Degenerates

"Pressure’s getting to me."  Jamma muttered, "Scratching and surviving for so long....  Shame, shame, shame--hoping for peace and praying for food.  Runnin’ out of both."  We’d walked to town for rations.

My too-tight shoes she took off and left them on the steps of the courthouse where she’d acquired them.

Wasn't sure what she meant about that "Shame, shame...."  Probably about having money for war, but not for the people who funded it.  

* * *

Most adults were conscripted and sent to the borders.  My mother among them.  In town, only old people and a few kids – had no one to explain Jamma’s gripes to me.

Learned to walk at Jamma's side.  In the garden, washing, gathering wood and foraging in the woods, I stayed close.  Other houses in our area were abandoned or burned so we were mostly alone.

But I had my fun.  Jamma tied a rope to a tree with a big limb at the end – made a swing.  When I was older, we drew a checkerboard and found bottle caps to play checkers.  Birds, snakes, snails and bugs were my pets.  Such was my life until a box arrived when I was four.  A big box filled with books and pencils; my studies.

Jamma said the schools closed years ago, kids got workbooks now.  Some people used the papers for kindling.  After lunch, Jamma listened to the wind-up radio and quietly tutored me.

That Bakker Boy

When universities were converted into military training centers, we got a renter.  A professor, Dr. Toby, came to live in the back of our house.

Toby took me to the abandoned houses with a cart to bring back hinges, nails, what we could find to keep our house in repair.  I found bits of broken bikes and wagons, salvaged them.  Toby could fix anything or make it into something better.

Toby had a car, sometimes he made money giving people rides.  Mostly, people walked.

* * *

A time later, Toby came back from the market with news.  He spoke with Jamma, asked if she had family in Iredell.  "Didn't you mention that town before?"

"Years ago, my family lived there."

"Did you know the Bakkers?"  Toby picked me up, held me on his hip.

"Graduated school with a Fred Bakker; heard he passed on the southern border about six  years ago."  Toby sat, I climbed on his lap.

"There's a boy named Bakker from Iredell on the list this week.  They're paying a big allocation to keep him--over double the usual rate."

"Why?" Jamma tilted her head with a suspicious look.

"Could be crippled or disabled somehow."

"Poor child.  He’s been with state long?"

Toby nodded, "Most of his life."  He looked down at me and tweaked my nose.

* * *

We went into town, stood in front of the wall of postings.  On a long list of names, Toby and Jamma read carefully.  "More kids than I've ever seen on the list."  Jamma noted, pulled me against her.

"Ezel S. Bakker; seven years old."  Toby pointed, "See – from Iredell.  I'm going to ask if someone's claimed him."  Toby went into the office while Jamma and I stood in line for soap rations.

In the car, "They said he had a grandfather named Fredrick Bakker.  All his family's gone.  No one's come to ask for him."  They glanced at each other; neither commented.

"Did they explain why his allotment is so high?" Jamma asked.  

"He's been in the hospital.  Wait here.  Maybe I can sweet-talk the staff for more information."  He went back inside; returned later with a handful of paperwork.

* * *

Dr. Toby applied to foster young Ezel S. Bakker.  He’d been in a hospital for a long time.  By default, the child’s custody was surrendered to the state.  Jamma and I had to answer questions, lots of questions.  Most were about Dr. Toby.  The adults had meetings, talked for a long time, I usually fell asleep.

Several months later, Toby left on Friday saying he'd be back on Saturday with Ezel.  A visit to see if he liked us, I guessed.

Big dinner in the oven; night fell, Jamma and I waited.  Finally, I was given supper and told to lay on the couch, it was past midnight.  Heard them come in but I was too sleepy to get up.  They talked softly, eating dinner; Toby took me to bed, "I have a boy of my own."  He whispered and kissed my eyelids.

Next morning, I was up early with Jamma in the garden eating tomatoes when Toby and Ezel came out.  Startled me, Ezel was so skinny and white; white like birch bark, then I remembered he'd been in a hospital.  No scars, no braces visible.  He slowly approached me and reached to shake my hand.

