang there until his eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.

“How did you…?”

“Ella was there.”

“Oh my God…I don’t believe you!” Yet, damn her, he DID believe her. How else would she have known anything about it? The pieces dropped onto the table and she waited while he arranged them into place. Finally he figured it out. “He went to see Doctor Tiberius!” All morning, Luke had never actually said a name. Just 'The Doc'. And Ella’s father, Doctor Tiberius was a Urologist.

Mel smirked.

“At the hospital?”

She shook her head.

“At his clinic then!” Ella was a med student and helped out there sometimes.

She nodded.

“So, Ella was on reception?”

“My dear sweet Ella was in the operating theatre, assisting with his delicate little noodle!” Her eyes laughed as she floored him.

“Oh my God!!” Ryan groaned and fell back on the grass. Who would have guessed?

‘She took pictures.”

“Funny girl!” They both knew how unlikely that was.

Mel smirked. “She did say he was quite cute though!”

Ryan moaned. “Don’t – you’re not helping!”

‘So he showed it to you then?” At least she had the decency to look surprised now.

He smirked at the sky with the memory. “This morning. He told me all about the op too, so don’t try and make anything up!” He sat up again. “He never said that a girl was in there though!”

“And…”

“She didn’t tell you about the procedure?”

Mel shook her head, though it was impossible to tell whether she was leading him by the nose.

“They used some special kind of medical device for it. He explained it all to me.”

“And you were thinking naughty thoughts, I bet!”

Ryan grinned, unabashed. “A few. It looks like something from a science fiction movie...quite sexy though!" It got them both laughing. “He said that it was still quite …errr…sore….”

Mel pounced again. “Ooohhh Ryan Alexis – let me guess – you offered to make it better!”

“Behave!” Turning a little pink, he told her off, though what he didn’t tell her was that Luke had said ‘ sensitive’ not sore, and had pulled a boner – he’d said, because of it. He'd quite hoped it wasn't the real reason! “I wonder how long it takes to recover from that kind of op?” The question was more rhetorical than anything else.

“Dunno.” Mel had a rather malicious glint in her eye. “Let’s ask Ella.”

“Nooo!” Horrified, he made a grab for the trendy phone she got out of her pocket, but she held him off and hit speed dial. “Mel!” he pleaded, but Ella answered quickly. Before long, she was on the line.

“Hey babe, it’s me.” Ryan couldn’t hear the voice, but he saw the broad smile spread over Mel’s face as she listened. In many ways it touched a sensitive nerve seeing the easygoing love between Mel and Ella. How long would he have to wait to get that, he wondered?

“Yep. I’m at the cookout…aha…same old same old. Ryan’s here though…and he has a question…”

“Mel!” Ryan muttered, looking around to ensure they were still alone.

“No…about Luke.” She grinned. “Yep – I just told him. You should have seen his face. It was priceless!”

Ryan buried his head in his hands.

“I’ve no idea why,” she continued, though her tone suggested otherwise, “but Ryan wanted to know if Luke would still be sore for a while yet?”

Ryan gave up. She was SO bad! Teasing and relentless, yet she seemed to know that he needed this kind of thing. In the midst of living a life of secrets, just the occasional chance to be a lovesick teenager in front of SOMEBODY was a lifesaver.

Mel listened to the voice in her ear. “Mmm…aha…really…” Her eyebrows flicked up and she smirked. Then she pulled a face. “That’s so is it?” She sniggered. “I’d better let him know – he’ll be devastated!”

“What?” Ryan squirmed. It was unbearable not knowing what they had been saying.

“Well - okay, there’s good new and bad news,” Mel declared after she’d put her phone away. “Or maybe it’s bad new and bad news.” She paused, looking thoughtful.

“Come on – what did she say?”

“She said that the first week of wearing a SmartKlamp would be rather delicate for Luke. Then after it comes off, his problems with sensitivity overload will really start!”

Ryan’s jaw dropped. He groaned and flopped back on the grass. “Please tell me she didn’t say that!” The whole idea of it was completely unbearable!

‘Well, maybe I jazzed it up a bit,” Mel giggled, “but that was the general idea.”

“And the bad news – or whatever’s left?”

Mel affected a pout. “She said that Luke was incredibly cute; that she liked him; he was lots of fun, and had a scorching-hot bod. She also said that when she’d finished with me she was going to try to pull him!”

Moments later, Ryan was almost crippled with laughter, to the point where it got the attention of others. A couple of girls swam over to their side and called for him to come back into the pool.

“I’ll be there soon,” he replied. Though nowhere near as ferocious as Fern, those two were another pair into the dating scene, big time!

Mel grinned. “You know your problem Ryan Alexis? You’re just far too ravishing for all these young ladies to ignore!”

“Oh, give over…don’t start that again!” He knew he was built well and kept himself in shape, but it wasn’t for the likes of Fern and her posse! He tried so hard to hide his real impulses over the years, but always feared that Luke - or any of his friends for that matter - would catch on to him at any time. So, he played the game there too, employing an almost regimented discipline to steer away from anything that could be perceived as gay. The wrong words, careless glances; all carefully controlled to protect his image of ‘All American Boy’, in a world that would crucify him if it guessed any different.

But he’d been weak that morning, and because of it had almost paid the ultimate price.

Since the previous Monday, Luke had never mentioned the circ job again, and he’d felt uncomfortable at being seen to be nosey. Then, out of the blue that morning, the whole thing had come up - LITERALLY! Once they'd both got over that - and he spent a LOT of time on his stomach on Luke's bed keeping HIS under wraps - Luke had really opened up and they'd got talking. It had been pretty explicit stuff. Holy cow, Luke even had a booklet from the Doc, with pictures of guys dicks!

Normally, with the dangers that kind of situation represented, he would have made himself scarcer than hen’s teeth – and for good reason! He'd got carried away and said something stupid. 'That one. That's hot. That's what I would choose. That's what mine's like.'

What the hell was he thinking? Why not just wave a flag - hey look, I think sexy dicks are hot! Luke had said something, but in his own distraction, he'd missed it. He was damn lucky that Luke seemed not to put two and two together and he’d managed to brush the whole thing over with a joke. That was a friendship he never wanted to mess up. He would be more careful from now on.

But he was so tired of it. So frustrated and wearied by the constant deception. And it just never seemed fair! His friends – even Luke – could lust after up some sexy looking girl without anyone thinking it wrong. In fact, usually the reverse! But for him to show an interest in some attractive guy? No, you had to be kidding – that would definitely not be okay with his friends when you went to an ‘all boys’ school! And his parents? Well, that just wasn’t even worth thinking about!

"I'm afraid it's just me and me for the foreseeable future!" He shrugged and gave her a halfhearted smile.

"You know Ry," said Mel thoughtfully, gently stroking his leg, "I've always found that when a boy decides to show me his willy, it's usually because he wants something!" She rubbed the top of his head, lovingly.

He had to smile. He suspected that if a guy risked flashing his kit at Mel, he’d lose it! “If only it were that easy.”

"Perhaps it is?"

"Maybe, maybe not." He tended to think the latter. "I'm out with the guys for a movie tonight - off to see Bond. You?"

Mel grimaced. "I'm at a loose end," she admitted sounding a little morose. Her eyes narrowed. "Does 'the guys' include Luke, by any chance?"

He was way ahead of her as he caught the gleam. "No! No way! Not a chance! I'm letting you anywhere near him!"

Mel settled back on the grass, the gleam growing. It was as if she hadn't heard him. "Yes way! It's definitely high time I met this Luke Summers at last."

"Mel!" Ryan cringed at he implications. She seemed unmoved.

"Don't worry," she placated. "I promise not to embarrass you."

He pulled a face,

"Look at it this way," she suggested. "Count me as your ‘plus one’." She sat up and straightened her blouse quite provocatively. "I mean with boobs like these, what better cover could you ask for?"

He couldn't help it, and burst put laughing again. She was incorrigible! He sighed, realizing how much she had been a rock to him over the years, and how much he really cared for her. "Mel - you know, if we had been born in a different world, and weren't what we are....if you know what I mean...I think I would have easily fallen for you."

She smiled, genuine and deep, "Coming from you, Ryan Alexis, that means a lot!" She reached in and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek.

He grinned with pleasure and then smirked. "I could have fallen for you if you weren't so old, of course!' He discovered how hard a punch she had! He rubbed his arm and changed the subject. "You're coming to the movies then?"

"Of course I am - if only to make sure you behave in he back row! You want me to pick you up?" They agreed a time and, seeing that Fern had disappeared, both of them slipped into the pool.

Once the last of the guests had left, the house returned to its emptiness. His father had gone out to the bar and wouldn’t be back until the early hours. His mom had retreated to her own room. She’d be drinking and he wouldn’t see her again to speak until the following morning when, still playing happy families, they would all turn out for church. He’d pop his head in later that evening to make sure she was safe. It was fine; he’d long since stopped getting worked up at how fucked up a house it all was.

Closing and carefully locking his door, he crossed his room and opened the big double doors that led out onto his own balcony. There was well over an hour to kill and he was in no hurry. The afternoon sun was still gloriously warm, flowing directly into his room as he stepped out onto the private balcony. Though it wasn’t the master bedroom, his room – at least he felt – was the best in the house. It may not have been quiet as big as theirs, but it was big enough and overlooked the pool and grounds.

Some day no doubt it would be all his, though he didn’t care for it that much to feel thrilled. The grounds showed the remains of the party; dirty grills, un-stacked chairs and discarded waste. In the morning the landscapers would come and clear it all up, returning their grounds to a pristine condition. All at the expense of an army slush fund that his father would screw for all it was worth.

Back in his room, he stripped off the swim shorts and added them to the wash basket in the closet. Comfortably nude in the privacy of his own space, he examined himself carefully; it didn’t do any harm to make sure there weren’t any unexpected lumps growing in unusual places. Critically he appraised himself and a few provocative rubs made sure that part was working well enough too. It had been an unusual day all round and he knew he would enjoy some relaxation, though he held off touching himself more for the moment.

He considered his groin critically and smiled at the memory of his friend’s recent transformation around there. My God, for a first time under the trimmer, Luke hadn’t hesitated!

Studying himself in the sunlight, it looked like his pubes could do with a little attention too, so he retrieved the rechargeable trimmer from the bathroom. He had no fears that his balcony was overlooked so stood at the doorway and tidied himself up, drawing the blades with confidence to return the look he preferred: trimmed back to neatness and tight to bare at the sides. The long treasure trail reached up towards his navel and, if it had been a piece of art, Toby Skerrit would probably have pointed out that the lines accentuated a sense of length. All he knew was it made him look good in the buff, and if Fern Blackman every saw him, she'd think Christmas had come!

He knew he was something of a 'babe magnet', as Mel liked to tease him. He worked out on the equipment in their home gym and used the pool almost daily. Maybe it would have been different if he had siblings, but ‘home alone’ there was often not much else to do. He was fit and healthy – in fact the only incongruous element in his whole physique was the size of his dick!

From the earliest time when, like any guy, he was told that size mattered, he knew he was small. Soft, you couldn’t really tell, and he had a good girth, which helped. He wouldn't win 'schlong of the year', but at least he never became the receiver of points and sneers in the lockers.

It was a different story when he was fully stiff. He'd seen enough online porn to know that most guys were growers – whilst he was…well, maybe it was kinder just to say he was vertically challenged. To call that four inches ‘stubby’ would be honest.

He told himself he didn’t really care – and he'd certainly had plenty of time to get used to it. Like a mole, or the shape of his nose, it was what it was. A truce between him and his dick existed, though it was an uneasy one at times. The truth was, behind closed doors, he quite liked it; all those intense feelings crammed into one small nicely shaped package! Secondly he had no plans that anyone would see it cheekily erect until it was a somebody who was going to care about him enough that it really wouldn’t matter; that they would enjoy it as much as he did.

In the end, it was just another secret and he was good at those. He learned long ago to compartmentalize his life to not let one part affect another. Even then, at times when he felt particularly low, it was another secret that would nibble at his self-worth if he let it.

But today was not one of those days.

Today he was confidant enough in himself and of his privacy from prying eyes, to remain unabashed at returning to the balcony sporting his diminutive boner. He leaned against the balustrade once more, surveying the property. A beautiful house, but not a home; not a place he loved to be. However, he’d survived in it this long that he new he could last a little longer. In not many years he’d be going to college; somewhere far away, he planned. Then his life could really start. He’d meet people. He could be who he really was. Even if his parents found out, he’d be his own man by then, able to do and live how he wanted, and fuck the money if that's what it came too. He'd find somebody, he had no doubt of it. Just like Mel. Until then, he could wait.

His dick twitched, reminding him that he’d waited long enough.

On of the plus side of his current world was the amount of money in his bank account, provided by his mom through the regular and substantial allowance. With it he clothed himself, and bought anything extra he needed for school or for his own personal use. Most of the extra décor in his room had been chosen personally by him and fitted his style.

His father complained it was way, way too much, but it remained one of those things in which his mom was unmovable, and she maintained the large allowance for him direct from her own accounts. It was nice to have the money, but he also knew it was her way of dealing with her own her sense of inadequacy’ making up for everything important she'd been unable to offer him. He knew he’d exchange it in a flash for a family that worked. A family like the Summers, for instance.

To him, money was just money; to be used how it suited him – often on other people. That was something he certainly got from his mom's side! Of course, it also helped if you had plenty!

He spent it on things he liked. Clothing, books, food, friends. With cards and a Paypal account, he could get whatever pleased him. And it pleased him to buy certain items from online retailers that even he couldn't walk into the local stores to purchase over the counter. Alone at home much of the time, discreet delivery had never proven a problem. The things he bought were a distraction and a way to engage in a future that, in a few years time, would become more than just a dream.

His dick twitched again, demanding attention and his neck was sore. Standing in the sunlight he stretched his neck muscles feeling the tightness there that the army cookout always left him with. Keeping secrets took its toll, but he knew how to deal with it.

Rarely now did he jerk off in the shower. Why would he when the stimulating tube starting with tight lips was quite therapeutic and definitely a lot more fun!

Retrieving the lifelike toy from the carefully disguised stash, he lubed it up with another of his purchases and sat on his bed, coating what hardly stretched more than a hands breadth with a slick film.

He studied himself again. It was who he was. He'd seen plenty of ads for pills or pumps that ridiculously claimed to give him 'at least four more inches or your money back', but it never even occurred to him to invest. This reality was a bedrock of his life: that what he was behind closed doors here in this room would have no lies, no secrets, no trying to be what he wasn't. Having this one place of total honesty kept him sane. Though his manhood wasn't even four inches, it was a yardstick in his life and he no plans to force it to change!

Taking his time, he buried the simulated anatomy in a stack of pillows on his bed and raised himself over the mound. Pausing, he reached for his expensive MP3 player and pressed the soft plugs into his ears. He searched the playlists for something he liked before lowering himself. The rich warm evening sunlight, still pouring through the open balcony doors, warmed the browned skin of his back and the music took him to better places as he pushed gently and entered.

Afterwards, relaxed again, he showered, enjoying the use of a proper walk-in wet room, rather than the shower baths that most homes tended to have. His personal bathroom was located behind double frosted glass doors the opposite end to the balcony. The dark granite tiling complimented the silver accessories and cooling tepid water washed away the mixture of perspiration and chlorine. The previous fifteen minutes had been hugely fulfilling, getting rid of the clutter in his head; relaxing and refocusing him. For him it wasn't about a (not so) cheap sex toy, it was a chance to assert who he was and live his preference - even if only in his head - at a time when his peers were allowed the freedom to live theirs.

He grinned to himself as he toweled dry; Luke with his overly sensitive erecting dick had featured heavily! The poor guy - because from what Ella was saying, it sounded as if he was in for quite a ride the next few weeks! He wondered whether he'd get to hear about it? Much though he'd love to know, he certainly wouldn't ask again. That morning had been risky enough! What he did know was that if he ever started dating a guy, it could easily be someone like Luke.

Sadly, love-struck teen that he was, and despite Mel's encouragement, if was only ever wishful thinking that it might be Luke. Discarding the towel, he made a mental note to remember to get the borrowed clothes back to Luke. He'd wash them first - particularly the boxers that he'd leaked into. There would be time to get the washing machine on before Mel picked him up.

Opening the third set of double doors back in his room, he accepted that he was probably a bit over the top when it came to clothes. The walk-in closet was well stocked; some would say, stuffed! He didn't care. There were worse obsessions in life! It was still neatly presented, but he could see it was time for a cull.

Knowing they were going to the movies, he picked out a few things that worked well together. Dark cargos, a designer tee. Then he changed his mind, opting for the jeans and a pair of the up and coming 'Converse' basketball sneakers. The boxer briefs nobody would see, but he chose them with as much care from a neat pile; ones that he would never be seen changing into in the school lockers! They fit well and looked hot. He loved them!

He often did his own washing, but even if not, the regular household laundry was done by a maid; an old one at that. She took no interest in his choice of underwear, and he could hardly remember the last time either of his parents had been in his room, let alone checked his drawers!

Tying off the sneakers, he didn’t really need to check himself in the in the full-length mirror to know he looked good…but did so anyway. His washing basket was in the corner and he added Luke's borrowed items to take it all down to the laundry. On the landing, he paused, putting the basket down to follow the deep piled carpet towards his mom's room.

One of the quirks of the layout was that his parent's rooms were on the ground floor, taking a complete corner of the house. However, his mom had 'her' room upstairs - a place she retreated to and where she often crashed. He tapped at the door. There was no answer, so he opened it quietly.

"Everything okay, Mom?"

She was watching her TV and the table next to her Lazyboy was strewn with empty stubs and a bottle of vodka. The images flicked across the screen, but there was no sound to give them much meaning. It was a difficult room; a sad room. Kept spotless by the cleaners as if even they were trying to wipe away what was left. Yet, with his own, they were the only rooms had meant anything. Her glazed eyes as she turned to greet him made him suspect that, even now, she wasn't particularly seeing much. A couple more hours and she'd be blasted.

"I'm off to the movies with Luke soon."

He felt saddened; enough so that it threatened the wellbeing his earlier private lovemaking had achieved. He pitied her, though couldn't despise her. Were they really so different; one thing in public and another, more fragile person behind closed doors? Both had their coping mechanisms for things that were outside their control.

"Don't be late. School tomorrow..." Her voice was distant.

He nodded, without the heart to tell her it was only a Saturday. Gently, he pulled the door closed. It was just how it was. They survived by whatever means came to hand.

Leaving her, he carried the basket down the wide stairway and through an expansive hall that displayed the baby grand nobody actually played. In the laundry he loaded the washer and set it going. Next he used the phone to call Luke to let him know about his ‘plus one’. He checked his watch. He knew he had another fifteen minutes before Mel came to pick him up and, rather than stay downstairs, he preferred to go back to his room.

24. Bond

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Bond

Luke was fed up of gardens and aching by the time he’d finished the last flowerbed. He’d worked hard for that twenty-five bucks! Now he could do with a cold drink, another shower and some down time before they went out to the movies. Retuning to the kitchen, he opened the fridge door to deal with the first one.

“So – are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

He whirled at the sound to find his mum waiting ominously and felt awkward; touched by the memory of the scary moment he’d had with Ryan earlier that day. ‘What?”

“What?” Her eyes narrowed. “Josh Wyeman is what!”

“Oh – that.” He returned the bottle, feeling uncomfortable. He would get a drink later. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing?” She seemed unimpressed as she leaned against the cooker, arms folded.

“A mistake, that’s all,” he muttered. “Some kid did something, and Stacey's dad seems to have thought it was me. I guess someone told him differently. Can we just leave it?”

She nodded, appearing to accept his explanation. “An how did it go with Stacey?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She seems a nice enough girl.”

“And I’m not that interested! Is there a problem with that?” He was getting irritated by this constant thing they all seemed to have for Stacey Wyeman. As he sidestepped her to go upstairs for a shower, she shook her head, looking amused. Her voice followed him.

“Not even after you’re sixteen?” Her laughing voice pulled the rug out from under him and he winced, wondering exactly how much of what Stacey Wyeman might have told her father had got passed to his mum!

She didn’t sound mad, but he still decided not to wait to find out! Pretending he hadn’t heard, he hurried up the stairs.

After showering and changing, he surfed and read and the time passed quickly. He was thinking about getting ready to leave when Ryan had called to ask if he minded if him inviting another friend to the movies. Someone he seemed to know pretty well.

A girl.

Ry had never mentioned anything about a girlfriend before, and then he calls to say he’d be bringing ‘someone’ along that evening. What ‘someone”? He’d not mentioned it earlier, so possibly someone from his army friends? Were they dating? Unlikely, he thought. If he took a girl out – and that was unlikely too – he wouldn’t go with a group! A ‘safe’ date then – but one with potential? Whatever it was, he couldn’t help but wonder who she was and what she would be like.

* * *

Luke was the last one to arrive at the mall where the cinema was located - and the only one on a bike. He’d hung out for a lift with his dad, but that had fallen through and he’d had to leg it to get there on time. Fortunately, the ride from their place on a bike meant he could take quite a few short cuts. He chained up his bike to the rails and, feeling a bit hot and sweaty, hurried to find the others.

Everyone else was already there. Simon and Toby, Toby’s mum and...his eyes widened as, from a distance, he recognized Marcus Daniels. What was THAT all about? Next to Daniels, and talking easily with him, was Ryan. And standing close to Ry was his friend - the girl. All six were waiting near the main entrance of the cinema, but just then he didn't feel like hurrying to meet them.

They spotted him anyway.

"Come on Luke, where have you been?" railed Simon, as he finally approached them through the excitable crowds, many who appeared to be heading to the same place as they were. "All the best seats will be gone if we don't shift it!"

He ignored Simon and his eyes flicked around the group. Ry or no Ry, girl or no girl, he knew he had to deal with the bigger elephant in the room first. "Hello sir...I didn't know you watched movies!"

"That's exactly what I said!" Toby declared. He seemed to glare at his mum. Daniels appeared amused and Simon's eyes flicked around looking uncomfortable.

"Hello there, Luke. Yes, it's a terrible habit, I know!" Daniels' eyes glinted and his face lit up with a previously unsuspected ability to smile. He could almost be human! "I shop as well!"

Luke really didn't get that, though Simon went bright red. Weird! Daniels didn't seem to feel the need to offer any more explanation as to why he'd gatecrashed their night out, though Luke sure as hell would quiz Si about it later! He nodded to Ryan, and then took his first guarded look at the girl Ryan had brought along. He had to work hard to not let his mouth drop. She was smoking hot!

"Shall we get tickets?" Daniels proposed.

They moved inside and, as they stood to wait in the long ticket line, Luke couldn't help but see that Ry and his girlfriend made quite a couple. Again, he was surprised that, for a girl he would take to the movies with him, Ryan had never mentioned her before. He looked away and studied the big posters of upcoming films while eavesdropping on a family who were irritated because it was taking their dad far too long to park!

A familiar voice came from nearby. "Hi guys!" Luke turned to find Adam Jackson grinning widely. He and Ryan only knew Adam through the school’s tennis squad. He was a nice enough kid. Ry coached him quite a lot.

Simon greeted the new arrival who was a Freshman too. "Hi Jacko. Here for the movie?" Adam always preferred his familiar nickname.

Ryan welcomed him too. "Hey there, Jacko!"

Jacko beamed and Luke glanced around. It was suddenly obvious that the rest of his family were the ones he'd been listening in on. Jacko and his dad had just arrived from the parking lot. He could tell now where Jacko - and the two little girls that had to be his sisters - got their milky chocolate skin color. While the dad was a tall African American, his mum was fair skinned.

Jacko nodded enthusiastically. "Bond!" Then, he too noticed Daniels and looked tongue-tied. They all fitted into the line. Just in front of them, the Jackson parents seemed happy to get into conversation with Daniels and Toby's mum. Jacko perked up again. "Can I sit with y’all?"

Ryan responded first, and smiled. "Sure - if you want."

Jack lifted his voice. "Mom, can I sit with the guys?"

Jacko's mother turned and Luke felt scrutinized. She would get on well with his own mum, he decided.

Daniels spoke smoothly. "They're with us, Alice - at least the younger two are. If Adam wants to go with the boys why don't the rest of us find a row for ourselves?"

"Somewhere near to the front, sir," sniggered Jacko, getting his cheeky confidence back, "otherwise Dad can't see!"

Luke smirked. Even the adults burst out laughing. Seeing the rather thick lenses Jacko's father sported, Jacko may well have had a point. At least now the ice was broken. Luke looked over to Ryan meaningfully, flicking his eyes towards the girl. Ryan got the message.

"Guys, this is Mel, a friend of mine. Mel...this is Simon and Toby." He went around and finally came to Luke. "And this is Luke…."

Mel stared at Luke. Her stare was almost hungry and he felt uncomfortable. Then she smiled easily. "Hi Luke - good to meet you."

He nodded. "Hi." He still felt a little uncomfortable, wondering why he seemed to be the only one she was happy to meet, but managed to pull an honest smile out of somewhere. He turned to Ryan. "Listen, can you get my ticket?" Reaching into his pocket he extracted a note. "I'll go and pick up some popcorn."

"I think I'll come with you, Luke," proposed Mel quickly. "Get ours too will you, Ryan," she added, passing him a $20 bill. Ryan seemed to have a rather horrified look on his face.

Luke cringed, uncomfortable with the attention he seemed to be getting. However, he wasn’t able to shake her and she followed him as he left the ticket line to join those wanting fresh popcorn from the machine. Whilst he waited, Mel went off to gather her own supplies. Shortly, loaded with a couple of bottles of coke and some other nibbles, she rejoined Luke in the line.

"You and Ryan are at that school together, I understand? I heard it's a good school," She seemed keenly chatty as they worked their way up to the front.

"Oh - The Academy - yes." Luke shrugged hoping she'd find somewhere else she preferred to be. "It's okay, I guess."

Mel chuckled. "God, I love it when you speak - you've got such a cute accent!"

He smiled politely. Shit, not that one again! He was tired of it. The term ‘dumb blond’ was adding to his opinion of Mel! If Ryan was dating this, he needed his head examining! Then she surprised him.

"So, how long did the honeymoon last for you?"

Honeymoon? Marriage? Sex? "Excuse me? You've lost me there...!" What the hell was she gibbering about?

She smiled effortlessly. A deeply intelligent glint that he hadn't seen there before, struck at him. "I call it the honeymoon period." She smirked knowingly as she began to explain. "Going to live in a new country is very different from holidaying there. Having lived in several, I found there's a time at the beginning where it's fun and new...that's the honeymoon period. And then you have to keep living with it for years after!"

Luke snorted with laughter. He absolutely got what she meant! It was SO true!

She wasn't finished. "I lived in Germany for many years. My parents were stationed there."

"No! You lived in Germany?" He was intrigued and beginning to see her in a completely different light. "So, do you speak German?"

"Sure - if you don't speak the language, you don't survive! I lived in the UK for a while too!"

"NO WAY!" he gasped, incredulous.

"I learned German - and I even learned to speak English!" She continued in an extremely passable Midlands accent. "And, as you and I both know, that's not the same as American!" Luke burst out laughing again - she was really good and he realized he'd completely misjudged her.

Mel licked her lips meaningfully. "What I really miss is a good bag of Fish and Chips!"

"With mushy peas!" Luke added, grinning widely. They both hooted at the insider joke. A little way in front of them in the line, he noticed some other guys that looked round his age glancing back at them. He could see it on their faces. 'How did he end up with a hot chick like that?' Despite it, he was realizing that this Mel was all right! Ry was a lucky sod. If he were him, he’d be all over her too!

They reached the counter and Luke ordered three big cartons of popcorn.

"I'll get it," offered Mel cheerfully.

"No - you don't need to do that." Luke shook his head, chivalrous as always, already digging out his wallet to take the hit. He was surprised when Mel turned and touched his hand lightly.

"Luke - please allow me. I'm the one that gate-crashed your night out." She spoke softly. It was gentle, almost caring. "Let me do this one thing for you guys. And next time, perhaps things will be different and you'll be buying....."

He smiled. She was hard to resist. "OK - and thanks. But next time, definitely my shout!"

“I hope I’ll be able to keep you to it,” she murmured as she stepped up to the counter.

It was as mysterious as her. Luke shrugged it off as they gathered up all popcorn, added the bottles and other stuff and paid the bill. Loaded now, they went back to find the others, who had just finished picking up the tickets.

"What took you?" asked Ryan. A little suspiciously, Luke thought.

"Queuing, what do you think??" he replied. "And before you scoff it all," he added as he eyed Simon beginning to dig into the tub, "Mel paid for it all - so you'd better say thank you!"

"Thanks Mel!" Simon managed to get it out through volumes of oral popcorn.

Unexpectedly, Toby took the box off Simon. "Mom's getting ours!" Luke looked on bemused, as Toby made a point of giving it back to Mel. Toby then turned to study his mum with beady eyes, challenging her. "Remember?" Grace Skerrit raised her eyebrows; a smile coming as she faced her son in one of their usual attempts to stare each other down. Whatever it was, Luke had been in the car enough times with the pair to recognize the signs of sparring!

As if by magic, a bill appeared out of nowhere into Grace's hand. "I thought you'd never ask, sweetheart!" Luke even caught Daniels smirking as Toby grunted, picked the note delicately from her grip and took Simon with him to the shop.

With Mel still at his side, Luke turned back to Ryan. "Did you get good seats?"

"Yep - six in a row, towards the back. Not right in the center, but not bad." He dealt the numbered seats like cards, putting himself and Mel at one end, Simon and Toby at the other, and Luke with Adam in the middle.

Great...

Finally, armed with popcorn and overpriced coke, they settled in to watch the recently released Bond movie. On one side of Luke was Simon, sitting next to Toby, and on the other side, squeezed between him and Ryan, was Adam, with Mel just beyond Ry.

As they waited through endless trailers, Luke was relieved that everything seemed to be back to normal again between Ryan and himself. It was as if the earlier weird stuff had never happened, though Ryan turning up with a girlfriend in tow had been unexpected. It left him feeling quite out of sorts in the middle of the packed cinema. Even so, he settled in for an evening of Bond style mayhem.

In the middle of the movie, he got an enormous surprise.

He noticed that the chair arm between Simon and Toby was up and they seemed to be snuggled up quite close. It intrigued him so, whilst they were both glued to the screen, he made a pretense of picking up something from the floor. Glancing between them as he searched for something that wasn’t there, he could see that Simon's hand was tucked surreptitiously under Toby's backside!

Sitting back up, he lost track of the movie for a few minutes!

Quietly, he nudged Simon, who turned, questioningly. Luke whispered in his ear and nodded at the body contact, smiling encouragingly to let Si know he had noticed. Coy at first, Simon finally beamed. Luke could see perfectly well how happy he looked. Settling back into his seat, he glanced the other way to spot Ryan and Mel; the perfect couple, sitting close too. Alone in the middle, he felt like ‘Billy no-mates’, with only Jacko Jackson for company. Loneliness threatened to engulf him, but he pushed the feelings away and lost himself in Moneypenny and co.

The movie was good. In fact it was brilliant! As they walked out through the mall afterwards, the whole group of them were in a good mood and talking animatedly about the plot. Finally they went their own ways; the Jackson Five to go find their car. Daniels was apparently chauffeuring Simon, Toby and Toby’s mum. They left too.

"What the hell is THAT all about?" he muttered, once Daniels was out of earshot.

Ryan was staring after them too. "Beats me. Do you think they're dating?"

"I think they could well be!" Under the parking lot lighting, he smirked to himself. Thankfully only he knew he was also thinking about two boys! He sighed. Maybe Ryan and Mel were dating too. They certainly seemed close and had that easy banter of friends who had known each other a long time. He couldn’t help but wonder why Ry had never told him about her before? What other secrets did he have that he knew nothing about?

Ryan shook his head. “Daniels was a bit strange don’t you think? I mean you would hardly think it was the same person. One thing at school, something different. One thing at school, something different outside!”

They said it simultaneously. “Chameleon!” It had been the title of one of the preview movies. Luke had thought it looked pretty good. He’d definitely go see THAT particular thriller! Ryan grinned as Luke turned to unlocked his bike. It was a long haul home - and mostly up hill. "I'll be off then," he said.

"I can take you," offered Mel.

"I've got my bike Mel - but thanks." Frankly, he was quite looking forward to the ride - and some time alone. To think.

"And I've got a pickup truck...we can just throw you’re bike in the back."

It would have been rude and much too obvious to refuse. "Oh - okay, thanks then."

There was only one seat in the cab, with room for the driver and two others, and he ended up in-between them. Feeling like piggy in the middle, he smiled, trying to look grateful. "So how do you two actually know each other?" he ventured once they'd got out of the parking lot.

"The army," replied Mel as she followed a line of cars out onto the highway.

"Honestly, Mel, you don't look like a soldier!" Luke smirked. Hell, she looked more like a Miss World contestant.

"Looks can be deceiving, Luke," Ryan added wickedly. "If she gets you in a corner, she can do awful things to you!"

Mel pierced Ry with what, to Luke, seemed a knowing look. "Ryan Alexis, be good or so help me, I'll put you right on the spot!" She then offered an explanation to Luke's question. "Luke, both our parents are Army folk. We know each other through that."

"Mel was at today's cookout," Ryan added. "Don't tell her, but she looks great on a bun!" He snorted with laughter and Luke had to work hard not to join him. Mel reached behind him and Ry got a clip on the ear hole.

Ry rubbed his ear."What?"

Luke shook his head at the mock surprise. As if he didn't know.

Mel settled back into her seat. "Luke, there's this girl, Fern Blackman. She..."

Ryan seemed horrified. "Okay, okay...I'm sorry!"

What any of this meant, he had no idea - other than, again, he had the strong impression they shared something from which he was excluded. He felt even emptier and tried not to think about what kind of things Mel did to Ryan when they were in that corner together!

His place was on the way to Ryan’s and, fifteen minutes later, they dropped him and his bike at the front door.

"It's been good to meet you at last Luke." Mel waved through the open window after he’d lifted his bike out of the back of her truck.

