Like Father, Like Son Part One (Revised)
Equine Transformation
Like Father, Like Son: Part One (Revised)
!!!Warning!!!
This story contains subjects of adult themes, nudity, sexual acts, incest, muscle growth, and male transformation. If you are under 18, I suggest you leave this page and find other non-adult stories to read. If you are offended, please see a therapist.
This is my first attempt at a TF story. I welcome any and all criticism if there made in a constructive and adult manner.
Thanks, JackDog.
This is a story about a young man who experiences losses in relationships but discovers a path that will regain all that he has lost but the price he pays is not quite what he expected
Chapter one: Getting to know me
So where do we begin.
Ok, let's get the back story out of the way so we can get to the meat of it. It's now quite the beginning of our little saga but in time will make more sense if we start somewhere in the middle. My name is Alexander Sean O'Hara. Not a very original name but at least my parents didn't burden me with a name that everyone would have a hard time pronouncing or has a weird spelling with too many vowels. I mean really, what the hell are some parents thinking when they give their kid strange and bizarre names. I always tell people to imagine that kid at eighty and getting introduced as "Milkweed Buttwad"! Am I right, geeesh. But I digress,
I just turned nineteen, having just graduated from high school the previous June. I'm of Nordic descent on my mother's side of the family and Irish and Eastern European on my Dad's. I stand six foot even and weigh about 200 pounds. I competed in varsity wresting all through junior and senior high school. This endeavor rewarded me with a solid athletic build with very little body fat. Go ahead and hate me, I've not really had to diet hard to maintain my low body fat and with all the wrestling I've done it sure made it easy for me to make weight for my matches. I still had to work my ass off in the gym to gain what muscle I have. I have straight dark blonde hair that currently is cut short on the sides and back and long on top. Facial hair that allows me to grow a decent beard and virtually no body hair to speak of. This I inherited from my Mom (the hair coloring not the facial hair). My green eyes and a bit of natural tan skin tone I get from my dad's dark Irish side. I've been told that I have a nice face, yet I've always been extremely critical of my looks. One thing I do have is a strong chin and jaw. I have a hint of dimples when I smile and a slight cleft to my chin, but you wouldn't know it since I'm currently sporting a chin patch that covers it. My voice has a nice tenor timbre and my singing voice isn't bad, but I don't envision myself being on America's Got Talent anytime soon.
The one physical trait that I'm most proud of is my thick uncircumcised penis that measures six and half inches flaccid and nine inches when erect (oh don't give me that look, every guy knows the size and length of his cock right down to the millimeter). I guess you could say I'm a shower and a grower. Completing the package are a pair of testes that are nice and round, hanging low and tight inside its sac that are about the size of golf balls. Once when I was little, I saw my dad naked in the shower baring the family jewels in all its glory. I just want to say here and now, "Thanks Dad". It has served me well during puberty as I hope it will do in life. I've spent many a night wanking off to internet porn or some of my favorite images on my furry sites. Yeah ok, yes, I'm still a virgin. Why is that such a bad thing. You'd think with all the TV shows, movies and music videos touting killer sex that every teenager is screwing all the time and doing it with the skill of a porn star.
I'm not completely hopeless, I did get to second base once with one of the cheer leaders in junior year. Her name was Jennifer and I got to cop a feel at a party she was having while her parents were out of town. We were in the pool house doing some heavy petting when before I knew it, I had my hand up under her sweater top and was squeezing her boob through her bra. She laughed and said "really?" I turned a deep shade of red from the embarrassment. So much for being a smooth Romeo.
As I said earlier I recently graduated high school. Saunders High home of the Beavers. Lame, I know. It used to be the Braves but a few years back some nut case activists said we we're destroying the lives of all native Americans with our overt racism and insensitivity, so it got changed. To tell you the truth I don't think I've ever seen a beaver anywhere around our town. The town is also named Saunders which is situated in the county of Saunders. We're located in one of those states that people like to call "flyover" country. It's a decent size town of about 55,000 and is only about one hour from the state's capital as the crow flies.
