Tales from the Birchfield farm

NB: The author has had recourse to generous comments by noted gaydemon authors MCVT and James Rozo, to whom he expresses gratitude.

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS – AND THE SEX

“Hank, look here,” Hiram pointed.

“Someone’s been sleeping in our bed.”

“Or doing something, that’s for sure.”

Hiram darted through the living room. “I’m checking out dad’s room.”

“Anything suspicious?” Hank caught up, a hand to his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“We’ll find out at the party.”

As early-teens can, they shrugged. Undressed.

Per Randy-James’ instruction, they showered. Fiddled around – just enough to prime them for the evening ahead.

Pinchy clean, in fresh clothes, they appeared fine together in the mirror.

“Looking good.”

“We are.”

They smiled, fondled intimately, kissed lightly, and left the Farm House to walk over for Mama’s event.

The banner proclaiming HEROS HIRAM & HANK had knock-out impact. Both’s jaws gaped.

Mama bustled under streamers and balloons. She whirled, “My boys!” Arms out, she gathered them to her ample front and squeezed, kissing their brows repeatedly. “My-a special table is ready for-a you,” she exclaimed, pushing them to the small platform and table with its white cloth, set for two, and vase of flowers.

“Same as our celebration breakfast,” Ting reminded his friend Cosmo.

Farm honcho Randy-James blew a New Year’s whistle, and addressed the crowd. “We’re proud of you brats…”

He went on, his praise-laden voice fading for Hank, who leaned over to ask Hiram, “Who is that next to your dad – that skinny boy?”

Hiram focused as Randy-James wound up, “…and we look forward to hearing more about Berlin than Mike, over there, has told us. Last of all, we want you to meet the Farm’s newest resident, this sweet fellow, Avery, who fell from the sky.”

Ting, Cosmo, and Blaire clapped, a signal for the room to applaud. It did – as Avery Roy James was boosted to his feet by the unseen force of a vibrating butt plug’s sudden buzz. He blushed and smiled at the newcomers.

Composed, thanks to newfound maturity acquired while in New York and Berlin and on flights between, Hiram and Hank waved. Hiram blurted, “We’ll tell everything except…um… parts that might embarrass Mama.”

Whoops of amusement. Eyes danced in Mama’s direction.

She hefted a boob in each hand, aiming at the special table. “One apiece for my little babies, then they-a tell their Mama ev-ery-thing, or-a I spank their butts.”

In the din, only Randy-James noticed Avery start at the mention of spank. The boy freaked, his head zipping first left, then right to Blaire.

Nurse Blaire to the rescue. He coddled Avery, “She’s only kidding. It’s a joke. She would never hurt them. Did people used to spank you?”

Sorrowful nods pained the man.

“No one will spank you, Avery. You’re safe from abuse here. Now show me your smile and we’ll use our taste buds on Mama’s great food.” To lighten the mood further, he whispered, “And I’ll give you a toothpick.”

Avery frowned, his face a question.

“Or a treat. Maybe a tickle.”

The boy relaxed.

* * *

By nine-thirty when the time difference hit them, the returnees from Germany minded their manners by thanking everyone in sight and those in the kitchen. Waved off, they went directly to bed, nude as was their habit. Forgot to brush their teeth.

Hank, enfolded in Hiram’s arms, after burping, managed weakly, “Guess we’ll find out about that strange boy tomorrow.”

* * *

Silent Avery was about to sleep with someone else. His two men – Randy-James and Blaire – talked him into making his choice. Quite the step for a speech-deprived someone who seldom had had opportunities for choice about anything in his life.

“All our guys want to show their love for you, Avery. You want them to, don’t you? To show them that you are the sweetest boy they will ever know?

He’s listening.

Blaine continued, “Think how proud we will be to share you and your capacity for love with our friends. If you spend a night or two with each, they will help you, guide you into our life on this Farm. Don’t you agree, Randy-James?”

With his most assuring smile, Randy-James looked Avery in the eyes, “I do, my friend. And you want to, don’t you, Avery – especially knowing that, at any time you are not happy to be loved by your newest friend, you will be able to come to us.”

“At any time, Avery.” Blaire nuzzled the boy’s locks and kissed his cheek, whispering, “It will be good for you. Cosmo and Ting like this idea, too, Avery. You know who they told us would be a good choice for tonight?”

Wide-eyed, Avery looked at Blaire, his blinking a sign of interest.

“Over there, see the man talking with Sam and Cosmo and Ting? That’s Uldis. His is the handsomest body on the Farm. His penis is everyone’s pleasure, it’s silky-smooth. He’s gentle with his kisses and foreplay, but when he gets inside you, he will go crazy trying to arouse your most wonderful places.”