Thanking them for the lift, he waved as they pulled away. 'It's been good to meet you at last'? What the hell did that mean. He stashed his bike into the garage and went indoors. He was half way up the stairs when his mum called from the lounge.

He paused. “Be there in a minute. I just need to use the loo!” More like he just needed to find Si, who would no doubt be up in his room waiting for him. He stuck his head in the bedroom door, but the light was off and nobody was home. Surprised he came back downstairs.

“Mum, where’s Simon?”

She looked up from her book. “Oh – he’s staying over at the Skerrits again tonight. Didn’t you know?”

The reality of it troubled him as he slowly climbed the stairs again. There’d been no chance to quiz Si over this new thing with Toby at the cinema, and now his brother was staying another night over at the Skerrits. Were he and Toby sharing a room, or in separate ones? If they were in the same room, would they be in the same bed? Would they be up to anything – ouch, there was a difficult idea…and crucially, would they be careful? The last thing anyone needed would be for Simon to be frog marched back here to face their mum and dad if they got busted. It didn’t even bare thinking about!

He would have to wait until tomorrow to get to the bottom of it. After many hours in the garden he also ached and was tired. He went back downstairs to make a hot drink and then decided on a quick shower again before bed. Ready to call it a day, he went to shut the lid of his Mac to put that to sleep too, to discover that Damon was there; his profile live on Facebook.

[LUKE] "Hi…still awake?"

[DAMONJ] "Hi Luke! Only just. Sitting watching dirty movies with my pet goldfish. Want me to send you one?”

Luke chuckled. It was hard to know if any of it was true.

[LUKE] "A goldfish? Tempting, but no.”

[DAMONJ] "Oh my God – look at that!”

[LUKE] "Now what?”

[DAMONJ] "I would never have believed a goldfish could do that!”

[LUKE] "You’re really sick, you know!”

[DAMONJ] "I know – I practice a lot! So, what have you been up to today?”

[LUKE] "We just went out to see the new Bond.”

[DAMONJ] "Cool – I saw it days ago! What took you so long?”

[LUKE] "Come on - It’s not been out THAT long.”

[DAMONJ] "I went midweek.”

[LUKE] "On a school night?”

[DAMONJ] "Let me guess – you go to a posh preppy school?”

Ouch!

[LUKE] "And you?”

[DAMONJ] "We have to go through a metal detector every morning on the way in! Anyway – what d’ya think of Bond?”

[LUKE] "Brilliant.”

[DAMONJ] "Best bit?”

Luke already knew the answer to that.

[LUKE] "Had to be the fight on the bridge.”

[DAMONJ] "Agreed…awesome! Did you like the twist at the end?”

Luke nodded to himself. It had been a gripping plot.

[LUKE] "With M, you mean? Neither of us expected that at all.”

[DAMONJ] "Us? You went with a group?

[LUKE] "Ryan and a few others. He’s okay - you’d like him.”

[DAMONJ] "Really? Hehe – is he gay then? Send me a photo!”

Luke rolled his eyes.

[LUKE] "Idiot – I didn’t mean like that. He's pretty open, though. He'd be fine with you."

There was no immediate reply, so he changed the subject

[LUKE] "Busy tomorrow?"

[DAMONJ] "Why – do you want me to come around?”

[LUKE] "Funny guy.”

[DAMONJ] "Anyway, sorry to disappoint – can’t make it. Visiting family tomorrow.”

[LUKE] "Nice.”

[DAMONJ] "Not really.”

[LUKE] "Oh – you don’t get on?”

[DAMONJ] "Let’s just say this – it wouldn’t go down well if I started asking for photos of cute guys! No offense, and I don’t expect you to understand - but having to keep pretending to everyone that I’m straight, like you? Frankly it sucks!”

Luke could quite feel the frustrated heaviness. At the same time, images from a trailer and a word came to his mind.

[LUKE] "Chameleon.”

Living one thing and pretending to everyone else that it was something different. Luke knew he did it all the time these days. From what Damon was saying, so did he. He understood why that could feel so crap.

[DAMONJ] "??”

[LUKE] "Sorry – it was just from one of the movie previews tonight. ‘Chameleon.’ Sounds a bit like you…hiding in plain daylight!”

[DAMONJ] "Chameleon? Nice – thanks for that! Some kind of fat ugly lizard?”

[LUKE] "Hehe – I meant the camouflage!”

[DAMONJ] “Well I’ll keep that in mind for tomorrow – maybe get the chance to flick out my hot sticky tongue and catch a tasty morsel!”

[LUKE] "Eeeuuu – gross!”

[DAMONJ] “Okay – I gotta go give mouth to mouth to my goldfish!”

[LUKE] "Eeeuuu – more gross! Hope it goes okay tomorrow. Ciao!”

* * *

His plans to interrogate Simon on Sunday got put back as – probably because they’d had Simon all weekend – his mum and dad invited the Skerrits out to Sunday lunch with them. At least they took pity on him and they all went to Chillis this time round so he didn't have to see Stacey! During the meal and out of the corner of his eye, he stared constantly at Simon and Toby, wondering what was going on between them. Finally, when he did corner Simon later that day, Si wouldn’t give him a straight answer to any of the most important questions. His brother just smiled sweetly and left him guessing!

Monday dawned, and Luke awoke to a day that would prove to be pivotal. That morning in the shower, he examined the chunk of SmartKlamp plastic that, even in just a week, had become familiar baggage in his underwear. The previous week he might have handled it with more care than the way he unceremoniously stuffed it inside his boxers as he dressed. Any pain or discomfort at the point where the Klamp gripped the cut edges of his foreskin was long gone. All he could see through the plastic was a healing scar. He couldn’t wait to get it off at last and get back to normal life.

Thankfully, it was the last day before he made the return journey to the Urologist to have the device removed. A morning appointment had been made for the Tuesday, and at 09:15 his mum would take him back to the Doctors office one final time. Assuming all was well - and he already knew there was no reason it wouldn’t – she would drop him back to school straight afterwards. It was just so hard to believe that months and months was finally down to one day!

The morning passed like any other Monday. Nobody came in actually wanting to be there, but by mid morning everyone was beginning to wake up and get over the usual Monday morning blues. By lunchtime, the school was pretty lively. The weather was warm and jackets got discarded. With English and Computer Studies to come, even the afternoon was a doddle. Most were already thinking of home. Luke was even considering the pool at Ryan's...Klamp or no Klamp. Who cared? Ry certainly wouldn't!

Just after lunch, he and Ryan meandered indoors, killing time before classes restarted. He held the door of one of the restrooms as Ryan followed him in. “I called you yesterday, you know.” After lunch on Sunday, the weather had been as good as it was today. He’d probably have gone in the pool then if Ry had answered the phone.

Ryan shrugged. “Did you? Sorry – we went out.”

Luke made his suggestion. With summer well on its way, he REALLY wanted to go in for a swim. "What about I get changed and come over later, after we’ve dropped you off? It's too nice not to go in the pool." They were giving Ryan a lift home that afternoon.

Ryan eyed him speculatively. "I though you still had that thing on?"

Luke took an accurate stab at what 'thing' was. "True - but it comes off tomorrow morning anyway. It's not like I'm likely to come to any harm now." He grinned. "Just don't start pushing me in!" Ryan smiled but said nothing. Luke felt good about life. It felt good to get back to some kind of proper routine again. Already looking forward to the cooling water, they both stepped into the restroom, which, other than them, was empty.

"Did you manage to hand it in?" Ryan dropped the jacket he’d been carrying alongside one of the sinks and stood at the heads to begin to relieve some pressure.

Luke left is own jacket in the same place and winced. "The math you mean?" He guessed what Ryan was getting at. "Just. It was a bit ragged though." He'd still been finishing the last two problems in Home Room that morning. He knew he should have done it over the weekend, but just never got round to it. On the other hand, NOT handing in a math assignment wasn't really an option at their school. "When did you do it?"

"Last week, you lazy git!"

Alongside Ryan, Luke went through the usual palaver of getting the Klamp out of his boxers. Ryan smirked as Luke pulled the Klamp past his zip and dangled it over the bowl. "Maybe if you hadn't spent all Saturday morning flashing that thing, you could have got it done then?"

Luke sniffed. "Piss off!" Another thought popped up. “Mel's really great by the way. Why didn't you tell me you were dating?" There was no doubt about it, she was nice, and he was being a dork by not telling Ryan that.

But Ryan looked at him in total surprise and then amusement. "For God's sake, Luke, I'm not dating her!"

"Why not - she's gorgeous!" he persisted. To him it would seem that Ryan would be an idiot not to.

Ryan burst out laughing. "How old do you think she is?" When Luke didn't answer - because he had no idea - Ryan shook his head. "It doesn't matter. She's definitely NOT my type, and anyway, she's already with someone. I've known her for years. Honestly, she's just a friend. That's all!"

"Oh...I thought you were...you know…." Luke grinned like a silly kid.

"Whatever 'you know' is, you filthy minded little skunk, the answer is no!"

Luke still had questions about Mel - like why had she said 'good to meet you at last' when they’d parted - but got distracted as the Klamp did its usual thing and got caught around the zip of his quite tight school trousers. Ryan noticed it and sniggered with amusement. He grinned too; surprising himself that he could laugh at this recurring dilemma.

He was still grinning and trying to get the blasted thing to behave, when familiar voices came from the other side of door. They could hear the sound of scuffling and laughter and he realized it was guys from their class coming into restroom. More quickly now, he worked the Klamp to try to maneuver it through the zip. Then, as the door suddenly burst open, there came that rather familiar clarion call.

"Wedgie Wars!!"

Now it wasn't like he was against the Wars for any particular reason. In fact both he and Ryan were usually full-blooded participants and had delivered (and received) no end of extremely tight Wedgies over the last year. Ever so often, someone would take it on themselves to start a 'Wedgie War'. They usually lasted no more than a few hours - perhaps a day. Heaving some poor kid's boxers up his crack was great fun; yanking for as hard and for as long as possible. It could be torturous, and many a pair of boxers gave way under the strain.

So if a War broke out...you'd be wise to watch your backside!

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

It's not that I didn't appreciate a good War, it was just now was a really bad time for me. I had a serious piece of circumcision machinery welded to my dick and an Atomic Wedgie was probably going to be bad news. Aside from that, I'd survived the whole week with my privacy intact. It was down to the last day now, and I'd got no desire to fall at the final fence!

I caught Ryan eyes flick my direction. First at my face and then down to where the Klamp was still playing up. It can't have been hard to read the rising panic in my eyes. He immediately wheeled away from the urinals and, for a few moments, engaged the other guys in light banter. It gave me the seconds I needed to get it together and I got the Klamp back behind the zip once more. But this turned out to be only a brief reprieve. Three guys - Todd, Scott Landon, and some guy I couldn’t remember the name of from the year above us - were bright eyed and their clothing was completely disheveled. What was a little discouraging was that they were ignoring Ryan, but eyeing me with great interest.

"Hey there Luke...." offered Todd amiably, taking a moment to stuff his shirt back down his trousers. Two of them began edging towards me like hungry jackals, spreading to left and right. Todd got down to business. "So, are we doing this the easy way, or the hard way?"

I looked from one to the other. All three of them - who were not being particularly malicious in the goal of owning my arse - had me in their sights. There was nothing personal about a Wedgie War. If you gave, you got. And I probably had it coming!

But right then, I was worried.

Surveying the space between the heads, the stalls and the sinks, the good news was the restroom was quite large, giving me plenty of maneuvering room to keep out of reach. The bad news was Landon had positioned himself by the exit door to block off the escape route. It would only be a matter of time before the space closed in on me. I realized that if I was going to avert a bigger problem, I would have to say something about my condition - and fast. Whilst I hated the idea of having to explain anything about my surgery, receiving a massive wedge around my nads could be dangerous.

I was just about to blurt something when, completely unexpectedly, Ryan threw himself at Todd and made a grab for his boxers. Todd twisted around to try to dislodge him and, at that, they lost interest in me. Instead, the attention of the trio turned on Ryan. With odds of 3:1, a serious battle for the briefs began! Ry was pretty tough and held his own for a short while. With plenty of scuffling and some well-placed insults, they went at each other.

But the noise brought reinforcements. Three became four, then five. A pile developed, with Ry right at the bottom.

Shit!" screeched Todd. I looked on, grinning, as Ryan adamantly refused to let go of Todd's boxers. Having ended up at the bottom of the melee, the layers above were actually protecting Ryan’s backside. Despite all the pushing, shoving and grabbing, he'd successfully held on to Todd, who'd ended up on top of him in the scrimmage. Ry’s hands were wrapped around Todd's back, and Todd’s legs were flailing around helplessly as Ryan dragged his plaid boxers up his back. By the looks of it, Ry might even get them onto Todd's head for a successful Wedgie of Doom!

Then, the big African American, Leroy, burst through the door and dropped onto the mass of bodies. Using his bulk, he pushed the pile over and Ry had to let go. Suddenly Ryan was easy to get at and many hands reached for his arms and legs. There were a few grunts as Ryan aimed some well-placed jabs, trying to extricate himself from their combined grip. He almost broke free, but more joined the fray, shouting excitedly.

"Hold him still!” someone cried. “Shit...sit on his legs then!"

They gradually forced Ryan downwards onto his back and finally, with everyone breathing heavily, triumphantly locked him down; trapped on the hard restroom floor. I decided it was safer to watch from a distance, just in case they remembered I was there when it was done!

* * *

With Ryan controlled, Todd took a few moments to pull his boxers out of his crack, wincing as he freed his nuts. "Ooooh, You know you're gonna pay for that Ry!" From the amount of underwear he was showing, it looked like Ry had been ruthless!

So well secured was he, that even Ryan had stopped thrashing around, attempting to escape. Breathing heavily, he glowered at his captors. Hot news travels fast, and the news that Ryan Alexis was trapped on a restroom floor ready to be wedged was seriously hot! As they held their hapless victim down, more onlookers broke through the door ready to see the drama unfold. Soon there were a dozen, with more arriving with each passing moment.

Finally, with between twenty to thirty, there was hardly room for many more. As they all crowded into the restroom to cheer at Ryan's capture, Luke could do nothing to help him. He skulked at the back, out of the way. He watched with a rather guilty, yet morbid fascination as it escalated from a simple Grab ‘n Pull and he wondered how far they would take it. Unfortunately for Ryan, he was a well know activist in the Wars, and with plenty to lend a hand, this was surely going to be a Wedgie of Doom!

Scott Landon still had hold of an arm and, from where he was standing in the back, Luke was a little troubled to see Cody Mitchell appear at Landon’s side to whisper something in his ear. He could see Landon’s eyes widen and his face looked questioning, even doubtful. Mitchell whispered something again and a sly smile spread across Landon’s face. Landon whispered something back. Mitchell grinned, nodded, and slipped out of the room.

There was no hurry and they waited till everyone who could get in had settled. Then, to gleeful shouts, the team lifted Ry off the floor flipping him into position on his front, a firm grip on every arm and leg, yanking him out straight. It became obvious to everyone that the ‘Doom’ was indeed upon him! There was a cheer with enthusiasm from representatives of almost every school year - all jostling for position to get the best view of Ryan Alexis being given the full works. As a well-known figure in the school community, everyone liked to see the mighty fallen!

Ryan struggled, pulling hard against the arms that gripped him. "Shit guys, come on...that's not a good idea...just pull and be done with it!" His head twisted up to see Todd grinning. Luke could see the plea had fallen on deaf ears! With Todd on the driving end and probably still feeling the effects of Ry’s recent assault on his boxers, the outcome on Ryan’s own rear end was pretty much assured.

Luke couldn't help but grin, quite enjoying the moment. After all, it HAD been Ry's own lack of judgment to try to tackle them like he did. Then after dealing out the wedge that he did on Todd - well, he only had himself to blame for what was about to go down. Or in his case…up!! It would be over shortly and he knew they would laugh about it after. He also wondered what boxers Ryan was wearing that day...and it looked like he was about to see!

First, they dragged Ryan into the middle of the room so everyone could gather round. Then, clearly relishing the moment, Todd kneeled in front of his victim, reached deep down inside the back of Ry’s trousers to grab hold of his briefs.

Which ones they would be? Todd heaved, and Ryan squirmed as they came into view. They were unexpected.

Though Luke wouldn’t have admitted it until recently, he actually felt he knew most of the pairs of boxers that Ryan wore. It was just one of those things – his eyes would drift in the lockers just to check. Ry almost always wore black undershorts. Not cheap ones, but as regulation as his haircut. So, the wide charcoal black band that appeared intrigued him. As the heave continued, that band was followed by dark red with indistinct swirling patterns of black. It reminded him of fire.

Quickly Ryan’s briefs were forced up past his waist! For everyone else, it was no doubt purely business. For Luke, it was somewhat erotic! He studied the briefs. Very nice!

"Crap, Todd! Give me a break!" Ry groaned, clearly feeling the impact of the pull on his undercarriage.

"Sure Ry, anything you want!" Todd agreed gleefully and wasn't about to stop. "Flip him guys!"

This was the normal 'phase two' of the Wedgie of Doom. Pull the back first, and then flip over and pull up the front to loosen things up. Finally, flip again to pull the back right up into the guy’s crack and hopefully get the waist band over his head. Luke knew they would certainly have a go at that and he wondered whether the dark red briefs would hold out, or would get ripped to shreds. More likely the latter. It would be quite quick now and Luke wondered about edging nearer to the door, just in case someone had the bright idea of moving directly from Ryan to him!

But then, just after they flipped him onto his back, there was a shout. It came from somewhere deep in the now, quite large, gathering. Demanding, it rode over the top of the clamor.

“HANG HIM!”

25. The Hang

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

The Hang

“HANG HIM!”

Luke stared into the press of students trying to pick out where the demand came from. Around him, there was an immediate drop in volume of chatter. Like him, those present were attempting to get their collective conscious around the words. Heads turned, searching. The hidden barking voice brought the challenge again. "Come on guys - let's Hang him!!"

This time, Luke located it. Mitchell! Last that he’d seen of the jerk, Mitchell was leaving the room. It looked like the prat came back!

An eerie, disturbing quiet descended. Eyes flicked to friends, taking their measure of the unexpected suggestion. Luke couldn't believe it. Hang Ryan Alexis? Oh come on...surely not It was almost laughable and he wondered if he'd misheard, but his brain kept replaying and he knew he hadn’t.

But then he couldn’t quite fathom why it sill seemed to hang in the balance. The silence stretched and it seemed people were actually CONSIDERING the half-brained scheme! It was true that there hadn't been a Hang for a while, but he couldn't believe that anyone would choose to put Ry through that awful punishment! He could see Todd look around, directly to where Mitchell was hiding and Todd's face darkened. From the look in his eyes Luke was relieved; Todd thought it was crap too, and was never going to allow it.

Then it came again - from someone different this time. A voice that sounded excited and convincing. Luke had no idea who it was. “Why not?" it demanded. "Come one - let’s have a Hang!”

WHY NOT? Luke could give quite a few - dozens even - of reasons why nobody would want to be the one pulled up into a Hang themselves. Come on guys - not Ry...!

But the renewed call was the spark that lit the brushfire; one that would be difficult to douse unless someone acted quickly. Luke could see flames of glee spreading. A momentum gathered, and with it a palpable change in the mood of the gathering. No doubt sensing it too, he could hear Mitchell keeping it going, stoking up those around him. Gradually more took up the chant, and the multitude turned into a mob. In its frenzy, it quickly made the decision.

"Hang...Hang...Hang...HANG!!"

Through the press of bodies, he could see enough of the floor to tell that Ryan had begun to struggle; pulling hard at those that held him. The sound of his voice carried easily above the clamor. The dismay that it carried did nothing more than feed the growing glee.

Around Luke, the room was full of energetic buzz. It was also becoming cramped as the door kept opening to let in one or two more who'd heard there was something afoot. Bit by bit he got edged further back. He knew that there had to be plenty of friends, closer to the action than himself, who could - and no doubt would call a halt to it at any moment.

Todd would stop it surely? It was Ry for God's sake! Glancing across towards Todd, Luke could see he was still unconvinced by the demands coming at him from all directions. Whether because he didn't want it done full stop, or just because he didn't want to be the one to have to do the deed himself, was unclear. Luke hoped the former. Wedgies were fun, and a Wedgie of Doom was for the special guys, but a Hang was something else altogether. A Hang was personal! Really personal! He knew it and everyone else knew it. Wasn’t Ryan was meant to Todd's friend - surely he wasn't going to put him through it?

With relief, Luke saw Todd begin to shake his head. At last! He saw him try to speak. His mouth moved but others drowned the words. And Mitchell didn't look like he would give up so easily either. Completely ignoring Todd, Mitchell shouted out. “Come on Scott, show us how it’s done!”

Luke was surprised as Landon suddenly rose up. Last he'd seen of him had been when he had been pinning an arm, but it looked like the limb had been delivered to someone else. If Landon was surprised at suddenly being invited to head the team that would bring a Hang, he didn't show it. All at once, the memory of Mitchell whispering in Landon's ear earlier came back, and Luke had no doubt who was manipulating much of it.

Landon shoved Todd to one side, and the crowd, sensing that Todd wasn’t going to deliver what they craved, diverted its attention.

“Lan-don, Lan-don!” Shouting encouragement, it elevated him and demanded action. Landon grinned, invigorated by the moment and, no doubt, by the possibility of sticking one on Ryan Alexis. He nodded briskly to accept the role being offered. Deftly, the responsibility was usurped from Todd, and Landon took control of the Hang.

Todd seemed at a loss. It was a critical turning point. Luke knew he should do something, but felt powerless trapped right against the back wall.

As Todd dithered, Landon gestured to somebody he couldn’t see. "Matt... JJ..." Landon called on two thickset thugs who were part of Mitchell's obnoxious circle. Unsurprisingly, the pair were already close by. Quite willingly - and possibly relieved not to be part of it - the two holding Ryan's arms gave up their positions. Either way, as leader, tradition made it Landon's choice who made up the Hang team.

Abruptly they dragged Ryan across the floor nearer to the sinks. Nobody wanted to stand behind the action on a Hang, and the extras streamed around the sides, flowing into the main block. Luke got pushed even further from the action, pressed against the wall.

As he was bounced across the cold stone, Ryan's voice sounded distraught as he struck out back towards Todd. "Fuck, Todd NO! Come on! I never did this to you!" Under a tight grip, Ryan remained trapped. Like everyone else, he had to know where this would lead if allowed to run its course.

Luke could see Todd clearly enough, and watched him shrug as he lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. For the first time, Luke also saw a small knowing smile broke out onto Todd's face.

"Sorry bud." Todd grinned more widely. "Just take it like a man!" If Ryan was depending on him, it looked like it was misplaced. Luke winced as Ry got delivered into unsafe hands.

The two guys holding Ryan's legs in their vice-like grip had already knelt down on the floor, taking up the position. One was Leroy, the other, Jason - an older tall burly African American; one of Leroy's crowd. Without letting go of Ryan, they had twisted around to face away from him. Those in the restroom settled and Luke felt the collective shiver. There was about to be a Hang.

He couldn't see well, but he knew well enough how it went. Two on the arms, two on the legs; the latter would lift for the hang their victim. Kneeling to get the poor sod in position, each leg was pulled up and over, so that the crook of the guy's knee was held over their respective outside shoulders; dangling lower legs gripped firmly in front. Through a break in the jostling bodies he watched it happened. Facing away to the sinks, Leroy and Jason crouched on one knee, and Ryan got levered up their backs onto their shoulders. They were tall and Ry was already almost off the floor. The thugs, Matt and JJ, still had Ryan’s arms in a tight grip. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Landon kept up his pretense of caring. "I'm really sorry Ry – you know I hate to do it to you. What can I say? Like Todd says, bud, just take it like a man!" Then he went on to fully prepare the excruciating Hanging Wedgie.

Luke couldn't see what was happening down on the floor that easily, but he expected that Landon was undoing and removing Ryan's belt. Next he would unsnap Ryan's trouser waist button and pull the zip.

It had gone on long enough. Todd might be willing to throw Ry to the wolves, but Luke knew he should try to do something. He began to surge forward, earning himself angry glares and grunts from those he pushed aside.

Ryan burst into voice again. It was a bit squeaky. "Get the fuck off me, you prick!" Luke arrived at the second row just in time to see Landon ease Ryan’s trousers down.

“For God’s sake, stop worrying about your prick!” Landon chided, grinning and clearly on a roll. “We both know we’ll get to that…!” Landon made a show of pushing down the trousers to Ryan’s knees and pulled his shirt out of the way so everyone could have a good look. He hooted! “Whoa, Ry! Nice boxers.”

He was almost through, when Luke caught an eyeful of what he hadn't expected. Displayed on Ryan like some well-bodied mannequin, Ryan's hipster briefs were sizzling - and it wasn’t just the dark red colors! Dark red with indistinct patterns of black, his boxers were topped with a wide charcoal black band. Letters were printed in deep red across the font of the band.

"EURO-BOY?" Landon read out the word emblazoned across the band of Ryan's underwear. "Fucking sexxxxxyyyy!" He stretched out the band for everyone to see. "Oh my God, Ry! Does Luke know you're wearing his slinky briefs?"

Laughter rippled across the room and Luke froze. In the school community most knew that he and Simon hailed from England. Unable to help it, he flushed and those near to where he was standing turned to grin. Layered over it was the memory that, not many days ago, Ry actually HAD been wearing his boxers! He felt completely vulnerable; as undressed as Ryan. Around about him, the sheer mass of numbers and weight of opinion was against any desire he had to put a stop to it all. It all came together to rip the heart out of any obligation he felt to step into the limelight and claim any allegiance to his friend. Shamed by his weakness, he hung his head and stayed where he was.

Ryan glared angrily at Matt and JJ. "Let go, you bastards!" He heaved on his arms again, but they held him tight.

Matt grinned. "No need to get your knickers in a twist, Ry!"

"Matt's right, bud," added JJ, sniggering. "I think Scott's gonna do that for you!"

Looking like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, Landon took off Ryan’s shoes. Then, with some deft maneuvering to get them off his legs, the team started to completely strip Ryan of his trousers.

Ryan reacted angrily again. "Fuck! off Landon! Don't you dare!' His voice was sounding increasingly desperate. With renewed strength, Luke could see him twisting and turning in an effort to break loose. But the grip of those who held him was firm, and it was to little avail. He was kept under control on the floor ready to be manipulated into the starting position. Finally the trousers were pulled completely off, stripping him to his boxers. There were cat whistles from those at the front who could see.

"Just the shirt, bud." Landon sniggered as he began undoing the buttons. "Don't want you making a mess over it do we!"

There was hardly room to receive more into the already cramped bathrooms to watch the spectacle. The last to squeeze in got there just in time to see what everyone knew came next. Like a conductor testing the responsiveness of his lead instruments, Landon gave the signal to the two on Ryan’s legs. In front of him and on cue, the pair rose up as one.

“NO!” Ryan screeched in dismay as they lifted him and his shirt got dragged down out of the way."SHIT!” Ryan swore violently as he was jerked into the full vertical Hang, swinging down off the backs of the two tall African American teens. The other two, Matt and JJ, had his arms locked; their job - to use their strength and weight to keep his shoulders pinned down for the stretch.

From close to the front, Luke saw it all and he could also see that Ryan's pride still wasn't going to allow them to get away with it easily. Even though it appeared completely hopeless, his stomach muscles bunched and, impossibly, he physically lifted himself away from the floor. The thugs on his arms almost lost their grip, and the two standing almost fell, needing to step back to keep their balance. Luke wondered briefly if Ryan might even break loose.

“Come on Ry!” he shouted, but regretted it as he seemed to be the only one who hoped Ryan might get away. He also felt uncomfortable as Ryan’s eyes flicked to try to find him.

But, try as Ryan might, the team were not that easy to dislodge. First those holding his arms swapped positions, crossing Ryan's arms past his head. Then they worked hard to straighten him as they got into a rhythm, yanking down on his shoulders. Luke could see muscles bunching as Ryan resisted. With each additional attempt to pull him down, his whole frame showed the impact of the strain, yet the team showed no indication that they were about to give up.

For Gods sake Ry, just give it up, you’ll hurt yourself, Luke could almost hear the muscles screaming and joints popping.

One...two...three times...and on the fourth pull Ryan couldn't hold out any longer and fell back, shoulders close to the floor again. His muscles seem to give way and he stopped resisting and let himself be pulled out straight, defeated. The mob cheered, then settled in for the show. There was no rush - there was plenty of lunch recess left and everyone knew the staff would be far away.

A guy’s time had come. There could be no going back – only forward to the inevitable. The full upside-down Hang was finally accomplished and the herd bellowed its approval as the popular Ryan Alexis was brought under control and into position.

"Oh…fuck!" It was all that Ryan could mutter.

* * *

Extract from Luke’s Notes:

It was known by various terms; a 'Hanging Wedgie’, the 'Hang and Swing’… even ‘that fucking awful thing!’ – but mostly just got called ‘The Hang’. Apart from ensuring the deadliest wedge, it went much, much further than that, designed to totally humiliate the poor sod that received it.

I’d been at the Academy for a while before I got to witness a Hang for myself, always managing to miss the action. The time? Only a few weeks after I discovered the exquisite pleasures a dick could offer. His name - Rogério Carvalho Santos.

Santos was from somewhere like Venezuela or maybe it was Colombia – anyway, it was somewhere like that. He was only at the Academy for less than a year. His father, from what I could figure out, was some kind of government trade attaché. Perhaps that meant he was a spy, although I'd seen Santos senior once and, by his pudgy figure, it seemed unlikely. About as unlikely as the possibility that his son might start treating those round about him as human beings!

Santos junior was a couple of years above Ry and me. To be honest, I hardly knew the guy other than by his reputation. In that, few people had anything pleasant to say about him. Coming from a privileged Latino background, he seemed to have this habit of treating everyone around him like shit - expecting peers to be his personal servants, doing what he commanded, whenever he commanded it. Maybe it worked fine in his own country, but he clearly had a few lessons to learn at The Academy - and the line was growing of those ready to teach.

And he learned. The HARD way!

There was a Wedgie War on and the rumour was they'd been after Santos all day. We all had our ears to the ground, listening for the jungle drums that would signal what we were waiting for. But he was a slippery customer, always managing to keep out of reach, close within the protective cordon of nearby teaching staff. They, of course, knew jack shit about what really went on at the Academy!

Santos' luck ran out when they spotted him trying to cross the grass from the school restaurant back to the main block. Caught in the open, he made a run for it and was herded towards the recently finished sports block. Maybe he was looking for a room he could lock himself into, but he was out of luck and they tackled him to the floor in the locker rooms, where there was plenty of space for everyone to watch. Even I was given the heads up and when I got there, they were piling all over him on the floor, pinning his arms and legs. Nobody had to call for a Hang - it seemed that that had been decided quite some time earlier!

Like his illustrious and portly parent, he was a little bit overweight. Not a lot, but, with a medium build, quite pudgy. With his family name being sufficient to get what he wanted he’d probably never had to fight for anything in his life before, and he didn’t carry much muscle, but with the violence of the doomed, he fought them like hell on the changing room floor and they struggled for quite some time to get him up into the Hang. A team had lifted him into position once, but then the guys on his legs couldn't hold him and they’d had to drop and start again. Finally by sheer mass of quite willing volunteers they’d triumphantly lifted him up into the full Hang and pulled his trousers.

For those fortunate enough in life to attend the prestigious and rather expensive Atlanta Academy, but unfortunate enough to be hoisted into the Hang, different people reacted in different ways. Of course everyone suffered some form of indignity. Stripping was humiliating; being racked hurt and many would squeal, even then. And absolutely everyone would scream and beg for mercy if the team decided to split their victim wide enough! But not everyone boned up, even though working the Wedgie was done in a way to provoke it…though that was to change.

All schools have their 'rituals' and ours was no different, though how that played out in an 'all boys' environment might surprise many. Giving wedgies was a game, but there was a huge underlying sexual drive to the amusing pastime.

Then there was nudity and stripping.

Maybe more unusual in bi-gender schools, stripping a boy naked is surprisingly common in a place like ours. Though most of us would never admit to it, or even realize what we were actually engaging in during these games, the real purpose behind stripping was based around the attempt to force an erection from another boy. For a guy to run that gauntlet, he had to pass. Failure, through a public lack of control indicated a demeaning sexual weakness amongst his peers and it was debilitating to his self-esteem. But it went further than that. At least it did at the Academy where a lot of these 'ritual' games were formulated into the humiliating 'Hanging Wedgie'.

Officially, the infamous Hanging Wedgie was just another way to inflict a tight wedge on some guy’s nuts. Unofficially – though nobody would ever come out and say it - the Hang was about masturbating a guy to try to get an erection, with the goal of getting him to shoot.

It worked like this. Once the Hang was performed, the body stretch and painful racking could be quite subtle in the way it humiliated and broke down resistance. Then, with everyone staring at the guy, they were embarrassingly – and usually quite painfully - split. Then the wedging began. Done provocatively, it was a manipulation that many found quite difficult to ignore! First pulling tight up the front in a show of Wedgie-style underwear stretch, and then going round the back and beginning to fold the back of the guy's briefs into a thin tube to begin to embed it into his crack. Repeated again and again. Up at the front and wedged at the back until the backwards and forwards shifting of cotton over a guy’s dick began to show results.

In short, the Hang team wanted you hard. Shit – let’s be honest - at that point, everybody wanted you hard! And if it you started heading that way, there was usually no stopping it. And for those who boned up, the likelihood that those controlling you would be able to get you to spunk were really quite high! It was usually just a matter of time and the right application of pressure.

The rather plump and hapless Santos was out of luck from the moment they caught him in the open! In his year at the Academy, he'd probably observed a number of Hangs and knew what this was about, so once they’d got him, my God did he holler and screech. It was a good job it was being done in the new sports block - well out of earshot of interfering staff.

The team racked him mercilessly; his own body weight making it easier than usual, and they split his chubby brown legs impossibly wide. Murderous threats turned shortly to howling and frantic begging as, not so tenderly, they pulled him apart to the point when he was finally ready to be trained.