"Take Ezel to the creek, Romo."  Jamma directed.  "Go on."  She was glad I had someone near my age to play with.

Careful not to run, this boy Ezel held my hand and I took him to see the minnows.  "They said you were in the hospital.  Are you okay?"

"Yeah.  I have a problem."  Ezel's soft voice was slow, "I'm degenerate."

Degenerate?  I didn’t know the word.  "Are you going to live here?"

"They said if I behave, this is my home.  I hate the hospital."

* * *

Ezel helped the best he could, tried with the hoe and shovel, the broom and washing dishes.  Two years older than me and about the same in most ways.  

Ezel was pretty with straight, brown hair and several cowlicks.  Hair looked funny with him being so skinny and his hair sticking ever-which-a ways, like a dandelion gone to seed.  Jamma said his features were refined; I only noticed his big, green eyes and the wide smile he occasionally gave me.

We set about closing in the back porch to make a small room for Ezel.  County inspected our work, and approved Dr. Toby to be Ezel's foster dad; maybe his adoptive dad.

Wrist-Belt

Ezel came with only a box tied with string.  Inside, a few too-small clothes, mostly his workbooks; someone tucked a bag of dried apples inside. Gift from a hospital worker.  There was a wide leather contraption with several buckles in his box.

Jamma told me to leave Ezel's things alone, but I was curious.  I asked Ezel about that leather contraption.  He called it a wrist-belt; wore it at night.  Buckled around his waist, it clamped his wrists next to his hips.

"Why?"

"Therapy.  I have to take pills, too."

"How do you turn over at night?"

"Toby makes me comfortable.  I'm retraining myself."

All that invigorated my imagination and I wasn't sure exactly what to think.

Saw Toby cutting Ezel's pills in small pieces.  Ezel took fewer meds by the day.  After a while, he was a different boy--his face filled out and he smiled a lot.  Wondered why he was given pills that made him look sick and move slowly.

* * *

Had to ask Jamma about Toby sleeping with Ezel.

"Leave them to their ways, Toby knows what he's doing.  If you're lonely at night, come sleep with me."

Sleep with Jamma?  Silly.  I was drawn to Toby, but Ezel got to sleep with him every night, darn it.

Toby wasn't a big man, average height, muscley with long hair he tied back.  He had a beaming smile and was dark, like me.  Knew languages and histories of strange places.  Jamma said he was a professor of common sense but he was a sociologist with real bony fee-days.

Told Jamma I'd rather sleep with Toby.  She chuckled, "I suspected you might feel that way."  She stitched me a bearish-looking pillow to sleep with and explained what a homosexual man was about.  "When you're sure you want a man to love instead a girlfriend, tell me."  

Frank and clear, she said it was part of nature, "Either way, keep your personal business and your dinkle to yourself."

Being six years old, my dinkle took second place to a lot of things, I wasn't sexually or romantically inclined.

Earning Keep

When Ezel was stronger, Toby paced a trail, estimated the length by his strides; two miles long.  Every day, Toby, Ezel and I walked that trail, then began jogging.  Ezel was winded yet through the weeks he built stamina and speed.  We started running; Jamma waited for us to announce the winner at the back porch.

Next month, Toby changed our route.  There was an old road that ran up a hill, not too steep — it led to a burned-out cabin.  Toby waited at the bottom of the hill while Ezel and I raced to the top, brought back a piece of charcoal.  We loved running together; tied often.

* * *

Sounded crooked, but wasn't any law against it:  Over dinner, Toby said he wanted to show us off.  Strange idea, people didn't have anything to show off and he wanted to show off Ezel and me?

"What do you guys think about a footrace behind the courthouse, down by the open market?  Just like in ancient Greece.  I'll take bets, we'll earn a few bucks.  Would you be interested?"

A real race?  We jumped up, danced around the kitchen, whooping.  Jamma immediately pulled out her sewing basket and stitched us simple loincloth shorts that didn't bind our legs.