While attending school along with athletics I was involved in several school activities such as co editor of our school's newspaper and yearbook. In senior year I was even voted Homecoming King much to my surprise and embarrassment. I kept a solid B average which although admirable wasn't going to get me into any of the top universities or colleges. I would hang with my jock buddies after matches and parties. I had dates with a few of the "popular girls" but I seemed to be more comfortable around the nice sweet average ones. Most of my real friends we're farm boys from some of the surrounding spreads, the tech geeks or just plain average Joe's.
My best friend since kindergarten is Jeff. Still is. Jeff is a major IT guru. He's the one who turned me on to anime, transformation art and stories and anything furry. I remember one-week end when we we're thirteen we spent it watching all the Star War movies episodes, even the bad ones, twice! Jeff was a change of life baby. His parents had his older sister while still in college. Jeff came along fifteen years later. His parents both teach at the local college and are a bit "out there". If this was the sixties, I guess you would call them hippies. By the time Jeff and I started hanging out his older sister was overseas studying archeology.
I remember this one time when I was eight, he and I were in the backyard cos playing and his mom came out with a plate of walnut brownies. I ate two and boy there were the best brownies I had ever tasted. Ten minutes later I began to feel really good. My toes and fingers we're all tingly and itchy. I couldn't stop laughing and stuff. I finally laid down in the grass and watched the clouds float by thinking how awesome they were. A bit later when it was time for me to go home, I could hear Jeff's parents arguing. Something about brownies and that were meant for the party they were having that evening. I didn't understand why he would be so upset over her giving them to me.
About the time we started high school I began to hide my childhood interests due to peer pressure. Jeff and I would still hang out at each other's homes and play the latest Warcraft or Halo DVD or surf the internet for the newest TF story or image, we just wouldn't talk about it at school.
Jeff was cool about it so the one thing I did for him in return was to make sure he was never picked on in school. Not like he would stand for any bullying. Jeff was fearless. He could dress down a punk piece of shit with just his words and intellect. He believed words had meaning and I have to say watching him tell someone off without resorting to one blue word was really something to see. Of course, that still wouldn't keep the asshole from trying to reshape the door to a locker with his face. That's where I came in.
Jeff stands about five foot five and weighs about 125 pounds of skinniness. Funny thing is when he's not wearing his bottle bottom glasses, he's really a handsome guy in the face. It's just when he opens his mouth to speak the geekiness cancels it out. I was always saying to him that if he would just come to the gym with me and put on some muscle, he might stand a chance with the girls and curb the harm from the goons. He would give me a weird look that said, "why and the hell would I do that, it would cut into my role playing on D&D or surfing SoFurry for the latest TF stories".
After graduation he got a full boat scholarship to Cal Tech in California and would be heading out west in a few weeks right after summer. I did my best to hide my disappointment. On one hand I knew he would shine in that type of environment. I wanted him to excel and be all he could be. He was the proverbial chrysalis ready to break out of its cocoon. I always said he'd be the guy showing up at our ten-year class reunion driving a Ferrari with a super model wife on his arm. Yet my selfishness and insecurities said to me; who would I confide in now, who would never make fun of me or be critical of all the stupid goofy stuff I liked to do, we liked to do. In so many ways Jeff was my true brother. This was not my first wound to my heart. You'll have to wait a bit longer to find out what the others are.
Chapter Two: Cain and Able
You know about the old adage: "You can pick you're friends, but you can't pick you're family"
I grew up in a comfortable middle-class neighborhood in town. My parents Jack and Emily O'Hara bought our house right after they married. It's a craftsmen bungalow built in the 1920's. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It's roomy but cozy and allows light to pour into every room due to all the large windows. It has a deep front porch that runs the full length of the house, where we would spend warm summer evenings just relaxing and enjoying each other's company. The house sits back from the street on a roomy tree filled lot that allows a large front yard and even bigger back yard. The two-car garage was separate from the house sitting even farther back on the lot. Attached at the back of the garage was a large room we used for storage. It really is the perfect "Leave it to Beaver" home.