Randy-James buzzed Avery’s vibrator. Its effect: the boy twitched and nodded and screwed his bottom against the chair – and nodded more.

“Uldis,” Blaine called, “come over to make the acquaintance of your roommate for tonight.”

“Yay, Avery!” Ting waved. “Good selection!”

Sam chipped in, “You and he will make a lot of happiness.”

Not to be outdone, Cosmo ran past Uldis to draw Avery from his chair and to confide, “Uldis can fuck for hours. He talks like a poet and screws like Superman.”

The closer Uldis came, the greater the man’s Northern European aura sent Avery into a tizzy of anticipation. At the greeting, “Hello, love, I’m here for you,” he fairly swooned.

Swept up by his new man’s powerful arms and cradled like a precious child, Avery quivered. His young heart pumped against scrawny ribs. Eyes closed in joy, he did not see Uldis extend a hand toward Randy-James nor Randy-James hand over the vibrator-plug’s control. Nor Uldis’ flick of its mode button.

Avery gasped quietly at the newness of pulsings off and on.

* * *

“Whew. We steered him away from us. That was a good stratagem.”

“You know it, Blaire. After what we’ve been through with him. Now I’m going to have to deal with my apartment mates and how to break the news that Avery’s not like they are. It was lucky when Wilderforce’s Hassan thrust Hank on us. You finagled him into the relationship with my boy and Hiram went for it.”

“He was so ready for sex!”

“Both were – and none of our staff broke the law by having sex with either.”

“Strictly speaking…”

Eyes to the ceiling, Randy-James said, “I’m bushed. Let’s call it a night.”

“Deal. See you in the morning.”

“And we’ll see how Uldis brings in Avery.”

* * *

Uldis, the Farm’s pride and joy of Latvian descent, set his pulsing armload on its feet. “Here we are, my boy. What can I show you? Those photos on the wall were made by Randy-James’ son, Hiram. Hiram was one of the two boys who sat at Mama’s special table.”

Avery’s interest grew as his eyes traveled from a portrait headshot to an open-shirted torso. There they stopped.

Amused by the stare, Uldis slipped off his current shirt and watched Avery’s attention shift to a view of himself in racing briefs standing on the front edge of a diving board as if about to spring. With a move behind the boy and, with a light touch, he encircled the slight body. Enlaced fingers lingered on Avery’s susceptibly lean tummy.

His chin, rubbing Avery’s head, conveyed well-being as the framed glossies of Uldis’ unclad body parts – a muscular thigh, a singular foot and its ankle, the deltoid, tricep, and bicep of an arm, a pectoral nipple and aureola in profile, his buttocks relaxed to one side, a tree of pubic hair surmounted by his navel like a star at Christmas – caused the boy’s head to drift slowly right, his body to tremble.

More quickly, he turned to face Uldis’ chest. His nose went straight for the sternum’s hairy nest and his mouth began what the man suspected would be a kiss.

Soft and wet, Avery’s tongue licked. Licked there and across the rise of a chest muscle to its nipple where the tip tickled and tantalized – before lips sucked.

Where’s this coming from?Uldis mumbled inwardly.

Uldis sucked air of his own at unexpected forwardness. By the time tongue and lips traveled to his other pectoral, the Trainer had grown fully erect and possessed, with firm grips of his hands, Avery’s compact butt cheeks. “I’m yours, you know, dear creature. Open my belt, my pants. Find what’s waiting for you.” His voice was thick with desire.

Head tilted up to lick the man’s chin, Avery felt for and opened the belt, the pants with uncanny accuracy. He looked down only to verify what had been against the indent of his spine. Impelled by what he saw as a marvel of Nature, he knelt to kiss what urgency exposed, to lave and suck on it.

Deprived boy’s free will! Wish others should see this.

Avery rocked his head to relish the cockhead’s rotation over his tongue, against the sides of his teeth, to the corrugated area behind his teeth and near the smooth roof of his small mouth, its threat to his uvula. He wanted it. Wanted it wet – really wet.

“Stand for me.”

Fingers traced forms of the rising boy’s ears and neck, rested on shoulders only a moment before removing the barrier of his shirt. They manipulated away outer and under pants, touched four stiff inches of boy bone and felt for early-adolescent, plumped-up balls. By extension to perineal seam beyond and to the quivering quicksand area where pulsed the vibrating plug, one of those fingers found and primed tender flesh.

“Pass this to me, Avery. You’ve had enough of it.”

Avery pushed.