Next Saturday, Ezel and I couldn’t stop grinning when we went to town.  Jamma went a quarter mile down the old dirt road behind the market and held two short sticks. She rapped them together making a loud knocking sound.  She repeated it several times while Toby, Ezel and I went to the other end of the road near the sellers.

People came out to see why two almost-naked boys were standing in the old road   bare-chested and barefooted, flexing our legs, stretching.  Our skinny bodies got everyone's attention.  The crowd smiled, nodded and gave us a lot of eye.  Toby took bets though most were in coin.

"You boys run get your stick from Jamma and the first one back here's the Kopperl champ-ee-yown!"  He said that out loud several times to the people standing nearby. Men came close, inspecting us, making bets.  Ezel and I grinned at each other.  I had the advantage being lighter and nimbler.  Ezel's legs were longer.

Hot afternoon when we raced, driven hard by the shouts from the onlookers.  That Ezel put on a final push and won.  With a bit of cash, Toby bought Ezel a pair of used pants, "Designer denims from the house of Guut-Auhnopf."  Toby said.

Jamma laughed, explained that the house of Good Enough was where all our clothes came from.

We got frozen treats; cold and sweet.  Raced every week, the money went for household needs and shoes.  A few times other kids came to race us, none neared our speed.

Wouldn't realize till years later why Dr. Toby did this, we thought it was about the cash. It was about everyone pitching in to keep our home together.  It was also about showing off Ezel.

* * *

Ezel's tenth birthday came, Jamma made a tiny cake.  No gifts, so Toby asked Ezel what he would want, "If you could have anything."

"I want Romo for my brother."

"He's like your brother now."  Jamma said, Toby and Ezel made us a pieced-together family.

"My real brother."  Ezel came to hug me.

Jamma cried, Toby looked away, "Pretend hard until it feels real, brother Ezel."

Before the sun set, we ran our usual course up the hill, came back and washed.  Chased fireflies while the adults stayed at the table talking.  

I told Ezel he was already my brother in my heart.

Iredell Boys

Our foot races were popular, more people came and made bets.  Two women sold popcorn nearby.  Carefully checking the road, Jamma swept the pebbles and stones leaving a smooth, packed-dirt track for us to run.  Coupla times men came from far cities, challenged us.  We met our match but they didn't come back.

Two boys from Iredell came, they were teens, long-legged but not well-trained.  Mouthy red-headed boys who insulted us, calling Ezel and me monkey-butts, skinny, scabby worm-burgers.

Monkey-butts?  We thought those insults were the funniest we'd ever heard.  Ezel and I were laughing and jumping around like chimps, sucking in our cheeks to look skinnier, mocking the redheads.

Toby didn't stop us, our aping stirred more bets.

Maybe we shouldn'ta been jumping around but we couldn't stop ourselves.  The Iredell boys had small bulges of fat around their waists that jiggled.  Excess weight pulls you down when you're trying to move forward; we were lean, experienced, and lightning fast.

Day was hot, almost noon when we gathered at the end of the road by Toby.  The Iredell boys were asked to race against each other first.  No.  They wanted to race the "fairy queens of Kopperl."  Ezel and I were confident, we grinned and tossed our hair back, pranced around shaking our skinny behinds.  Lots of bets made with that move.

No starting gun, so Toby lined us up and found a rock in the weeds.  He stood aside, "When you hear the rock hit the dirt, start running."

When he tossed the rock high into the air, the teens didn't wait but started running immediately.  Ezel and I saw that and jumped into action.  We were behind most of the way; almost neck and neck when we got to Jamma.  That's when hell broke loose.  

One of the teens grabbed a stick from her hand and shoved her back.  She fell flat on her rear, but tossed us our sticks, "Keep going boys!"

The crowd was yelling all kinds of things, I ignored them and heard Ezel's feet slapping dirt fast beside me.  He passed me and flew ahead like he was shot out of a cannon.  Got to one of the teens, ready to pass and the guy swung his arm out, knocked Ezel down.