A few years after my parents married my older brother Aaron arrived. Being the first child, he was showered with all the love and affection all first-born children receive. He was in many people's eyes the golden child. From his muted red hair and milky cream freckled skin to his deep-blue eyes. He was perfect in mind and form. My mother would regale stories of how easy his birth was. That he was never a fussy or difficult child. How he was a fast learner. Youngest child to stand up, youngest child to say his first word, youngest child to be potty trained. Wonderful this, perfect that. You'd think he could crap gold out of his rear end!!! Careful Alex you're jealously is showing.
Four years later I came along. I was nothing like my brother. My cue ball head was to big for my body. I had skin rashes everywhere. My hands and feet didn't match the rest of me. I made my mother endure 26 hours of mind-numbing labor. My head and shoulders we're so big they had to perform a C section on her. Somewhere down deep I don't think she ever forgave me for that. When I breast fed my gums would clamp down on her swollen nipples so hard, she would almost swoon from the pain. This led to her pumping her milk and feeding me with a bottle. I was colicky and for the first year I rarely slept through the night. I was the oldest to stand up, oldest to say his first word, oldest to be potty trained.
From the beginning my brother let me know in no uncertain terms that I was not welcomed and that he wasn't going to make my life easy. At first nothing overt happened but as I grew older, he would find creative ways to torture and abuse me. He picked on me, played pranks on me and generally made my life a living hell. I remember this one time he put Ben Gay in my underwear, now that was a classic. Yet through all the hell he put me through I wanted nothing more than to please him. Getting his approval on anything I did was my main goal. Boy can you say, "needing major psychological help"!
Due to our father having to work out of the house I had to share a bedroom with Aaron. Even I don't think I would have been pleased to have a snotty little brother sharing my room. Even with these faults he embodied the term "big brother". He was handsome, popular, smart and excelled in everything he did. Girls flocked to him, guys wanted to be him or at least have him as a friend.
Chapter Three: The Slings and Arrows of Youth
Alex's life is about to change
As I mentioned earlier my Dad worked from home. He worked for a large veterinary supply company. Their corporate headquarters were located out of state. Most days he was out on the road meeting up with prospective clients and keeping his regular ones happy and satisfied. Evenings he would process paperwork, take and make calls, prepare invoicing to customers etc.... He loved his job. It allowed him to get out and enjoy the outdoors.
Before my dad married my mom, he had spent the years after college and before marriage seeing the world. In the span of five years his feet touched every continent on planet earth including Antarctica. Let's face it, my dad was a stud. He stood over six feet tall. He had the strength of a bull and the muscles to prove it. He had this intense presence that kept anyone who thought of challenging him wisely rethinking their actions. On the other hand, he was the kindest and gentlest person I knew. If someone was having a problem or crisis, they knew to go to John O'Hara for the solution. My dad was in his mid-forties and still had a physic that would put to shame most guys in their early twenties. Add to that he was extremely handsome. Possessing the hard-sharp features of his multi ethnic heritage. He had intense jade green eyes and straight midnight black hair he kept pulled back into a pony tail that reached to his mid back. All this complimented his light tan colored skin.
When I got older during breaks from school and summer vacation, he would sometimes take me along on his travels and I loved him for it. While still dark out he would quietly enter my room and with his deep basso voice would say "time to rise little colt". That was my secret nickname he called me. Standing there in the kitchen still trying to rub the sleep from my eyes watching him pack our lunches. He even bought me my own thermos to match the one he had. Mine was filled with hot chocolate, his coffee. Then off we'd go me riding shotgun in the company pick up. He would let me hold the map and I would do my best not to get us lost. Of course, what I didn't know then was he didn't need the map, but it was his way of showing how much he wanted to include me in his life outside of our home.