Uldis pulled and, with another rewarding smile, set the object aside.

“It is written on your face. You’re anxious for my smoothness to burnish you inside, to make you shine from loving. Are you hearing me, Avery?”

The nod showed him eager.

“Then lie back and open yourself for me. My place will be there, where your legs meet... Yes… I’ll lift your ankles so that your hands – both – can position me to take charge of what we’ll do together as man and boy.”

Avery was anxious.

“Beautiful,” his would-be lover exhaled as he stretched out and breached Avery’s way in – but no further. Just the broad, plum-shaped head held wide the anal muscle, secreting its special juices, lingering to arouse the boy by making him wait for penetration. An inch or more was what Uldis had in mind – to ream with maddening slowness until his plaything would be crawling the walls in desperate longing. Only then did the Latvian master intend to move into and among rectal muscles to excite hot flashes of the sort that previously had shaken the Farm’s young Providers – Sammie, Ting, and small-boned Cosmo.

Not yet, though.

His hands free, Avery attempted to grasp Uldis’ hips. They proved too large for his small hands. One chance might lie in the man’s inching forward to torment him – if he could reach the balls.

“Precious boy, please now take your legs. Hold them for me. You need further warming. We are only beginning your preparation. Surrender your entrance – surrender, Avery! Let the muscles where I am wake to new consciousness. They want to know what I’m doing for them. Suffer if you must, wanting as you want. My cock is beginning to write a poem-in-feeling inside you, one impulse at a time.”

Truth: Avery could barely construe what Uldis was saying, but it sounded nice. He was nice. The prodding was different than what he could remember with Blaine and Randy-James. Different from Ting and Cosmo when they eased him to sleep. But nice, too.

Not everybody had been nice to him.

In the back of his mind, shrouded heavily for protection, lay deeply-distant memories of being hauled from sleep when they wanted him, used for sex by men who took him from that prison-like group home’s almost solitary confinement. A little of his past wormed its way to Avery’s active thoughts to blur with tears his view of the handsome man warming his bottom with such concern.

Immobile as he had learned to be when under attack, Avery abided the slow reckoning of his once-plundered rear. Shifts, twists, probes – an inch, two inches – kept muscles wide and convinced them to conform. Almost imperceptibly, Avery felt better. Not far from his understanding was that he was responsible to himself for learning the lesson being taught so carefully.

Uldis sensed the change. “My broadest part will slip through now. You will close without worry on the swell of my penis’ shoulder, it’s called. Yes, like that. Remain as you are, I want to let you feel how, when I pull back the least bit, your sphincter wants to hold me in place the way it did the plug you wore at supper. Can you tell?”

A dreamy humming sound accompanied Avery’s closed-eyes nod.

The man’s bulb-round head passed on, by fractions of an inch, gliding without friction. It took Avery’s rectum, made of it a sheath along which it could slip and slide, sent messages of well-being via every free nerve-end lining the passage and its protective sphincters. As Uldis pressed, he reached the boy’s inner recess and, with refined experience of such places in the young, withdrew to nudge it for his pleasure. Gentle contacts, brief but regular, assuaged any threat of harm.

Avery, who had known brutality that deep, drew shallow breaths. Negative thoughts flurried at first but dissipated at the pleasure between his legs and inside. His parts all seemed to have become one, to have melded together under this man’s tender care.

“You are being loved, little Avery. I am loving you.”

Spoken so lullingly, the words meant more than the act of sex. Avery’s spirit grew molten. It flowed throughout himself, some of it transdermally into Uldis. The two ceased looking into each other’s lovely eyes, for they no longer dared remain apart in the only remaining area they might join – their mouths. Both felt urgency’s siren call.

For the longest time, while bodies and feelings forged their new relationship, there was little motion to Uldis’ hips. When motion might have been noticed, it would have been in the sway of the man’s balls against the meeting point of gluteal tissue and Avery’s spinal terminus.

Thereafter, balls swung more freely, even wildly as minutes passed and the lovemaking escalated.

Taken over by forces neither had quite felt before, they arched into and from each other, the one burying himself to his limit in his partner, retracting to the point of losing contact, spearing back, heaving forward to be met full-on, and clutched at by muscles no boy but Avery could have.

Uldis’ engorgement repeatedly struck heavy blows to the boy’s resilient prostate – and his belly felt new emissions stream into the remains of previous ones. The moment – perhaps three or four seconds – he dropped his guard to consider he might be wearing on Avery’s stamina, Uldis felt his cock in a turmoil of wriggles demanding that which could not be denied, a ball-sapping, mind-blasting orgasm.