Like all traditions, a Hanging Wedgie still had its boundaries. The Academy was a boy’s school and the unwritten code was; it was bad form to touch a guy’s dick. That was a no-no and too gay for most people's liking. At least that was how it was at the beginning of the journey. Only at the finish, when the guy was riled up good and ready, everybody agreed it was the kindest way to get it over with and he could be properly and soundly jerked til he squirted. Even then it had to be through a sock or paper towel; no direct contact. But using his underwear to get him excited on the way there was quite within the loosely interpreted guidelines that defined the Hang. We stuck doggedly with the belief that it was part of the wedgie scene, and kept our heads firmly in the sand about what we were really doing. After all, someone was still being jerked with goal of getting them to spurt. It was just being done in a way that allowed everyone to suspend the belief that there was anything wrong in it – allowing us to ignore the fact that there was a communal sexual gratification in play. It wasn’t written anywhere, but everyone signed off on it. 'Hey – it’s just a bit of fun, people would say. We’re just messing!'

For me, it was a time of life that I was still getting used to the whole masturbation thing. The idea that it might be possible to see another guy hard – maybe even squirt – was, even then, of massive interest! Mind you, in the packed lockers just after lunch that day, I wasn’t the only one who might have flushed if someone had asked, “And what have you got in your pocketsies, my precious!” As I said, it was the first Hang I’d seen and at the time it did seem a bit gay to be playing with a guy like that, but everyone else seemed to be into it – even Ry – so I just went along for the ride...and, damn, was I glad I didn't miss it!

There were some pairs of underwear that you didn't want to be caught wearing if you got hung. And Rogério Carvalho Santos was definitely wearing the wrong ones - small black slips that had a wide white waistband. In fact, they seemed to be mainly waistband, and the rest of the cotton clung around his parts inadequately. A good wide band, stretchy but tight enough that it could be snapped just into the right position was meant to be the best way to take the beginnings of a woody and encourage it along.

They got to work on him with the wedging and, without ever touching skin of any kind, the front of his black briefs was lifted and stretched. His dick, which frankly didn’t look like it was showing much interest, came out for air and flopped down vertically towards his nose and the band was snapped down over his shaft. With a good split, it was remarkable how much of his briefs got stuffed in his crack, but sadly, it didn’t seem to be making much difference around the front. It seemed that Santos was immovable.

However, he was about to be a groundbreaking first for the Hang, as they said it was the first time anyone had used a sock in that way. Where the guy leading that particular Hang had got the idea from, I’ve no idea, but seeing that plan A wasn’t working, he changed to plan B. He pulled off one of Santos socks and, to surprised squeaks, cinched it tight around the base of the guy’s dick and under his balls. Then band went back – trapping him half way down his shaft! The threats and swearing in two languages began to multiply as poor Santos found himself responding to the teasing manipulation.

I have to say, that small item of clothing could well have been a significant turning point in the life of Rogério Carvalho Santos. Without it, he would more than likely have succeeded in avoiding what was to come. However, whatever the sock technique was doing, it really made a difference; something which, I later learned, was to do with the way blood flows in and out of the tissues down there. As they kept pulling his briefs around, Santos suddenly became quite motivated!

Since then, using a sock on a guy - we called it 'banding' - became standard practice. It speeded things up, and these days any guy lifted into a Hang and then banded, could be easily inspired to come up stiff. It’s what everyone else there had come to see anyway, so why disappoint?

Give him his due; Santos was impressively big. In fact, it seemed a marvel that he ever managed to keep that weapon safe in such inadequate underwear! And now it was all out there, everyone was keen to know if that spear could be made to jizz!

After having been soundly persuaded to put it all on display, crap, did he start squealing. Using the wide waistband of his briefs they worked his sweet spot incessantly. He swore and cursed and promised all kinds of evil retribution; anything to end the movement of the unrelenting cotton and avoid the inevitable. None of it did him any good and he finally arrived at that frantic squirming that traditionally marked the final stages of desperation for those coming to the end of their journey. We all applauded him towards his finale!

It was the ultimate humiliation of the notorious and fiendishly erotic Hanging Wedgie. Coercing a boy to shoot his wad - not for the benefit of a girl or as proof of his manhood, but forced out of him by his peers; splashed onto the ground and wasted. For Rogério Carvalho Santos, after the long wait, his time arrived abruptly, though it had taken so long to get there for the Latino boy, that I doubt there wasn’t anyone present who wasn’t as hard as I was!

What he uttered came out as part way between a shout and a strangled groan of relief - and was neither English nor Spanish. Rather, it was in a language that every boy in that room who masturbated was familiar with; the language of sex. We all correctly and immediately translated the complex announcement as:

‘OH GOD – I’M NEARLY THERE!’

Without missing a step, his other sock was wrapped around his dick and jerked rapidly.To what must have been his utter dismay, yet from the grunts he made sounded like a total relief, Santos completely unloaded across the tiles. From a head that had darkened towards a shiney desperate red, a huge spurt of creamy jizz erupted. The first spurt was followed by another, and then another until, by the fourth, he had reduced to a dribble.

OH MY GOD! Never had I seen ANYTHING like it in my life before! Trust me, I had to really adjust my trousers after that!

Afterwards, I quizzed Ry about it in detail. It seemed he'd seen quite a few Hangs during his time - though the sock had been a surprise, even to him. The truth was, it had me worried. It was one thing to hear about it, but something else to actually see it first hand. It could happen to anyone, Ry had said. After all that, you can bet I made it my business to make sure I was NOT to become the next 'anyone'!

Well, Santos was only with us for the one year. At the end of the summer term he returned to Venezuela, or from wherever he came. But the training of the young Latino had gone well and, after being hung, he definitely calmed down a bit - sticking to himself and becoming much less of a prat. He even made a few friends! Perhaps, when he went back to his home country, they would realize there that he’d come a long way in life. He’d certainly done so across the floor of the new sports block of the Atlanta Academy that fateful afternoon. It's quite hard to live that kind of thing down - especially if you're not allowed to forget it!

Thinking about that whole scene, I came to realize that there had been a kind of inevitability that was part and parcel of the Wedgie War. Ever so often, a run on Wedgies at the Academy would officially be turned into a War. That upped the ante considerably, because almost every time, it would lead up to somebody - sometimes even more than one - being treated to a notorious Hanging Wedgie. Who it would be, or when, nobody knew, though we all adamantly believed it could never EVER be us.

Talk about living in denial! We were too popular, too clever, had too many friends; we'd watch out for them, and they for us. In the heat of the moment, how many times had I seen those pacts go down the tubes!

Every couple of months or so, some unsuspecting guy would be utterly dismayed to find himself up-ended into a Hang. Glaring out in shock into an ecstatic, upsidedown crush of eager teens, his world would get rearranged! His trousers would go and his boxers would end up in his crack. Then, he who had probably taunted others caught in the same position, would find himself put to the test. Shackled by his own sock, he'd find himself unable to avoid rising up shamelessly to greet his audience. Nine times out of ten, his spunk would end up on the floor. Everybody - including his so called friends - would be cheering and thoroughly enjoying watching him become the next one in a long list of those taken all the way!

With almost everybody happy, we'd get back to normal life again. In many ways it was like a pressure release valve for the school, and everyone sighed in relief until the pressure built up again. Whoever had suffered the indignity on that occasion would slink away to lick his wounds. He'd become a celebrity for a few days, but it would soon be forgotten.

Helping someone to get over being hung was a delicate matter. Having just splooged in front of an audience, first off he'd want to sink into a hole and die. Then, once he'd straightened out his clothes and got his act together, he'd be seriously pissed with everyone. Scraps were not unknown in the immediate aftermath! He'd be boiling mad for a few days, and the truth was, not all friendships survived the ordeal - especially if a close friend had played an active role. Thankfully, the majority did.

Timing was critical, but good friends wouldn't allow him to stay distantly mad for long. That didn't help anyone. Give him a day, maybe two max, and they'd come back around him protectively, offering solace and working some delicate diplomacy. For someone who'd been through the Hang all the way to its climax, they'd let him know that he had nothing to be ashamed about. He wasn't the first and he wouldn't be the last. As far as these things went, they'd say - and he may well have found himself galvanized enough to enthusiastically squirt quite some distance - he'd put on a pretty good show. Eventually, even he would come round enough to brush it off, while looking for the perfect moment to get revenge!

This was closely guarded tradition of the demonic Hanging Wedgie; a practice we had a complicated love hate relationship with. It continued unabated because everyone wanted to see it being performed on others, and yet, in equal measure, we feared it because nobody really knew who would be next; or when. Odds were you would never be targeted. A right of passage some might call it, though no one in their right mind cared to join that elite group of those invited to take the journey! All I knew was it would NEVER be me – and they DEFINITELY wouldn’t DARE try it on Ryan!

Or so I thought until that ghastly day when I ended up watching Ry being lifted up and stripped.

* * *

Searching the faces that Luke could see from where he was standing, he spotted at least two – no, three – who’d been there before Ry. The nearest, only a couple of paces away, was Xiao 'Joseph' Wong.

Back when he and Simon had entered the Academy, it became apparent that they weren't the only foreign kids. In fact the school drew quite a few international students from families, who's parents - usually business executives - were semi-permanently located in the Atlanta area. As long as they paid the fees, they were welcome. Xiao Wong - going by an anglicised Joseph as most struggled with chinese pronunciation - was one of those.

There was nothing particular about the guy that should have singled him out. He was a bit of a swot, but that wasn't a crime. He was also captain of the school chess team. Again, Luke didn't feel that was a sin - though not all were as generous! What let Joseph - or Joe as he was known - down was not staying safely inside the locked restroom stall, while wedgie-style frolicking went on outside!

It had been three months previously; the last week of the semester before the christmas break. Exams were over and they were all letting their hair down. Two people got hung that week, and Joe Wong was the first. Joe was Asian, and home for him was Taiwan. An 11th grade junior, he was a nice enough guy - if rather thin and weedy. His English was pretty good and he'd fitted in at the school well enough to be hardly noticed other than by those who frequented the chess club.

He'd probably been taking a dump because he appeared from one of the stalls into the middle of complete mayhem. Kieren McElroy had just successfully landed his second Wedgie of Doom of the day as Joe strolled out; right through the middle of the pack. Either Joe was naively oblivious of the danger, or he assumed he was impervious. Luke had been there and had seen it all!

Another guy from the 11th grade hadn't wanted to miss the opportunity and tripped Joe up. Before he could wriggle away, Kieran - from Luke's class - had scrambled on top of him and had started to yank Joe's boxers up his crack. Joe had squealed something in his native tongue that sounded like 'Mi choi shang'. God knows what it meant! Grinningly, Kieran had suggested that, if he wanted a Hang, they could sort that for him! Led by Kier, there were quite a few Juniors on hand, more than willing to help.

Poor Joe. He never knew what hit him! With ease, they up-ended him, and for a guy with such prowess at the chess board, he lost most of his pieces quite quickly. Stripped to his boxers, he found himself in check early on in the game; tied off with a sock until his unremarkable pawn was exchanged for a healthy bishop! The journey was swift and they chased him around the board for a bit - though Kieran wasn't anywhere near as mean as many could be when delivering the splits!

By the end, Joe only had his King left, and he was out of time. Fully checked and now appearing more than ready to be mated with the second sock that Kieran wrapped around him, he surrended his last piece quickly, and quite messily. He splooged not many feet from where Ryan was also hanging, waiting for his turn!

Luke studied the slightly built Asian as Joe watched that same Hang being performed on Ryan. After his downfall, Joe hadn't been a happy puppy at all. He'd left for the Christmas break in a foul mood, and even now seemed to be brooding. It didn't look like his chess pals had been much help to get over it - even now they still joked that his chess game had gone down the pan since the incident! Luke regretted it was going to be Ry, but it would probably be good for Joe to see someone else - especially someone like Ryan Alexis - meet the same fate.

Joe had been the first one to join the Hall of Fame that last week of term. The second? Kieran McElroy himself! Luke glanced past Joe towards the wall by the door, and spotted Kieran standing near Cody Mitchell. The pair were whispering and Kieran seemed to have a satisfied gleam in his eye!

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

Back in that same week just before the Christmas break, wedging anything that moved, Kieran was becoming a problem. We all agreed he needed reeling in, so we planned the perfect way to sort him out.

Kieran McElroy claimed Irish heritage, as if it actually made a difference! On the other hand he was bright and lively and a popular member of our class – a guy who was always ready for a bit of fun and into any action that was going. This time, without him knowing, the focus of that was HIM.

We laid a trail that indicated that a plot was out to hang Todd, and Kieran was quietly given the heads up in a way that indicated we needed his expertise. Other than that, it was kept under the radar, to be done on the last morning at the end of the final sports period of the year.

Carter, the coach for the session, wasn't particularly creative. Dressed in regulation kit, we spent a sweaty hour in the gym, moving between cross-presses, steppers, rowing and jogging machines. Back in the lockers, we bided our time, not in any rush to get to the shower room. In the corner, I could see Kieran grinning like a goat at a garden party in anticipation.

True to form – and more so because it was the last day of term - Carter abandoned us to change in our own time before lunch.

The way it went down began as Ry mock-felled Todd and called for help. Hook, line and sinker, Kier fell for it and threw himself onto the pile. With his attention diverted in the scrum, more than enough of us gathered round and grabbed his arms and legs and hauled him to the showers! Everyone was getting soaked, but who cared?

There was no way we were going to let such a moment pass by without something special and we'd planned it all well in advance. Out came a whole packet of disposable razors and several cans of shaving foam! It didn't seem right for him to shower fully clothed, so Kieran lost the lot and, under the steaming shower heads, every scrap of hair from his neck to his toe, too! Some wanted to take his eyebrows as well, but Todd drew the line at that.

I have to be honest, poor Kier didn't take it well!

By this time almost everybody wanted a piece of the action, though the honor was given to Ryan to scrape away every last inch of his pubes. A dozen eager razors and plenty of thick foam later, a handsomely smooth Kieran McElroy was rinsed off under the water. He came out like the proverbial baby's bum!

We all liked Kieran enough to want the best for him; and didn't everyone deserve something special for Christmas? When someone suggested that, in memory of poor Joe Wong, that might be a Hang, who were we to disagree? He only had himself to blame, after all! So Kieran was upended, and the look of surprise on his face was priceless as he found himself hanging upside down. Profoundly plucked, he really was a goose - completely stuffed and ready for basting.

His language wasn't the best as on went the sock band and back went his boxers. Only he could say whether the audience just being his class-mates happened to be a good thing or not, and if he thought that his Irish heritage was going to offer him some modicum of protection, he was sorely mistaken! Everyone agreed afterwards that, with it all shaved off, Kier looked like an up and coming porn star. Up he was, and cum quite spectacularly he did!

Nobody, least of all him, was in any particular hurry to get it over with so, still spitting out a torrent of abuse, Kieran hung on for quite a while. But he couldn't hold out for ever and the Hang took its traditional course. Christmas arrived early for Kier as - exactly like Joe - he spunked a remarkable distance across the tiles, becoming the next in line to leave his mark on the hallowed floors of the Academy.

At the time, everyone knew Kier was seriously pissed, and it was probably a good job it was the last day and he had a few weeks to get over it. Remarkably, when we started back in the New Year, he seemed buoyant once more, receiving quite a bit of good-natured teasing with equanimity. You had to respect the guy; under the showers he didn't flinch, even though it took almost two months to grow it back!

* * *

Luke studied the scene again. Despite his belief that nobody with an ounce of sense should be Hanging Ryan Alexis, the evidence that they'd pulled it off was staring him in the face.

Looking to the left and right, those around him were beginning to settle. Everyone - other than Ryan of course - looked happy. Even Joe was grinning now. He knew they would be thinking what a great day this had turned out to be, and how lucky they were to get prime seats for the show. Standing just back from the front row and off to one side, he felt a little guilty, knowing that, in a round about way, he'd been the cause of Ry's demise - even though Ryan had still made it worse by putting up a fight. Despite that, Luke was still angry at the way it was done; because he knew for a fact that Mitchell had set Ry up. There would have to be payback there.

He shrugged. What was there to say? Ry had walked into a Hang and there was little either of them could do about it. Luke could see he had that same wide-eyed, stupefied appearance that both Joe and Kier had had. And who could blame him? He’d be no different if, God forbid, it should ever be HIM looking out this direction. When realization set in, everyone looked like that when they finally got it that they were being started on the journey!

Without much doubt Ry would be boning up soon. But there would be more than that if the last four Hangs he'd witnessed were anything to go by. This pilgrimage, that was about to be Ry’s own rather personal – and, for Luke, quite erotic - encounter with the diabolical Hang, would almost certainly be ending with him creaming right onto the restroom floor!

Completely unloading. Right in front of him!

He swallowed, slowly growing hard at the idea that he was actually going to see something he'd only ever dreamed about! Afterwards there would be hell to pay, he knew. It would mean Ry would be in a foul mood and he could probably kiss goodbye to going round for a swim. It would be days before he came around and saw sense. Even so, there was no way he was going to miss any of this now.

He chewed his lip. How would it be? Joe had had a rough ride, but Kieran had got over it quickly enough, hadn't he? It was just one of those things that nobody thought about anymore. He hoped Ry would be the same and that it wouldn't change things between them. He shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it now anyway...even if he wanted to.

They had Ryan cleanly pulled out at by then, but that was only the start. The body stretch was meant to be painful. Physically stretching a guy until his joints ached and muscles felt like they were coming apart was just a warm up. Even so, quite a few started begging even on a stretch! And, as Ryan was not a tall guy, the force of the up-pull against the immoveable grip on his arms and shoulders meant he was someone who could be seriously racked.

And Landon looked like he meant to do it.

26. Broken One

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Broken One

Ryan blinked as though coming out of a daze. Everything was upside down, though that was the least of what was wrong as he glared in shock into the mass of bodies jostling for position in front of him.

What a fucking crap day this was turning out to be!

He'd been holding his own as Todd and the others had tried to get a wedge on him, but there had begun to be too many of them. It had been a hard struggle in the fight to keep him down, and he hadn't been able to twist free from the arms of those who held. He’d taken a breather, sure that there plenty of other ways he could find a way out of a difficult position and avoid a Wedgie of Doom, but - not surprisingly -Todd looked pretty determined. With plenty of people arriving, he’d gritted his teeth as Todd heaved his boxers up his back.

He’d grunted in discomfort. "Crap, Todd! Give me a break!"

"Sure Ry, anything you want!" sniggered Todd. "Flip him guys!"

He’d struggled in their grip again as he - and everyone - got that he was going to be 'doomed'. There was nothing he could do about it as they successfully flipped him. Held down by many hands, he’d glared at Todd, determined to get him for this before the day was out. At least it would be quick and he knew Todd wouldn't hang around, though he knew what boxers he was wearing and they were nowhere near loose enough to get them over his head! Luke was still going to owe him BIG TIME after this!

At first, when the call for the Hang had come, he just hadn’t been able to compute it. It made no sense. Why would anyone do THAT to HIM? He’d recognized Mitchell's voice and had ignored the threat. From Todd's face, he could see he wasn't interested either.

Then Landon had pushed Todd out of the way and taken over.

Then it got serious and escalated as the clamor for him to be lifted him into a Hang had multiplied.

* * *

Ryan's eyes flicked up into the faces of those gripping him and he was relieved to see little enthusiasm there at the prospect of joining a Hang. Come on guys. He pleaded silently. Just let me up and let's get out of here.

"Matt...JJ..." Landon called others and Ryan scowled as they gave him away to less safe hands. He started thinking fast. He had friends. Todd was there - and Luke, of course. But before he had much time to put his thoughts together to mount a defense, abruptly they began to drag him across the floor to make space.

"Fuck, Todd NO!" He called back towards Todd in dismay. His white shirt rode up his back as he was scraped across the rough surface. "Come on! I never did this to you!"

If there was a moment when he felt the rug being pulled from under him, it was then. Despite his plea, he saw Todd smirk. "Sorry bud." Todd grinned more widely. "Just take it like a man!"

Ryan could hardly believe his ears and his heart sank at the blatant treachery. Todd was blowing him off? The bastard! Frantically he scanned the faces for Luke, but he was nowhere to be seen. Had he made a run for it?

"I'm really sorry Ry – you know I hate to do it to you.” Landon started to take his belt. “What can I say? Like Todd says, bud, just take it like a man!"

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME, YOU PRICK!" It made no difference as Landon methodically removed his belt, undid the button and pulled down his zip

“For God’s sake, stop worrying about your prick!” Landon chided. “We both know we’ll get to that!” Laughter flowed around him. Everyone knew what THAT meant!

Landon dragged down his trousers with a flourish, surprised at what he found. “Whoa, Ry! Nice boxers!” He played with the waistband provocatively and read the imprint. "EURO-BOY? Fucking sexxxxxyyyy!" Ryan squirmed when Landon started playing with his underwear; a style nobody at the school normally saw him wearing. "Oh my God, Ry! Does Luke know you're wearing his slinky briefs?"

Ryan scowled and swore at him. The boxers were a style he really liked, and came from a trendy boutique in the mall, where he got a lot of his clothes. However the color and fit hardly fitted with the image he portrayed at school. His ears turned pink and, to cover, he growled at Matt and JJ. "Let go, you bastards!" He heaved on his arms again.

Matt grinned. "Ease up bud. No need to get your knickers in a twist!"

JJ gripped him even harder and laughed meanly. "Matt's right, Ry. I think Scott's gonna do that for you!" He’d known JJ a long time and he knew he wasn’t going to cut him any slack, but he didn’t stop struggling as Landon took off his shoes. Then he began to pull his trousers off.

It was going too fast. "Fuck off Landon! Don't you DARE!'

But Landon dared, and did! Cat whistles erupted as he was stripped to his boxers

"Just the shirt, bud." Landon began undoing the buttons, one by one. "Don't want you making a mess over it do we!"

As soon as his shirt was pulled off him, he shouted in dismay as they stood to lift him into the Hang. But it was badly coordinated and he saw his chance, wrenching hard at the arms that tried to pull him straight. Leroy and Jason were unbalanced as he twisted and turned. If he could get them to drop him, he new there would be no way - and his fists would make sure of it – that they would get him up again! Heaving desperately, he ignored the strain on his stomach as he raised himself up their backs, pulling Matt and JJ with him. He was so close. Matt was losing his grip.

“Come on Ry!” Out of the crowd, Luke’s voice called. It completely distracted him. Luke was here? Still?

Then Leroy steadied them and Matt snatched his wrist again and locked it down. They did a cross-over. Reversing positions, they crossed his stretched arms over beyond his head; left arm pulled to the right and vice-versa. Not everyone got that and it wasn't long before he found out why they said it hurt like fire! They heaved so hard he couldn’t hold his position and got wrenched down.

Breathing heavily, he glared into a space full of people; many of whom he knew really well, others hardly at all. It was all the wrong way round...not just physically, but disconnected from what any normal day should be. He'd just been maneuvered into the infamous Hang and was out of options as the inverted world grinned back at him, looking delighted by his sudden downfall. It seemed a million miles from the easygoing normality of the school restaurant where he and Luke had just eaten lunch. Many of those friends who'd shared the table with them were scattered around the room. He could even see Toby Skerrit near the door, watching him impassively. His initial shock didn't last and soon he was overwhelmingly angry, to the point where the emotion rode roughshod over everything else.

How the fucking hell had this happened?

Centre front from where he was hanging, he could see an upside-down Jacko Jackson. The kid had watched the Bond movie with them, for God’s sake, and here he was, grinning with all the rest, and just as expectant. And Luke. He couldn’t see Luke, but he’d heard him call out and knew he was close. What the hell was THAT about? It was a disgrace, and fucking HIS fault that he was here in the first place! So why the hell wasn’t he going to do something about it? It stoked his anger. He was damn well going to break some bones when he broke the lock on his arms! Then, when this was over....

When this was over?

He swallowed, fully aware of the looming threat. He knew exactly what they were going to try to do; he'd happily enjoyed watching it play out on countless others before today - some even close friends, like Kieran. Now they'd decided it was his turn and, far too late, he realized how disturbing it was to be the one hanging upside-down, manipulated in this way. He was unprepared for how bad it felt. There was nothing fun about it at all!

To keep the panic at bay, he picked a spot on the ceiling and stared at it, focusing on the idea that, despite the evidence, not everyone could be made to shoot. He made a pact with the small blemish in the paint above him that he would NOT give them what they were all wanting.

Landon appeared in his field of view. "Hey there Ry!" Landon sounded cheerful. "I bet you didn't expect to be here today?"

"Piss off you bastard - you do NOT want to do this!" Ryan glared making his threat clear.

Landon sighed theatrically. "I take that as a no then. Unfortunately, I hate to rain on your parade, bud, but you'll find we really DO want to do this!" He brightened. "Come on, Ry, you know you had it coming. Why don't we just get it over with? Just enjoy!" He seemed ready to get down to business. There must have been some signal that Ryan didn’t see but he grunted when the first pull came.

He’d seen others racked. He knew what they would do, but he clamped his teeth together, determined not to make a sound. His legs were levered further over their shoulders. The pair holding him bent to take up the slack.

The first few were nothing and it fired up his belief that he would be above it all. Pathetic bastards; they'd fail and then he'd break some heads.

But he found out that they were only just getting started. Against the solid weight of the two bearing his shoulders to the ground, the next pull was jarring on his upper back and shoulders. His stomach muscles bunched with the tension.

Shit! His arms were really beginning to ache with the twisting strain of the cross over. He knew he was just inviting more, but stared stolidly outward, refusing to give them any satisfaction. Leroy and Jason levered him even higher, but he kept it together for a second, third and fourth, pulling hard with his arms and still refusing to yield.

Landon was amiable as he oversaw the treatment. "We can keep this up all day if you want Ry! But you know we can stop if you want..."

Ryan groaned silently. It didn't sound like Landon was going to be willing let it go with a few uncomfortable stretches. He was waiting for some begging! He wanted to deny them, but his arms had started to burn and he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist that much more. For the fifth time, they bent down to lever him even higher on their shoulders. And then pulled hard.

SHIT! His teeth remained staunchly gritted, but THAT had hurt.

"Christ!" He swore. It felt like his arms were being pulled from their sockets! "Okay...enough!" He knew even then that he couldn’t take a sixth and gave up. Yet Landon chose to ignore him and got ready to deliver it. Even before it came, his mind was begging. He'd had more than enough! He squeezed his eyes closed as his spine felt the jarring torment. “ENOUGH – STOP!” The anger in his voice was being replaced by desperation.

But Landon shook his head. "Sorry bud – can’t hear you – it’s a bit noisy in here. You’ll have to do better!” Landon made them do a seventh.

When it hit Ryan, the punishing torture made him squeal in pain...and finally beg. "SHIT! STOP! ENOUGH! PLEASE FUCKING STOP IT!”

"Okay Scott – you’ve had your fun. Now drop him and leave it be!” Finally, to Ryan’s huge relief, he heard Todd's demand and saw movement across to one side where he could see Todd standing forward at last. Reason had prevailed and Todd was calling a halt to it all.

But the prosecution overrode him. Landon shook his head and sounded ugly. “Piss off Quince! You had your chance; you don’t get to say what happens now. And you know the deal - if there’s a Hang, it goes all the way."

“You tell him Scott – all the way!” Ryan heard the gloating voice of Cody Mitchell coming out from his hiding place from within the pack. There were mutterings of agreement; all unwilling to have a Hang stolen from them. Stunned, he watched the last line of defense step back - leaving him, quite literally, to hang.

He shut his eyes after Landon had faced off to Todd. His muscles burned. He was angry with his own weakness but God, that pull had hurt!

“Hey there squirt!”

Ryan opened his eyes abruptly to find Landon crouching down right in front of him to talk. He had the gall to smile, as if he cared. Ryan just scowled; angry words would only add to the satisfaction Landon would be enjoying for his uncontrolled begging. Yet Landon had the cheek to reach up and smack him on the backside in a friendly manner. Then he ruffled his hair. “Cum on Ry, it'll be quicker if you don't hang about!" Landon sniggered at his own pathetic humor.

Landon continued to crouch in front of him, studying him as the anticipation mounted around them. Ryan tried to ignore them all. Everyone but him seemed so happy to be there. They’d racked him and, like most, he’d been forced to beg. To them it turned him into a mere mortal. A toy that could be played with - and they were probably looking forward to a few games.

Landon stood and moved into position behind him. Looking upwards he could see him peering down from between his legs. He may have sounded amusing – chummy even – to them, but close up, his eyes were disturbingly cold and cruel. Ryan knew what came next. The fucking sock! He’d seen one wrapped around enough dicks to know what would happen. He waited fo r one to be pulled off his foot, but Landon seemed to have other things in mind as he seemed to pause and look across the room.

Over the buzz, a voice carried. "WAIT!"

Ryan immediately recognized the owner. It was Kieran McElroy. He groaned silently. What the hell was HE up to? From his inverted position, he watched Kieran push his way out of the group to come to join the Hang team. Ryan’s eyes went wide. "Oh shit, no...." He winced as Kieran lifted a powerful-looking rechargeable shaver from his pocket.

Kieran waved what he was carrying and grinned knowingly. "Hello Ry! I think you know what this is?"

Ryan groaned. He knew exactly what Kieran had in mind. And after what he'd done to HIM, he knew he probably deserved it.

“I dunno, Kier," sniggered Landon, adding his own drama. "It seems a bit radical!” Nobody, least of all Ryan, believed he meant it!

Landon addressed the congregation. “So, who thinks we should shave him?” There were looks of patent disbelief at the audacious proposal. Few there had witnessed what they’d done to Kieran. Mounting enthusiasm quickly followed disbelief as the gathering realized that a guy was about to be cut down.

Ryan felt hands on his boxers and he jerked his head up towards Kieran, pleading. “Awe – come on, Kier. Do you have to?”

The answer came as his boxers were slipped right down to his knees. Immediately there were whistles of appreciation from those surrounding him; everyone like to see the moment a guy got put on display. It was indescribably humiliating, though his eyes remained glued to what Kieran was carrying.

Kieran McElroy held up the razor and flicked the switch to test it. “Oh, I think so, Ry. Don’t you?” Ryan watched Kieran brush his fingers through his hairs as if it were hallowed turf, making him squirm for what he knew he was about to lose. “That's one nice trim you've got there, bud!” Kieran made a point of looking at his watch. “Still, I think we've got time for a bit of close pruning, don’t you?” Whether Ryan agreed or not was irrelevant. All he could do was watch helplessly as Kieran depressed the button. The energetic razor buzzed into life and was pressed to his groin.

The shave was ruthless. The rechargeable shaver – probably from the locker of someone who liked to keep facial hair down – was a good one; efficient and powerful. As Kieran marched it across his skin, it ate up his dark pubes hungrily. Horrified, Ryan watched it all go.

Kieran pulled his dick out - against the rules, but nobody seemed to care - and made sure the whole shaft was stripped. He showed absolutely no mercy, even risking the foils on his nuts to wipe them clean, before going underneath and around his crack. Amidst howling laughter, Kieran went over him again and again, covering the same ground from different angles ensuring Ryan became totally smooth. Nothing remained below his belly button. Not even a 5 o’clock shadow!

Ryan knew he only had himself to blame, but the impact was shocking. His dick - never large at the best of times - became visibly diminished as he was regressed by the blades to middle school status.

Having achieved the complete defoliation of Ryan’s manhood, Kieran smirked. "There - that looks a whole lot better!” he announced. More quietly he murmured. “I gotta warn you though Ry, it fucking itches in a few days!" Apparently satisfied that Ryan’s groin was as smooth as it was going to get, Kieran then started on his legs, stripping him right down to his ankles, before going around the back to shave the last hairs off his hair off his backside.

Ryan bore the whole humiliating transformation with gritted teeth, desperately regretting every square inch of hair he’d similarly helped strip from Kieran not many months previously. It took only a few minutes to complete, though, like Kier he knew he would bare the disgrace for weeks - months even.

By the time it was finished, the shaver was beginning to struggle. Coming at a point where the excitable chatter had abated, Jacko's voice called out. "It's running out of juice!" Ryan's eyes flicked outwards to where Jacko stood, just a few feet away. He was grinning widely. Like everyone else, he seemed delighted to be watching Ryan being turned into a ridiculous preteen.

Kieran's face appeared from between his legs. He reached around the front and, quite brazenly, gave Ryan's closely shaved groin a rub, before playfully tweaking his dick. He looked up and grinned. "I wouldn't worry about that, Jacko. I think we'll find plenty of juice in there shortly!"

Ryan cringed at the faces leering at him - all alive with expectation at the promise of what they hoped would come

A lewd voice called out. "Come on Kier, we haven't got all day - get him banded up and milked, for God's sake! I've still got lunch to eat!"

"What ya having, Callum?" Another voice joined in, overriding the laughter. "Spunk sandwiches?"

"With mayo dressing..." Another took it up and the room around Ryan dissolved at his expense. He tried to ignore them and continued to watch Jacko react. On the school tennis courts, he had become something of a mentor to the cheeky Jacko Jackson; taking him under his wing to help coach his technique and improve his gameplay. At the crude humor, he could see Jacko's eyes widen - no doubt at the suggestion that his mentor might well be coaching him in a different technique shortly!

God, could it really come to that? He glowered at them all, determined that it wouldn't.

"Come on guys." Kieran grinned out into faces that looked back expectantly. "Be nice now. It's not Ry's fault he's about to squirt his jizz over the floor!"

"Piss off Kieran!" Ryan's uncomfortable anger swelled."It's not going to happen."

"Oooohhh - fighting talk there Ry!" Kieran looked outwards again. "What do you think Joe? On a scale of one to ten, how long will he last?"

Ryan could just see the face of the slight Asian teen and grimaced as he realized that it had been in this very restroom that Joe had been made to unload too. He and Luke had been there. Joe colored, though his dark eyes flashed knowingly and he got a few friendly slaps on the back from those round about him. He grinned at last and called back. "I'd give him a minus one!"

Kieran pulled a face. "Hell, that's generous - I was thinking more like minus three! What about going to get one of your chess clocks? We could time him to see if he sets a record!"