The day would fly by. By lunchtime he'd find us the perfect spot to stop for lunch. Sometimes it would be by a winding stream or up on a hill overlooking a pasture. Funny thing was no matter where we had our lunch you were sure to find horses. From an early age I loved animals. We couldn't have any in the house due to my mom's allergies but that didn't stop me from reading all I could about them. All my DVD's were movies that had as its main character an animal. Any kind of animal piqued my interest but mostly I was mad for horses. Even my favorite human to animal transformations stories and artwork were of the equine variety. I had posters of feral and anthro horses plastered on my side of the room.
When we would visit the farms or ranches that had them, I couldn't wait to get out and visit with them. I was drawn to them like a magnet. It reminded me of the first time I saw one. It was your stereotypical place with a white farm house that could have stepped right out of a Currier and Ives print. From the two-story white house with the wraparound porch to the obligatory red barn with the rooster wind vain. Everywhere you looked white slat board fences crisscrossed the land. It had chickens and pigs and goats, a few cows and a Rough Coat Collie named Ben. But what they really had that would later change my life were the draft horses.
The Anderson's were friends of my parents. Mrs. Anderson has been my Mom's best friend since well almost birth. They still are. My Dad and Mr. Anderson became good friends after my dad married my mom. Mr. Anderson came from the "old country", he was three when he and his family emigrated here from the Netherlands. His dad and his dad before him and even his dad before that raised and bred Clydesdales. You've seen them, those massive horses you see pulling the beer wagons on all the Budweiser commercials during Super Bowl. Known for their incredible physical strength and stamina they also possessed a sweet gentle nature. They even had a nickname "gentle giants".
The first time I remember visiting the farm. I must have been around two. My Dad had me seated on one of his shoulders my legs dangly down across his chest. Suddenly this massive brown form came into my field of vision. With my limited awareness I first thought it was a big dog. I remember this creature moving slowly towards me. My first reaction was to reach out to it with my hand. The next thing I knew it was enveloped in a mass of wet pink tongue. I could smell the pleasant odor of what I would later come to know as the scent of oats. My Dad chuckled as the equine continued his tongue licking, I reacted with a high-pitched squeal of absolute joy. The horse known as Henry just stood there with a placid look on his face and gave me a small nicker in response. He gently bumped his muzzle against my chest as I fervently patted his forehead with the palms of my hands. From that first meeting he would become my four-legged companion, friend and equine brother. We'll come back to this part of the story later.
Up until the summer between 5th and 6th grade you could say that other than my relationship with my brother I was living a happy and normal life. My body was beginning to catch up with my brain. I was in cub scouts, playing in little league, hanging out with my friends, doing all the things a normal kid my age would do. My mom and I got along well all things considered. It started the year I turned eleven. Occasionally, my mom would have these "episodes". She would lock herself in her room for days on end. My dad would have to see to her needs in addition to running the household and his job. He would remind Aaron and I that we needed be as quiet as possible during these times and not make mommy any sadder than she already was. It didn't seem to bother Aaron at all, in fact he would go and hang out at one of his friends' house and not come back until after these "phases" had pass.
I on the other hand would get anxious and scared and would lay on my bed thinking "did I do something wrong that would make her act this way"? My dad would come into my room and lay down next to me, pulling me close to his massive chest, rocking me back and forth while nuzzling and lipping my hair with his mouth. Then suddenly without warning Mom would be back to her old self and soon our lives were back to "normal". Little did I know that later this problem would radically change my life.
In the fall of my last year in elementary school my life at home started to unravel. Up to that point my parents had always been loving and affectionate. Their demeanor around us was one of trust and love. Most adults don't realize how much kids pick up on the mental well being of their parents. It started with raised voices late in the night. Neither one of them speaking to each other in our presence. No matter how far his job took him my dad always made it a point to be home for dinner every night. Now more and more he would stay over in a motel somewhere giving the excuse that he was too tired to make the drive, or the weather was bad, or the client kept him late to talk over business.