Emotions spun, his pelvis plunged. He came in a delirium of excretions.

Avery beamed, savoring the spasms within his rectum – those of Uldis’ relenting cock.

Happy, he sucked a bead of perspiration from the tip of his lover’s nose and ran fingers over his sideburns.

Uldis willed himself, though panting, to lift his head and say solemnly, “I have lived and died in you, you wonderful creature.”

Avery canted his head and smiled, seemingly pleased. Their communication, silent, sure.

“You will permit my resurrection from the dead?” Uldis half-asked, aware of being yet submerged in the paradise of the boy’s body. “Help me through it, please?”

‘Resurrection’ sounded enough like “erection’ to fire Avery’s libido.

The boy’s eyes, wide and glistening, their every hue heightened by angled afternoon light, regarded the Nordic blue of Uldis’ eyes and lent impact to the effect his awakened lower tract began to have on its dormant occupant. Little flicks, tiny squirms, playful caresses, thrilling shivers – instinct’s efforts to balance will – challenged efforts to breathe normally.

Uldis sensed himself filling out, growing full, bulging readiness. He would delve the angel-faced demon’s body until it would consciously renounce its unrecalled past and open itself to the

anguished raptures of a man’s love. Leaning forward to loom over Avery, he launched their second coupling.

“I’m learning about you, Avery, every moment we are united. I’m stunned at how much love is in you.”

Avery’s small pelvis reacted nimbly. It parried the thrusts of the grown-man’s pelvis with playful taunts. Met it full-on as the joust became serious. At stake – possibly – control.

Uldis’ determination to root out all that he could from this astonishing boy confronted sex-driven commitment that bypassed the rational. It began reflexively. Marvelously. Fucking gangly Avery heightened all his senses.

Earlier passivity disappeared. Avery released his grip, opened his legs like a jackknife, whipped his heels into Uldis’ backside, and crammed himself hard into the man’s public bone. So aggressive was the move that it startled Uldis. Worse was a sudden grab by Avery’s inner muscles, strong as a fist.

Uldis wrestled his cock from Avery’s grasp and began rapid hammering. The boy’s former paradise, now a virtual purgatory, needed only seconds to make its own demands. Bodies collided fiercely. Theirs had become a battle of sex, with young Avery taking charge.

A fevered thought – He’s raping me as rudely as he was raped – inspired Uldis to abandon the fight, to let Avery expatiate his former status in reverse. Uldis relaxed, fully able to absorb the violence to his groin because he understood it. The only decision he made was to give Avery the top spot.

Before he knew what was happening, Avery found himself being pulled forward, up and over Uldis, who fell back, “Take me Avery, as much as you want.” Said loudly, the words penetrated the youngster’s haze of fury. “I’ll not fail you, my sweet. Ride me any way you need to.”

Avery’s need underwent change as he witnessed Uldis’ benign smile spread, his blue eyes become clear, his chin lift and shoulders adjust to the bed’s support, his chest rise and fall regularly, arms open to either side. Need gave way to satisfaction, satisfaction to admiration, admiration to love.

By gradual stages, Avery rode Uldis from something akin to rodeo-intensity to a canter, then to a leisurely walk which admired the contour of the man’s firm organ, stroked it as a lover might, memorizing the feel of its base among public tangles, the breadth of its shoulder, the rim of its bulbous head and thrilling to his descent over the same.

“Ah, now I see again how beautiful thou art, my love,” Uldis paraphrased from the Song of Solomon. “I feared you might not find your way back, yet here you are, receiving the pleasure of my body, using it as I bade you.”

Avery rose. Poised on the tip of Uldis’ resolute manhood, he listened to an entreaty more special than any.

“Come to me, Avery. Come for me.”

His heart throbbed, his eyes watered, his knees wobbled. Avery sank directly – and released himself.

The emotional-laden little jets keyed Uldis, who spasmed a torrent of sperm into Avery’s innermost sanctum. Struck as if by lightning, both convulsed. Avery slumped to Uldis’ chest, heaving for air, his fundament fixed upon the man’s still rampant erection.

* * *

First at breakfast were Hiram and Hank, up early and curious about the boy they’d seen at Mama’s party the night before. Clyff, the Farm’s affable albino, and Sam, formerly known as ‘Samantha’ and ‘Sammie,’ were on hand helping Mama set up her morning buffet.

Sam waved. Discrete, he had never told anyone about answering sex-curious Hiram’s questions after the innocent boy had stumbled on some of the Farm’s secrets. Sam, possessor of a secret newly his own, hugged Hiram. “You’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning. I can’t wait to hear about your trip to Berlin.”