Joe seemed to be enjoying himself now and shook his head. "No way! By the time I get back he's going to be quite finished!"

To most, this exchange between two veterans of the Hang was priceless, but Ryan squirmed.

"Come on now, girls!" Prodding Kieran out of the way, Landon stepped back up the plate, clearly keen to get back into the limelight. "With all his pubes gone, the poor guy's going to be getting chilly. Why don't we start a little friction to warm him up?"

Ryan felt his sock being pulled. There was what felt like a communal licking of the lips as Landon made a great show of looping the sock into a ligature around him.

His own outburst of swearing was overshadowed by the chorus of delight as Landon drew the ends until Ryan felt the pressure begin to increase. He couldn't help but grunt as the constriction became snug and then tight. Landon seemed satisfied with the banding, and secured it. His eyes glinted. "Time to see what you've got, Ry...you know what happens next!" With that, he pulled Ryan's boxers back into place, snapping the waistband into place over the top of his shaft.

“Bastard!” Ryan hissed, but he knew he was in trouble.

Trying to ignore the effect of the cuff, he tracked Jacko’s gaze again. Those eyes flicked down from where they'd clearly been locked and they made eye contact. Jacko looked unsettled and broke the contact quickly. Ryan felt guilty, even though what was happening wasn't his fault. He could already feel the effect of the cuff. He was rattled now, too. He knew that Kieran and Joe were right. Almost eveyone spurted onto the floor. How would anyone ever be able to take him seriously after this?

Unexpectedly, something scraped the base his sockless foot. It was startling and he squeaked and jerked up and down. Landon's ruthless leer peered down.

"Shit, Ry. I didn't know you were THAT ticklish!"

Ryan felt the jolting scrape again and swore as he pulled violently at his bonds. They had NO idea how ticklish he actually was. Then his boxers began to move and the torturous advance began; pushing and pulling the material around his groin to try to get him aroused. Around the front, the waistband rode repeatedly over his sweet spot. On his backside, the material began to work its way into his backside.

Not if I can help it! He raged at them silently as his underwear began to be pulled up into his crack, and squeezed his butt cheeks together to resist the invasion. It did nothing more than to invite the inevitable split.

Landon was clearly enjoying himself; ringmaster of an act that he probably hoped would be hard to beat; going down in the annals of school history as the day they got Ryan Alexis. He coughed and raised a hand and immediately the crowd hushed for him. “Guys – give me a bit of space will you? You’re crowding me!” He smirked cheekily and the two African Americans got the joke and both began to slowly move away from him. Everyone burst out laughing, as the impact of the side steps was to induce the split. Ryan gritted his teeth together as they began to slowly separate him. Like some obscene upside-down Russian gymnast glued to the parallel bars, there was absolutely nothing he could about stopping his thighs diverging as they drew him apart.

"SHIT!" He squeaked in discomfort as his crack was opened and Landon heaved down on the tortured underwear. Unhindered, it slipped a little deeper down into the crevice. At the front, the black waistband clamped down tighter, beginning to persecute him.

"I'm sure we can do a bit better than that guys!" Landon appeared like some modern day Sampson as the stood between the two African Americans and physically drove them apart.

It was a hellish ordeal! "Bloody fucking HELL!" Ryan shouted. Not only was it a shooting pain in his groin, but also his backside opened up completely. The back panel of his boxers were rolled into a thong and forced deep inside his butt.

"FUCK YOU LANDON!" He swore again, explosions of anger returning to bolster his sense of worth in the humiliation of the obscene wedge.

Landon gasped. “Ryan Alexis – I’m shocked! Such naughty language - and there are kids present too. I'm gonna have to spank your arse!” With that he gave Ryan a smack across his open cheeks.

And then another.

The multitude collected around him him the restroom erupted at the comedy as Ryan screamed at the demeaning attack on his backside. Nobody had EVER been spanked in a Hang before. How FUCKING DARE Landon! Worse still, everyone in the place thought he was a joke! Even Jacko was laughing.

"WHAT THE FUCK! Piss off you pervert!” He squeaked with impotent rage, but the high-pitched voice didn’t sound like his own, and it just made everyone laugh the more!

It seemed that Landon sensed the approval he was getting and he hit him again, harder this time. “Dear, dear, Ryan. Those are naughty words again!” His face was alive with his own cleverness. “You’re going to need a bit more discipline!” With that, he dragged the wedged briefs out of Ryan's crack and raked the dark red material as far off his backside as the splayed thighs would allow.

With unrestricted access to his backside, Landon hit him full on. Hard and brutal. And then again. And again.

Seething with anger up to that point, everything changed. Ryan cried out with a beating that struck right at the very heart of his being, dragging him back in time in a way that had nothing to do with the physical alteration around his groin. The images flashed through his head and he could hear the words as they came back to life from the deepest of black pits.

You will respect me, son! Is that clear?

THWACK! Landon hit him again and he shouted with a pain that threatened to consume him on every level.

He’d been at an age when he had enough years to learn to hate his father, yet too few to know how, and when, to retreat. Whatever happened, he was always at fault. Nothing was ever good enough. Yet setting himself again his father in a battle of wills was always one that ended up across his knee. A hand at first, it had soon progressed to a belt. Always with his trousers and underwear down to maximize the humiliation. And when he was too old for the knee, he would have to lean across the top of his parent’s bed while is father beat the crap out of him.

You will RESPECT me, son! Are we CLEAR about that?

Each beating ended the same way. His father would stand him up on his feet and demand ‘Are we good now?’

Good? What the hell was good about any of it? He was given a choice. If he glared and showed the slightest hint of rebellion, it would start all over again.

You WILL respect me, son! ARE WE CLEAR?

Finally, usually in tears and unable to take any more, he would hang his head and nod. ‘We’re good’, he'd finally admit and his father would look satisfied. ‘You know it’s only because I love you…” his father would say and Ryan would have to nod again and try not to shrink in fear, anger and disgust at the pseudo hug his father would then give him - alongside words of love that were only another means of control and domination.

THWACK! Landon hit him again and he cried in pain. Maybe those observing the treatment could sense his distress, as it seemed that there were those who were beginning to doubt what Landon was doing. There was a marked cooling in the room.

Perhaps Landon sensed it and he quickly withdrew his hand; no doubt wanting to get the audience back on his side. In the hiatus, Ryan felt something scrape his foot again. He jumped and squeaked. He felt his other sock being pulled and fingers assaulted the balls of both his feet.

All at once, he was wriggling and laughing. Fingers – he didn’t know whose - reached around from behind him and dug into his ribs. He screeched, though the underlying tones of it were completely different from the cries he had made when being smacked. It was still cruel, but in a different kind of way. He dissolved into screaming laughter, jerking around in his bonds like some upside down, demented marionette. As quickly as it had abated the raucous laughter returned.

Probably it was Leroy and Jason who were going unmercifully at his feet, because, under the cover of hilarity, Landon spanked his backside again.

THWACK!

He squeaked and howled in laughter. Landon began forcing him to split again and agony erupted as they opened him wide.

THWACK! Full on and debilitating, his backside was a mass of fire. The fingers at his waist, now pushed up to his armpits and continued to keep him from getting under control. He convulsed and shrieked as every single person shrieked with him. His father jeered at him out of every one of them.

THWACK! He could hardly breathe.

"LUKE!" He begged. The tears running from his eyes might have been mirth, but they weren’t. "MAKE THEM STOP!"

Frantically he searched for help as his words were lost in his own ability to speak them properly. Todd was wiping his eyes, unable to stop roaring. Jacko was almost bent double, holding his sides. Everybody was laughing. In his pain, Ryan almost became too fearful to look further, but before he could close his eyes, a face came into view, peering around somebody’s head.

Grinning at his pain and shame. Luke.

It was the moment that Ryan broke.

Breaking the spirit is an inexact science. Some people are broken accidentally, some by careful management, some even by brute force. Pain is a factor, both physical and emotional and, though humiliation might not be the same as a broken spirit, it can lead to it. Anger and He desire for revenge are the usual healthy responses coming from an individual who suffers some humiliation. But, if the circumstances are right and the sense of being put down and crushed is deep enough, then humiliation can give way to personal shame.

For Ryan Alexis, at that singular moment, his sense of shame multiplied. With the disgrace inflicted on him, he foundered at the loss of support and backup of those he thought he could trust. With the belief that all his friends wanted to see him degraded and cast down, his confidence wavered and then shattered.

He broke. And he fled.

Appallingly frightened by the room that had just closed in on him, he shut his eyes to try to block it all out – escaping into a world that tried to protect him what was being done; closing his eyes with the false hope that if he couldn’t see them, they wouldn’t be able to see him. In the blackness, his father chased him and he screeched with every additional smack on his unprotected backside.

The spanking finally stopped and he hung loosely in their grip, trying to get his breath. At last his arms were uncrossed, though he had no strength to do anything more than hang loosely. He felt exhausted; the fight drained from him.

“Christ, Ry – I think Todd just wet himself!” Landon was wiping his eyes.

An incredulous bark came moments after Ryan had got himself together enough to realize the truth for himself. "Oh my God" somebody wailed. "Look at him!"

Landon peered between Ryan's legs. The surprise in his face was genuine and the contempt in his tone said it all. "SHIT! What the fuck is THAT?" Ryan flushed. He could see why Landon and many others were mocking, and his self-esteem slipped to its lowest ebb.

The banding sock had done its job. A network of swollen veins evidencing what he already knew – that, in a world where size mattered, he was never going to grow any bigger. It wasn't even Landon who scorned him in disbelief; from every face that he could see came smirks of derision. Even Luke.

He gathered his tattered self-belief and tried to spit back. "FUCK YOU!" Fuck all of you! Like a courtroom, they’d judged him and his pathetic inches cowered. He didn’t know who he hated the most - them or himself.

Landon leered over him. "With THAT thing, Ry. I kinda doubt it!" He mocked him, evilly. "It’s nice to see you enjoyed the spanking though!"

His face burning furiously Ryan tried to will his stubby erection away, but the sock had other ideas - as did Landon.

“I have to say, these are nice boxers Ry.” Landon smirked as he drew them back on again. “A pretty color too. Have you got pinky-red ones as well? They might coordinate with your ass!” Most roared at the remark and others became emboldened and cocky at Ryan’s expense.

“Come on the Ry – let’s be having you! We haven’t got all day!” Landon grinned, suddenly all business like again. "Assuming that that thing can actually shoot, it's time to show us what you've got!" Landon picked up the band and positioned the words emblazoned on it right onto sweet spot behind Ryan’s head, trapping it outside his briefs and denying any possibility that he might soften up and slip back into obscurity.

Landon set to it and started a rubbing motion in the way that those there had seen so many times before with others pulled up into the Hang and masturbated like this through their briefs. It was just a matter of time and the right application of pressure. The move heralded the onset of the endgame though Ryan couldn't generate enough fight to care about what would happen if he was unable to control himself. The longer it continued, the more powerless he became. In the battle of wills, his confidence told him he’d already lost.

Yes, we're good....

He began to drift; escaping to his bedroom where he could be himself and his father couldn't touch him.

In front of him as he watched at knee level, several boys had their hands in their pockets. The front row seemed monopolized by younger, smaller kids - a number from the middle school, using their size to squeeze through to the front for the best view. He could see their hands pulling at their trousers, trying to get comfortable. It was an accepted quirk of the ritual that was being played out. If you needed to adjust yourself, nobody would mind. In the communal memory that day, all that would be eradicated. All they would recall would be the demeaning masturbation of Ryan Alexis and the very public semen that would soon come. Everyone would remember that.

Curiously, as he watched them, none of it mattered anymore.

Over the top of his increasingly sensitive head, the EURO-BOY continued to seduce him and his failure to concentrate pushed him forward. In no apparent hurry, Landon continued to draw the waistband of his boxers relentlessly over his short shaft. With a tinge of dismay, he twisted and pulled, but the grips held him firmly. A grip that said ‘You’re not going anywhere Alexis. Not till it’s done! Are we CLEAR about that?'

He gave up and retreated. That purple swollen helmet and the waistband that rubbed incessantly over it were now all that there was. He’d hung for so long, his head filled with blood and pounded as Landon kept up a buzzing monologue. As though he was breathing the dentist’s nitrous oxide the world was become fuzzy and detached. He began to dissociate from the reality around him to relax into the horrendous inevitability of it all. Maybe he was about to faint – it almost felt like it, although he knew he would never be so lucky.

He hardly noticed when the level of excitement around him changed as his boxers were drawn off him. Naked now and miserable, he felt the sock cuff being undone and the sock then wrapped around his shaft. He knew he was going to ejaculate. He groaned at the realization, though he wanted - needed - it to end now. He could already feel the growing pressure that would bring that end and his sense of failure told him it was what he deserved.

Just end it Landon.

In front of him, with his waist level with Ryan’s eyes, Jacko still stood, bunched in among those on the front row. A hand seemed to be moving in his pocket, a hand which seemed to keep perfect pace with the rhythmic movement Landon was continuing up and down his short shaft. For the kid, maybe it had only started by a need to adjust his trousers? Maybe he even had a hole in his pocket? Whatever it was, clearly Jacko had no idea he was being observed as he secretly rubbed himself.

Ryan tried to clear it from his mind. This was NOT what he wanted. Even so he couldn’t tear his eyes away and, unknown to the boy, studied Jacko’s face. He had always hoped that sometime in his life there would be a guy who might want to climax with him. Someone to share that intimate moment. Somebody that would love him even.

But not like this. This wasn't how it should be.

As Ryan watched him, Jacko became increasingly flushed and began to pick up the pace of his own secret hand-in-pocket masturbation. As Ryan watched, Jacko's mouth opened to facilitate an increased rate of breathing. He went faster as if driven so hard that he was losing the ability to care if others round him noticed what he was doing. Then, abruptly, his face froze. His eyes glazed and his whole frame seemed to shudder as he jizzed inside his underwear.

After he’d cum, Jacko’s eyes flicked down and caught Ryan looking at him. The younger teen seemed completely shocked at being found out and his face reddened.

Unable to bear it, Ryan silently cried for him. It was all there. He'd seen all of Jacko's secret, laid bare in that single glance, coming from a face and a place that could so easily have been his own. Painfully, he ached for a guy who he knew would only look forward to years of secrets ahead; playing the game and trying to appear normal.

The guilt of it all had leaked from Jacko's eyes; the same eyes that, moments previously, had been staring at him avidly. Ryan's arousal had been the complete center of his focus - and he'd been undone by it. In that most revealing of eye contacts, Ryan could tell exactly what Jacko was thinking. The look of shock on his face became deepest shame. His panicked eyes spoke volumes. 'Oh God...someone knows! Someone has worked out that I'm into guys...that I'm a fucking gay!'

Ryan bore the shame with him, carrying the blame for it and feeling responsible for the agony of fear that being outed was going to bring. Of course, Jacko had no idea he was in safe hands and it did nothing more than extend Ryan's own self-loathing, knowing he could never tell the lad it was okay; convince him he was just a normal human who happened to be gay.

He would never let Jacko know it was okay to be gay...because in HIS world, it wasn’t.

Jacko broke the eye contact and stared at the floor. He began to back away, slipping to the second row. Nobody else cared about the young, up and coming tennis player, and they folded around him as he disappeared from sight. Ryan hoped to God he wouldn't do anything stupid. Yet, despite his worries for Jacko, observing the boy ejaculate had been too provocative. He was just human too. As Adam Jackson had brought himself to his own climax, it had called something deep out of Ryan and he clenched his legs over the shoulders that held him.

Jacko's activity and hurried departure had wrenched Ryan right back into the immediacy of his situation. He was angry. Angry at the injustice of all that he had to carry.Tthe persistent masturbation brought the first spike – a sudden premonition that he was going to ejaculate. Leaning over him and watching carefully, Landon sensed victory. “There we go Ry…. not long now!” As if in response, discharges of precum began to coat his head and make him slippery against his stomach.

Ryan groaned. "Oh...fuck...." He wasn't able to keep to tone of desperation out of his voice as his back arched.

"You've got him," a voice called out, the delight undisguised. "He's gonna blow!"

Again Ryan jerked his head up and towards his tormentor, angry and desperate. “Please, Scott.” He would beg with his last breath if that’s what it was going to take. “Don’t do it – please – don’t make me….”

Landon leaned closer. “You want me to stop?” His voice seemed to show pity, and Landon seemed to consider it. He chewed his lip and his eyes flicked around. “Maybe.” Hope flared. “I guess you don’t wanna jizz to this lot of fuckers – I know I wouldn’t!”

“Please, not like this…” Ryan hissed again. Landon seemed to be listening.

“Ryan wants me to stop!” Landon lifted his head to address those who were already gathering in close for the finale. "What do y'all think? Shall we give him a break?"

"Shit, no," someone cried. "Fucking milk him out for God’s sake!"

"That’s right! Come on Scott, make him shoot!"

"Just finish him off! And someone find some paper towels!"

Landon was gleeful as he strengthened his grip. "Sorry - you heard them, Ry. No can do, bud!” Ryan shuddered as Landon started jerking him, deep and slow. It was devastating and the brief interlude had only heightened his sensitivity.

He howled as he was rushed towards the end “Ah….Fuck! Stop this now you bastard!” The sensations were uncontrollable. He shook his head in desperation. Everyone could tell he was about to spurt in an arch onto the tiles. Every nerve screamed for it. Landon seemed to know it too and the socked hand speeded up its assault to try to send him over the edge. He eyes flicked desperately around him, but all he could see in the faces of those who leered at him was his father seeking to belittle him. His misery was complete and his father gloated at his weakness. Resistance had gone, rapidly it was replaced with a physical and irrepressible need to climax.

He made a last ditch effort – pulling, twisting and shouting obscenities at his tormentors. In his head, he knew he’d been defeated even before the pressure started to develop deep in his groin. A few more strokes and he tensed.

“Watch out! It’s Benton!” The shout, coming from somewhere near the door, caught everyone by surprise and the knee jerk reaction across the whole room was instantaneous. Benton, the Principal of the prestigious Atlanta Academy was well known to be a monster and being caught as part of this unusual scene could spell disaster on every level! Even being expelled from the school was not unheard of.

Ryan hit the floor painfully as Leroy and Jason dropped him in a panic. The jarring impact cut across his impending ejaculation and he lay there breathing heavily, stepping back from the edge. Spooked, those gathered around him began streaming from the room on mass, pushing and shoving to get as much distance as possible from the Hang.

From where he was lying, Ryan watched the door. Fearful though he was, there was no time to get any of his clothes back on yet, surprisingly, no Principal burst into the restroom to haul him to his office and start calling his parents.

After a time, a few of the recently departed came back and, by their faces and voices, he could tell that they’d been misled about Benton. He sat up, still fearing what they would do, but the moment had passed and they left him alone. The spell had been broken and he was relieved there was little enthusiasm to make the attempt on him again. Instead the mob seemed happy to move on, chattering excitedly; probably in search of other potential victims.

Gradually everyone left until only Luke and Todd remained. Someone had at least thrown him his trousers. He held them over his nudity, remaining sitting where he was as people flowed around him. He looked for his boxers, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Alone now, Todd looked awkward. “Sorry Ry – I didn’t really plan any of that bud – you know that...”

Ryan just stared at the ground, shaking his head wordlessly and blanking the inner turmoil. Todd shrugged, but had nothing to add. He recovered the rest of Ryan’s stuff, finding one shoe in a bin and the other in one of the stalls and left it all nearby, before he too left the room.

Alone with Luke at last, Ryan stood tenderly, feeling as much crippled by the shame of his nakedness as by the muscular pain. He hurt. Stripped and disheveled, he caught a glimpse of himself in the multiple mirrors and grimaced at the memories of the recent minutes.

Holding himself upright unsteadily, he held the trousers protectively over an erection that still hadn’t fully diminished. Turning protectively towards the sinks, he began drawing on his trousers.

"Are you okay, Ry?"

Was he OK? No - not really. He suddenly felt more fragile than he could remember. How easy it would be to give into the need to cry. There were questions he wanted to ask Luke, but he knew that if he voiced them right then, he’d be unable to stop breaking down. Why did you stay? And why didn’t you stop it?

Silently, he buckled up his trousers and tucked in his shirt before starting to put his socks and shoes on. "I'm fine." But he wasn't fine and his voice sounded broken too.

"That was really brutal," muttered Luke.

Brutal? That was one way of describing how he'd been so humiliated - by others and by himself. He knew Luke was only trying to help, but he didn’t want to talk right now. Not to him. Not to anyone. It had seemed a good idea at the time – to take the fall for a friend. Something you would do for a best friend who needed his own escape from feeling wretched. At least he would do that for Luke. But this? It had been too much of a high price to pay. Even for a friend. Even for Luke.

He picked up his jacket that was still lying, untouched, near one of the sinks.

“Ry….”

He flared in anger, whipping his head around to face Luke. “What do you want?” It passed quickly. “Just leave me alone.” He shook his head, staring at a point on the floor. More words would become tears and he couldn’t bear the thought of more weakness. Pulling on the jacket carefully, he picked up his backpack that had been resting on the floor almost forgotten. He kept the pain to himself and slipped away with it through the door.

Walking slowly along a crowded corridor, many ran by him laughing and mocking. Several pushed too close in a deliberately attempt to provoke. The noise and many bright faces were like physical blows and he kept his head down, not wanting to see anybody. Finally he slipped unobserved into one of the smaller restrooms. It was empty, and he locked himself in one of the stalls, and sat quietly on the seat, hugging his arms to his chest and still nursing the pain of overstrained tendons. Waiting. Hidden.

Quite a few came in and out as he sat there alone. Nobody seemed to be looking for him, but plenty mentioned his name and talked about him avidly. On one occasion someone pulled at the door looking for a stall to use and he stared at the lock, fearful of discovery.

As the minutes passed, he shook his head to dislodge the cloying discomfort. Come on Ryan. Get a grip. Move one. Show some respect for yourself. A few times, he stood, to try to get back on the horse again. Every time he made the attempt, in his head his father hit him and he failed to do anything more than drop back down again onto the seat, the pain in his frame competing with the memories.

He'd told himself that he didn't care what people thought about the size of his dick, but the looks of derision on their faces had hurt deeply. With all the things he carried - an abusive father, an alcoholic mother, secrets and loneliness - that 'small' thing had become the straw that broke the camel's back. He fought to not allow feelings of worthlessness overwhelm him, but it was too much and he buried his head in his arms and started crying.

Time ran out and he eventually had no choice but to move. He tried to sort out his outer appearance, tucking his shirt in properly, straightening his tie and washing his face, putting off the moment when he would have to come out into the light. The corridors had all but emptied and he was the last to arrive at their first class of the afternoon.

They were waiting for him - as he knew they would be.

27. Broken Too

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Broken Too

The door swished and then thudded closed as Ryan slipped out of the washroom. Watching him go, Luke was alone, troubled by his own shortcomings. Quickly he gathered up his things; his jacket from where he'd left it by the sink tops, and his backpack from the floor. He hurried out after Ryan.

He pushed through the door out into a crowded thoroughfare, but there was no immediate sign of Ryan. He turned one direction and hurried through the milling groups, expecting to catch up with him within moments. When there was no sign, he did an about-face and went the other way. Still not finding Ryan, he spent the remaining ten minutes of the lunch recess, searching high and low. He checked all the likely places; home room, the library and back in the restaurant, as well as all the usual spots outside where they would normally hang out. Everywhere he went, the buzz of the recent Hang had got there before him. Several people, all looking amused, asked him where Ryan was. Trying to disguise his worry, he laughed them off and kept searching.

Where the hell was he?

He felt he needed to do something. Apologize. Explain. Console. Make a plan for revenge even, if that was what it was going to take. Anything! But Ryan was nowhere to be found and, with nowhere else to look, he arrived early for English, hoping to catch him before the lesson started. Many of his classmates were already there, gathered in small groups and talking animatedly. He held no illusion as to what they were discussing. Faces turned his way as he stepped through the door, but flicking his eyes around the room, Ryan’s wasn’t amongst them. It looked like they were all waiting for Ryan too.

He pushed through to his desk and began unpacking as Todd arrived. He seemed in a good mood.

"So, has he forgiven us yet?" Todd smirked as he swung his backpack onto his desk.

Luke snarled in irritation at the cheap approach Todd seemed to be taking to the demeaning affair. "I dunno Todd." His tone was cutting and Todd looked up. "I haven't seen him since - but what do YOU think?"

Todd held up his hands defensively. "Come on Luke, don't be like that – you know it wasn't my fault!"

Luke continued to scowl. It helped to be angry with someone else. "So where is he then?" he demanded. "You're saying you haven't seen him either?"

Todd shrugged. "No idea. I thought he was with you. He’s probably been laying low - I mean who can blame him!” He looked at his watch. Class would be starting soon. "I'm sure he's fine - and he’s bound to be here in a minute."

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw Landon and Mitchell arrive. The bastards looked full of themselves.

Landon strode straight over. "Okay - where is he?" He looked triumphant.

Luke scowled. “Fuck off and crawl back into your hole!"

Landon’s eyes narrowed, but Mitchell joined him and brushed it off. “What’s up with you, Luke? Come on, we’ve all seen Hangs before. So, it was Ry up this time. So what?”

Landon’s dark face twisted into a grin. “Pity he never squirted though.”

Luke had to fight hard not to lash out, knowing it would just play into their hands, but couldn't stop an angry expletive.

Landon just shrugged it off. “Hey guys – look, I’m sorry for Ry, but it’s not my fault!”

“That’s crap and you know it!” Luke fixed Landon with a disbelieving stare as several others gathered around to watch the conflict.

Landon faced him down. “The hell it is! And anyway, I’m not the one who started it! You’d better ask Todd about that.”

Eyes turned to Todd, who looked uncomfortable.

“Come on Todd – admit it!” continued Landon. “You were the one that set the whole thing up in the first place. It wasn’t my fault that it was me who got pushed into having to do it when you chickened out!”

“What?” There were murmurs of surprise. Luke growled at the half-truth.

“That’s a crock of shit Scott, and you know it!” Todd flared in anger and fixed Landon with a glare.

“Oh come on, get off your high horse. If you think that, then why didn’t you just stop it? You could have done if you wanted – but hey…you didn’t! And maybe it was because Ry was the one who tried it on you first?” Landon sneered, playing his trump card.

"That's fucking rubbish, Landon!" Luke was fuming. "I was there. You came for me and Ry, and he got you first - but it was just wedgies; not a Hang!"

Landon shook his head. He smirked. "That's not how I remember it."

It was a complete lie, though Todd stood his ground. “Okay, you’ve had your fun – now just back off and don’t be a fucking idiot.”

Keeping it going, Mitchell squealed in a falsetto voice. "Oooohhh Scott…stop it! Go back to spanking me…..pleeeeaaaasse!” The whole room heard it and the mean laughter spread.

Luke snapped. "You're a bastard Mitchell!"

“Excuse me Mr Summers?”

Luke gritted his teeth as Keynes, their English teacher, bore down on him.

“I will not abide foul language in my classroom! Now what’s this all about?” Keynes was acidic.

“Nothing sir.”

Keynes shifted his attention. “Mitchell?”

“I have no idea sir. Luke’s just in a bad mood it seems.”

"Landon?"

Landon shrugged. “Honestly sir, it’s nothing. We were just wondering where Ryan was, that's all. He seemed a bit HUNG over today!”

"Hung over?" Keynes spluttered. "Drinking in school is strictly forbidden!" There were more grins, though nobody risked laugher. Luke glowered as Keynes turned on him again. “Mr Summers – be so kind to join me here tomorrow lunchtime for a little detention if you would. I will NOT suffer bad language in my class or my presence for ANY reason! Is that CLEAR?”

“Yes sir." Luke fumed, but there was no point in arguing. It all had some sick sense of finality to it; try to do good and you get punished.

Right in the middle of it all, Ryan appeared at the doorway.

Even though Keynes was there, a rowdy cheer burst forth when they all saw him. Many had been at the Hang themselves, and those who hadn’t had already been given the full story. There was whistling and banging of desks in appreciation at the great show Ryan Alexis had provided for them.

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Keynes. Silence descended and Keynes turned on Ryan. "Alexis...you're late. Now sit, before you regret it!"

Luke watched Ryan shuffle to his desk, head down. He was part way there when Keynes barked again. "Alexis...come here!

Ryan froze and turned.

"Have you been drinking?" Keynes demanded, not waiting for Ryan to return.

Ryan looked up and shook his head. "No sir." The words were clear though quiet. Of all the things he looked like, drunk wasn't one, though Keynes continued to watch him suspiciously as he took his seat and the lesson began.

Throughout the period Luke glanced frequently in Ryan\s direction who, with Keynes's back turned, continued to be a magnet for teasing. It was inevitable really. Words were whispered; things flicked; lewd gestures made. Despite it, even he could see that most of it was in fun; not malicious. He knew many of them had an honest respect for Ryan that would way outlast a Hang. Couldn't Ry see that?

Surely the best thing for him – for everyone really – was for Ryan to laugh it off. See it as a minor glitch. He’d taken it on the chin and now they needed him to stick up two fingers and slap a few heads. Anyway, he could hold up his own head, knowing that, in the end, they'd failed to get him to go all the way? Luke hoped he would take it like that and the familiar infectious grin would spread and that would be it. Everything would be okay again.

So it might take a couple of days to get back to normal, he could accept that, but something just wasn't right. The Ry he knew would be spitting mad - or at least coldly angry. What he was seeing seemed like none of that. This was... Ry seemed lost; beaten and unable to do no more than keep his head down. He desperately wanted to whisper some encouragement, but the alphabet kept them apart.

At the end of a lesson that Luke could remember little of, and as soon as Keynes dismissed them, Ryan seemed energized. Grabbing his bag, he darted for the door. Clearly he was trying to get away first, but Landon must have been waiting for it. Nearer to the exit, he got there first to stand in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and blocking the escape. Still trying to gather up his own books, Luke groaned. Instead of hurling Landon to one side, Ryan appeared to freeze. He looked uncertain as Keynes strode by the pair, giving them a bleak look. As soon as Keynes had left, others gathered around and Luke had to push to get through.

"What's the hurry Ry?" crowed Landon. "I'm sure everyone wants to know why you seem to be missing these!" With that, he pulled Ryan's dark red boxer briefs from his jacket pocket, flicking them at Ryan's head where they caught and dropped onto his shoulder. Why he was carrying them, nobody questioned, but Ryan flinched and paled as the room burst out laughing around him.

Luke made it alongside Ryan. "Enough! Just piss off, Landon."

"What?" Landon smirked as he held up his hands. "I was only trying to help!"

Ryan pushed the boxers into his jacket pocket and remained woodenly silent as the first of the lively crowd began to push through them, heading towards the next lesson. The room began to empty.

Mitchell left too, squealing, "Oooohhh - Scott - spank me again!" With him, a long line of smirking classmates passed through, until only a few were left. Abruptly, Ryan turned and left too. Not surprisingly, Landon hurried after him. It was clear to all of them that he didn't feel it should be over yet.

"LANDON!" Luke shouted loud enough to turn heads further up the corridor.

Landon stopped trying to chase Ryan down and turned as Luke bore down on him. "Why can't you just leave him alone?"

Landon sneered, shifting the issue. "Don't blame me if you got detention with Keynes! You deserved it. That was a crap thing you said about me earlier!"

Todd stood in between them, trying to keep the peace. "Just ignore him, Luke. He's just being a fucking idiot."

"Oh for fuck's sake guys - give me a break! Don't you think you're overreacting a bit?" Landon whined plaintively. "So…we gave Ryan a Hang. So what?” He looked pointedly at Kieran McElroy, who was nearby. “Plenty of others have had the same – isn’t that right Kieran? It's no big deal.”

Kieran's eyes narrowed, though his tone remained neutral. "You've got no idea what you're talking about Scott."

“And the spanking?” Luke was furious. ‘What the hell was that?”

“Oh, come on Luke.” Landon grinned. “You have to admit – that was hysterical. Don’t tell me you didn’t find it funny too!”

Luke ground his teeth. It would be a lie to say he didn’t. At the time, he was grinning like everyone else. Now he was ashamed of it.

Landon took his silence as an admission. ‘Exactly – so don’t come at me so high and mighty! If you didn’t like it, you and Todd should have said!" Perhaps he realized things were not going his way, and there was no Mitchell to hide behind. "Come on - it wasn't just me. Kieran was in on it too!"

Kieran continued to be deceptively pleasant. "Yes, I went out to get the clippers. Giving Ry a shave was a little personal payback." He stopped and his eyes glinted. "But I have to be honest Scott. If you'd have pulled a stunt like smacking my arse in the way that you did with him, you'd be picking your teeth up off the floor right now."

A nasty sneer started at Landon's mouth, but he disguised it quickly. "Look - guys.” He raised his hands to placate them. “Ry is probably my best bud. I’ve known him a lot longer than all of you! Okay, maybe we got a bit carried away, but lots of people get hung. If you get pulled up, there's nothing you can do about it. I know Ry - he’ll laugh it off soon and get over it quick enough. Everyone does. I’ll talk to him in the next class and put it right, I promise. It’ll all be fine tomorrow – trust me.”

Luke wasn't much taken in by the idea that Ry and Landon were such 'best buds', but any hopes Landon might be harboring of continuing the assault on Ryan ended, when Ry didn’t actually appear for any more lessons that aftenoon.. Neither was he to be found at his locker at the bell. Wondering where he was, Luke hurried out to the parking lot. They'd arranged to give Ryan a lift home that day - perhaps there would be time to talk before his mum got there.

He arrived at their normal pickup point anxious, to discover he was the only one there. It was a couple of minutes later that he saw Simon and Toby ambling along in the distance, deep in discussion. As they came close, the family minivan pulled up. His mum was typically cheery as Simon and Toby clambered into the back.

"Hi boys! Good day?" She didn't get much of an answer, but then became aware that they were one short. She peered through the open door where Luke still waited on the sidewalk "I thought we were taking Ryan today?"