My mom's behavior began to get worse. She would get upset over the most trivial things. Minor transgression was met with anger. When you walked in the house there was a feeling in the air of fear and trepidation so thick you could cut it with a knife. I remember asking her once "when was daddy coming home", she turned her head and in a snide sneering tone said to me "I hope that stallion never comes home".
It was also about this time I began to have these weird dreams. It was night and I was running through a field of tall grass. The light of the full moon shining down casting weird shadows everywhere but bright enough for me to see my surroundings as if it were day. I could feel the tall grass whipping against my legs making a sort of phitt phitt sound against my skin. I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my chest as I ran. Feeling the air rushing in and out of my nose, my breathing fast but even. I must have been shoeless because I could feel the soft earth squish between my toes. I had this utter feeling of joy and contentment as I continued to run watching the world move past me in a blur. In time I began to feel the presence of others running alongside of and behind me. But when I turned to see who they were I found myself alone. Suddenly I heard a loud noise like the crack of thunder, then a voice crying out. It was the sound of a horse whinnying in pain and panic.
I awoke with a gasp. I found myself back in my bed, drenched in sweat, my pajamas clinging to my body. The sheets and pillow soaked but already beginning to cool in the night air. The room was silent except for the sounds of the crickets outside my window. I looked over at my brother in the other bed. Judging from the sound of his steady breathing my "dream" had not awaken him. I slowly got out of bed, feeling a bit unsteady as I made my way across the room and into the bathroom, we both shared. I quietly closed the door and turned on the light. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the change. As my eyesight returned to normal, I found myself looking into the mirror. What I saw staring back at me wasn't the face I was familiar with. In its place was the head of a tan colored horse with a dark blond mane and white muzzle sitting atop my body and wearing my pajamas. Wait, did horses have green eyes? I could sense a feeling of light headiness rushing over me and before I knew it everything went black.
I awoke, my body crumpled on the tiled floor. As I laid there it took me a minute or two to bring my brain functions back up to normal. I slowly rolled over and brought my torso upright, my hands grasping my knees. Once I felt ok to do so, grabbing the edge of the bathroom sink I pulled myself to my feet still holding onto the sink just in case my body decided to make another visit to the floor. With trepidation I slowly turned my head to the left. With eyes tightly closed I slowly opened them. The image in the mirror was one I was quite familiar with. It was me again, or should I say the me I was born with looking back at my reflection with complete bewilderment. I raised my hand and slowly ran it over my face tracing its features making sure it was really me.
By this time the drying sweat on my night clothes began to make me fell cold and clammy. I began to remove them dropping them in a heap on the floor along with my underwear. I stepped out of the bathroom trying to be as quiet as I could. Going to the dresser I shared with my brother, pulling fresh underwear and pajamas from my drawer I redressed myself. I picked up the clothes from the bathroom floor and deposited them into the hamper next to the bathtub. I went to the sink and turned on the faucet and began to wash the dried sweat from my face and neck. Once that was done, I turned off the light in the bathroom and returned to my bed. Suddenly a wave of tiredness rushed over me. I barely had time to pull the coverlet over the damp sheets and pillow so I could lay down on top of them. Within moments I closed my eyes and promptly fell asleep.
Did I mention that throughout this event my penis remained rock hard and erect.
Chapter Four: One door closes and another one Opens
** Life is changing for young Alex. Will he be able to withstand these changes or succumb to them and be lost forever**
I awoke the next morning feeling well rested, memories of my strange dream were fading from my conscience. What wasn't was the raging boner inside my pajamas. Being on the cusp of puberty these new feelings brought both trepidation and exhilaration. Sharing a room with an older brother especially one who he himself was in the throes of the same changes as you, should have brought aid and comfort. Fat chance. When Aaron noticed my entrance into puberty, instead of being supportive and sympathetic he used this new weapon to amp up his regimen of torture. Being sixteen and with all the problems my parents were having my brother was spending more and more time away from the house. For me this was a temporary relief from the constant teasing and verbal reminders of how pathetic I was as a human being.