Made me so mad to see that, with every bit of energy I had, I ran up beside that redheaded jerk and tossed my stick between the teen's feet.  He tripped, went down yelling and cussing.  

Only me and the other teen, I passed him wide to the outside and heard Ezel behind me again.  Ezel tossed me his stick and I zipped straight to Toby.

I won, but only by a few inches.  Took forever for my blood to stop pounding in my head.

Didn't notice the crowd had helped Jamma up, then gathered around our competitors.  Locals, from the market came over to deal with the teens in their ways.  

Profitable day, but we didn't stay.  Jamma took Ezel and me home before anything else could happen.

We stopped racing.  The war ramped up; people survived on even fewer pennies.  No more gambling, no cash, no bartering.  Kept mending what we had.  Ezel and I began cross-country running through the woods.  Hours we loped through the countryside after chores were done.

* * *

It was somewhere around my twelfth birthday when Toby took Ezel and me to the courthouse.  We stood along the curb with other day workers in the chill of dawn.  Rations had diminished, Jamma needed medicine and Ezel and I were still growing.

We were strong, not so tall as the other men, but accustomed to physical work.  People remembered us from our races and we were often picked to clear land or repair homes for a few bucks.  Good days working together; Toby supervised, we ate our bag of food when the sun was overhead.  It felt like brotherhood with the men I loved close.

What Money Can't Buy

Day came when Jamma couldn't walk well.  Ezel and I gave up cross-country to keep the garden, preserve our food -- Jamma's chores.

Life was harder when she became unable to work.  Her efforts to help ceased; she was freed from her hard life.  Wrapped in her favorite blanket, we took her past the creek on the edge of her garden.  Hard digging and harder burying the woman who cherished me; us.

Tearfully went through her things.  A few clothes and a box of photos and papers, even older photos and papers from her family.

The jagged-toothed beast of grief ripped into me again as I found the letter from the military stating the death of my mother several years ago.  Attached to the letter was a check, a large check which brought no comfort.  Numbers and letters on a slip of paper couldn't erase the label of "orphan" that check branded into my head.  My childhood's comfortable innocence kicked my heart as it left.

Toby took us to the county and bought bonds with the money, kept the paperwork hidden under the floor.  All my feelings began jumbling inside while my body kept going through the motions of life.

Couldn't stop it -- heavy, sloshing grief stiffened to hard-edged anger.  Why didn't Jamma tell me my mother had died?

"Did you know my mother died?  Did Jamma tell you but not me?" I screamed at Toby; they must have been in cahoots.  "It's my life, she was my mother.  Why didn't you tell me?"

Instead of screaming back at me, he drew me close and whispered: "Wouldn't have helped and couldn't be changed.  We made the decision to wait until you knew more of the man you've become -- until you were stronger."  He pulled me into his chest, "A boy's heart is tender.  So tender, and these times are so hard."

Sob by sob, I gasped a zig-zagged path toward maturity as he held me.  Not many ways to show love clearly, and the only two adults in my life had given me several years without the burden of sorrow.

Still, I was an orphan, still too young to be alone.

Poverty graced me with a brother through a roomer; evaded the cold hands of the state through Toby's generosity.

* * *

Life changed.  We continued day labor, now Toby filled our evenings with preparing us for the military.  Youth were conscripted at sixteen, only months for Ezel.

"You are temporarily owned by the government, body, mind and soul – surrender to their ownership or be jailed."  He explained how minds were manipulated, "Cohesion, one functioning unit -– a command is given and you’re there to execute it.  There's always a few jokers who disobey.  Jokers die too soon....  And you must  never admit you're a fag."  He loved Ezel, his harsh words were for his son's protection.

"Could you get out of the military with a medical excuse?  You were in the hospital--what was your diagnosis?"  I asked Ezel over dinner.