"We are." He looked at his watch and studied the passing crowds for any sign of Ry's arrival. "I'm sure he'll be here in a bit. I'll just go check."

"Well tell him to get a move on!" His mum's voice followed him as he left his stuff and hurried back into the school. As fast as he could, he searched the lockers and the main spaces. Nothing. His last hope that he'd missed him and Ryan would be waiting at the van on his return, proved to be wrong. His mum was getting annoyed and there was nothing left but to go. He hopped into the back and slammed the door.

"How is he?" Simon kept his voice down under the sound of the engine.

Luke grimaced. "You were there?"

Simon shook his head. "Toby told me about it."

"I don't know. Probably not good. He disappeared before we could really talk. Maybe he left? " He tailed off, refusing to say any more. The family van was no place to have this talk. Still, he fretted to himself. What should he do now? Call Ry on the phone? Go round? What would he say? What was the best thing to do? Damn Landon!

"I don't get it?" It was Toby this time.

"You don't get what!" he hissed back.

"Why would you let them do all that? Why didn't anyone stop it?"

Why did you stay? And why didn’t you stop it? It should have been you, not Ryan.

"Shit! I don't know!" Luke exploded. "What's it got to do with you anyway? Just keep your damn nose out and mind your own bloody business!"

"LUKE! That's enough!” His mum's voice was harsh and immediate. “I think you need to apologize!" She pulled over to the side of the road, parked up, and turned to glare at him. "And I mean right now, mister!"

Even Simon was scowling. Luke flushed at the public reprimand, but he knew she was right. "Sorry Toby. I apologize. It's been a really bad day."

Toby chewed his lip and nodded.

"So, will somebody please tell me what's going on? What's wrong with Ryan?” Lucy didn't seem at all ready to continue their journey. “Is he ill?”

The other two looked to Luke for guidance and he shook his head. "Something like that," he muttered, just loud enough for his mother to hear.

She turned to the front again, but he could see her narrowed eyes through the rear view mirror as she appeared to ponder the three of them. They kept silent and eventually she shifted back into drive and pulled back into the traffic. Maybe she was hoping for more once they'd got going, but she wasn't going to get it and the silence reigned until they dropped off Toby at his house. Even that only generated a simple ‘bye’ from Simon. Then it was back to an uneasy silence as they drove down the steep hill, over the main road, and up into their own subdivision. Luke hardly noticed the journey as he continued to grapple with what he should do.

Once they were upstairs and away from prying ears, Simon marched into his room and scowled at him once more. “There was no need to have a go at Toby! It wasn’t his fault!” There was a clear emphasis on ‘his’ that made Luke flinch.

Why did you stay? And why didn’t you stop it? It should have been you, not Ryan.

"Toby said Jacko stopped it."

That was news to Luke. "Jacko? I knew he was there, but…." He put the pieces together and a face fitted the voice everyone had heard. "It was Jacko who shouted that Benton was on the prowl!"

Simon nodded. "It seems so." He pulled a face. The distaste in it was poorly hidden. "So you just let them do it?"

“I tried – I was stuck at the tight at the back!” Luke growled back, anger mounting on top of guilt. “Before I could get forward it….” He tailed off and looked away. "You weren't there - and anyway, I don't have to explain anything to you!"

"For God's sake, what if it had been you?"

That was the truth and Luke hung his head, defeated by the insight. He felt utterly miserable. "It was meant to be...."

"What?"

He told the full story about the Klamp getting stuck. "Ry knew I still had it on," he admitted at last. "He took on Todd to give me a chance to get away."

Simon had listened, tight lipped, but now he was relentless. "So, after all that, you decided to wait around to watch him shoot?"

Luke knew that his face gave it all away and he didn't try to deny it. "It all got out of hand!" God this was such a mess - and now he could tell there was something was badly wrong with Ryan. "What would YOU do?"

"Now?" Simon shook his head and glared again. "What kind of STUPID FUCKING QUESTION is that? I'd get my sorry ass around there hours ago to sort it out! Fuck, Luke! What were you THINKING?"

From someone who hardly swore, it was like a slap in the face. A slap Luke knew he deserved. He didn't dither any longer. He didn't even bother changing. "Cover for me if I'm late for dinner can you?" With that he grabbed his bike and struck out towards the Alexis place.

Fifteen minutes later, he stood on their front porch, still trying to decide what he would say. Nothing seemed right. Finally, he rang the front door bell. There was no answer. He rapped his knuckles on the expensive maplewood door, but nobody came. Leaving his bike propped against the garage, he tried the back security gate. It was unlocked, so, carefully, he pushed it open and went into the backyard. He saw Ryan immediately, sitting alone at a small table near the pool. He hadn't changed out of his school clothes either, and appeared to be staring at nothing.

"Hey, Ry...," He waved from the gate, trying to sound upbeat. Ryan's eyes flicked towards him. If he was surprised he was there, it was hard to tell. “I knocked at the front – I wasn’t sure you were here.”

As if waking up, Ryan made an attempt at a smile of greeting, though it went no further than his mouth.

"Hi." Ryan cleared his throat. "Sorry - I didn't hear you."

Luke closed the gate and came closer. “We were worried about you…you kinda just disappeared… “

“Oh..." Ryan lowered his eyes. "I just wanted to come home – I couldn’t really stomach Landon any more.” He shrugged. “I walked a bit to get some fresh air, and then got a taxi.”

“You were lucky there was no register taken.” Luke made a stab at how long Ryan had been sitting there. He could see his backpack on the ground and wondered if he’d even been in the house yet. “Are you all right?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Something in Ryan’s eyes flared, as if daring Luke to say it. To Luke it seemed better than the broken deadness, but he hesitated.

“Just forget Mitchell and fucking Landon.” Whether Ryan was listening or not, Luke couldn’t tell. He felt awkward just standing there and his own miserable shame pounded him. “Listen – do you wanna do something…?” What, he had no idea. Anything would be better than this.

Ryan shook his head. “I….I can’t today.” Meaningfully he touched his backpack that was still resting on the floor where he’d dropped it. “Stuff to do - and I need to go out….” He paused. “I can get you a drink if you want - do you want something?"

"I guess..." Luke felt extremely uncomfortable, and he didn’t really need a drink. It had been a mistake to come and it was pretty clear that Ryan didn't want him there either. Ryan stood slowly and took a set of keys from his pocket. He opened the door that led through to the kitchen, but Luke stayed outside, feeling like an intruder. As soon as he could, he would leave. What then, he had no idea. Feeling exposed standing, he sat on the edge of a chair and watched the door to the kitchen.

It seemed to be taking Ryan a long time to fetch the drink, to the point where he guessed Ry had no plans to come out again and was just waiting for him to go. Luke was right on the edge of calling through the door to say that he had to get back to their house for dinner, when there was a heavy crash of smashing glass. Already on edge, it made him jump. Quickly he stood and hurried to where the terrible sound of breaking had come from.

He found Ryan standing alongside the large central kitchen island. An empty glass stood on the uncluttered work surface, next to an open bottle of coke. A second glass lay shattered in front of the fridge at the far end of the kitchen, most of it’s contents splashed over the floor in between.

"I...." His voice tense, Ryan was staring at the shattered remains. "Sorry...it slipped."

At almost any other time, Luke might have been bemused; could even have broken out laughing at the pure slapstick humor, as if they were actors in some comic farce - other than Ryan was trembling and his face was twisted in a way that scared the shit out of him.

"Did you enjoy it.... ?"

"Ry..."

Ryan trembled. "I asked you a question. Did you enjoy it? Did you laugh too?" He ground out the words. Soft, but full of bitterness. It was the first time he spoken to acknowledge both what had been done to him and Luke’s own involvement in the degrading punishment.

"Ry....it..." Luke stopped. There was nothing he could say that would be right. Instead, his eyes flicked to the fragments of glass that littered the space in front of the huge silver double-doored fridge. "I’ll help you to clean up." As if that would make amends.

“No – just leave it.”

“But it’s broken…”

“I said leave it.”

“It’s OK. Let me just get a brush and I’ll…..”

"LEAVE THE FUCKING GLASS!" Ryan bellowed his anger, and Luke froze in shock. Again, Ryan shouted, livid now. "WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP THEM?"

Luke had never felt so miserable and guilty for as long as he could remember, and he hung my head in shame. "Oh God, Ry, I'm sorry. It all happened so quickly. I didn't know what..." It felt completely false and inadequate. Ryan picked up the second glass and turned on him. With the sudden movement, he looked up and flinched, anticipating the glass hurtling towards him. He just stared in shock, knowing he deserved it.

Ryan drew back his arm and he lifted up his own to ward off the blow that was surely coming. At the last moment Ryan turned, and the glass hurtled, with destructive force, to the same place the first one had fractured. Fragments exploded across the floor.

Ryan was overwhelmed with fury. "Fuck you Luke! Just GO!”

“Ry – no!" he begged. "Please! Can’t we just…..”

Could they just what, Luke wondered helplessly. Years of friendship had just shattered.

Ryan was already moving and pushed past him, heading for the stairs. “Leave me alone and get the fuck out of my house!"

Perhaps if he'd have known better Luke might have said that letting out the anger was a good thing. But just then, he was being ripped apart! Without even thinking about the consequences, he ran after Ryan, taking the stairs two at a time to follow him. To talk to him. Beg for forgiveness. Shout at him. Do anything that might help!

And then disaster struck. His disaster.

He tripped on a step and fell heavily, full on and face down onto the stairs he'd been trying to climb. As he crashed right on to the edge of one of the carpeted steps, he felt something give. The SmartKlamp, still connected to his body, took the full force of the collision and he cried out in surprise and pain. Half way up the stairway, he lay still, heart racing, trying to make sense of what might have just happened.

Tentative, he moved - ever so slightly - and stopped quickly as he felt a sharp stabbing where there shouldn’t be one. Trying again, he attempted to lift himself, but the shooting pain returned. Worse that time, it forced a small cry from him. Beaten, he lay there as his distress and worry mounted.

Pain shot from his goin, where the SmartKlamp was located. He was damaged.

* * *

Extract from Luke's notes:

Frozen to the wide, tan carpeted, stairs, I lay full length, scared to move anymore. Something was cutting into me. For all I could tell, I might even have partially severed my dick and panicky thoughts tumbled through my head. Even Ryan took second place as I tried to make a plan to decide what to do.

I needed help.

“Ry….” I muttered, “I need you…” I closed my eyes against the enormity of what I was feeling down there. This was bad. Really bad! I was probably bleeding.

“Ryan!” I shouted, more desperate now.

“What?”

I opened my eyes in surprise, for two reasons. The first reason was that his voice seemed a lot closer than it should have been, and I tilted my head to find him poised a couple of steps up, studying me. The second surprise was his face and voice; Ryan was still glaring, but he was definitely no longer so furious and his voice was calmer.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

It was a simple enough question, but I knew I didn’t deserve it. Shit! Even now, as I write this, I don't know how he did it. I don’t know what it must have taken, to be able to offer what he was giving me just then. To step away from blinding anger and well founded accusation, to come back when I needed help. I don’t know where he found the strength. I don’t think I would have. No way....

“I think I’ve hurt myself.”

“What do you mean?”

But then, shamed by him, all the rest of it came flooding back. “Ry – I don’t know what to say. I should have at least tried to stop it. God, I really hate myself - and you were only trying to help me! I just got sucked into it and I didn’t know what to do. I was stuck at the back and tried to get forward and I….” After blurting so far, nothing more seemed adequate and I dropped my head in shame. I felt like crying.

I knew the truth of it all and it condemned me. Just leave me here. I’m such a fucking bastard!

“Forget that. What’s wrong? You tripped. Have you hurt yourself? Broken something? Can you move?”

“I just fell on the stairs – I think I broke it.”

“Broke what?”

“The Klamp. I fell on it. I think I snapped it or something. It hurts when I move. I think maybe I’ve cut myself.”

His eyes widened a little as he got the import of what was scaring the shit out of me. “Your Klamp? Shit – that’s not good." He paused as he considered the options. "What do you want to do?”

I stared at the carpet pile. “I don’t know...I don’t even know what’s gone wrong!” All I could remember was the doctor’s strict instructions. ‘Don’t play with it. Don’t risk letting the SmartKlamp become unlocked! If you do that, it gets a LOT more complicated!’ But even HE hadn’t said anything about the dangers of my dick being severed!

"Maybe we should call my mum and dad?" I needed help, even if it meant them ringing 911.

"Shouldn't you at least try to check it first?" Ryan sounded reasonable. "Maybe it's not as bad as you think."

“It hurts when I move.”

“Well, you can’t stay here on the stairs. At some point you're going to need to move anyway. Try putting your hand underneath and holding it still as you get up.”

I knew he was right. Maybe it was better to try myself, than be lifted off by an ambulance crew. Gingerly, I wedged one hand underneath to take hold of the damaged Klamp. With the other, I pushed up in an attempt to kneel. At first, there was the familiar sharp stinging, but then I angled it slightly differently and the pain stopped. Carefully I raised myself onto my knees and looked down onto the step, fully expecting to see blood staining the carpet. But there was none.

I didn't know what to do next, but Ry seemed ready to take charge. "Listen." He tried to keep me calm. "At least you should check and see what's happened. Not here though." He held out a hand to help me stand. "You can use my room."

Keeping the Klamp in a position that seemed to offer less pain, I managed to ease onto my feet and took each step carefully up the remainder of the stairs and down the landing towards Ryan’s room. He closed the door behind us.

“Now what?"

“You need to take off your pants and see if it’s okay.”

If you thought that such a request would bother me, you still have no idea how freaked I was about the potential disaster I was holding in my hand! Without any hesitation, I sat carefully on the edge of Ryan's bed and started to try to manipulate the button. He made to leave. He probably assumed I wanted privacy.

"Don’t go." I desperately needed moral support right then. And anyway, unwilling to let go of myself because I had a position that didn’t hurt, I couldn’t manage the rest by myself. "Can you help me?"

He nodded and came to kneel next to me alongside the bed. "How do you want to do this?"

"I dunno. I don't want to let go."

"Okay - well maybe it's easiest if you stand up."

Without hesitation I stood and he undid my belt and popped the button. With the zip down, I watched worriedly as he shuffled my trousers down, fully expecting to see blood seeping through my well-worn grey boxers.

"You're going to have to let go."

I knew what he meant. We had to look underneath to check for damage. "I can't." There was no way I was letting go. "Just pull the band back can you?"

Ryan's eyes flicked up to me. At the time, I don't think I realised quite how uncomfortable this was for him. I might have broken something, but he'd been through something pretty horrendous that day too! But he didn't hesitate and eased back the waistband. As we both saw the extent of the situation, he continued to peel them down without needing to ask. Now I could see what was going on, I managed to swap my hold on the damaged Klamp to allow him to slide my boxers off. They joined the trousers down at my knees.

"Oh crap!" I spat out an expletive.

"You really did land hard on it, didn't you!"

The damage was obvious. The Klamp had buckled and released its grip on my foreskin. Worse, the tube had fractured and, where a piece had cracked off, the tube had split leaving a dangerously sharp edge. It had been that edge that had been painfully digging into my sensitive skin. At least I could see where the source of the cutting pain came from and, holding it where I kept that edge away from me, I sat on Ry's bed again.

Ryan stood and stepped back. "It could be worse," he offered.

I swallowed, but nodded, knowing he was right. In fact, two things were good. The first was that there really was no blood, and the second was that I still had my dick attached to the rest of me!

Ryan voiced what I was thinking. "You can't leave it like that though. It will cut you."

Again, I knew he was right. Leaving it was just inviting disaster. “What should we do?”

Ryan pulled a face. "We?" I shifted uncomfortably and he could probably see from my face that I was out of my depth and added, "Well why don't you just take it off?"

He couldn't be serious! "I can't do that!" That was out of the question. Hell, there just seemed a lot that could go wrong when interfering with medical stuff.

"Why not?" He clearly saw less problems than me, which was hardly fair as it wasn't his dick in the grinder. "I mean isn't it meant to be coming off tomorrow anyway?"

I nodded. That was true. "Actually, he said it would normally have been ten days. He just had no slots today."

"Well, that's okay then. So, it’s going to be safe to do it. Why don't we try?”

"Because I don't know how."

Ryan paused. For the first time since we got to his room, he seemed distracted. "Well..."

"Well what?"

"I think I do...."

It seemed unlikely. "How the hell would you know that?"

He shrugged. "You told me what it was called."

"So?"

"I...well I saw the video." He seemed embarrassed. "When you said it was called a SmartKlamp...well I looked it up. There was a video that showed how it was put on...and how it got taken off...."

"Ryan!" I was shocked. "What the hell did you do that for?"

Ryan flared angrily. "For God's sake, you were being so fucking cagey about it. I was just trying to find out what you'd gone and done. You certainly wouldn't talk about it until the other day!" He crossed his arms. "Now do you want help with this damn thing or not. I don't care!"

I knew I didn't have the right to challenge anything he did that day and dropped my eyes. "Sorry. If you think it's possible - then okay, let's have a go." The thing was, I'd probably watched the same video. Perhaps he was right, it might not be so complicated.

He seemed to soften, though kept his distance. "What about this,” he proposed as we both studied the broken mechanism. “We take off the frame bit, which is hanging loose now anyway, and then let’s see if the tube section can be eased off easily. If it does - then great. And if not, then we'll find a way to protect your skin from the cracked edge. I don't know - with tissue paper or something....until you can get it looked at properly."

I considered the idea. Firstly he was right – at least in that there should be no reason the Klamp could not safely come off now - and I suspected we could probably get the frame away pretty easily. And if the tube was somehow stuck, then I could leave that for the Doctor tomorrow, or maybe go to the ER tonight if needed. It was worth a try.

"Okay, let's give it a go."

So Ryan went off to get some tools, while I sat and waited.

Knowing I still had a dick, and not even any terrible lacerations, I felt relieved. And now we had a plan, I felt more hopeful. And, being in Ry’s room, I felt safe. I liked Ryan's room. I would have swapped it for mine any day. Only his room, though. The rest of the house, big though it was, had always felt cold and lifeless.

A few minutes later, he came back and I looked, with some trepidation, at what he'd brought. He passed them to me; a pair efficient and evil-looking red-handled pliers.

"You have to be kidding!" I handed them back quickly. "You do it!" For the first time since we had stood together at the heads in the restroom that lunch, I saw something that seemed like the old Ryan. His mouth moved and it was nearly a smile. It gave me hope to believe that - even now - we might get through this.

28. A Friend in Need

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

A Friend in Need

"You’re kidding? You want ME to do it?" Ryan raised his eyebrows as he took back the pliers and examined the sturdy blades.

Still sitting on Ryan’s bed, Luke peered uneasily at the tool. "If you remember how to do it, then yes. But for God's sake don't cut the wrong thing off!" He tried to make it sound like a joke.

"Summers, you're such a wuss!" Ryan looked exasperated but bent to kneel between Luke knees. They both leaned forward at the same time over the top of his dick and heads clashed. It wasn't hard, though Ryan leaned back quickly, rubbing his forehead before pulling a face. "Crap! Give me some space for heaven's sake!"

"Sorry." Luke leaned back, resting on his elbows as he tried to keep out of the way. Ryan sat forward again, though the hand carrying the pliers began to shake like some demented fool as he brought the blades closer. Luke knew it was just a joke and was heartened by it. Maybe it was a sign that the old Ryan was coming back? He tried to sound at ease. "Pack it up! That's not helping."

Ryan snickered. "Sorry." Ry didn't look it, but that really didn't matter. His hand ceased the jitters and he lifted the mechanism gently, closing the blades around a piece of it. Before Luke had time to convince himself that Ryan was about to cut the right parts, Ryan squeezed the handles and cut through the white plastic frame.

Unexpectedly easily, it fell away. Within moments, all that was left was the fractured tube. With the framework out of the way, Luke sat up again and studied the remains, seeing what was nestled inside the clear plastic more clearly.

"Oh." He was surprised. "Well that was fairly easy." He felt optimistic, encouraged at how simple it had been. Ryan sat back on his haunches and they both paused to study his handiwork. Luke couldn't help but grimace; this hadn't been the ending to his circumcision journey that he'd anticipated - sitting naked on Ryan's bed while his friend went at him with a pair of pliers!

"Well...now the tube. Maybe I can have a go at that?" He hoped that with a quick pull it would all be over.

Ryan smirked. "Sure?" He picked up the tube, held it up straight, and opened the blades of the cutters near the base of Luke's dick. "I'm happy to snip if you need?"

"Shit - that's not even funny!" Luke pushed the hand away quickly and recovered his dick from Ryan. Hoping it would be as straightforward as the frame, he tugged at the tube.

He was disappointed. With the scar line appearing to be glued to the plastic, it didn't budge. He pulled a little harder, but other than it feeling quite uncomfortable, it seemed completely stuck in place. “I don’t know – it seems stuck” Discouraged, he looked up again.

Ryan studied the remaining piece too. "I think we just have to lift the skin a bit," he suggested. "It looks like the scab has stuck on the tube as it dried out. Probably if we wet it as well, that might do the job." He shrugged. "Or we could just leave it if you want?"

Luke bit his lip. On top of everything that had happened that day, sitting like he was on Ryan’s bed with his trousers and boxers around his ankles, was acutely uncomfortable. Getting the frame off had been a good start, but it didn’t really change anything. With the tube still there, the sharp edge was still going to cut into him. Leaving it was the last resort. He shook his head. "Don't stop now - I really need to get it off."

Ryan stood. "Okay...well, don't go anywhere. What we need is...." With that, he left, giving no explanation of what he was up to.

Don't go anywhere? As Luke waited, nakedly patient, on Ryan's bed, he wondered if it could get any more bizarre. He'd dreamed about a number of rather intimate moments – and there had been quite a few - with Ryan. None of them were like this! He shut his eyes and wondered how he was going to explain any of it to his mum.

Ryan was back shortly with a bowl, a cloth and an assortment of knives and spoons. Depositing the latter on the bed, he passed through to his bathroom and came back with a towel, some soap and the bowl - now filled with warm water.

Luke was examining the spoons. "What are these for?" It didn't seem appropriate to ask Ry if he was peckish.

Ryan placed the bowl of water carefully on the floor. "Like I said, your skin has dried onto the tube where the Klamp was gripping it." He lifted up one of the spoons. "The warm water should help, but we need to loosen it somehow. Have you got a better idea?"

Ryan lay the thick, dark green towel next to Luke on the bed.

"So what's that for?"

Ryan seemed a little exasperated. "You, you idiot! Now shift onto it - I'm not having you making a mess of my bed!" Neither of them seemed to doubt that it would be Ryan who would attempt the removal as Luke did what he was told.

"I guess we both get to show off our dicks today!" Luke grinned and was only trying to sound glib to cover his anxiety, but immediately Ryan's eyes flicked up and glowered. Once more, he looked distracted and angry. Dropping his eyes again, Ryan returned to the job in hand. Luke knew he'd messed up again, though he didn't know what he could say that wouldn't come over badly. At a loss, he remained quiet as Ryan began to sponge warm and slightly soapy water over his shaft and around the tube. He concentrated on the ring where a dark healing scar seemed fused to the remains of the device. An uncomfortable silence grew as rivulets dripped off Luke and onto the towel.

After a short while of gentle soaking, Ryan took the edge of a spoon and pushed gently at the ring where skin and plastic met. Softened by the water, the scab seemed to have dissolved at the edges and it moved. Luke watched hopefully. More warm water was sponged into the clot until, bit by bit, it gave way. There was only a little discomfort. Finally, the last section slipped loose and they could both see the skin move freely at last.

The relief he felt was tempered by the awful silence that remained between the two of them. Ryan leaned back and his face was stony.

Luke sat forward again, ready to have another go at lifting the tube away, but Ryan got there before him. Without asking permission, he placed his hand right at the base of Luke's shaft. Firmly he took a grip around the whole circumference, drawing down the loose skin to keep him firmly still. He took hold of the tube in his fingers and, at last, manipulated it out of the snug position it had been resting the last ten days. As it came away, Luke gritted his teeth. Even though he could see that Ryan was trying to be careful with the sharp ends as the tube slid away, he sure felt it as it slipped over and off his glans.

Finally it was gone.

It should have been a moment of victory and he waited for Ryan to join his relief, hoping to see the return of a grin, sharing the success. But Ryan didn't seem ready to party as he continued to hold Luke's now fully revealed, and rather neatly, circumcised dick. Instead, he kept his face turned down.

There was quite a bit of remaining gunge and dead skin around the line of the cut and Ryan kept working at it with the water and cloth gradually cleaning away parts of the scab that came loose. As he continued to clean him, Luke noticed a small black piece of suture come away. It was the single stitch the surgeon had put near the frenulum, to ensure that place healed well.

“Ry…”

"Wait."

Wait? Despite what he secretly felt about Ryan, having a friend clean his penis in this way was horribly uncomfortable, yet he did what he was told. He also wanted to see it for himself, but Ryan's head was in the way as, methodically, water and cloth was used around his shaft.

Ryan shifted slightly and, finally, Luke was able to get a better view. He could see that the scab, though still angrily red, looked a whole lot better now a week’s worth of gunge had been wiped away, though the shades of skin tone between his now visible foreskin and the remaining shaft skin were clearly demarked by the livid mark. He bit his lip at the feelings he was getting.

"Ry..." It was becoming slightly more pressing.

“What?” Ryan didn’t look up, but the tone was gritty.

Luke swallowed as Ryan took his shaft and seemed to be doing more than cleaning with a cloth. The sensations over his sensitive glans were quite painful as the cloth continued to graze him.

Pain...and something else.

It was time to stop. Way time!

“Ry…” He hissed with discomfort. Now he was beginning to feel quite desperate as his upward crawl began. He couldn't help it. Released after the long wait, the sensations being inflicted by the cloth were unbearable. Almost immediately the remaining skin began to pull tighter. Yet, taking the cloth in his right hand, Ryan held his shaft with the other and continued the wipe down.

It wasn't right, and way past uncomfortable to be held in that way, though Luke felt trapped. Not only had Ryan got him out of some dangerous damage, Luke knew his own behavior that day gave him few legs to stand on. It was humiliating as Ryan continued - quite blatantly it seemed - to ignore him, and seemed focused on the need to clean as thoroughly as possible.

That Luke was becoming aroused was undeniable, yet Ryan didn’t seem to care that he was now holding the growing shaft of his friend. In fact he almost seemed to be provoking it. Luke squirmed as his erection quickly grew to fill Ryan's grip. Fully aroused by it now, the cloth was wrapped around his length. Without doubt, Luke knew he was being jerked, yet there was nothing remotely exciting about it at all. At the same time, there was nothing in Ryan's demeanor that indicated that he was actually enjoying the arousal either. The rough cloth scraped up and down his shaft, catching his sensitive glans. It was demeaning and it was an agony – and yet he was fast coming to the realization that it still had the potential to make him spurt.

Finally, he shouted. "RY! STOP!" Incredibly angry at being treated so shamefully, he lurched up and made to smack away the offending hand. As it came close, Ryan's other hand shot out like a snake and grabbed him by the wrist.

"IT'S NOT THAT FUCKING NICE, IS IT!" Ryan screamed back. Spittle coated his lips, and his eyes held such violence that Luke quailed and went silent. Ryan continued to seethe. "How do YOU like being jerked off when it's not what YOU want! It's..." He seemed to stumble, at a loss for words. Glaring, he lurched to his feet and backed away.

Freed from his grip, Luke’s erection remained steely rigid. Shamed by it, he tried to cover himself with his hands. Ryan stared at him and Luke saw his face flinch. Still shocked by what had happened, Luke cowered on the bed as Ryan threw down the cloth, stumbled across to the balcony doors, wrenched them open and stepped outside.

He sat on the frozen on the bed for some time. At any other time, he would probably have spent more time examining the results of the months of waiting for the moment his circumcision was completed. Now it seemed irrelevant. Instead, quite carefully, he pulled his boxers back, followed by his trousers. Every movement brought an edgy discomfort, but he tried to ignore it as he followed Ryan outside onto the balcony and into the warm, late afternoon sun.

Ryan was leaning against the stonework, staring out across the yard, and completely ignored him.

"Sorry." It was just a word. How many times in his life had he spoken it? Too many and too few.

Adamantly, Ryan refused to acknowledge he was there; the only indication that he’d even heard being the small tick in his clenched jaw. Luke hung his head as his sense of guilt resurfaced fully. Even what Ryan had just done to him was his own fault in the end.

He'd hoped earlier that the two of them might get over what had happened that day, but he knew now that he was wrong. He continued quietly. "I know it's not enough, but..." He tailed off. What else was there to say? "Thanks for helping me with the Klamp." He waited a few more moments, but it was hopeless. Ryan stared away, unrelenting.

Luke knew it all had a sense of finality about it. "I...I'll see you tomorrow," he murmured. No doubt he would see Ryan around at school for years, but they would never be close. The friendship was as broken as his circumcision device.

He followed Ryan’s gaze out over the pool and across the grounds. The realization that he wouldn’t ever stand on this balcony again or swim with Ryan in the pool they had enjoyed for so many years made him sad and not a little lost. What else was there to say? It was over. He turned to leave, passing back through the bedroom. At the bed, he picked up the remains of the Klamp and slipped them into his pocket.

"Stop!"

Luke paused half way to the door and turned. Ryan was standing close to the balcony doors, surrounded by the warm sunlight.

"I shouldn't have done that...” Ry’s voice sounded painfully tight and his face appeared dark. ‘I'm sorry."

Luke couldn't look him in the eyes. "It's okay. I deserved it." He turned back to the door. What was the point anymore? He reached for the handle, wanting to get out as quickly as possible now.

Behind him, Ryan murmured from the balcony. "I need to tell you something." His voice remained tight.

Luke really didn't want to stay any more, but he knew he deserved everything Ryan had to spit at him before he would be allowed to leave. It was nothing more than he deserved. He turned again and looked up, ready to accept his bitter pill. The aching discomfort in his groin was no match for the agony that was in Ryan's face, and it stopped him in his tracks.

Their eyes locked, but Ryan couldn’t hold it and flicked away. "It's not your fault," he whispered. He slid down onto the floor, leaning against one of the balcony doors. Hugging his knees, he looked wasted.

Luke didn't understand, but he knew there would be more. The bed was nearby, so he perched on the edge and waited.

"It wasn't your fault." Ryan stared at knees and his voice was dull. "What I did...just then...I'm really sorry...you didn't deserve that." He shook his head. "It wasn't your fault," he repeated.

"Ry..." Luke stopped. He didn't know how to tell him that it really WAS his fault. He did deserve it. He was as guilty as hell.

"I'm just as bad as them." Ryan looked and sounded miserable.

"Ry - it could have happened to anyone!" It should have been me!

"Ja..." Ryan stopped and swallowed before continuing. "At the end, some kid was jerking himself off, right in front of me...like I was some porn movie…" He faltered and his voice became strained. "You've no idea how fucking cheap that makes you feel!"

Luke shifted uncomfortably. He had no desire to know who it was that Ryan had almost named.

"I need to tell you...."

"No you don't!" muttered Luke hurriedly. He really did NOT want to know!

Ryan seemed to ignore him. He looked hunted, scrunched up over his knees. "My father used to hit me."

Luke’s head jerked up. He knew perfectly well what Ryan had said, but was too taken aback to even know what to think, let alone say. Yet Ryan didn’t seem to need him to respond. It seemed enough that he could just listen.

“I could never tell anyone, but you don’t know what it was like…" Ryan's face was hunted. "I just need you to know why it’s not your fault.”

Luke didn’t dare move a muscle, but his throat disobeyed and he swallowed hard as the nightmare unfolded.

“If ever I did something wrong or disobeyed him, he would strip me and beat the fucking shit out of my backside ’til I cried…” Ryan scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “Shit...”

Luke could see how so desperately he was trying to hold it all in. He had no idea what to say.

“When that bastard Landon started smacking me, it was…”

There was no need for him to go on really. With shocked realization, Luke could only begin to guess what that must have been like.

“…it was like being back there all over again.” Ryan lowered his head and seemed lost.

What Luke was hearing disturbed him to his core. He had thought he knew Ryan as well as - if not better - than most. He had always seemed so confidant and capable – nothing phased him. So he watched in horror as his friend began to shake and then sob.

Shit!

How was it possible to have a father that made a son weep like that? Luke had no idea, but he hated the bastard as much as he hated Landon. Normally tough and resilient, it was the first time he’d ever seen Ryan cry. Really cry. All he knew was that, for Ryan to break down so completely like this, then what he was suffering had to be bad.

He did the only thing that seemed to feel right and came and sat down on the floor next to Ryan, leaning back against the door too. And waited. He didn’t try to put his arm around him, or say anything that would just be trite and meaningless. He probably did the best thing just by sitting there quietly and waiting.

Maybe crying was good? Maybe, when you’re hurting, you need to cry as much as you need to laugh? All he knew was that his own eyes were wet and he kept rubbing them to keep a tight control of his own emotion.

Ryan didn’t weep for long, but it took a long, long time before he seemed ready to speak again as he remained folded into himself on the floor. They sat there for an age. Ryan seemed worn out, though by the look on his face, Luke guessed he regretted much of what he’d said. The problem was, it was out there now, whether he liked it or not.

Finally Ryan broke the silence. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “About what I said about my father?”

“You know I won’t” Luke bit his lip. He hated to think that Ry could even think that! “But tomorrow, I’ll tell them about being circumcised – and the Klamp – and why you jumped them.” They needed to know the truth.

“Don’t.”

Luke glanced across, surprised. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not your fault and it’ll just keep it all going – and anyway, I’m not going to let that bastard Landon find something else to have a go at!”

Luke could see the anger flare in Ryan again, and it seemed to revitalize his friend.

Ryan made to stand. “I think I’d better go and clean up the kitchen.”

“I can help.” He followed Ryan – albeit quite gingerly – down the stairs. They collected a broom and pan and began sweeping up the shards.

“You know it was Jacko, don’t you?” He flinched when Ryan’s eyes flicked to him, looking shocked. Luke hurried on. “When they dropped you. Jacko was the one who shouted that Benton was on the loose.”