Aaron was in his first year of high school. He had joined the track team and began to excel in sports. He had always loved to run since he was little. Now he began to compete in the strength events such as the hammer toss and shot put. This meant he started weight training and quickly began packing on the muscle. His lean wiry physic was quickly changing into that of a blossoming body builder. Add to these changes Aaron gained three inches in height in one year. He was also starting to date and with his natural charm and good looks quickly became one of the major stars of the popular crowd. He had many friends to choose from when he needed a temporary bed to crash on.
Most days I found myself alone in my room. My mom when not cooking or cleaning or running errands would hole up in her room with the door locked. I could hear soft music emanating from her room accompanied by a strange new scent. It wafted from under her door and made its way down the hall to my room. It wasn't like anything I had smelled before, but it would pleasantly tickle and tease my nose. I could feel my penis getting hard.
It was about this time my dad had cleared out the storage room behind the garage. He had a contractor come in and remodel the space adding a full bathroom to it. When completed he moved all his office stuff out of the house including a fold out sofa bed. When I asked him about it, he said it was to give him more privacy, but even at twelve I wasn't totally convinced by that answer. When you're a kid you are so wrapped up in your own little world you don't pay much attention to anything else. Not so with me. I must have been born with too much awareness because all these changes in my home life were bombarding me, threatening to blow me to pieces. With my brother gone most of the time it allowed me to focus on what was happening to my parents.
June came and with it my graduation from elementary school. On the day of the ceremonies not only did both my parents attend but even Aaron was there. A cloud of doom began to form over my head. I was so sure my brother had a plan to unleash an insult of such monumental evil in front of all my friends and schoolmates my stomach became tied up in knots. I was so stressed out about it even Jeff couldn't reassure me that everything was going to be ok. Thanks to his last name being Ogdon, we spent our school career sitting next to each other at all school events. One of the bright spots in my life. Well thank the Lord and pass the ammunition everything went off without a hitch.
After the ceremony I was standing with Jeff and his parents when mine walked up with my brother in tow. My mother looked radiant in her sun dress and hat, my father handsome in his dark blue suit. Even my brother was sporting a short sleeve dress shirt, tie and slacks. I handed my diploma to my mom and with tears in her eyes gave me a huge hug and kiss. My dad took my hand in his and gave me a manly shake. He bent down and quietly said in my ear; "good job colt, I'm proud of you". It took everything I had not to break out and begin bawling right there on the spot. Even my big brother in his own way showed his approval. He punched me hard on the shoulder and pronounced to everyone present "you're not such a loser pissant after all" smiling with those movie star teeth of his. I spent the next hour with a goofy smile on my face just because of that one back handed compliment.
Throughout that spring and into the start of summer I was still plagued by my dreams. They were always the same dream except now when I awoke my underwear was plastered with copious amount of semen. As summer started Aaron's demeanor towards me slowly started to change. When home he seemed to be less hostile towards me. I would be out in the garage working on my bicycle and he would saunter in asking if I needed help. Other times without prompting he would help me with my chores around the house. One time he had me go with him to the local 7-11 to get ice cream for the both of us. Not to say everything became hunky dory between us. He'd still pick on me and pull pranks but now it seemed better natured, like what two siblings would do to each other as a way of showing affection.
Another thing I noticed was on the week-ends he and my Dad would take off together and be gone the whole day, sometimes not returning till after dark. When I asked them where they had been my dad would change the subject and Aaron would quietly go to our room. This was my que not to press the matter. I knew my dad and brother all too well that this was the end of the discussion.
It was about a month into summer vacation that our dad stood in the doorway of our room announcing that mom was going away on a trip. It was agreed that what she needed was a change of scenery. For her to get better she needed to be somewhere away from the pressures of everyday life. She would be leaving in the morning. I was at a complete loss. One of the two people who had been with me my whole life was suddenly going away. I looked at my brother, his face was one of shock and bewilderment. Dad never made eye contact with either one of us. Finished making his announcement he turned and walked out the door.