Toby answered, "Sexually precocious pedophile--that's what they called him.  Ezel was caught with a younger boy.  He didn't hurt the boy yet the adults were alarmed.  Home and Family Services were in a bind.  Ezel couldn't go to jail because he'd committed no crime they could  prove.  They abandoned him in a mental hospital.  He was drugged; tied into bed at night and kept restrained, nine hours a night.  Then, they decided it was cheaper to keep him drugged in a group home than to keep him confined in the hospital.  Then, he came here.  Asking the military to unseal Ezel's records might hurt all of us."

Toby glanced at Ezel, "My son needed a chance to be a boy, to play and grow into the fine man he is.  He'll do his time in the service with pride, like you will."

Couldn't figure out what it was; something peculiar in that explanation.

* * *

We knew by the colors on the envelope, Ezel was drafted.  We were all silent that day.

In the forest, I found mushrooms and fished for dinner.  We cooked up a meal and I kissed Ezel before he went to bed, "I love you.  Gonna miss you--my heart already hurts."  Eyes filled.

"Take care of Toby, he loves you."

Embracing my brother Ezel, "You know I will."

* * *

Couldn't sleep, my heart ached, I stood outside their door needing to be closer to the only people left in my life.

Soft voices in the dark, kisses.  I cried with them, and stepped into the doorway to watch their bodies twine, slow strokes, Toby was gentle and unhurried with Ezel.  Whispered promises, wet lips sucking, licking.

My hand went to my hard cock.

Hands on torsos, palms on backs memorizing the muscles in last caress. Toby was over Ezel, holding himself on his elbows.  Quietly Ezel's hands lifted to hold Toby's face.  I stroked my rod, watching the place where groins met behind Ezel's thigh.  For the longest I only saw Toby move one hand while they stared into each other's eyes.  Couldn't hear what they said when they stopped.

Toby moved, lay next to Ezel, tugging at his arm.

Ezel straddled Toby's waist, caressed his chest, stopping on his nipples.  As his straight hair curtained around his face, he leaned into his lover and kissed him.  Electric, erotic to see Ezel grab Toby's hard dick rub it along his cleft; play Toby's glans under his scrotum.  Their kiss continued.

Smell of clear, eager, young cum overrode the smell of adult male sweat.  Ezel came fast.

On one arm, still leaning over his love, Ezel reached around behind himself and put the big knob at his hole.  Didn't seem like it would fit; maybe it would.

"Slowly, I can wait."  Toby's voice.

Between hummed, impassioned kisses, I smelled their saliva and sweat. Cat-step forward, I leaned to watch from behind.  Ezel gripped the hard rod seeking his hole.  He smeared the precum and shoved; exhaled.  Slipped; no entry.

Again, he gripped Toby's cock right at his corona, scrubbing him along his cleft.  Tensed thighs lifted himself and a soft wail came out as the head of Toby's shaft popped inside Ezel's stretched opening.  Full head disappeared just that quick into the tiny pucker.

Glistening cleft in the dim light, I watched.  Breathed deeply and silently, squeezing my rigid cock with the ring made from my thumb and index finger as I imagined what Toby felt.  Squeezed my finger-ring up and down my rod; good feeling as I watched boy and man making their love.

Knees wobbled and nuts buzzed watching them the short strokes begin; then longer.  Smelled it, felt it, heard how much they loved each other.  Ached for their closeness, silent exhilaration, deep thrusts; deep-throated grunts.

Their last goodbye for several years.  They'd be different lovers when Ezel returned.  I'd be in the military. The precarious nature of our relationships teetered... teetered, then barreled to my chest slamming me into the realization that there was no real life without the three of us together.

That slam shoved me closer to maturity.  I receded to the hallway, leaving them to moan, stroke, ejaculate, and later, long after midnight, to cry.

* * *

Walked Ezel and Toby to the olive-green bus parked in front of the courthouse.  A few others saying goodbye, silent crowd.  Couldn't help but think that many of their bodies were filled with lovers' cum from the night before, transformed to tears by daylight.