"Oh?" Ryan stopped what he was doing and looked surprised. “It was Jacko? Are you sure?”

“So Toby says.”

“That's right - Toby was there too.” Ryan closed his eyes and shook his head. “Shit! Was there anyone who didn’t see it?”

“Si wasn’t there,” offered Luke – not that it really helped. He almost said 'At least you didn’t have to go all the way with it', but stopped himself. Whilst it was true, it had nothing to do with how much pain Ry had suffered.

After it was all cleaned up, they found two new glasses, filled them with coke and ice and went outside. It felt good to be in the sunshine again. Luke hobbled over to a chair, sat down and breathed deeply. A fresh, cleansing breath.

Ryan also seemed more upbeat at last. He took a chair the other side of the small table, removed his school tie and dropped it on the glass top. “I thought you said you wanted to go in the pool?”

“You’re kidding right?”

A smile crept onto Ryan's face. “You remember what I said about Justin the other day?”

Luke shifted in the chair. “Don’t!” He knew exactly what Ry was thinking in regards to his cousin in Macon!

Ryan laughed. “They say water is perfect for constipated ducks!”

Luke grimaced. “You have no idea!” It was good to see Ry like this again, even though Luke knew it was at his expense.

“Sensory overload!”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry.” Ryan eye's flashed. “Not sure where I heard it, but they say it’s like sensory overload down there straight after you get cut!”

Luke had no idea where Ry might have heard that, but he wasn’t wrong! “I think I’ll still have to go into the doctors tomorrow to get it checked out.” He studied Ryan carefully. “I won’t be in until later in the morning. Will you be okay? Just don’t let them get to you.”

Ryan shrugged. “I dunno – it’s any excuse to skip class with you, Summers!” The words were light, but it was hard to know what he was thinking.

“I mean it Ry! I’m gonna bloody brain Landon tomorrow. And Mitchell too! It was him that put that weak shit up to it!” He was getting riled up, and jumped up to pace around pool area.

Ryan watched him speculatively and another grin broke out. “You’re gonna take them all on? You can’t even walk straight - you look like some demented crab, for crap's sake!”

Despite his frustrations, Luke had to grin. “Shit – don’t laugh – it hurts like crazy. It’s not my fault. These boxers are too baggy and it just keeps rubbing. I’m gonna have to get something different…this is killing me!” He sat back down again and looked at his watch. “I’m gonna need to go soon. Mum’s doing dinner early as she’s going out. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Even now, he was going to be late.

"Of course I am.”

On the outside at least, Ryan seemed to be getting back to the same old Ry. Even if the stuff about his father was out there, he seemed to be ignoring it.

* * *

The cycle home was a nightmare Luke never wanted to have to repeat, but he finally made it back to their house. He walked, quite gingerly, into the kitchen. The sausage casserole was already on the table, and around it sat his mum, Si and Toby.

“And what time do you call this?” His mum wasn't hiding her irritation. "Didn’t you listen when I said we were eating early today!"

"Sorry." He didn't feel like giving an explanation right then - especially within earshot of Toby Skerrit. Settling onto a chair, he passed his plate.

Lucy spooned him a good plateful, though he wasn't that hungry and picked at it without much enthusiasm. She asked what she normally asked around this time of day. "Do you have any homework?"

Luke nodded. “A bit. I’ll start on it after dinner.”

"We've done ours!" Simon grinned and Luke tried not to scowl. He would put odds on what that ‘homework’ consisted of! If it hadn't have been so stupid, he would have thought Toby was mocking him as he stabbed up a sausage with his fork and bit off the end.

Simon tried to sound offhand. "Is everything okay?"

From the guarded expression, Luke guessed he meant Ryan. "It's fine," he grunted. "Everything' s good." It wasn’t really, but he wasn't going to talk about that at the dinner table. In fact he didn't want to talk about it at all.

What he knew he HAD to do before his mum went out was ‘fess up’ to her about the SmartKlamp. Admitting it only as they walked into the doctor's office the following day would NOT be good timing. But it was awkward - the more so with Toby hanging about. After helping clear the plates, he passed on the dessert that Simon and Toby had now set upon. He stepped out into the hall and then put his head back through the door. "Mum, can I just see you a moment?"

She could probably read in his face that something wasn't right, as she came quite quickly. He stepped into the lounge and she followed him and closed the door. If he'd been in the kitchen with the other two, all he would have heard through the wall would have been a muffled "WHAT!?"

* * *

"What do you mean you broke it!?" In the lounge, his mum lowered her voice, though he could see she was reeling with the implications.

"It was an accident!" Luke shrugged as if it didn't matter. "I tripped on the stairs at Ryan's and banged it on the step and cracked it. It wasn't my fault." He reached into his pocket and brought out what remained of the Klamp. "I thought it was best to take it off."

"You took it off?" Her eyes were glued to the device in his hands. “How?”

"A pair of pliers.“ The term ‘pliers’ didn’t seem to put her at ease, so he hurried on. “I had to. It was cutting in to me!"

"Cutting?"

He cringed. Another bad choice of words. "Well it might have if I'd left it."

"Is it bleeding?"

"Of course it’s not!"

She turned to the door. "We should call the surgeon." He could see her dropping into one of his least favorite 'mother' modes.

At the door she paused. "Maybe we should just go straight down there," she muttered. It was as if he wasn't there as she continued to deliberate. "No - call first, just to make sure there's someone who can see you..."

"Mum - what are you talking about?"

She looked surprised. "To get you seen of course - though you're right, they'll probably suggest going straight to the ER." She studied him and then her watch. "Maybe we should just go straight there now."

He ground his teeth. She was living in her own little world! He crossed his arms. "There's no point. It's fine." Fine if you didn't count the awfully agonizing sensations over his glans whenever he moved!

She looked surprised – but wasn’t to be put off and tried to sound motherly. "Luke, it has to be checked."

“I did check.” He glowered at her. “It’s fine!”

He could see her motherly attitude harden into something less flexible as they faced up to each other, though she didn’t speak.

He spoke slowly enough so she would get it. “We’re going to the Doctor’s office tomorrow. It can be checked then.” He rarely crossed her like this, but the day was unusual and he wasn’t up to being walked over. “You’re just going to have to trust me that it’s fine. And I’m NOT going to the ER!”

In truth, it wasn’t that straightforward. What he’d really wanted to hear from her was a few words to say that he'd be fine and there would be nothing to worry about. Instead, he'd got the Spanish inquisition and a complete over- reaction. As he glared, the door opened.

“Who’s going to the ER?”

“Luke is! Tell him Geoff!”

“Tell him what?” Looking like he’d just come in from work, his dad’s eyes flicked across the scene looking bemused and then confused.

“Luke has broken his Klamp. He’s cut himself. He needs to go to the ER to get it checked.”

Luke groaned. “Oh for God’s sake, Mum! I haven’t cut anything! Weren’t you listening?”

She looked fuming. “This is ridiculous. You’ve just been circumcised and have had an accident with the Klamp. What are you thinking? Of course we need to have it checked!”

WE? Luke glared at her. It was HIS Klamp!

The door pushed open again. “Did you say Luke has broken his circumcision Klamp?” Simon stood there looking wide-eyed. Next to him stood Toby.

Luke exploded. With the day he’d had, this was the final straw! “Fucking Hel! Go outside and shout it around the neighborhood, why don’t you!” Angrily he pushed by them all and stormed upstairs.

* * *

Ten minutes later, there was a tap at his door. He had been lying on his bed reading a book, though was far too wound up to know what the last few pages had been about.

“WHAT?” He glared as the door opened and his dad looked in.

“That went well…” Geoff came in, closed the door behind himself and sat on the bed next to him. He didn’t look mad - in fact, he was smiling. There was certainly one thing about his dad that Luke was sure of - he was quite different from their mum!

“Everything okay?” Geoff raised his eyebrows just a little.

Luke made an attempt to go back to his book. “Why shouldn’t it be?” He knew he wasn’t making it easy, but was still fuming. His dad made no attempt to argue the point and eventually Luke gave up and threw the book down. “Why can’t she just leave me alone?”

His dad shrugged. “That’s mums I guess. Be easy on her. Maybe when you’ve got kids of your own it’ll make more sense.”

When you have kids. Luke shifted uneasily and felt a touch of guilt. If there were no girl in his life, there would probably be no children. On top of everything else, was he was going to be responsible for her never having grandkids running around the house? “It’s not my fault,” he muttered. He couldn’t help who and what he was.

“Nobody is saying it’s your fault sunshine! If it’s broke, it’s broke. No point crying over spilt milk! Mum just wants to know everything is okay.”

"And I told her it was!"

Geoff seemed to sidestep his bullishness. "It must have been a bit worrying when it happened?"

Luke grunted. "I fell on the stairs." Vividly he remembered lying on the carpet in pain. He grimaced. "Actually, I thought I'd sliced my dick off!"

His dad nodded. "Mmmm...I get the picture, but probably not a safe term with your mother!"

How his dad managed to keep a straight face, he had NO idea, but Luke couldn't help it and sniggered. "Wiener, then!"

"Marginally worse." Geoff grinned too. "So, can we take it for granted that your..."

"Willy?" Luke offered helpfully.

His dad nodded sagely. "Mmmm - much better... Can we take it that your 'willy' hasn't been left on the Alexis staircase?"

"I think I still have it, yes."

His dad stood. "That's fine then." Without further ado, he stepped to the door.

"Dad...?"

Geoff turned and Luke could see something in his face. They both knew they weren’t finished yet. He sighed. It was a relief really and he'd sleep better just knowing it really WAS okay.

"If you don’t mind, would you be all right to just check anyway? Just in case?" How his dad did these things, he had no idea. Ten minutes ago he’d been spitting chips, but his dad had this way of just getting round problems without making you feel bad. No wonder they paid him a lot! He couldn’t help but compare him with what Ryan had said about HIS father. What a complete bastard HE seemed to be!

Geoff shrugged, though he didn't seem surprised. "Sure. I can have a check if you want."

Carefully, yet again Luke unsnapped his trousers and pushed them and his boxers out of the way. His stubble came into view. "And before you say anything, I had to trim it for the op," he warned.

Sparing him any quips or teasing, his dad examined the place where the device had done its job. "Well, it seems neat enough.” He looked up, apparently satisfied, and grinned. “I’ll let mum know that you’ll probably live!" He indicated the still angry scar line. "Is it sore?"

Luke shook his head and grimaced. "No, but it really chafes when I walk."

"Ouch!" His dad pulled a face and grinned mercilessly. "THAT, sunshine, is the high price of circumcision! That’s what you wanted – that’s what you get!" He waited while Luke had pulled up his clothing once more. “Mum said you all seemed a bit on edge earlier. Something about Ryan? Is he all right?”

Guarded, Luke lowered his eyes. “It wasn’t a good day.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“Not really.”

Thankfully, his dad didn’t press. “Fair enough. You know you just have to shout if you need help.”

Luke nodded, though there were some things that even a star of a dad like his could never help with. They chatted for a few more minutes, and with it Luke began to calm down at last. Then his dad left him to get out of his school things and risk a cool shower.

As soon as he undressed and stepped under the water, he shot up as hard and as fast as he had done on Ryan’s bed. The tightness that came with his renewed erection was really uncomfortable, to the point where he began to doubt that the circumcision style of ‘high and tight’ had been that wise. He put the question away - it was a bit late to go back on that now. The whole shaft was certainly far too uncomfortable to even CONSIDER a leisurely rub. Either way, he wasn’t going to touch it until he was given the all clear and he tried to ignore it, hoping it would go away.

Dressing, the incessant scraping across the end of his dick was temporarily solved by stealing a pair of his brother’s rather too small Kmart briefs. Having everything packed away tightly was like a tonic! Dressed again, he lay on his bed…and promptly fell asleep.

He woke again half an hour later and felt better – at least most of him felt better. The earlier Coke had made its way through and the accompanying painful hard-on was something even Simon’s briefs couldn’t control.

He was most of the way through his final piece of homework for the night when Facebook dinged on him. It turned out to be Damon.

[DAMONJ] "Hi Luke....are you there?"

[DAMONJ] "If you are, I need to ask you something."

[LUKE] "Hey there - what's up?"

[DAMONJ] "Do you know any good hotels in Atlanta?"

[LUKE] "Why - are you coming down?"

[DAMONJ] "To visit you? No chance!"

Luke was relieved. Friend that Damon seemed to be, he didn't really want to go that far with him.

[LUKE] "Good call - I could be a creepy perve!"

[DAMONJ] "Worse - you could be a girl LOL! Actually my folks are coming down for some convention. I said I'd ask you about places to stay."

Luke grinned as an immediate comeback came into his head.

[LUKE] "Dunno really. I usually stay at our house!"

[DAMONJ] "Smartass!"

[LUKE] "If they want to be downtown, I think the Marriott is okay."

[DAMONJ] "Cool. Will let them know."

[LUKE] "So when is it?"

[DAMONJ] "In a few weeks."

[LUKE] "They're leaving you by yourself?"

[DAMONJ] "Yep - just me and the goldfish!"

[LUKE] "Oh God - don't start that again! Anyway, how's things with you?"

[DAMONJ] "Oh - same old, same old. You?

[LUKE] Yep....fine…"

Oh come on Luke!

[LUKE] "Actually, to be honest, pretty crap today."

[DAMONJ] "Sorry to hear. How so?"

[LUKE] "Some bad stuff at school. A friend got hurt.”

[DAMONJ] “Not good. What happened?”

[LUKE] “Well...it’s complicated…can’t say really – other than it was pretty awful.”

[DAMONJ] “Is he OK?”

[LUKE] “Not sure. I went round to see him but…well, no – he’s not all right really. I think he’s really pissed off with me.”

[DAMONJ] "With you? Why with you?”

[LUKE] “Shit – it’s a long story. It was my fault. Something I should have stopped…but I didn’t.” Luke felt the return of the familiar ache in his guts. Yet he had to spill his guilt, like a confessional.

[DAMONJ] “Oh…”

[LUKE] “The worse thing is, that if it had been the other way round, I know he wouldn’t have left me hanging!” Literally!

There was a long pause while the screen blinked accusingly.

[DAMONJ] “I’ve no idea what happened, but if you say you went round to talk it out with him…well, if it had been me, I think that would still have meant something.”

[LUKE] “Maybe - but I still feel crap. I wouldn’t blame him if he still punched my lights out.”

[DAMONJ] “LOL! You sound the perfect couple!”

Luke had to smile – Damon had this way of being able to take the sting out of things, though what he was joshing about would never happen. They chatted some more before Luke jumped into his homework. He finally went to bed that evening with the hope the following day would see lots of thing settle down!

29. Cut and Dried

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Cut and Dried

Lucy loaded the dirty breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, popped in a tab and set it going. The pancake skillet and the mug Luke hadn’t yet finished with, she would do by hand. Wiping down the worktop, she glanced at her watch. Geoff had already left for a breakfast meeting, leaving her with the boys. One down, two to go.

She’d got them up early that morning as they were on a tight schedule. With Geoff unable to take Luke in to the medical center, it fell to her again. Simon would be picked up by Grace to take him and Toby to school in half an hour or so. Dressed and ready, he was watching TV in the lounge. Now she and Luke really needed to get on the road too. The traffic would be bad around the perimeter this time of morning.

She glanced across to the table. “We need to be getting going soon, sweetheart. Can you get your things?”

Luke looked up to acknowledge her, though it seemed that she was still getting the silent treatment as he stood without a word, placed his mug in the sink, and went upstairs. After he’d gone, she sighed. They’d both gone off the deep end the previous evening and it didn’t look like it was going to resolve itself anytime soon. She'd tried to smooth his ruffled feathers by offering to make pancakes for them both, but even THAT hadn't been enough to make amends.

She knew she could have – should have - handled it better, but at least Luke had let Geoff check that he really HADN’T done any serious damage. She rinsed off Luke’s mug and left it on the drainer, then cleaned the skillet. Finished, she followed Luke upstairs to dash on some lipstick and find her bag and keys.

A few minutes later, she was downstairs again, where she popped her head in the lounge. Simon was glued to the TV. "When Grace comes to pick you up, you will remember to turn that off, won't you sweetheart?"

"Yes Mum." Simon remained fixated by some silly cartoon.

"Bye then," she offered.

Cocooned in his own little world, Simon laughed at the screen, apparently happy to ignore her.

"EARTH to SIMON!” She couldn’t help the testiness creep in as she raised her voice. The concerns of the day bubbled over, and she flinched when Simon looked up quickly, looking surprised as if he’d done something wrong. Immediately, she felt guilty. She crossed the room and kissed him on the head. “Sorry sweetheart – just a bit worried for Luke today.”

Simon seemed to understand and rose up from where he was curled up on the sofa to give her a hug. “It’ll be fine mum. What time will he be back in school?”

“It depends on the traffic, but hopefully sometime after morning recess.” She ruffled his hair and gave him a final kiss on the forehead. “See you this afternoon - try not to get into any trouble.” Five minutes later, she and Luke were driving out of the subdivision and feeding through the traffic towards the main highway.

“So how’s Ryan?” She tried to make conversation as Luke played with the radio, looking for something different to what she usually listened to.

He seemed irritated as he flipped through the stations. “How would I know?” His voice was stiff.

Lucy sighed to herself again. What was it that they joked about? That wedding vows were about ‘Love, Honor and Negotiate’? Negotiate? Right. They just never said it might have to include the challenges of your teenage sons as well! Though the truth was, it wasn’t doing either of them any good to keep on like this. She took a deep breath. Someone had to break the deadlock – and it probably needed to be her.

“Sweetheart – about yesterday,” she began. She flicked her eyes across to the passenger seat where Luke stared moodily out of the window. By the scowl that came, she could tell he knew what she was referring to, though he didn’t speak. “I just wanted to say sorry. You were right - I guess I overreacted.” Luke remained silent and she sighed. What else could she do? Nothing really. For several minutes nothing more was said, and she resigned herself to remaining in the doghouse for the rest of the journey – probably the rest of the day.

“He’s fine.” It came out of the blue when Luke finally broke his silence. "He just had a bit of a rough day, that was all.”

He paused and she waited.

“I’m sorry too.” Luke looked her way at last and she could see from his face that he meant it. “It’s just that you can be a bit much at times.”

Ouch.

“I know.” She pulled a face. ‘I’m sorry.”

“I still wouldn’t swap you though.”

She smiled to herself; it was a huge accolade for any mother! “You’re not going to trade me in yet then?”

Luke grinned at last, shifting in his seat to get more comfortable. “Well, now you mention it, we could try you on Ebay. ‘Mother for auction. Low mileage, one previous owner!’”

“Ouch! Thanks a bunch!” She settled into her seat more comfortably too, now that the ice between them had broken. “So how is it down there today?” She nodded in the direction of his trousers.

She saw him smirk. “You mean my willy?” he said.

“Thank you for that,” she returned drily. “And yes, your father did mention the other descriptions on offer.”

“Oh…” Luke scratched his nose and coughed before continuing. “Actually it’s fine – a bit sore, but I’m sure it will be okay.”

“Sore?” She tried not to sound too worried.

“Let’s put it this way.” Luke grinned as she flicked her eyes across. “Yesterday afternoon, Ry said I was walking like a demented crab!”

She burst out laughing. “Oh, I see – that kind of sore! Dad did say you were finding it a little uncomfortable.” She studied him briefly. “You know you can always take the day off if you want to?” It might not be such a bad idea. Her day was pretty free and it wouldn’t do any harm to have a bit of on-on-one time with Luke. It had been a long time since they’d really talked.

“Thanks, but I think I’d better get into school as soon as we’re done. There’s a lot on today.”

She shrugged, a little disappointed. “Okay – well only if you’re sure.” A son who was eager to be in school? What next!

Luke continued to search the radio bands and finally settled on something that surprised her. “You like jazz?”

Luke shrugged. “I guess so. Ryan really likes it – I only just started listening to it recently because of him. Why – do you like jazz too?”

“You have to be kidding! Me and your dad had plenty of dates at jazz concerts when we were younger!”

“You went to concerts?” Luke sniggered. “That’s scary! Did you take drugs and stuff too?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jazz concerts, not Woodstock!”

‘What’s Woodstock?”

She turned in surprise, ready to supplement his education, but from the smirk on his face could see he wasn't being serious. He laughed as she stuck out her tongue at him and pouted. “PLEASE...I'll have you know even Dad and I were young once!”

“Last century, you mean!”

Strictly it was true, but she grinned at the humor. Getting her own back she said. “So Ryan’s improving your taste in music at last, then!” Luke didn’t reply immediately and she glanced across to see him looking thoughtful – and a little gloomy.

“I really messed up with him yesterday.” Luke stared away, out of the window. He could have almost been speaking to himself.

“Oh?”

Luke fiddled with the car stereo, waiting and playing with the balance as she negotiated the on ramp down onto the perimeter. Traffic was bumper to bumper as they edged forward and she worked her way out into a fast lane. Luke looked across at last. “You know when you do or say something you regret?”

Lucy knew he didn’t mean her, but she cringed anyhow.

Luke continued. “Or maybe when it’s something you didn’t do….” He looked uncomfortable.

“I don’t really understand, sweetheart,” she replied carefully.

Luke sighed heavily. “Yesterday, I really let him down. I should have helped him, but didn’t.”

She was surprised. “Ryan?”

Luke nodded. “He got hurt, but I could have done something to stop it if I’d have tried.”

“Hurt?” Had they been on the football field? “In what way?”

“The bullying kind of way.”

Lucy felt her jaw clench. Bullying? As part of a legacy from her own schooling days, it was something she could NOT abide under any circumstances. “Ryan is being bullied? Do his parents know?” If it were her boys, she’d be in there like a shot! Then again, knowing the boy’s parents, it was unlikely they cared. What was a surprise was that there could be bullying at a place like the Academy. It made her think. What if Luke was being bullied – or Simon?

“No he’s not being bullied like that. Maybe it was the wrong word,” hurried on Luke. “Ry can handle himself well enough most of the time. Just something happened yesterday which none of us expected – and he got hurt by it. It’s why I want to get back in to school as soon as I can. Just to make sure he’s okay.”

She opened her mouth, but Luke seemed to sense what she was about to say.

“And before you ask – there’s nothing you need to do.”

She pursed her lips, but decided not to pursue it and risk Luke clamming up on her again. “He’s been a good friend to you – and you know he’s always welcome at our house. Why don’t you invite him round for tea one of these days?”

Luke smiled and nodded, and they left it at that.

For the rest of the journey, they talked about the summer break and, most importantly, where and when they would take a holiday. The traffic on the perimeter moved better once they got past the first junction, but they were still late when they finally made it to the clinic’s parking lot.

“Come on," she muttered. "We’d better get in there then.” She locked the doors of the van. “You do have the remains of the Klamp don’t you – just in case he wants to see it?”

Luke patted his pocket as they hurried to the entrance. "I do, but I’ve no idea why he would need it now.”

She shrugged. He was probably right. Still, it didn’t do any harm to have it, just in case. Inside, no sooner had they checked in and sat down when they were called to go through to Doctor Tiberius’ office.

The door was open this time and it looked like Tiberius had only just arrived himself. He looked up from some letters he was sorting. "Come in, come,” he beamed. "I’m terribly sorry – I was caught in traffic this morning. I’m only just getting myself sorted!”

A little relieved they weren’t the only ones, Lucy nodded knowingly. “Ah - you too? The perimeter was heavy today. Luke and I have only just arrived ourselves.”

Tiberius seemed to look relieved too. “So how are you both today?”

"We’re fine thank you.” She saw Luke nod politely, though could tell from his face he was nervous now.

Tiberius didn’t seem to notice, but he did put the letters down to give them his full attention. He sat back on the edge of his desk. “So Luke – time to see about removing the SmartKlamp at last. I’ll take you through to the surgical room in a few minutes and we can do it there. I’ll just check they have it ready.” He picked up the phone on his desk and punched the numbers. As it rang, he asked. “How has it been this week? Did you manage to forget the device was there?”

In answer, Luke first looked nervously towards her again, and then reached into his pocket and lifted out the twisted remains of the Klamp. “Errr…I’m afraid I broke it.”

To say Tiberius looked a little surprised was an understatement. Stunned would be better. “You broke it?” He quickly put down the phone and the concern in his voice was apparent. Lucy fretted that maybe she’d made the wrong decision about not getting it seen to properly the night before.

“Sorry.” Luke lifted up the pieces and handed them to Tiberius. “It only happened yesterday. I fell on it.”

Tiberius took the pieces of plastic and examined them. “Oh dear.” He shook his head and grimaced. “That’s not good.”

She quickly came to Luke’s rescue and tried to keep her voice even. “He’s done fine with it all week, Jonathan. Yesterday he had a little accident and tripped on a step.” She glanced at her son. “Didn’t you Luke?” He nodded, apparently happy for her to keep going on his behalf. “As you can see, the device broke, but he seems to have managed to take it off himself. We did wonder about calling you, but Geoff, my husband, checked it with Luke last night. As far as we can see, there didn't seem to be any damage.”

“You took it off, Luke?” Tiberius probed her son.

Luke nodded. “Ryan and I managed to cut the arms, and the tube eventually came away too. I couldn’t leave it – it was cutting into me.”

Lucy was surprised. It was the first time Luke had said anything about Ryan helping in the crisis. On the other hand, she guessed he was the type of good friend to have around when it counted! And, after what Luke had told her about the problems at school yesterday, no wonder he was so up tight yesterday!

“I guess we’d better have a look then,” murmured Tiberius. “Why don’t you just hop up onto the couch here Luke, and we’ll see what we can see.” Tiberius guided them to the curtained area. She followed as Luke slipped off his shoes and slid onto the leather couch.

“Just pop your trousers and underwear down, if you would.” Tiberius pulled the curtain and she slipped inside with them. She knew Luke was a little fussy, but he would have to live with it. She just needed to make sure for herself. As it was, he didn’t seem to notice she was even there. The poor kid was looking quite worried as he undid his trousers.

For his sake, she tried to sound upbeat. “I’m sure it’s fine sweetheart. Even Dad said he didn’t think there was any damage.” Even then, she wondered whether she should step outside, but Tiberius was already lifting back the waistband of Luke’s underwear and she quickly studied what was there too, relieved to see there was nothing that looked gashed or bleeding...or worse. Most of his skin did appear a little red and inflamed, but that wasn’t surprising, and she could also see the circumferential scar where the cut had been made. Other than that, there appeared, even to her untrained eye, to be nothing worse.

It took only a moment of his examination before Tiberius appeared relieved as well. “Well – that’s remarkable!” He looked up.

‘What is?” asked Luke. She could see that even he seemed to have relaxed now that Tiberius wasn't rushing to call 911.

“These things can be quite tricky to get off – yet you’ve managed it without much problem!” Tiberius beamed.

Luke looked sheepish. “We used a pair of pliers and a spoon.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. A spoon? He’d told her about the pliers, but this was the first she’d heard about using a spoon, for goodness sake.

Tiberius seemed to agree, and burst out laughing. “A spoon?” He shook his head in surprise. “Oh my goodness! Well, there you go – I have a whole surgical room full of expensive equipment, yet you manage it with a spoon! Trust me Luke, for my next undergraduate lecture on the use of the SmartKlamp, I’m going to have to find room for that!” Grinning, he reached for a pair of surgical gloves from a dispenser. “Just slip your underwear down to your knees if you would. I don’t think we need to take you through to the surgery this time, as you’ve not left me much to do - but I’d like to just examine your work properly.” He had a twinkle in his eye. “No refunds though!”

Lucy noticed Luke’s eyes flick towards her as he pushed down his boxers. Boys! Maybe he was shy, but as far as she was concerned there was nothing there she hadn’t spent years putting nappies around. She stayed by the bed while Tiberius slipped on the gloves and started a more thorough examination.

While she watched and waited, she considered the neat result of the circumcision operation on her eldest son. Although it was the first time she’d seen a circumcised penis in the flesh, Luke’s looked as clean and tidy as the pictures in the booklet Tiberius had looked through with them. The still-healing scar line looked tender, but like any cut she knew it would settle and heal quickly enough.

His foreskin, now permanently drawn back after the removal his phimotic skin looked tidy and presentable enough; certainly not ugly. She doubted whether, if she had a baby boy tomorrow, she would automatically have the child circumcised, but Luke had made both a personal choice as well as needing it for medical reasons. It was what he had wanted and, for that reason, she was happy for him. Even she could see that the outcome would be good – like, she had to admit, Luke had been telling her and Geoff all along.

Unexpectedly, for the first time in her life when it came to either of her sons’ private parts, she also felt embarrassed. It took her by surprise. After nearly sixteen years, and now she felt bothered by it?

Her own parents were definitely ‘old school’, and she’d not seen many young men in the ‘altogether’ before she’d met Geoff. Even then, he’d been her first when it came to enjoying what the bedroom offered. So, seeing a young man permanently retracted – and her son nonetheless – was quite disconcerting. She felt her neck prickle and her ears redden.

“The suture came out as well, I can see,” said Tiberius.

Luke nodded. “Aha – is that okay. Did I do it right?”

Tiberius lifted Luke’s shaft and gently palpated underneath. “I would have removed it today anyway, as you know, but yes, it all looks clean and neat enough to me.”

Lucy watched with interest, recalling how Luke had taken great glee in explaining how he'd been cooked like chicken with the removal of his frenulum. From what she could see, the area around where his frenulum would have been seemed the most inflamed. She guessed it would heal in time.

Tiberius seemed to agree with her private diagnosis. “I’m quite happy with the shape and the suture has done its job well. Of all of the procedure, the frenulum will take the longest to heal. Give it a couple of weeks and keep it clean. Other than that, it’ll be fine.”

“Should he put any cream on it?” Lucy noticed Luke shoot her a look.

“For a few days, that wouldn’t do any harm.” Tiberius nodded in agreement. “I can prescribe something for Luke that will help with the inflammation, or you can just get an over-the-counter 1% cortisone cream.”

Lucy was pleased. There was nothing worse than doctors who didn’t realize that most mothers had a fair idea how to treat simple ailments in their children. She already knew that she wanted Tiberius to handle Simon’s circumcision. It seemed likely that her youngest needed the same help – she’d checked his foreskin herself soon after the Phimosis problem had become apparent in Luke. However, it might not be as straightforward - the problem being that Simon was NOT at all keen to have anything done about it. But, if it had to be done, then Tiberius would be the one to do it.

“I’ll put some cortisone on now,” said Tiberius. He took a small tube from a trolley located nearby and began to apply the cream. “Luke, you just need to rub a small amount around where the suture came out and also on the cut line. Two or three times a day until the end of the week will be sufficient.” He studied the small tube that was half empty and shrugged. "In fact Lucy, why don't you just take this one?" He applied the cream he needed and then passed the tube to her.

The something rather extraordinarily embarrassing happened. As Tiberius held her son’s penis in one hand and continued to stroke the cream onto it with the other, the poor kid started to have an erection!

Oh my gosh! Slightly embarrassed as she had been up until that moment, now she didn’t know where to look. She was probably as discomforted by it as he clearly was! However, apparently unaware of the growing predicament, Tiberius continued to hold Luke’s penis in his hand as he quizzed him about any difficulty he might be having in urinating, and giving him instruction in how to keep his penis clean while it healed. From the look in Luke’s face, he was mortified!

Luke coughed. His ears had turned bright red. “Errr…I’m really sorry…” He was becoming quite obviously erect now. His embarrassment was obvious and she squirmed uncomfortably and stared at her purse.

Tiberius suddenly seemed to get what was happening and, give him his due, covered quickly. He let go of Luke and quickly lifted the lad's underwear back to cover him up. Other than that, he remained unperturbed, though a red-faced Luke held his hands over his boxers to try to cover the extremely obvious lump.

"Ah..." Tiberius smiled genially as if there was nothing out of the ordinary in front of him...other than her son had a serious boner! "There’s no need to be embarrassed Luke. A circumcision can bring quite a change in sensations in that area. I think you already know how difficult it can be to cope with! You'd be surprised to know how many experience erections like this soon after the SmartKlamp is removed! Please don’t be concerned - you’re quite a normal healthy young man in that respect.”

Lucy squirmed. Watching her son have throwing up a woody was not what she was expecting! And despite what Tiberius explained, it didn’t look like Luke was put at ease. His eyes flashed at her as his humiliation deepened.

She spoke frankly. “Well, at least we know it works!” For the life of her, she had no idea why she said that – though afterwards she could never think of anything else that would have been better.

Luke rapidly pulled up his school trousers. “MUM!” He still sounded horrified, but as he was zipping up and doing up his belt, a grin began to spread across his face. “Okay – so it works. It doesn’t mean I wanted you to see it!”

“Me neither,” she admitted with a grin. “Let’s just pretend it never happened shall we?”

Keeping his professional poise, the doctor continued, though his eyes twinkled too. “Indeed! So, as I was saying Luke, I’m sure you’re aware that the glans in particular is quite sensitive just now. You’ll probably find this happening all the time."

Luke groaned. “You don’t need to tell me THAT!”

Tiberius continued. “The good news is that your glans will gradually desensitize as the epithelium keratinizes."

She looked at her son, but could see he had no idea what that meant either.

Maybe Tiberius could tell that he’d dropped into ‘doc-speak’ as he went on to explain. "What that means is that for a while, it will look like the skin over the glans is peeling - similar to when it peels after a little bit of sunburn. It's perfectly usual, so don't worry about it. Gradually it will settle down nicely and become more normal in how it looks and feels."

“How long will it take?” asked Luke.

“A few weeks – maybe more.”

“Weeks?” Luke looked pained. His face was a picture and Lucy couldn't help a slight smirk.

"Indeed – I’m afraid so. And, as we discussed before," Tiberius went on, "the circular mark where the skin was fused will, like any other cut or scar, gradually fade too. Just be patient and I'm confidant you'll be delighted with the final outcome."

Tiberius left it at that. The checkup seemed to be over and he pulled back the curtain fir them all. “Well, young man, I think everything is fine. Despite your little accident, I have to say I couldn't have done a better job myself!" He crossed the room to his desk and grinned. "I'd better let the surgical team know they're not needed."