For the rest of the evening mom stayed in her room busying herself with the chore of packing. Dad ordered pizza in for dinner. Instead of bailing like he would normally do Aaron stayed home. Maybe it was the serious nature of what was happening, or maybe he didn't want to look like a dickwad in front of dad and me. The three of us sat at the dining room table eating in silence. Once we were finished eating Aaron and I cleaned up while dad pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge and went out to sit on the porch. My brother went to our room while I went out to throw the garbage into the trash can.
I came back into the house and met up with him in our bedroom. I found him sitting on the edge of his bed with his head down, his arms crossed over his chest. I walked over to my bed and sat down facing his. Minutes went by, neither one of us speaking. Finally, Aaron raised his head, his face was flushed red, his eyes swollen with tears. He looked straight into my eyes and with a wavering voice said, "Looks like we're on our own colt".
I didn't respond. I was too shocked when he uttered my nickname. The secret name only our dad used. Aaron stood up and walked slowly over to me and sat down next to me on the bed. Then he did something that I never dreamed he would do. He reached out his left arm and placed it around my shoulder. With his right hand he placed it on my right thigh. He gently pulled me closer to him. I could feel the hard muscles of his bicep and chest against my body. My head was pushed up against the crook of his neck. I could smell the scent of soap, cologne and sweat. His smell was intoxicating. I looked down. Thru his loose track shorts, I could clearly see the outline of his burgeoning hard on. He squeezed my thigh with his hand in a steady rhythmic pace, at the same time he began to rock me back and force in his embrace. "It's going to be ok little colt. Your herd mate is here. I'll make sure nothing bad happens to you. I love you and will protect you with all the power of my being".
I was in a complete daze. I was having a hard time comprehending the words my brother was saying to me. I was too caught up in the moment. Here, my sibling, the one who's number one reason for living was to torment me to no end. Now that same person holding me in a loving embrace, telling me everything was going to be alright and would protect me from all harm with his life. This moment was everything I wanted with my brother. Why did it take something awful to happen to make this dream come true. It was then I felt it. I looked down to see that I too was sporting my own raging hard on. Aaron moved his arm up to the back of my neck cradling it with his hand. He leaned in and placed his lips on mine. I had no time to react as his tongue tried to gain entry into my mouth.
In a panic I shoved my brother hard. I pulled away from him breaking the embrace that up to that moment was everything I had waited my entire life for. I could feel my face flush with embarrassment. I broke out into a cold sweat. I mumbled something, I don't know what I said and rushed to the bathroom and closed the door. My heart was racing. I was trying desperately to calm my breathing. I looked into the mirror. My face was beet red, my long bangs plastered to my forehead in sweat. My mind was desperately trying to process what had just happened. I was over the moon with happiness, my brother told me he loves me. But the other thing, what was that about. My twelve-year-old mind was having difficulty processing it. I turned and reached down to turn the cold-water faucet on in the tub. I got down on my knees and dunked my head under the faucet. The shock of the cold water helped me to clear my mind and get my breathing under control. After a few minutes I pulled my drenched head away from the flow of water. I turned off the faucet and sat there waiting for my mind to clear. The room was silent except for the soft dripping of water falling off my head and into the tub. A soft knock on the door broke the silence. "Alex are you ok in there"? My brother's voice was soft and full of concern. "Can I come in"? I paused for the moment and finally responded. "I'm on the toilet, I'll be out in a minute" I lied. I sat there on the floor thinking about what I was going to say to him. I finally got up, reached over and flushed the toilet. I grabbed the hand towel off the rack and began to dry off my hair.