Clyff, who thought Hank was being left out, hugged him. “You were real good in New York. I bet you were real good in Berlin, too.”

“You all-a could be good if you-a finish these-a tables,” Mama interjected, with a flap of her apron.

All four hustled. Chatter clued in the recent arrivals about the Shellman’s dramatic destruction, the plane crash’s discovery by Blaire and Ting and Cosmo on the morning after, Avery;s being found in the wreckage, his rescue, the investigators’ interviews, Blaire’s nursing of the voiceless boy, and Avery’s clear-cut sexual craving. It all came out in a run-together rush.

“Damn, we thought we were hot,” Hiram muttered to his boyfriend, who pinkened.

Clyff confided, “Avery spent the night with Uldis.”

“Yeah, and guess who set that up? Your dad,” Sam offered. Regretting that, he sighed.

“Was this Avery sleeping in our bed?”

“Some. You can ask Ting and Cosmo about that. They took turns putting him to sleep.”

* * *

Breakfast ticked by, rife with speculation about the Farm’s accidental guest and his night with Uldis. When would they come in? How? Vigilant more than those with now-vested interests – Ting, Cosmo, Hiram, Hank, Sam, and Clyff – were Blaine and Randy-James. Each man had exerted himself with Avery who, perhaps because he was preternaturally anal or because the plane crash cued some mysterious part of his brain to require anal sex, loved being fucked. The boy fascinated and worried both.

Experienced by their profession, nature, and location, the Trainers were experts at male intercourse. However, neither ever had encountered the like of Avery Roy James. So much about their encounter with him raised questions.

Speechless, whether from his recent, near-death experience or some other cause, he could tell them nothing. But that he surely wanted to be fucked had been established beyond doubt. Was he destined to be a voracious consumer of cocks? Could that proclivity be harnessed? What emotional damage had he suffered? What directions might they take with him in the immediate future?

The Farm’s CEO, Alan Ecks, they knew, was using the resources of his office and contacts with various state agencies to research the boy. A birth certificate furnished smidgeons of information. Beyond it, there was no trail. Other investigators, looking into the crash, might uncover more facts. These and other ruminations came to a halt, for…

Hand in hand, walking tall, looking happy, Avery and Uldis entered, noticed that all eyes were on them, broke into proud grins, and accepted applause. Mama popped from her kitchen, small vase of flowers in hand, to usher them to the previous evening’s honor table on its dais. She kissed them both. “Say-a something,” she said, centering her flowers.

Uldis sat Avery but remained standing. After a touch to his chin, he addressed the room of friends, “Last night, we had a storm of our own…some anguish…but came through it with flying colors. We ‘found’ each other, you can say.”

He took his place in the silence – which Cosmo brazenly interrupted, “Where’s the butt plug?”

Uldis tapped the remote’s button. Avery’s head flew back and he laughed.

Laughed?

There was a standing ovation.

* * *

From his schooldays, Avery had some computer experience. Handed over to Sam, Ting, and Cosmo for the morning, the new boy on campus gaped at the Farm’s computer room. He was shown a screen, told to use his name as his password, took shy pleasure at being asked to type what he wanted to say.

“You can hear us,” Sam said. “We can read you.”

“I am Avery.”

“That’s right,” Ting exclaimed. “We are happy to know you.”

“Do you think am I crazy?”

“No, we think you’re smart but that you’ve been through a lot.”

“I can talk. Not yet.”

“That’s all right. When you can, you will,” Cosmo encouraged Avery with a hug – and received one in return.

Fingers typed, “Good here. You are nice. Everybody is.”

Sam chuckled in his girlish way, “Of course, we are. That’s what we do – be nice to our visitors.”

“And here, in this room, we all go to school on-line,” Ting said.

With a look around as if he could not quite believe what he had heard, Avery typed, “I am not good in school.”

“But you will be, because we will help you. Wouldn’t you like to learn your lessons?”

Cosmo received a favorable, if hesitant, nod.

It took some minutes of clever talk to convince Avery that it would be fun for him to take an on-line test so that his friends could help him. They wanted to evaluate his grade equivalent and academic proficiency.

“We’ll work beside you on our screens because we want to do our studies.”

“Will you help me?”

“If you need one of us,” Sam answered. “By the way, there’s no time limit. Just enjoy the experience.”

“Avery,” Ting took something from his pocket, “if you need stimulation, press this button.”

He passed to Avery’s soft hand the vibrator’s remote control just as Hiram and Hank strolled in to resume their lessons.

Seldom had the Farm’s computer room been the site of so much mirth. Within a short spell of introductions and warm embraces, its occupants settled and began their tasks.