Lucy's hand touched her mouth. "Oh dear. You have a surgical team on standby? I'm so sorry. We should have let you know...." She felt a little embarrassed when Luke burst out laughing.

"I think he probably only means Ella, mum."

She listened as Tiberius passed a message via the phone. Who on earth was Ella?

Luke, on the other hand, seemed enthusiastic. "Is she here today?" He swung his legs off the couch, but remained perched there.

"Somewhere - yes, Luke. I'm afraid I'm not sure where just now. It isn't actually her that's assisting me this morning."

Luke seemed a little crestfallen. "Oh - well maybe just tell her I said hi." Luke glanced her way and seemed to realize at last that she had no idea what the two of them were talking about. "Ella is the doctor's daughter, Mum," he explained. He appeared to think that that was enough, whereas she suddenly had plenty of questions!

But they would have to wait.

Tiberius appeared ready to wrap it up. At his desk he signed some sheets in the patient notes, which he then slid back into a thick manila envelope. He looked up. "Well, I think we’re all done.” He stood and came around the desk once more as Luke slipped back onto the floor and put his shoes on. She gathered her things too, and Tiberius steered them to the door.

“After a circumcision like this, Luke, you’re going to find that things may well be a little different for you now, but you’ll get used to it – and it’s going to be the best in the long run, as I’m sure your mom will agree.”

Luke nodded. She could tell he seemed relieved it was over. She didn’t blame him.

“Jonathan – thank you so much for your help,” she said. The relief she felt herself wasn’t insignificant! “Luke, I just want to speak to Jonathan about getting an appointment for Simon.” She passed him the van keys. “If you want to go out to the van, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Luke nodded and turned to Tiberius. “Thanks for doing it for me.“

Tiberius held out his hand. “Luke, it’s been a delight. And good luck!” He passed the envelope to Luke. "Could I get you to drop this at the reception desk on your way out?"

They watched Luke as he took the package with him. Tiberius shook his head slowly. "A spoon? Unusual!"

"And a pair of pliers!" Lucy pulled a face. "I have to confess, I was quite worried when he first told me."

"I'm not surprised!" Tiberius sighed. "Still - all's well that ends well, they say. There was no harm done and the result was exactly the same as if I'd removed it myself." He studied the door through which Luke had just parted. "You have a remarkable young man there, Lucy!”

Lucy smiled thoughtfully at the compliment. And he was right, she was proud of Luke. "Yes, we are...we think he's handled all of it really well." She was proud of both of her sons, though they were like chalk and cheese. "Let's hope Simon will be as simple to treat.”

“Simon? Your youngest, I believe. Luke mentioned him.”

“Yes – Luke’s younger brother by just over a year. I wanted to speak to you about him. As far as I can tell he’s also suffering from the same problem. I wonder if I can make an appointment for you to take a look to decide if we need to have him circumcised too?”

"Ah." Tiberius nodded knowingly. "It’s actually quite common in siblings – and of course I’d be delighted to be of service. Let's have a look at the appointment book shall we?" He perused his calendar for a few moments. She could see pages full of existing appointments. "If you would like a Friday again....?" He seemed doubtful.

“Perhaps we could arrange it for the beginning of the school holidays. Then the day wouldn’t matter."

Tiberius nodded and flipped forward a wedge of pages, and they looked at some date options and penciled one in.

“Let me just double check with my husband and I’ll phone to confirm in the next few days. Will that be okay?”

“Of course." Tiberius looked thoughtful as he examined the appointment book. "Why don’t we do this… Considering you’ve already discovered that Simon has some trouble retracting his foreskin – why don’t we set a full-length appointment? Then, when you bring him and I confirm the need for treatment, we can go straight ahead to operate at the same time." He tapped on the date they had set aside. "If we make it the last appointment, that would help."

"And if he doesn't need anything? I'd hate to waste your time."

His eyes danced with humor. "If nothing needs doing, then I get to go play golf!"

She smiled. "Well, as long as you're sure, it would be perfect! Thank you." In fact it was probably the best. If Simon was going to be difficult, it might be best to try to get it over with all in one appointment. She got ready to leave.

Tiberius stepped to the door, ready to open it for her, but paused. "Before you go, there’s one more thing I wanted to mention to you, Lucy."

She raised her eyebrows, questioningly.

He considered her a moment before continuing. “I don’t mean to embarrass you, but for a young man of your son’s age, masturbation will be quite a normal activity.”

She laughed. “Jonathan, I may be English, but I’m not a prude!” Well, there was nothing wrong with the fact that her son - probably both, now she thought about it - did what all teens do, though she preferred not to think about it too much!

Tiberius grinned, clearly relieved that she wasn’t upset. “The only reason I mention it,” he added, diplomatically and delicately as he reached for the door handle, "is that for boys like Luke, after a circumcision at his age, the changes of sensitivity around the penis can be quite marked. With the loss of the foreskin, often a bottle of personal lubricant is well appreciated as they get used to it!"

It took a moment before it dawned on her what he meant. "Ah..." She nodded, tactfully too. "I believe I understand what you mean. I'm sure we can solve that fairly easily. Is there anything else I should know?"

Tiberius was businesslike. "No, I think that everything will be fine now. I expect that the residual swelling and soreness will settle quite quickly and he’ll be able to get on with life completely normally once more. I’ll be seeing you again in a few weeks time, but please, if either you or he have any concerns before then, don't hesitate to call!"

30. Unexpected

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Unexpected

With the van keys in his hand, Luke walked slowly back through the smoothly carpeted hallways towards the reception. Though he'd only passed that way a handful of times all told, the passageway had become comfortingly familiar. Even so, he didn't expect to be coming this way again. End of a journey.

He smiled to himself as he stopped to study a colorful print, mounted in a frame on the wall; one that he quite liked. He was in no hurry as he dawdled in front of it; there was time. In fact there would be time for lots of things now. Properly trimmed as he'd wanted to be for so long, he could afford to let it sink in and enjoy it at last...once the incessant scraping had gone away, that was.

“Hello Luke. Not lost are you?” Still staring at the intriguing picture, Luke turned quickly to find Ella at his shoulder.

He grinned in pleasure. "No, I was looking..." He stopped and shrugged. The picture didn't really matter. "I've just been with your Dad." He beamed as they continued down the corridor together.

"Ah - the removal of your Klamp I assume." He caught a sly wink. "Is that why you're walking so carefully?"

He winced as he tried to walk in a less constipated way. Crap! "Is it that obvious?”

Ella must have seen the pink tinge around his ears and took pity on him. “Sorry – I’m just teasing. It’s good to see you again though. Was everything okay?”

Luke nodded. "Your Dad said you were around somewhere. And, yes, it's fine - though I had a bit of an accident." As part of his 'surgical team', it didn't even dawn on him that he shouldn't tell her everything. They reached the corner. Ahead was the final stretch that led down to the waiting area, but he paused and continued in a conspirational tone. “Actually I broke the Klamp yesterday – slipped and fell on it.”

It looked like she was far enough through her medical training to have learned the very same look that her father gave him when he confessed that! Her eyes widened and she said. “That doesn’t sound good…" However, she didn't stay worried long. "I guess Dad sorted it out?” It sounded like she had as much faith in the father as Luke did.

“Yep it was fine." Luke pulled at his trousers meaningfully as they continued onwards. "It’s still really uncomfortable though.”

She grinned knowingly. "Don't worry about it kiddo. You're not the first guy to walk out of here suffering from sensory overload!"

Luke didn't hide his surprise. "That's weird. Somebody else said exactly the same thing to me yesterday!"

"Well there you go." Her eyes flickered with obvious amusement. "Want some advice?”

“Aha?”

“Don’t wear loose boxers!”

He winced again. “Right. I’m just beginning to realize that!” They arrived at the confluence of corridors adjacent to the door that would take them out to the reception. Gallantly, he opened it for her.

Patting him gently on the arm, she shook her head, pointing instead down another corridor. “Take care Luke – and good luck!”

He watched her go, glad that he'd seen her. It just felt right, and ended things well. Smiling to himself, he passed through the door into the reception, doing his best not to appear like Ryan's demented crab. He hoped his mum would finish quickly as, weird that it might seem to everyone else, he very much wanted to get back into school.

Carrying the envelope in hand, he stepped to the desk and waited politely while the receptionist dealt with an elderly gentleman who seemed to have difficulty hearing what she was saying. He could have just dumped the envelope on the desk, but felt he should actually pass it to someone, like he was asked.

After a time, he turned to study the reception area. He picked out a number of men in suits, all probably planning to get into their offices as soon as they could. Then there was the young couple. They had a toddler in a pushchair, soundly asleep. Then the lady who looked so pregnant it appeared she might drop any moment. Then there was...his eyes widened and he did a double take, but there was no doubt.

It was him.

The studied face and the longish blond wavy hair. The clothing was different, but not the attention to subtle color that had first caught his attention many weeks ago. There was no little sister or shelves filled with frames this time, but it was definitely the guy from the opticians. If he'd wanted confirmation, catching sight of the neat henna wristband was all that was needed.

They were unaware they were being watched as he studied them ; three of them this time - him, his younger brother, and their mum. Briefly he wondered why they were there all together. A checkup, maybe? The mum was reading a magazine, as was the guy himself. His younger brother was playing on a Nintendo DS. Both the boys were wearing everyday clothing, and he looked down at his own formal school uniform, uncomfortably. One thing seemed more sure: having seen them twice now, they had to live somewhere in Atlanta. And maybe, having spotted them first north of the perimeter, perhaps not far from him?

As he watched the three of them with interest, the younger one seemed to get fed up of the game he was playing, and looked up. His eyes drifted over until they spotted him waiting by the desk. The boy looked at him casually for a second, and then there was a moment of recognition. Luke watched him nudge his older brother. With the subtle flick of his head he directed his brother's gaze over towards Luke at the desk.

It was a strange mixture of emotions when the older brother apparently recognized him too; looking across, he grinned. Luke felt satisfaction; pleasure even - and then he was a little unsettled by the memory that the last time he'd thought about this guy, he'd had his pants around his knees and had been happily jizzing into his recently-removed foreskin! Still, that little incident would remain a secret.

A smile came to his mouth, and Luke raised his hand to wave at them - well, the guy really.

And then he felt embarrassingly stupid. What the hell was he thinking, waving to some unknown guy at the dick doctors?

Unknown? The point was, he did know him. Kind of. At least if the exchange in the opticians counted. It seemed the guy felt it counted too, as he raised a hand in acknowledgement.

Having waved and had it retuned, Luke felt awkward. Now what should he do?

The polite thing would be to walk over there and say hello. It's not like he would have to sit down, but at least he would get a name - though he wasn't keen on starting a conversation. It might start with ‘Hi, I’m Luke – didn’t I see you guys at the opticians the other day?’, but possibly end up being asked 'so why are you here today then?' Definitely a question to stay away from! Instead, he let his eyes keep moving on and turned to stare purposefully at the door through which his mum would shortly come. The door was safer and, as he studied it, Luke wondered that, if the guy had a name too. ‘Hi – I’m..’ he might say. But what would it be? Certainly not 'Cody' or a bloody 'Scott'!

He considered that briefly. Names did mean something, and you could like them or not, but perhaps it depended on who else you knew who owned the same one. There were plenty of old fashioned names, but this guy didn't feel like an Edward or a George. Even Ed didn't feel right. What about names of good people - like Ryan? He flicked his eyes back towards the guy, to catch him whispering to his younger brother. Surprisingly, he didn't look like a Ryan either.

So what?

There were 'American' kids names that were unusual, like 'Hunter' or 'Coleman', though the latter sounded like a pot of mustard. Then there was the weird - like the kid called 'Kai' in Simon's class - but who wanted to be named after a stupid kid's cartoon for God's sake? His mum appeared Spanish looking, but he didn't have the look of a Hector or a Carlos. Anyhow, he'd heard him speak at the opticians. Englishy-Americany with the hint of something else.

Cameron maybe? English with a hint of mystic Gaelic. He grinned to himself in private satisfaction. Definitely a Cameron. Cam would be cool too. So where do you come from, Cam?

"Is that for me?"

"What?" He turned to the source of the question, feeling flustered. "I mean, excuse me?"

The girl on the desk was pretty and seemed bemused. "The envelope." She pointed to what he was still holding, and he stared at it blankly,

Finally, his brain kicked into gear. "Oh. This you mean?" He held out the package for her, feeling sheepish.

"Aha...that would be it." She laughed lightly as she looked at what he was gripping and he hoped to God she had no idea what had been going through his head! And where the hell had all that name stuff come from anyway? Quickly he passed it over. He stole a glance back towards the sitting area. The guy was watching him again - his face looked amused but, other than that, he was impossible to read.

The younger brother was watching too, and Luke saw him lean over and whisper something. His mouth moved, but Luke couldn't decipher what he said. Still feeling flustered by it all, a voice coming from behind him interrupted any train of thought he was trying to grab hold of.

"Come on then, if you've given in your notes, we can go." It was his mum.

He blinked. "Oh...yes, I'm done." Walking beside her through the foyer, he made an enormous effort to ignore the sensitive scraping, and attempted to walk a little less like someone who had just had penis surgery! As he passed by the family, he watched them out of the corner of his eye to see the boy raise his hand in a friendly gesture of farewell. At the movement, his mother, the dark haired latin-looking lady, came out of her magazine and studied Luke and his mum as they walked by. As they approached the exit, it would have been rude to do anything other than wave back, so he turned briefly and returned the gesture.

Outside in the parking lot, the warm sun shone brightly, and they passed by numerous parked cars to get back to the minivan. Well, that was unexpected, he decided. Too late, he regretted not getting a name.

"Who was that?"

He was hardly surprised at the question. His mother missed little. "I don't really know." In retrospect it would have been less trouble to make something up - like 'oh, I think it was someone I once played at a local school tennis meetup'.

"You wave to a boy in the doctor's office that you don't know?" She sounded rightly incredulous and he squirmed.

There were a couple of ready options. There was the tennis line, or there was, 'I don't know who he is. I saw him at the opticians the day Dad went in for new glasses. We never actually spoke, but the way his chocolate colored shorts sagged, showing off white boxer briefs with a silver waistband, was a real turn on.'

Sensibly, he opted for the former and shrugged. “Actually, I think it was someone I once played at a local school tennis meetup.”

As he waddled towards the van, he left the guy behind - there was a more pressing issue making itself known below his waist. In his backpack, he had another pair of his brother's underpants, but that was never going to be a good long-term solution. They both climbed into the van and he buckled up. "Mum," he began, "you know what the doctor said about it being a bit uncomfortable for a while?"

She shot a concerned glance his direction, pausing before starting the engine. "Why, is it hurting sweetheart? Do you need a couple of tylenol?"

"No - not hurting. Not like that." Though it wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe tylenol would take the edge off it. "I was more wondering if it would be okay to buy some new boxers? The old baggy ones are just a bit uncomfortable down there right now." He cringed at the confession, but considering she'd seen him throw a boner, admitting that his boxers dragged uncomfortably over his tackle was minor.

In her eyes he could see her reading between the lines until they glinted and a sly smirk crossed her lips.

"Mum!" His ears colored as he accused her hotly.

She grinned mercilessly as she turned the key. The engine fired and settled to a happy purr. "Of course you can. I'm going shopping later. Do you want me to get you something."

"Can I just get my own?"

His mum shrugged. Setting the gears into drive, she moved off. "Sure, if you want. We can stop over at the mall on the way. I've some things to get too."

He considered it, but only briefly. Not only was he in a hurry to get in to school for Ryan, he also didn't much like the idea of standing in the underwear aisle with his mother, choosing boxers with her watching!

"It's okay, I think I'd better get into school...just to make sure Ryan's okay."

"Suit yourself." She seemed to consider it. "I can switch things around and go shopping tomorrow evening if you want. You need a few new things anyway...most of your tee shirts have had it. I'd take you tonight, but I'm out."

He nodded gratefully. He would have preferred it today, but if she was in a good enough mood to be handing out cash to spend on some new clothes, Simon had a plentiful supply of briefs he could survive on. He could do with some new stuff and could probably lose her in the shirts take his time choosing some cool - and hopefully snug - boxers without her standing over him and watching!

They pulled onto the highway and the van bumped unexpectedly over a pot hole. He winced. "Did you have any Tylenol here?" She usually had everything!

She nodded in the direction of the seat behind them. "In my bag." As he turned to reach, she added. "You'll find some bottles of water under your seat."

He searched through a bag that seemed to contain everything except the kitchen sink and retrieved a packet that held a couple of foil trays of Tylenol tablets. Peeling out a couple, he reached under the chair, shaking his head in disbelief. "You actually keep water bottles under the seats?"

She shrugged. "For a rainy day."

It sounded so ridiculous, he sniggered. "You keep water under the seat, for a rainy day?" Even she started laughing, and he howled until his sides ached even more than his dick!

Back out onto the perimeter, the traffic had calmed down and they made good time and both were in a good mood. He found the jazz station again, and an upbeat background filled the van as they chatted .

"All's well that ends well, then!" said his mum brightly.

Luke pulled a face. "I guess so, though I admit, breaking the thing was a bit of a shock."

"You don't say!" she returned drily, pulling into the slow lane and getting stuck behind a semi.

He was in too good a humor to get razzled by it, and laughed. "Okay, you made your point! Moving on..."

She smiled good-naturedly too, and then pursed her lips looking thoughtful. "Now, if we can only get Simon put right, we'll have both of you properly sorted."

"Simon? You made an appointment for him too then?" He wasn't surprised. "So, when is it?" He checked his watch and peered around at the rest of the fast flowing traffic. "Can you speed up a bit, by the way?"

She rolled her eyes, but did pull out from behind the semi into a faster lane and they picked up speed again. "To answer your question, yes I got him an appointment with Doctor Tiberius. It's for the start of the holidays at the end of next month. He said he could go straight ahead and fit the SmartKlamp there and then, if Simon needs it."

"Really? All at the same time?"

She indicated again and pulled back in. "Well, you know your brother - it might be easier to just get it over with there and then rather than make another appointment."

Luke considered it. She was probably right. "The injections sting a bit - you might not want to tell him that." Si was gonna shout the place down when Tiberius stuck the needle in! "I can go in with him if you want." He grinned to himself. They might need an extra pair of hands!

He was surprised when she actually seemed to take him seriously.

"I might take you up on that," she said. "Maybe you and Dad can go. I've decided there are some things mums don't need to see any more!"

It took him a while to figure out what she meant. And then. "MUM!" He cringed with embarrassment at the memory of an unfortunate woody. "Listen..." he pleaded, "you won't tell anyone about that will you? Promise me. Not even Dad!"

"Oh stop fussing," she chided. He couldn't believe it - she even seemed amused! "Of course I won't tell anyone - but for goodness sake, I am married you know!"

Oh my GOD. It didn't take much imagination to gather what she was referring to! "Can we just not talk about it anymore!" He stared stolidly ahead. This was a conversation that didn't need to go on ANY further, thank you very much! Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her face and turned to glare at her. "And you can stop smirking - and can we speed up, PLEASE!"

Finally, their minivan drew into the school parking lot and, accepting a small peck on the cheek, Luke jumped out, pulled his backpack out of the back seat and then waved her off again. He checked his watch again as he heard the recess bell. They HAD made good time!

At the reception, he handed in the permission letter his mum had prepared. The old hag who took it seemed as suspicious of those wanting to get in to school as she was of those trying to leave. Maybe that was a good thing. Either way, Luke ground his teeth impatiently as she seemed to want to read it for the third time.

"Excuse me," he pleaded. "I really need the bathroom."

She frowned at him, but kept the letter to file, signed him in, and let him go. With recess just starting, there were plenty of kids milling around, but even with the need to support Ryan, he had needs too! There was surely time to go to the bathroom first and change out of his own baggy and rather uncomfortable boxers, and into another pair of Simon's borrowed briefs before joining the class for the next lesson. Hopefully he would even spot Ryan before then, and there would be time to talk a bit too. He hurried across to the nearest set of restrooms and, passing some kids who were exiting, slipped into one of the stalls and locked the door behind himself.

Safely secluded in the toilet stall, he slipped off his school jacket and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. Then, from the waist down, he proceeded to undress until all that was left was his socks and boxers. They were a pair of his better black ones, but even so were not up to the task of hiding yet another erection that sprang up.

Shit, not again! It seemed impossible to find a time to check out his circumcision without it becoming stiff and pulling like crazy! At least the tylenol was helping. A bit.

Quickly he forced everything inside Simon's pair of tighty-whiteys, and got his trousers back on. Tying off his shoes and slipping on his jacket, he was ready to face the rest of the day. Now he needed to find Ryan.

No sooner had he stepped out of the restroom and bac into the corridor when a voice shouted above the chatter of those around him. It sounded urgent.

“LUKE! THANK GOD – THERE YOU ARE!!”

Luke turned, puzzled, seeing Jacko hurrying towards him.

Jacko was wide-eyed and breathless. "COME ON! IT'S BAD - YOU HAVE TO HURRY!"

31. The Day the Hammer Fell

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

The Day the Hammer Fell

Toby shuffled his backside along the seat to the door and squeezed out of his mom’s beat up Nissan. He pulled his backpack out with him, and Simon followed. With the complicated lift arrangements for that morning, the pair were early to school for a change. With time to kill they walked slowly from the parking lot towards the main doors. He was surprised how many were streaming in at that time too. Hadn't they got better things to do than be at school? He and Simon stopped to sit on a low wall, neither in any hurry to go inside yet.

“So Luke’s having that Klamp removed this morning?” It was the reason his mom had brought them in that day.

Simon dropped his own backpack on the ground and nodded. “Yep. Then I think he’s still coming in.”

Toby pulled a face. “I wouldn’t." Not a chance!

Simon's eyes strayed around them covertly. There was nobody in earshot, but he still kept his voice low. “I know, but I think he’s worried about Ryan.”

Toby chewed his lip. It was the thing they couldn’t talk about in the car. “How is he?”

"Ryan?" Simon shrugged. “Luke wouldn’t say.”

“Do you think he’ll come in today – Ryan I mean?”

“Who knows…” Simon seemed distracted and stood again, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "Come on, we might as well go in."

Toby grunted, not as keen as Simon seemed to be to get through the doors. He guessed it was because of the thing with Ryan which, interesting though all of that might be, he had other things on his mind that morning. "Can you come round later?" he asked as he followed Simon inside.

Simon didn't seem to hear the question. "I guess he could just stay off like he was sick or something," he said. It was obvious his mind was elsewhere. "I got the idea Luke expected to see him here though," Simon continued, looking hopeful. "That's a good thing, isn't it?"

Toby shrugged, but didn't answer. Frankly, he had other issues that he felt were MUCH more important.

He tried not to feel irritated by it all. You'd have thought Si had forgotten they were meant to be boyfriends the way he was going on! The whole weekend had been amazing. Better than he could ever have imagined. But now he was feeling left out in the cold. He knew Si wasn't deliberately ignoring what they had together, but this whole business with Ryan was a pain! The Hang pulled on him yesterday had been spectacular, though there had been some aspects of it that had made even HIM feel uncomfortable, but it was over. Yesterday's news. It had been a real pity the guy hadn't spurted, though he had to have been pretty close. He wondered if Ryan knew he had Jacko to thank for that.

Still, the rest of the afternoon had been pretty tedious and he'd quickly moved on with more important things in mind; like getting Simon home and getting his trousers off! But, even though they both knew his mom would be going out, Simon had declined his invitation to come in for a bit, whispering that he needed to talk to Luke.

So, biting his tongue as he'd got out of the van, he'd gone in alone and huffed for half an hour before deciding he was being a stupid prick. He'd quickly got on his bike and gone down the hill to go see Simon and ended up staying for tea there. Up in Si's room they'd kissed quite a bit, but, a lot more reserved in his own home, Simon had resisted any advances to do what Toby REALLY had in mind.

And, even now, as the made their way into school, Simon's head seemed to be elsewhere!

All in all, it was frigging frustrating!

They didn’t speak as they made their way though to Home Room to find quite a few other early arrivals too. One was Adam Jackson.

Simon waved his racket. “Hey Jacko – are we still on for later?”

Toby scowled, as Simon suddenly seemed animated enough to want to talk! It was the time of year when options were open during sports and Toby knew that the pair had made plans to play tennis during that morning’s sport period. Jacko lifted his bag from the floor, showing the grip of his own racket.

“Can I get a game too?” All three turned, as Mason Quince – Todd’s brother, aka ‘Grinny Boy’ - came through the door and joined the conversation. “I brought my racquet – what about doubles?” Mason's white teeth came on show.

Both Simon and Jacko looked eager as Simon greeted him. “Hi Mase. Sounds great – we just need to find someone else to play too."

Toby turned away and tried to appear uninterested, though he couldn’t help being a little jealous. The problem was he was crap at most sports - including tennis - and offering to be part of a foursome was never going to work...even if they did think to ask him – which he knew they wouldn’t.

Fifteen minutes later, they were all heading for Art: the main thing about school – other than hooking up with Simon Summers – that really made him happy. Jacko and Mase strolled along with them, foiling any attempt to get back to what he and Simon would do later. He glowered at the floor as the other three talked easily.

“Does anyone know how Ryan is?” Jacko posed the question directly at Simon, who shook his head.

"We haven't seen him," replied Simon.

Toby scowled at Jacko. "What do you care?" His voice was sharp, earning himself raised eyebrows from Simon.

Jacko looked uncomfortable. "I was only asking!"

Toby caught Simon's eyes shooting him a look that didn't hide the reprimand that was written there. He ground his teeth in irritation, but before he let go at Simon with something he might have regretted, their question was answered as, up ahead, they heard some whistling and jeering. Waiting to enter a classroom themselves, Luke and Ryan’s class looked boisterous. The center of attention was Ryan Alexis. Leading the pack was Landon.

However, it appeared that whatever they were hoping to get out of Ryan as they jostled and teased, it didn't seem to be working. While he didn’t look particularly comfortable, he also wasn’t reacting either to their goading or to the whistles of others passing them along the busy corridor. It was exactly what Toby had anticipated. Yesterday's news. Now could they just get back to normal?

Then, as they neared, Ryan's eyes flicked out towards them. Unexpectedly, he seemed to flinch, quickly looking away again.

Landon picked up on it and turned to study the four of them as they approached. "So - where's Luke skiving off to this morning?" he demanded. It was clear the question was directed at Simon, though Toby could see both Simon AND Jacko were pointedly looking elsewhere. Landon seemed irritated and stepped out of the group in front of them, blocking their path and looking for trouble. "I asked you a question Summers! Where's that bitchy brother of yours today?"

Toby could see grins on a few faces - mostly troublemakers too - but Mason's older brother, Todd, reached out and, taking his arm, wrenched Landon back into their disorderly line.

"Pack it up, Scott." Todd's tone was amiable, but he got his message across.

Mason smirked, but Landon looked ugly. "For God's sake, I was only asking!" He pulled his arm from loose from Todd's grip and turned away.

The four of them skirted around the group and continued outside heading towards the Art block.

"So what's wrong with Luke?" asked Mason as they reached the entrance to the Art block. "Is he sick?"

Mason’s question was reasonable enough and Toby wondered what Simon would say. The last he'd seen of Luke himself was when he'd flipped over the thing about busting the circumcision klamp he'd been wearing. Even though Toby knew it wasn't his fault he'd heard it all, Luke had been spitting mad. Would Simon blab and tell the guys about it?

"It's just a checkup, Mase. He'll be in soon." Simon paused, changing the subject. "Here's an idea. Maybe the six of us can get together to play a few games sometime soon – you and Todd, Ryan and Jacko, and us two."

Toby knew for certain that ‘us two’ didn't include him and scowled again, guessing that Simon’s ‘plus one’ was Luke. Surprisingly, Jacko didn't seem that excited by the idea either.

Simon turned to him at last. "What do you think Tobe?"

What did he think about being left out again? He'd had enough. "Whatever..." Fuming, he strode off, leaving the three of them staring after him.

He stayed in a bad mood all through a lesson that was normally one of the week's highlights. His temper didn't improve when Simon took up a place next to him as they lined up to use the pottery wheels, to watch as he made another attempt at creating a shaped goblet. Simon sniggered teasingly as the lump of clay - even in Toby's gifted hands - collapsed into a messy heap on the wheel.

"Not one of your better works, Toby." Daniels was close by, and had been watching the disaster too. He looked amused – and it wasn’t helping Toby’s state of mind as he was reminded of the uncomfortable developments between Daniels and his mom. He took the clay and banged it down angrily on the wheel as Daniels moved off. What the hell was she thinking anyway? She was far too old to be dating for God's sake! And a teacher! His teacher! The goblet rose…and fell over again. Shit!

"Is your mom dating Daniels?" Jacko was close by and seemed to be reading his mind. He'd seen them at the cinema and the smirk on his damn face was easy to read. It was the last straw.

Toby turned and hissed. "Just piss off, Jackson!" He knew it was way over the top for what was a harmless tease, but he'd had it with them all! He threw the clay into the bucket and pushed past Simon and Jacko angrily.

At the end of the double period, Toby was still fuming when Simon joined him to wait as he gathered his stuff in preparation for them to head into the morning recess. He took his time, waiting for others to leave. If Simon wanted to walk with him, then he could wait.

Despite the obvious 'go slow' Simon hung around patiently. Then he spotted a pair of small scissors on the desk and picked them up. "Can I borrow these?" he asked. "I need to do my nails before tennis with Jacko. One's digging in a bit." He slipped them into his pocket. "I'll bring them back later."

Toby didn't even to look up, but his tone was cutting. "Whatever...just do what you like - I don't care!"

Simon rounded on him. "What's up with you?" He sounded angry.

"Why would you be bothered?" Toby retorted. "I mean do you even know I'm here?"

Simon blinked and looked surprised. "What the heck are you talking about?"

Toby couldn't hold back his anger. He glanced around the room, but it appeared to be empty. "I thought we were meant to be together," he hissed quietly. He lifted his bag and slung it over his shoulder

Simon's eyes narrowed; confused and then angry too. "What the hell's wrong with you this morning? And why did you have to be so mean to Jacko? He didn't mean anything by it!"

"What the hell's wrong with ME?" He glared at Simon. "I mean did you even hear what I asked when we first arrived this morning?"

He could see from Simon's face how upset he was becoming. And then Simon's eyes turned hard as he picked up his backpack and began to walk away. After a few steps he turned back. "You asked me if I wanted to come round later," he growled. "I thought I did - but the way you're acting, I'm not sure anymore!" With that, he turned on his heels and stalked out.

Toby glowered after him, unable to let go of his anger. What Simon had said scared him. He also knew it was mostly his own fault and he should go after Simon and put it right, but something stopped him. Seething, he slumped back on his stool, pissed off with everything - and mostly himself.

* * *

Simon was glad to get out into the sunshine and fresh air. Angry still, he re-ran the recent conversation in his head, at a loss as to why everything had gone so spectacularly wrong between the two of them. What the hell had brought THAT on?

The field was filling with plenty who, like himself, wanted to get outdoors. Some were chatting in pairs or small groups, others were more energetic - like the impromptu soccer game; carefully spaced jackets forming the opposite goals. Gradually, as he walked across the well-cut grass, he began to calm down.

He hated conflict and would have gone back to find Toby, but Jacko appeared at his side, eager to get over to the sports block and get changed. It was recess, but there was nothing stopping them getting out onto the court as soon as they could.

"What's with Toby today?" They skirted the soccer game and Jacko looked pretty annoyed.

Simon didn't blame him, but shrugged, becoming a little defensive. "I think he just has a lot going on, that’s all." Hardly true, and frankly Toby was being a stupid prat, however you looked at it! "He'll be all right."

At least he hoped he would be. Again, he wondered about making some excuse and going back, when he spotted Ryan. He was walking side-by-side with Todd Quince, the pair deep in conversation together as they angled away from them. He felt another bout of distress for his brother’s best friend. He hated seeing people get hurt - even some news items on the TV troubled him. Todd was talking and it was probably important, as Ryan appeared to be listening.

It always helped to talk - but you needed to listen too. It dawned on him that he and Toby hadn't done much of that the past few days. Plenty of OTHER stuff, sure - but talking and listening? He shook his head. No, they hadn't done much of that at all!

He gestured in the direction of Luke's friends. "Let’s just go and see Ryan a second." He started to stride towards the pair. Expecting to find Jacko at his shoulder, he turned to find he’d already hurried off another way.

As Simon came up on to Ryan and Todd, he slid his arm around Ryan’s waist and gave him a side hug. For him, it was a completely natural thing to do – a simple gesture. A hug was often better than a hundred words. He didn't wait for a response - in fact one wasn't needed; there was nothing more to be said. He angled off again back towards the sports block. If he'd have looked back, he would have seen a small smile on Ryan's face.

He picked up the pace again, and hurried in to the still crowded locker rooms. The middle school used the same facilities and the remains of a large 8th grade class seemed in little hurry to change and get out. They were a boisterous bunch, and Simon chatted amiably with a couple of guys he knew slightly as he took off his jacket and began to undo his shoes in preparation to change into the regulation kit.

Jacko arrived and set up alongside him, and began to change too.

"Where did you go?" Simon asked inquisitively.

Jacko shrugged. "Just needed to see someone." He changed the subject. “Did we find another player yet?”

“Mase was still looking," said Simon. "There must be someone with a racquet.” He pulled off his shirt and reached into his bag. “We can still play until he gets here – but don’t forget, you’re meant to be helping me improve, not wiping the floor with me!”

Jacko grinned and his white teeth flashed against his milky brown skin. He sat to take off his shoes. “Come on - you’re not bad!”

Everyone knew Jacko was a good player despite his small stature. He could move around the court well and everyone said he had an eye for the ball that was unusual for a guy of his age. Still, if his dad was any measure of it, give him a few years and he’d soon gain some height. Simon didn’t play too much tennis himself, but both Ryan and Luke were in the squad and even THEY thought that Jacko would go on to great things.