Chapter Five: The Bad Boy
There are consequences to every action. I didn't know what to expect as I opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom. I looked around, my brother was not in the room. I called out his name, my voice came out like a little squeak. No response. I moved out of the bedroom and up the hallway to the living room. Still no Aaron. I looked through the living room windows to where my dad had been sitting drinking his beers. He was gone too.
I stood there in the middle of the room, my hands balled into fists. Feeling my heart thumping in my chest. Random thoughts flowing through my mind. I knew I needed something to calm me down but didn't know what. I turned and walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Like a beacon of light there sat a six pack of beer. Without thinking I reached in with both hands and removed two bottles from the carton. Closing the fridge, I walked back to my room and closed the door. I sat down on my bed still clutching the amber colored bottles.
I felt both scared and excited. I had never disobeyed my parents, ever! I always followed the rules, I was a good boy, the good son. But now I was getting ready to break one of the big ones. I put one of the beers on my nightstand, the other still in my hand. The glass felt cold against my skin. I twisted the cap followed by a little shssss sound as the carbonation was released into the air. I sniffed the open bottle with my nose. The scent wasn't unpleasant just new to my brain. I hesitated for a moment, then brought the bottle to my lips, tilted my head back and took a sip. I could feel the cold fluid as it slid down my throat and into my stomach. The taste wasn't bad just different. I took a second sip letting more of the amber liquid into my body. The second sip tasted even better than the first. Without thinking I started chugging the rest of the beer into my mouth swallowing as quickly as I could. Moments later I sat holding the empty bottle in my hand. Without warning a loud belch echoed across the room.
I giggled and smiled as the alcohol began to send its tendrils throughout my young body. A warm feeling emanating from my stomach that began to spread. It was like the time I ate those brownies but different. Without hesitation I grabbed the other bottle off the night stand. The next thing I remembered I was holding an empty bottle in my hand. My pleasure centers by now were firing on all cylinders. Whatever this feeling was I didn't want it to end. All my previous thoughts about my brother had vanished. I was feeling wonderful! I tried to stand up, but my brain said, "I don't think so". So, I moved up onto the bed and closed my eyes and left this world for a while.
I woke up in a sunlit meadow. Puffy white clouds slowly floating by playing hide and go seek with the sun. My first thought was, "where am I"? Then it dawned on me I was in my dream. But wait, this one was different. I slowly lifted my body from out of the tall grass. I gazed across the meadow to the mountains beyond. In the near distance I spied a cope of trees. I moved slowly towards them. As I neared the trees, I noticed something moving within the shadows. I stopped, raising my head slightly to sniff the air. My senses told me of no danger. I stepped forward moving closer to my destination. I could see the outline of the figures moving thru the trees. Whatever they were they were big, yet nothing about it made me feel uneasy. I was about fifty feet from the edge of the trees when I stopped. Something told me to wait.
A large dark form moved from the shade into the light followed by a smaller one. I wasn't prepared to what I was seeing. Standing there had to be the largest Clydesdale I had ever seen. The stallion had to be at least 20 hands tall. His musculature rivaled that of a Belgium Shire. His hoofs we're the size of large dinner plates. He was well groomed, his coat shimmered in the light. His mane, tail and fetlocks long and silky, not a hair out of place. He was magnificent. You could feel the power emanating from this being. Here was a true herd leader. Behind him stood a second horse. He was smaller than the first yet no less impressive. He had all the confirmations of a Clyde, but his coloring was different. He sported a dark reddish-brown mane and tail instead of the obligatory black. His coat had a darker reddish hue to it but still retained the white fetlocks on his legs. I don't know if it was the way the light played upon his eyes, but I swear they were dark blue. The larger horse moved slowly towards me stopping ten feet in front of me. I felt so small and insignificant in his presence, yet I sensed no malice or forbearing, only the feeling of love and acceptance. He gazed at me with those emerald green eyes. He spoke "Hello my little colt".
This concludes part one of my story. Hang in there, I'm currently working on Part 2 of Alexander's journey to find himself and what his place in the world will be. JD,