* * *

Via a secure video-conference connection from the Farm’s communications center, Ecks concentrated on Uldis’ detailed account of the previous night and on the considered remarks of Randy-James and Blaire.

“Gentlemen, before I comment on what I’ve learned from you, let me give you some news. Avery’s years are fully documented up till the plane flight which brought him to us. State records reveal each of his placements – there were four. The first two pale compared to numbers three and four. Four, the last, was clearly a group home which fronted for an international trafficking ring. The FBI, CIA, and Department of State are dealing with that here and have the cooperation of appropriate authorities in London, where the headquarters were. I say ‘were’ because multiple arrests have been made there only today. Interpol may be involved with other, more remote locations, I’m guessing.

“Thus far, the children in Avery’s last group home have been interviewed and are receiving counseling. I have not been told about their ultimate placement. Whatever the arrangements concerning Avery, his pilots, the plane itself, their destination, his receiver – they were totally deleted from computers here and in the UK before the places were raided. It is possible that I am not being told for some unstated reasons.

“To legalize our role in overseeing Avery’s rehab and near future, I have been able to get you, Blaire, declared his guardian, with the backing and guarantees of our organization. You will receive papers to sign and have witnessed and notarized. You remember our major investor, Duane Wilderforce, I’m certain. He had a hand in facilitating this, a point not to lose sight of.”

Blaire attempted to get in a word.

“Wait for me to finish,” Ecks was brusque. “You are to see that Avery is well-nourished, that his wounds are taken care of, and that, to the extent possible with the mute he is these days, to see to his mental health and education. Have Mike take a full-range series of photographs.

“The Farm’s revenues can increase by employing him as an occasional Provider, as, I’m sure, you two’ve already surmised. His apparent needs can be handled according to your idea of having him spend nights with our residents – with the exception of our largest-hung. Don’t want him stretched out of the ordinary. If you all keep his attitude positive, those needs can be met by carefully arranged clients.”

Randy-James failed in his effort to interrupt. I doubt any cock will make Avery lax.

“When-I-have-finished…or didn’t you hear me say that?”

“I did.” Wait. Don’t aggravate him.

Alan Ecks wound up, “Every time someone beds the boy, he is to be told of future ‘friends’ who will want to join with him. When such visitors arrive, they can be housed in the room Sam fixed up for me when I was there. By the way, give him my greeting and express my thanks for his exceptional service to me.”

His listeners did a slow burn, staring at each other’s face. What did he allude to?

“Well?...”

“If I’m nominally to be responsible for Avery,” Blaire asserted, “then I reserve the right to monitor everything to do with him and to make decisions based on my judgment.”

Randy-James backed Blaire up, “I concur. Once he’s signed those papers as guardian, Blaire’s either responsible or not. So, do we have your word on that?”

“I think we understand one another.”

Silence hung over the moment until Ecks rather uncomfortably confirmed, “You do have my word.”

* * *

Sam, summoned, knit his brow when asked directly, “Why did Mr. Ecks ask us to pass along his thanks to you? Did something pass between you that you haven’t reported to us?”

He looked at Randy-James, “It’s a secret I agreed to keep. I cannot tell.” As he spoke, Sam picked up a pencil from his boss’s desk and scribbled on the memo pad there, I gave Alan a blowjob. Only one ever from a guy. He went bonkers. “I will not speak of it,” he winked. “I’m sure you understand,” and flitted off.

Alan?

* * *

Mike Manleigh weighed his options about how to prepare Avery to be “shot” for the camera. As the Farm’s acting teacher, drama coach, filmmaker-photographer, lighting expert, he used several facilities for his work. The Birchfield Farm’s City Hall had a meeting room which boasted a stage with screen, projection room, and audio system. Perfect.

To avoid the risk of intimidating the psychologically unsettled boy, Mike and four protégés – Ting, Cosmo, Clyff, and Sam – rehearsed a couple of comic routines, several outlandish limericks, and talked about overacting in silent movies. All eyes during those good times when he was parked with the troupe, Avery caught on.

Shyly imitating some of the gestures from his seat, he itched to join in. Mike spotted the behavior and whispered something to Sam. San ran off and returned with a piece of orange-colored paper. Prompt at folding it back and forth in one-inch pleats, he sat on the lip of the stage and asked Avery to come close.

“See, if I pinch it in the middle, it’s like a hair bow, a moustache, a bow tie? Now, you take it and hold it the way I did. Yes, between two fingers. If you hold it on your head, you’re like a girl. Place in on your upper lip and it becomes a moustache – like a man’s. Under your neck – well, you’ll see,” he giggled.