Simon was ready first and, whilst he waited for Jacko to finish changing, he remembered his toenails. He pulled off his trainers and socks again and took out the scissors he’d ‘borrowed’, to have a go at his nails. Propping his feet on the bench, he trimmed away the worst as he watched a number of ‘unclaimed’ shoes being thrown across the room by the cheerful eighth grade.

Bloody kids! He still smiled at the exuberant horseplay. Had they been any different at that age? Like a year ago! Then he frowned when one of them got hold of one of Jacko’s tennis shoes and it went flying across the room.

“Bring that back NOW!” complained Jacko. All he got were jeers in return. Irritated, he stomped across the locker floor to retrieve it.

Simon smirked quietly. When Jacko was a famous tennis pro, he'd be able to look back and 'name and shame' the twerps that stole his shoes in the school lockers! As he watched, they ignored Jacko as he passed though the group, to retrieve what had landed near the showers. Then a small group of the lively kids got themselves into a round of wedgies. As he finished off trimming his nails, Simon tried to ignore them - as did most of the rest of their class. When would kids learn that people actually ended up getting hurt from that kind of stuff?

Having retrieved his tennis shoe, Jacko pushed back through them, and they made a grab for him too; half a dozen wanna-be jocks taking advantage of his small stature. A bunch of them grabbing at his boxer shorts all together, shouted triumphantly, and tried to lift him off the ground vertically, so that his own weight would cause his briefs to burrow into his crack. Jacko was incensed and lashed out at them, swearing in discomfort as his underwear started tearing. By then, Simon had had enough and started laying into them too.

It got a bit confused. At one point Simon felt hands grabbing down the back of his own shorts, searching for his waistband too, but he twisted away and got out of trouble.

Then, in the swirling mêlée, after Jacko seemed to have successfully managed to extract himself from the stupid idiots, Simon stumbled and ended up on his knees. Bodies pressed around him, but before he could surge to his feet, he found his head clamped between a pair of legs. Legs that seemed older and stronger than what might belong to an eighth grader. Legs with muscles that squeezed him so hard, they hurt his ears. He shouted and pulled at them to try to force them apart so he could get out and stand straight again, but they were locked solid.

Then came a familiar, disturbing voice. "Come on girls, if you want to see a Wedge done properly, it looks like we're gonna have to show you!" Simon heard the voice of Scott Landon as it laughed unpleasantly. As he'd been doubled over, trying to stand, Landon had literally stepped over the top of him, trapping his head between his legs. He redoubled his struggles in an effort to squeeze out from the vice-like grip.

"Get off Landon, you're hurting me!" Around them, the eighth grade troublemakers backed away nervously.

"Fucking let him go, Landon!" Jacko was suddenly in front of him, pulling at the legs too.

"What's up with you, Jacko?" Landon' voice sneered. "You seemed to enjoy it yesterday well enough!"

Jacko didn't reply, but he also didn't stop trying to release Simon.

"For God's sake," laughed Landon. "Will someone protect me from these bloody kids! If you're that desperate, Jacko, we can always do you next!" Someone - it looked like Mitchell from the amount Simon could see - wrenched Jacko away.

Gripping his neck, Landon began to turn him around, maneuvering him so that his backside turned to face a bunch of the high spirited boys who were gathering around him. Caught standing, but bending over with his head trapped under Landon's crotch, he faced the opening to the showers where several kids, wrapped in towels, stared around the doorway looking wary. Simon's free hands battered Landon's legs, until the returning intense pressure made him stop and grunt in pain.

"Hell - this little piglet can squeal" It was Landon again.

Though Simon couldn't now see, from the increasing sounds behind him, it seemed a growing audience of eighth graders was gathering. As quick as a flash, one of them called back. "Pull its tale then!"

It wasn't hard to guess what that might mean as Simon squirmed in discomfort as Landon took his time, sliding his hands down the back of his regulation tennis shorts to take hold of his briefs. He was aware that his bent-over position made him look ludicrous, but he was completely trapped, waiting for the wedgie that he guessed was coming.

Without warning and to bursts of laughter, he squeaked loudly as Landon took a full handful of the back of his simple FTL briefs and pulled so hard that not only did they wedge right up his arse, but the ferocity of the pull was enough to temporarily lift his backside in the air and his feet off the ground. Like a trapped rabbit, Landon shook him hard and, in the process, the waistband tore.

"Oops - sorry about that kiddo! You're gonna have to buy some new ones!" Landon dropped him onto the ground again and the pressure began to ease on his neck. "Actually we only came in to ask you where Luke was."

“Piss off! Let me up!” Simon groaned from the squeeze on his balls, but at least it felt like Landon was about to let him up.

However, it seemed the eighth grade were not ready for it to be over yet. "Pants him!" one of them called out. Who it was, Simon didn't know, but it deteriorated as one of them seemed happy to oblige. To wild giggling, someone darted forward and a pair of unknown hands grabbed at his shorts and yanked them down his legs. Frantically he reached down to try to rescue them, to pull them back up again to cover himself up, but Landon didn't seem as ready to let him go as he'd hoped. With his thighs, he squeezed his neck so painfully that Simon started clawing at them to relieve the pressure.

"Yewww - that's gotta hurt!" Landon pulled again at a wedge that, from the feel of it, Simon knew was right up his crack. He also knew everyone could see it! "That, girls," added Landon, "is how to do it right!" The pressure on Simon's neck reduced again. "Now kiddo, we just wanna know where Luke is, then I'll let you up."

"Get lost you prick!" Simon grunted from between Landon's legs. "It's nothing to do with you!"

Landon smacked him hard on his open backside, and retorted angrily. "Don't you curse at me, you little runt! I asked you a sensible question!"

"Bastard!" Simon shouted his defiance, though it had really stung and he fully expected another smack on his butt cheeks. Gritting his teeth as he waited for the blow, he heard someone call at Landon. "Wasn't it you that did the Hang on Ryan Alexis yesterday?"

Landon' voice sounded smug in reply. "It might have been...why, did you miss it?"

"So," the voice same voice demanded, "why don't you show us how THAT'S done!"

Simon froze. In front of him, the response from those peering out of the shower was mixed. Several were wide eyed and looked quite worried. Behind him, one boy spoke up. "Come off it Tyler. That's not nice." Simon heard mutters of agreement.

It continued until Landon seemed to agree and sneered. "I don't think so you pervy little shits!"

Another voice else joined the conversation - one that seemed to know Simon had an elder brother. "He's scared," it taunted. "If he does it, Luke will bust his head in!"

From the rumble that followed, it sounded like others were inclined to agree, and Simon groaned. Landon's legs had been gradually loosening to the point where he felt he might be able jerk his head out of the leg lock and scurry to safety. Now he felt increased pressure on his neck as Landon stiffened.

"Pussy...!" Another taunt seemed to come from some way back, but wasn't quite muttered quietly enough to stay under the radar.

"You wanna come here and say that kid?" Landon sounded dangerously irritated.

"He's just having a checkup - that's all!" Simon grunted. His neck was hurting and he was getting frightened. "Now let me up!"

It didn't seem that anyone was listening as the legs stayed firmly clamped. At the same time, there was a number of extra pairs of legs that drew near, though he wasn't sure who they belonged to. He could hear whispering. It went on for a few moments and he couldn't hear the words, though the tones seemed contradictory and there was some disagreement. The only thing he caught at the end was Landon whispering, "It'll be fine. Just a bit." There was a little more mumbling and he heard Luke's name, but little more. They seemed to come to a decision.

Dismayed, he could hear Landon's voice as he spoke up again to address those gathered. "Okay you girls." There was a nasty sneer in Landon's voice. "We haven't got much time, but we shouldn't disappoint you..." He trailed off and there seemed to be a communal intake of breath at the announcement. Trapped, Simon beat his fists into Landon's legs in panic.

Abruptly and without any warning, with his head still stuck between Landon's legs, both his feet were pulled out from under him. He shouted in surprise as, grabbed by the knees and ankles, strong hands flipped him vertically, literally head over heels. It was fast and precise and, before he could grasp what was being done, the two that flipped his light frame snapped both his legs over someone's shoulders. That same 'someone' gripped his legs in front leaving him hanging.

Thankfully, Landon released his head from between his legs, to let him loose before it was ripped off and he found himself staring out at the crowd. He was greeted by a few whistles, and was shocked to see how many eighth grade kids were gathered around them, watching. Even some of his own class had arrived and were staring at him in wide-eyed bemusement. They all seemed almost as surprised as he was himself. It may have only been one pair of shoulders he was swinging from, but everyone could see that another poor unfortunate kid had been swiftly lifted into a Hang.

His eyes bulged as his face began to redden. "What the hell are you doing? Stop it!" Swearing, he pulled and twisted. "Let go of me you bastards!" He couldn’t see who had his legs, but he knew the ones who now gripped his arms; JJ had one, and that horrible Cody Mitchell leered at him from the other.

"Calm down kiddo." JJ snickered and his face broke out into a grin. "It's not that bad. You should be honored - it's a big day for you!"

"Big day?" They seemed so relaxed and genuinely amused, yet it made no sense. "Piss off you asshole, and let me go!”

Still gripping his wrist with one hand, Mitchell ruffled his hair. "I think what JJ means, little guy, is that you're about to become a celebrity!"

He didn't have to ask what they meant. The horrible truth of it was beginning to settle to him like a smothering blanket, dampening his struggles. "No - you can't. Luke won't let you." His eyes flicked from one to another. "You're meant to be his friends." Surely they wouldn't?

“He is our friend – in fact he's one of my best friends,” smirked Landon. “I don’t think he’ll mind. What do you think JJ?"

"Why would he? He let us do Ryan didn't he?"

Simon knew none of it was true - but either way, Luke wasn't here.

Mitchell chipped in. "And just because you’ve got a brother doesn’t mean you’re exempt from a Hang!”

It was the first time any of the five of them had used the word. All at once, his head exploded in real panic. He shook and pulled at his bonds.

"Guys...remember what we said…" The voice was troubled and had a hint of a growl. Twisting his head up, Simon could now see it was Matt who had spoken. It was him off whose shoulders he was hanging off. Matt looked uneasy, though Simon couldn't make sense of what he meant. From his upside-down view, Simon scanned the crowd desperately for a friend. Where the hell was Jacko? Anyone? But even the faces he knew seemed to have already accepted the inevitable; hanging back and leaving him to his fate.

Another shout came. "Get on with it then!" The eighth grade were getting restless as they stared at him in anticipation.

"You see? Oh, come on." Landon appeared to be speaking to Mitchell and the others. "Look at them - they all want to see something!" Nobody seemed to disagree and, despite the fact Landon had said there wasn't much time, he was unhurried as he began to undress him. Mitchell pulled his sports shirt down onto his chest.

“Oh God, please don’t,” Simon begged, struggling and appalled by the seemingly tender, but deceitful and callous stripping.

”Oh please, don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me!” Landon mimicked in a little baby voice. “God, don’t be such a fucking baby, Summers! It’s not gonna kill you! Let's see if you can take it as well as Ryan did!” He turned to beam at his young audience. ‘What do you think guys?"

Simon felt sick. It wasn’t going to stop. He'd never seen a Hang himself, but he'd heard about them. There would be no Luke to protect him, he knew. His classmates weren't going to stop it either. Perhaps even Toby was out there somewhere - watching him with the same glee as everyone else?

Landon started playing with Simon's briefs. "Christ, these really did get wedged up there didn't they!" He laughed meanly. The recent massive heave had wrenched almost everything up into Simon's crack. "Jeesh...sorry about that, bud." With difficulty he pulled the pouch out of the way and shook him loose.

The reaction from the younger teens was mixed. Simon could see some staring at him in fascination. Others looked unhappy. Then Landon stopped and reached down to the floor. Following him with his eyes, Simon saw Landon pick up the scissors he'd dropped. The ones he'd been using to do his nails.

"These look like school scissors, Summers. Have you been thieving?"

"Those are mine! Give them back!" Despite his desperate situation, he felt the need to make sure they were returned to the Art room.

Landon wasn't finished. He leered at the eighth grade. "Any of you kids got pubes yet?" The older ones that were holding him all burst out laughing, though there was a stony silence from the class and several looked down at their crotches. Landon turned back to Simon. "Sorry kiddo. If they haven't got any, it's not fair that you should!" He opened and closed the scissors provocatively.

"Come on Scott. It's probably enough." Hope flared in Simon as JJ pulled a face. He didn't let go of his wrists, but his face looked troubled.

Landon ignored him and took a few well-placed snips. "Oops!"

Simon was horrified as a few curls fell away. A late bloomer, they had taken ages to grow. He screamed. “STOP!”

JJ didn't seem that happy either, and visibly scowled.

"Oh come on guys!" Landon smirked as he overrode them. "Lighten up. It's just a bit of hair!"

Before Landon could cut off any more, a kid near the front pointed a finger in surprise. "Shit! Where's his dickhead?" The kid gasped. "It's melted!" He'd realized that Simon apparently had no mushroom head like no doubt he - and everyone else he knew - had.

Landon looked down and broke the rules, though he really didn't seem to care. He pinched the end of Simon's foreskin between his fingers and pulled it out straight. "Fucking hell!" he declared. "Not another one? He's just like his brother!" He shook his head in disgust. "Haven't you kids done biology yet? This is a foreskin. The nurses forgot to trim it off like, they should have when he was born." He laughed meanly as he pulled at it. "Looks fucking ugly doesn’t it!"

Simon flushed with the shame at being manhandled by a stranger. He also noticed quite a bit of astonishment on many of the faces he could see as they studied his dick.

"Cut it off now, then!" It was the same kid again, and he seemed to be serious! Simon wondered if the idiot just assumed that the solution to his phimosis problem was no different to dealing with toenails that were too long.

Just to their left, another kid pulled a face. "Sickos! I'm not staying for stuff like this!" Simon recognized his voice as being the one who'd complained earlier. He gave Landon a withering look. "You guys should know better!" Then he turned to his classmates and glared at them too. Many began to look uncomfortable. He grabbed the arm of a friend who discovered he was leaving whether he liked it or not, and pushed past and out. Quite a few turned and followed.

The word 'gay', shouted from the doorway, floated back to them.

By the increasing pressure on his neck, Simon guessed Landon didn't like being rebuked so publically and his face flushed. "For fuck's sake!" The anger in his voice was brimming. "Every guy has tackle! You bastards are gay for even thinking that way!" Maybe he only meant it as joke, or maybe he was so spitting angry that he wasn’t thinking straight, but Landon opened the blades of the scissors again. With a theatrical flourish, he took the end of Simon's dick between a thumb and finger and pulled his long, loose foreskin fully taut. The excess skin rested between the shafts of sharp carbon steel.

There was a communal gasp from those still left. "Come on, then - get him properly trimmed!" The demand seemed to ride over the top of everything else. Eyes widened in anticipation - easy for them, when they weren't holding the weapon.

"No..." Simon hissed, but his voice seemed inadequately small to be heard in the mounting clamor.

"Don't be a fucking idiot, Scott." It was JJ again. "It's just meant to be a bit of fun, remember...."

Simon could see Landon staring out at those surrounding them, a feverish grin took over his face. He seemed to be in a world of his own.

"Stop being a pussy, Landon!" All around they were goading him. "We dare you. Just do it! Trim him down!" The squealing multiplied and Landon seemed to stare at what was in his hand. Simon's eyes widened as it really looked like Landon was considering giving a kid a 'quickie' circumcision. Who knew what he was really thinking behind that nasty grimace? The scissors were sharp and he had no doubt they would cut right through him if Landon closed the blades.

"What the FUCK are you playing at Landon?" All at once, Mitchell appeared horrified. Quickly, he let go of Simon's wrist. Simon stared upwards and he could see Landon looking confused. The scissors started to move, though whether he was trying to remove them or close them was unclear.

JJ sounded really panicky now, and shouted. "SHIT! STOP IT FUCKING LUNATIC!"

Landon blinked. If he'd been somewhere else, he was just coming back as both Mitchell and JJ reached and grabbed at him. Both hands clashed with the one holding the scissors and Landon jerked. Maybe he didn't mean to, but the blades pinched down on Simon's foreskin.

Simon screamed as the steel bit.

* * *

“LUKE! THANK GOD – THERE YOU ARE!!”

Outside the bathroom and back in the main corridor, Luke turned to the sound, a puzzled expression on his face. It was Jacko Jackson.

Jacko was breathing hard and looked upset as he hurried up. "COME ON. IT'S BAD - YOU HAVE TO HURRY!"

"What the heck are you talking about, Jacko?" The look on Jacko's face was disturbing and Luke felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. What the hell now? Had they somehow got Ryan again? Was he in trouble? It could only be that bastard Landon....

His legs started moving faster than his brain and he ran past Jacko hurrying in the direction he'd come from. "Quickly...where is he?" he muttered. "Where's Ryan?" As he picked up speed, he realized he had no idea where he was going. Jacko was right behind him.

Jacko was still breathless. "No - not Ryan," he called. "Simon!"

Luke froze in his tracks and wheeled around. "What? What do you mean Simon?" A sick dread touched him.

Jacko was wide-eyed. "That's what I'm trying to tell you! They've got Si in the sports block - Landon and the others. They're doing a Hang!"

Luke swallowed. It hit him like a sledgehammer. He lurched and went cold as he thought of all the pain and hurt that Ryan had taken being pressed, even as they spoke, onto Simon. The mere idea of it made him feel sick. He hissed. "Fuck...Si..." Then a powerful hot anger exploded from the pit of his stomach. Without a word, he threw his backpack to one side, spun around and raced away. Behind him, Jacko shouted. "The sports block! HURRY!"

He flew like the wind and more than one lad found himself tumbled to one side as Luke charged through numerous groups, screaming at them to get out of the way. If he'd have been on the track that day, the energy that drove his legs would have been unmatched.

He burst out of the doors into the sunshine and raced around the corner and onto the field. He passed Ryan and Todd standing together on the grass, but couldn't stop even as he caught a look of surprise on Ryan's face. With every stride, his sense of horror at what was being done to his little baby brother grew, until he was almost screaming with rage and horror when he finally burst through the heavy doors that marked the entrance to the locker rooms. By the number of people also pushing into the same area, all talking excitedly about what was going on inside, he knew he was in the right place.

And as he entered the back of the locker rooms, he could smell both the sweat and the intoxicating hysteria filling the space. Bodies were everywhere and his heart froze as an all too familiar voice let loose a desperate scream. Through the crush, he could see Simon hanging upside down. Landon had him. In shock, he saw what appeared to be a pair of scissors in Landon's hand. It looked like he was trying to cut through Simon's dick!

As he heard his brother's cry, Luke saw nothing but red!

He probably hurt quite a few as he smashed through the crowd of smaller teens, all of whom were avidly watching the unfolding spectacle in front of them. They were packed like sardines, and he sent numerous baseball uniforms and their owners hurtling to the floor as he waded through the scrum of bodies. Frankly, he didn’t care a shit!

Reaching the front, he bellowed and then crashed into Landon, sending him reeling to one side, the scissors spinning out of his hand. In a total rage Luke grabbed at the hair of the next nearest bastard who was rising up from where he'd been holding Simon's arm. Luke could see it was JJ, and the look of panic in his face didn't save him as Luke grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked hard. With his other hand he mauled the boy’s face with his hands, narrowly avoiding – probably for both their sakes – gouging into his eyes.

Now he could also see that it was Matt who was the one dangling his lightweight brother off his shoulders. Why wasn't he surprised! That would mean that....

No doubt seeing everything in disarray, Luke looked down to find Mitchell still crouching low, attempting to keep out of the way. He was still a dangerous bastard, as Luke discovered, when Mitchell set his foot flying out to where it connected directly into Luke’s groin and floored him. More than just the damage of any kick to the nuts, Luke writhed in temporary agony as the blow had struck right onto the newly circumcised head and shaft, and sent tears to his eyes as the pain rolled over him. Stunned by the blow, he collapsed onto the ground.

Through watering eyes he looked up to see that Landon had regained his balance. His eyes held as much violence as Luke's probably had as he whirled around in a frenzy. Bearing over the top of him, Landon's face was suffused with anger and Luke stared helplessly as Landon raised his foot - apparently ready to copy Mitchell and stamp where it would hurt the most.

Unfortunately for Landon, he was looking in completely the wrong direction as the fist that connected with his face broke his nose. His head snapped back under the blow. Strictly, it was probably unnecessary for Ryan to have landed a second blow as, from Luke's viewpoint, the first one pretty much incapacitated Landon.

Ryan moved like a savage storm and his eyes flashed with furious wrath. Landon reeled and his eyes reflected the agony of his broken snout. His hands flew up to the damage, but missed stopping Ryan's second blow snapping off one of his front teeth. Actually it turned out to be a crown in the end, but the sound of fracture was just as satisfying as the fragment disappeared in Landon’s gaping and bloodied mouth.

In the middle of the fray, Simon hit the floor as Matt dropped him. Matt attempted to scurry away - but he ran straight into Todd and bounced off his fist to trip over a still sprawled JJ, who was nursing his own wounds. The pair scrambled away and melted into the crowd. In the resulting mêlée, people fled the sports block in droves, hurriedly escaping the fearful retribution that was being dealt out before their eyes.

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You can't tell me that didn't feel good! Feel free to let me know how much in a review!

I'm over the moon to be able to say that ET made it into the final nominations in this year's GA Readers Awards - both for the story itself in the 'Best GA Story' category, and for Ryan Alexis in the 'Best Protagonist/Hero (from any 2012 GA story)' category. Thank you to the many that voted to get ET so far.

Now it's the final round. All previous votes are put aside and everyone gets to vote one more time from the shortlist. There's great competition, with some fantastic and characters in the running but I hope you will give ET a boost!

The shortlist is here.

You can only vote for one winner per category and can make that for ET and Ryan Alexis by PM-ing Talon Rider here,

Just copy and paste the following in the PM:

* * *

Best GA Stories: An English Teen Circumcised in the USA by Riley Jericho

Best Protagonist / Hero: Ryan (An English Teen Circumcised in the USA by Riley Jericho)

* * *

Finally, as well as asking for your support in the Readers Awards, can I point you towards Andy's new book. 'The Last Grand Master', by Andrew Q Gordon. The book literally hit the e-shelves a couple of days ago. As you know, Andy edits ET for me, and is well known on GA as an outstanding author. So, when you’re done voting, follow the link and buy the book!

32. An Eye on the Ball

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

An Eye on the Ball

"I'm fine!" Simon was still shaking, but he held a hand protectively over his parts, while trying to pull up his underwear and shorts with the other. Around him, only those that were friends lingered as everyone else kept their distance. Landon, blood streaming from his nose, had tried to make a bolt for it, but Luke had stuck his foot out and tripped him. The memory of watching the bastard go sprawling right into one of the trashcans was fresh in his mind. Kneeling in front of him, Luke repeated the question. He still looked hopping mad, though Simon knew it wasn't at him, though the sight of Luke crashing through the crowd like a bull in a china shop, sending kids spinning off in all directions had been a little unnerving. He’d never seen him so angry before.

"Did he cut you?" Luke said again, loud and demanding. He stared down to where Simon was still trying to cover himself.

Simon was uncomfortable with the attention he was getting. Not only was Luke looking, but Ryan and Todd were there too. Even bloody Jacko had reappeared from wherever he'd been hiding; some friend he was! From a distance others continued to gaze his way. He didn’t like being seen like this, yet everyone seemed to want to stare at him. His ears reddened and he muttered awkwardly. "Luke..."

With relief it seemed that Luke must have been able to guess how horrible this was for him, as he turned his head to the others and said. "Can you just give us a moment guys?" Thankfully, they too seemed to get what he needed and those nearby turned around to face outward like a protective guard. Caught staring, others further away turned away at last as well. Finally he began to feel a little safer.

With only Luke watching now, he pulled his underwear out of the way so they could inspect the damage.

“THANK GOD!” Luke hissed in relief. “I really thought he’d cut into you with them!”

“I don’t think he really meant to,” muttered Simon. Sitting on the floor, he felt stupid – and a complete wimp, screaming as he had, though it had been mostly shock at the thought that the scissors were going to slice off his willy. In fact, he was thankfully still intact. “I don’t think he would really have done it,” he added, though why he was defending the bastard, he had no idea. Still, he doubted now whether Landon had really meant it to be anything more than a stupid joke, though the red mark where the scissors had nipped him proclaimed how easy it might have been for that 'joke' to have become terribly serious!

He pulled his shorts up quicker than they went down. "Look - see, I'm fine," he muttered. "Stop worrying." The tension was beginning to wash away, leaving him feeling a bit foolish - though it helped to know that Landon and the others had paid a higher price. The only one that had managed to escape had been Mitchell.

"Thank God for that!" Luke looked relieved too, though was still fuming with anger. "I'll kill the bastards!" He looked around to the others. "Did anyone get Mitchell?" They shook their heads.

"Is he okay?" Peering past the Praetorian Guard, it was Gabe – Gabe Larsson - another of Simon's classmates, and friends. He looked sheepish. Like several others from their class, he’d arrived in the middle of it all, but stood at a distance and done nothing.

Simon ground his teeth and didn't reply. Now Gabe was worried for him?

"He's fine, Gabe," Luke said as Simon finished pulling his clothing back into place. Simon scrubbed at his eyes, where they felt hot. It felt so unfair.

The gangly, fair-haired teen seemed relieved, but still looked uncomfortable. "Sorry about that, man. We didn't know what to do..."

Whatever. Simon kept his eyes averted until Gabe gave up and turned away.

Ryan picked up the trashcan and set it on its feet. Fortunately it was empty. "Mitchell slunk out, but I say we go find him!" Experimentally, he was flexing the fingers of his right hand and winced. He scrunched his left into a ball. "This one still works though!" He winked.

Simon watched him, and immediately understood the humor for what it was. As the mood lightened, he was happy for the attention to move on. Even Luke grinned as the tension eased further. "I bet that felt good!"

They all watched a look of satisfaction reach Ryan’s face and he sighed. "You have no idea..."

Just then, as he made to stand, Simon caught sight of Jacko again and something in him flared. "Where the HELL were you?"

Jacko flinched, but before he could reply, Luke laid a warning hand on Simon's arm and spoke softly. "It was Jacko who came to look for me, Si. I’d only just got back from the docs when he found me."

Simon stared at Jacko. "Oh...sorry..." He cast his eyes down, feeling crap. First Toby, then Gabe, and now Jacko. What the hell was wrong with him today?

Jacko shrugged. "It's okay. You'd have done the same for me."

Simon nodded without hesitation. Damn right he would! "Thanks," he added, though he felt he needed to say more. He glanced at Ryan, recalling the events of the previous day. There was something about not being the only one to get into trouble like this – not that he would wish it on anyone. "I think both of us owe you, Jacko."

Unexpectedly, Jacko froze and turned a shade of puce. His eyes flicked around like a trapped animal before he looked down to study the floor. Finally, swallowing and keeping his eyes glued to some point on the ground, he muttered. "I...errr...well I'd better get out onto the courts. See you out there...that is, if...well...anyway..." He grabbed his racquet and hurried out. Everyone stared after his small retreating form.

"What the hell was that about?" asked Luke. Simon frowned, as bewildered by it as his brother. Ryan, on the other hand, looked quite awkward too, and Simon felt bad. Ryan had enough troubles of his own without all this.

Just then, Toby flew in the door, followed by Mason. His eyes were wide. Even though everything looked calm, he shouted, the panic in his voice unhidden. "What happened? Are you alright?" He was breathing hard.

Luke replied and tried to calm him. "It's okay. We got here in time."

Toby still looked worried. "But they said they did a Hang on Si!"

Hearing that awful word, Simon flinched. Around about them, interest was returning as more of his class arrived. He could see them whispering and pointing at him. He sat again, so less people could see him. "No they didn’t. Not really. I’m okay – you don’t need to shout."

"We just saw Landon," added Mason. Not quite a breathless as Toby, you could tell he'd been running too. "His face is quite a mess." He looked to his brother. "Was that you?"

Todd grinned and shook his head. "Not this time." He nodded towards Ryan. "Matt kinda accidently fell into me, but Ry caught Landon a real beaut!"

Mason's eyes widened. "You're not kidding!' He looked worried.

"Was Mitchell with him?" Luke was darkly angry. It seemed clear what was on his mind and he was looking at the door and seemed ready to move that way.

Simon grabbed hold of Luke’s arm, halting him. "You have to promise me you won't do anything."

Luke was puzzled. "I don't get you..."

Simon glared, holding on to him firmly. This was the last thing they needed. "Yes you do - don't go out there to start a fight!"

Luke face was a picture of tight frustration and he tried to retort, but Simon overrode him. Hearing Mason, he'd read in Todd's brother's face what appeared to have him worried. "Mase is right. They might make trouble for you - and if you start another fight, then it's gonna be worse."

Luke snarled. "Fuck the trouble!" He tried to pull his arm loose, but Simon still wouldn’t let him go.

"And if you and Ryan get suspended?" Simon shook his head. "They're not worth it." He felt a bit calmer now – and able to think more clearly. His eyes flicked to where Toby was sitting, still looking tense. More than anything, he just wanted it to be over; for people to stop fussing over him and looking at him. He just wanted to be alone with Toby for a cuddle...and there was stuff they needed to talk about from earlier. But he also needed to stop this from escalating. "I nearly lost the end of my dick," he muttered. He just wanted to move on and forced himself to smile to emphasize the humor in his words. He looked directly at Luke. "I don't want to lose you too! You’re not going to get thrown out of school just because of me."

Luke eyed him steadily; looking for any sign that would let him totally ignore Simon's pleas. He looked across at Ryan, who shrugged, and then at Toby, who looked more upset than anyone, before taking a deep breath. "Okay, I promise." At that, Simon let him go. Through the PA system, they heard the bell marking the end of recess. Luke looked around the locker room that was filling up now. "Do you want me to hang around a bit?"

Simon shook his head. He wanted to say 'Toby's here now', but maybe that was a bit obvious. "Go! We'll be fine.” Luke seemed a little crestfallen and Simon knew he was sounding too harsh. While he couldn't cuddle Toby, he could give Luke a hug, and did so. “Thanks for arriving in time!” he said more softly, and received back a smile at last. “Now, you better get off. I'll see you at lunch."

After Luke, Ryan and Todd had left, he asked Mason if he'd found another player yet, who could make up the foursome. Mason shook his head.

Simon turned back to Toby and stared at him meaningfully. "What about you Toby? Do you want to play?" Despite everything, he tried to kept his voice light, but his eyes begged.

Toby seemed relieved, but played along. "You know I'm totally crap at tennis!" He began to rummage through his sports bag, then looked up. "But if anyone has a spare racquet, I'll give it a go."

"I've got one." They turned as Gabe Larsson stepped across again to make the offer. "I'm gonna play basketball with the guys," he said. It wasn't a surprise - Gabe was a hoop freak. Still, he was ill at ease as he glanced at Simon. "Sorry about earlier...it was awful, but we didn't know what to..." He trailed off, sounding awkward, but Simon could see he wasn't being phony.

"It's okay." Simon left it at that. It was all he could offer just then. Gabe paused a moment, but then left to get his racquet.

The four of them - Simon, Toby, Jacko and Mason - finally made their way outside and around the sports block towards the tennis courts.The Academy took its tennis seriously and - like many areas of the curriculum - had money to invest; in this case, in the half a dozen top-notch clay courts it strutted in the school's marketing machine. They played doubles for a few minutes, but Toby had been right...it was never going to work. In the end, Simon suggested that Jacko and Mase play on, and that he would help Toby try to get the hang of serving.

Everyone was happy...except, surprisingly, Toby.

"I'm a stupid fucking bastard! I should have been there!" Toby was still angry with himself. The two had drifted off to a more distant court and Simon had Toby lobbing balls into the air and trying to hit them. Few even made it over the net, let alone into the opposing service court! "I'm really sorry about earlier," Toby said quietly and for the umpteenth time. "I don't know what came over me." He kicked at a ball that - like many - had totally missed his racquet and bounced on the ground. "I was just being stupid."

"Just try to keep your eye on the ball," sighed Simon. They were standing together just in front of the base line, surrounded by a dozen green tennis balls that were scattered around their side of the net. “Don’t worry about trying to get it in the box. Just get it over the net.” Patiently, he demonstrated it again, lobbing the ball high and waiting his moment before striking it soundly. It flew over the net and dipped perfectly into the service court.

"Nice serve, Summers!"

They turned to see the Coach watching them, both wondering how long he'd been there.

"I'm impressed - we'll make a Coach out of you yet!" The man grinned in good humor, apparently happy at how the boys were using the lesson time. "Keep at it Toby! You can only get better."

"Yes, Coach," both boys chimed in unison, though Toby's was a tad more sullen. The man walked on and they got back to business.

Simon retrieved a handful of balls from the ground and pushed them into various pockets. He handed one to Toby. “Come on, try it again – and try to relax.” Toby stared at the ball in his hand, as if he were measuring himself against it.

"So why didn't you just tell me what was wrong, rather than blowing up at me?" Simon spoke quietly as he stood just behind him. Toby might be sorry, but he was still frustrated by him. "You never tell me anything!" To take the sting out of it, he moved close. He angled the position of Toby’s racquet into a better position, at the same time turning his body slightly to improve his stance. With his other hand, turned away from any who might have looked their direction, he stroked Toby's bare stomach where his shirt rode up. It was gentle and caring and Toby seemed to relax a little.

"That's not fair, I tell you lots of things," said Toby as he threw up the ball and surprised then both by actually hitting it!

Simon grinned in delight. "See, you CAN do it!" He stepped back. "Now try again." He passed Toby another ball and watched him get ready. "So why don't you tell me about your other boyfriend?" he said quietly. The question had been bothering him for days. Toby threw up the ball, but didn't even attempt to hit it. His eyes flicked around in surprise as he turned.

"What other boyfriend?" Toby muttered and seemed genuinely confused.

Simon shook his head, though his eyes remained challenging. He glanced around just to be sure they weren't picking up any undue attention. "I don’t mean now,' he said. "I mean before. You said that I wasn't the first..." He watched Toby's face carefully.

That face darkened slightly. "Why does THAT matter?" Toby said at last. He appeared uncomfortable, an