Evening's chores: Scattered thoughts formed a question as we hoed, weeded and picked our dinner from the garden, "Toby, why did you decide to adopt Ezel?  Did you know someone in Iredell?"

"It was a ruse, at first.  I wanted a boy, all my life I wanted a boy.  Sized up my life, my situation and applied to get him.  Circumstances were favorable; foster parents were few.  My plan was to cut and run, you know... take the boy and leave.  Use him till I was finished, then leave him near the border."

"What!  Why?"

"Sex.  I'm degenerate, a pervert – all my life I lusted for a boy, not a man but a boy.  When I met Ezel, it all changed.  He changed me when he said he needed my love -- didn't say he wanted my love, but needed it.  My guilt about what I planned for the boy weakened my lust.

"Every night in bed, I told him how upstanding he was, how strong and what astounding control he had.  Retrained myself in the process; those words were for me."

"You mean you two slept together every night – without...?"

Toby took a deep breath.  "When he was older, he asked me to take him.  Said he wanted to be filled with me, to be as close as he could."  Toby turned away for a moment, "Do you know what that does to a man when his son begs his father to penetrate him?"

Toby trembled, "I took him in my arms and held him.  Told him I'd hurt him."  Toby shook his head, "My sweet virgin told me he wanted the pain, wanted every part of me, all I could give him.

"Muffled his screams, and wiped his blood with..."  He went to his room, returned with a dark, stiff wad of fabric.  "My boy's blood the first time. He still loved me after – seemed to love me even more."

* * *

Day labor petered out, the world got stuck in gear; not enough momentum to move forward, too hard to go retro again.  National effort slumped.  

People seldom left their radios when one small nation began speaking with a louder voice than it possessed.  The delicate balance among nations began to heave, shift; liaisons went awry as the small kingdom shouted insults to the world.

Earth held its breath, hoping the insults would be ignored, rebuffed.  Eighty-billion unspoken pleas, "Don't.  Don't hit the button.  Don't send the bombs."

Changes doubled our concerns; we hadn't heard from Ezel.  The government was never clear, something was happening on the eastern border -- it continually rumbled with skirmishes.

* * *

Frightening what the changes implied, and yet it offered meager, reliable income.  Several new jobs opened at the courthouse.

Toby got a job upstairs in the courthouse, translating bureaucratic dictates into usable English, then he promoted my skills for a job in the basement.  Inventory control; barcoding small arms, recording them on the military database.  Tedious job hauling pallets of boxes in and out, and labeling the cartons for two women who worked the database.

Monday, no boxes arrived, no arms to be processed.  All work in the basement halted -- everything stopped in the courthouse, around the area.  Tuesday at noon we heard popping on the horizon, cries and songs from all over town.  People came out to dance and shout in the streets, make a big racket all day, into the night.

The war was over -- tensions dissolved between nations.  Governments were tired of strains, they wanted to return to a time of peace--a time I'd never known.

Degenerate

The next week, that olive-green bus brought our Ezel home.  Toby bought a tin of canned meat to celebrate, half a loaf of bread.

Went to the creek to clean up, I was curious, "Ezel, did you really try to fuck another boy when you were young?"

"I don't remember, but if I did, I didn't know it was sexual.  Just playing around probably."

"Did you ever want me, I mean, did you want to fuck me when I was little?"

"Nah, always loved you like a brother.  We're great together."  He kissed my cheek.

"One time you told me you were degenerate."

"That's what was written on the chart hanging by my hospital bed.  Didn't know the word `misdiagnosis' either, only knew I desperately needed to be loved."  He gave me a warm, wide smile.  "Funniest thing.  Never was drawn to younger kids, but older men.  I wanted an older man who needed a boy to love."

He stared, tilted his head, then smiled.

* * *

Warm, golden light at the kitchen window in periwinkle dusk, soft green smells of summer and sharp twang of dinner wafting from our home.  No degenerates.  No orphans, only a place where tender hearts are loved, cared for.

Grabbed a plate heavy with a returning hero's celebration, "We need to check the list at the county, see if there's a boy needing a home."