Avery let Cosmo lead him onstage. He demonstrated the old routine, declaiming its spoken lines in high, low, and medium tones. Avery put a hand over his mouth. Tears threatened.

“Oh no you don’t,” Sam chirped. “I’ll say the lines for you and you go through the motions, okay?”

Relieved, Avery had a blast.

Mike told his cohorts what he had in mind. They hustled Avery to the room backstage where art supplies shared space with a sewing machine, mirrors, and costumes.

* * *

That evening, everybody – Trainers, Providers, Mama, Hiram and Hank – bustled into the auditorium. Expectant, they waited for lights to lower and a spotlight to appear center stage. The curtains opened on an easel the sign on which announced:

A Drama

starring

AVERY!

To polite clapping, Ting whisked away that sign to reveal:

Captions

byAVERY!

Avery stormed on in mock solemnity, the orange paper bow to his upper lip, and, scowling, pointed down.

You MustPay the Rent!

Immediately on his knees, the bow to his head, he looked pleadingly where the Landlord had stood:

I Can'tPay the Rent!

To his feet, the bow again his moustache, finger pointing:

You MustPay the Rent!

As the hapless lass, bow in her hair:

I Can’tPay the Rent!

With a flourish of orange bow to his neck, Avery puffed out his chest, and pointed histrionically:

I’llPay the Rent!

Back to his knees, quickly rising, face beaming under the hair bow:

My Hero!

The Landlord, moustache trembling, whipped an imaginary cloak about himself to declare:

Curses! Foiled Again!

The curtain swept shut.

Mama erupted, “Bravo and-a brava!”

Catcalls and whistles beat applause.

The curtain opened on a blinking Avery – who could not believe his ears – joined by onstage and backstage crew members: Ting (from duty at the easel), Cosmo (who’d worked the lights), and Sam (who’d dealt with the curtain). With stage experience, they helped the star to bow.

Clyff rushed from the projection booth (where he had made the performance video) and arrived in time to accept a share of the salvos aimed at the stage.

What an aftermath! Kisses and hugs swamped Avery. Compliments poured in his ears. Hiram and Hank shook his limp hand, saying, “Catch you later.” When Mike walked up, the enthusiasts cleared a path directly to the sweating boy.

Avery jumped into Mike’s arms and kissed him on the mouth. Not once, over and over.

Someone nudged playfully, exhorting him to go for it, "Get going..."

"Atta boy..."

"Whoopee" jumped from another's chest voice as Avery's tongue traced the tip of Mike's ear.

Mama said none too softly as she gave the pair a push, “Take-a the bambino to bed and-a fuck him – you know – good.”

The crowd members dispersed for diversions of their own.

* * *

Mike Manleigh, Avery content to follow his every move, arranged lighting equipment, reflectors, and a cloth-draped posing stand. “Darling, would you come over here to sit while I take some readings?”

Light on his feet, Avery was quick to reach the stand and waited to be told how to sit. His expression, like that of Mike’s regarding his, was adoring.

Their night together had followed no particular course. Mike’s handling of Avery, from the time they entered the man’s quarters, was as tender as though the boy were a puppy. Petted as each article of clothing was removed; kissed when his vibrator was removed and replaced by a finger; toyed with on both baby-sized nipples by lips, tongue, and nibbling teeth; frigged while his balls were being sucked, Mike’s nose nuzzling his urethral swell – Avery had no frame of reference for what coursed his slightness once on the bed.

Times were when Mike backed a short distance to admire shifts to Avery’s face and neck – parted lips breathing out warm breaths, cheeks rising in incipient smiles; the Adam’s apple bobbing under delicate skin; eyes closing in ecstatic torpor.

Wide awake yet utterly tranquil, Avery basked. Mike’s attentions made no demands. They were for him, about him. It crept into his head that he was being treated as a treasure. A person of value being cherished. Loved. Not like in that home where he was a property – fucked by men who never asked his name, men who stuck in their cocks like a foot in a sock, wore him, pulled out, and tossed him aside is if somehow repugnant then.

Tickles to his feet, his thighs, his tummy and ribs gently provoked joyful twitches. Play, pure play. Just fun, funnier when Mike’s tongue touched behind his ear the way a pet’s wet nose might poke about. Mike’s mouth distracted Avery from the hand diddling his balls. Avery

gasped, mouth gaping, Mike clasped tight and blew in his ear a series of short gusts. Squeals of surprised delight were smothered by real kisses that took the boy’s breath – and made him gasp the more.

Avery flipped out of reach to fling himself face down on Mike, kissing wildly and backing down from face and neck to chest, then shifting his knees until his anal optic nerve (a term Mike invented later) spotted the man’s one-eyed monster. His own eyes nearly burst from their sockets at the centered contact.

Saliva adroitly dispatched, engulfment was achieved in one fell swoop of the boy’s rear. And the blind monster excitedly explored the moist darkness, a journey to the center of the boy.

No need to see or speak, only to feel, directed their unity in the night ahead. They communicated totally until their bodies had nothing more to say. Understanding was complete.

A simple breakfast from Mike’s microwave – oatmeal with raisins and cups of coffee, helped by powdered coffee creamer – and smiles prepared them to evade the others and slip unnoticed into City Hall.

* * *

Up to explore dawn’s crack and Hiram to make sure of Hank’s, the boys availed themselves of Randy-James’ microwave and small refrigerator to make their own breakfast – oatmeal with raisins and cups of coffee, helped by powdered coffee creamer – to head for work in the photo lab’s darkroom. Committed to memory, the list of commissioned prints was long. And would be lucrative.

Two hours. Time for a break. Out of the darkroom’s smell of developing fluid and necessary red light, they blinked at after-images to make out missing equipment. Hank heard sounds from the stage and went to see.

“Psst, Hiram. Come see.”

Together, the pair peeked at Avery being moved about. Docile to have his legs crossed, an arm

to one shoulder, leaning back, head forward or three-quarter, tilted right and left…

“Can we help?” Hiram strode to center stage, Hank in tow.

“Good morning. You’re godsends. Ecks wants an array of photos of Avery. I’ve many things I need to do. Might you want to take over the job for us?” He indicated Avery and himself.

Avery looked uncertain. Written on his face, concern Mike was about to abandon him – after last night’s unforgettable love.

Not a slow study, Hiram answered, “If Avery would like us to. We would like to spend some time with him, he seems so cooperative. We can get to know each other. You know, become friends.”

“Avery, Hiram’s are the photos you saw of me last night. He’s one of the best photographers anywhere and he and Hank are about your age. They’ll know what’s best. Okay?”

“I have an idea. Wait a minute,” Hank said and raced away. He bolted back with an iPad.

“Look Avery,” he sidled to show the screen. “Take this and swipe. You’ll see my lover’s latest photos.”

Every tiny muscle in Avery’s face moved during the next minutes’ viewing of all the Farm’s people – faces serious and beguiling, torsos lit from the side to reveal musculature, body hair (or its lack), intimate parts relaxed and excited in suggestive poses – and photos of a hideous old woman and flabby old man, together and in trios with a younger, definitely mature guy – clothed and stark naked. Confusion crossed Avery’s face.

“He’s our agent in New York. He has two beautiful young men living with him.”

“Hank’s right,” Hiram added, “and we’re hot to photograph them, too. Right now, we would be honored to capture your beauty for the Farm’s next art show.”

“We want to make Mr. Ecks happy, don’t we, Avery?” Mike cajoled. “He’s everybody’s boss. He wants pictures of you.”

The pretty head nodded affirmatively.

* * *

As noon neared, three bodily-fatigued but bright-faced boys put their clothes back on. The fixtures of photography went back to their proper places. The boys abandoned the stage for the Farm’s computer room and worked on the images – heightening contrasts, boosting hues, balancing tones, rotating a few degrees, cropping. Avery stood throughout to watch, fascinated, the screens at which Hank and Hiram performed what seemed like magic acts.

The team’s mentor, Mike, studied their results, approved most, proposed changes to others, folded his arms, and directed, “E-mail these to all our staff and to Mr. Ecks.” A good-natured hand under Avery’s doll-like chin, he asked, “Have you thanked them for doing so much for you?”

Avery bobbed his head while reaching for a stray piece of paper. Hank, closest, handed him a ball point.

How was he going to answer?

What Avery drew was a heart, across the middle of which he lettered L-O-V-E.

Mike sucked in some air as Avery continued, lettering North, East, South, and West the names H-I-R-A-M, H-A-N-K, M-I-K-E, and A-V-E-R-Y.

Abashed, Mike seized the boy, gushing, “Oh my dear sweet precious boy!”

Avery found himself in the center of a collective embrace by his two most recent lovers and the man he loved with his whole heart. Never having been happier, he sought, found, and fondled Mike.

“Rascal!” Mike giggled with his boys.

For chapters leading to this and for my other hot-to-trot stories, look here. Your kind attention to the opportunities for input below will be appreciated by me as they are by all authors whose works appear for you through the courtesy of this site.