“Ti-Rone,” I said again – “Tyrone!”

It was like one of those word-scramble puzzles, or that Boggle-game.

There was just one problem with my theory – Ronnie T. King, if he WAS this “Tyrone” person and this Leon-guy had him, sure as hell wouldn’t have had any clothes that were “something in white satin, angelic,” and not good enough to wear to a wedding.

“He wasn’t wearing ring-bearer shit when he went missing,” I thought, “And who’s Kim?” I said to myself.

Then it hit me – what was I really thinking? What was I accusing Mr. Poore of?

I was thinking that Mr. Poore and his realtor friend had grabbed a kid and planned to keep him! Yes, that’s what I was thinking. And I was beginning to think I might be next. There was just too much to it, too much weirdness.

Especially after the deal with the AC unit – he’d come over and done it. I just knew it. How else did he KNOW? Mom didn’t know why it quit, and I hadn’t gone near it.

And I was Canyon’s new ‘playmate’ after all. He’d said it.

Kim and Tyrone, whoever they were, were playmates.

That word gave me chills.

But what was Tyrone recovering from? Recovering from being snatched, maybe?

This whole deal with the new boy next door was just too much. I had to figure it out.

What was bugging me most was how Mr. Poore knew we cussed, and how he knew we were at the The Shack. I got to thinking about the pharmacy receipt. I looked it up in the phone book, and saw that Myers’ was like a half-hour bike ride there. Nothing I couldn’t handle.

I went and got $3 out of my piggy bank and put it in my shoe and set out.

It was getting damn hot out, and I needed a drink bad when I got there. Heck, I almost melted. I went in the front door, to the soda fountain part, and ordered a $1 cherry phosphate. Myers’ had this antique look to it, and the front was made into a 1950’s thing. I was sitting there in the AC, cooling off, when I thought it might be best to just ask.

“Excuse me, but what kind of tubing do you have?” I asked the girl.

“You mean surgical tubing, or like hardware?” She replied. “All we have is the medical supply type. Bulk you can buy, but things like catheters and gastric tubes have to have a prescription on file.”

Now, I wasn’t real smart in school, remember, but I wasn’t dumb either. “Would it work on a fish tank, to make the line longer?” I just made it up, since I had no clue what a ‘catheter’ was.

“I bet it would!” The girl agreed.

I finished my soda and we went to look at the tubing.

It was colored, they had it in rolls, and it was cheap. I bought a 2’ length for 75 cents and put the receipt in my other shoe.

I got home around 3 and called Scott.

“Scott, remember that receipt?” I asked him, “That you saw?”

“Huh?”

”Mr. Poore’s receipt from Myers’ – what did it say?”

“Surge-tube” Scott said. “For short. 8 characters, SURGTUBE.”

That was one thing I remembered – most retail computers only printed 8 letters to an item. I looked at my receipt.

They matched.

“SURGTUBE”

I had to give Scott one thing – he might have been a bastard sometimes, but he had a brain like a bear trap. He never forgot anything.

“Dude, I’m grounded ‘til Monday,” he sighed. “For 5 fuckin’ minutes of lateness! Can you believe that shit?”

“Yeah, I can,” I agreed, “Thanks. I gotta go!”

I went up to my room and started writing things down, starting with Canyon being a twelve-year-old nudist sunbather bodybuilder with no balls. I ended my list with the anagram of Ronnie T. being “Tyrone”, the missing kid.

“Something from the wedding store,” I mumbled, and I went back down for the phone book. I was still thinking this was all just too much to be coincidence. I scratched at my necklace. It was still snug, but I must have been getting used to it. I decided that, hurt feelings or not, it had to come off. Maybe I could ask Canyon to weave a clasp in it? That would be fine. After all, I DID like it.

By the address, I saw that there was no way I’d make it to the wedding place downtown on my bike. It was on the other side of town, and it was getting on towards rush-hour anyway. I called instead.

A man answered the phone, and OK, I figured he’d sound … gay. But he didn’t.

“Thank you for calling The Bouncing Bride, this is Samuel, how can I help you?” He asked.

You gotta be kidding me? Bouncing Bride?

“Have you got a boys’ size XL formal suit in white satin?” I asked, “I have a church program in an hour, and I just spilled grape juice all over my costume!” I lied to him. I was pretty pleased with myself for making that one up!

“I’m sorry, young man, but my only white satin boys’ XL just went out this evening. May I suggest Jeffers over in…”

“No, thanks, but no time!”

“Soak it in white vinegar and peroxide, now!” He suggested. “Good luck, my boy!” Then he hung up.

Dinner was tomorrow night at Canyon’s, and Canyon was going to be wearing white satin from the wedding place…

I put that on my ‘weird-list’ and made a decision. I called Scott back and told him that if he didn’t hear from me by Saturday noon, to call the cops.

I just hoped he’d do it, since he laughed at me and wondered what I’d been smokin’…

It was hot and stuffy in the house, and the bike ride had worn me out. I scavenged some food, went outside, and turned the garden hose on myself. It was colder than hell, but God it felt good! I sat there on the little cement slab we called a patio, at the raggedy umbrella table, and ate bologna & cheese sandwiches and drank pop. I just sat there, thinking, until the bugs came after me and I had to go in.

I went upstairs, got naked, and laid down in front of my fan.

It wasn’t working.

Bathtub, I thought, and went and filled it with cool water. I got in, laid back, and put my sweaty head under. One thing Mr. Poore might have right, I’d feel a lot cooler in summer with shorter hair. But hell, no one had a haircut like Canyon’s! They’d laugh at me. I cringed at what Scott and them might say.

I was just laying there, soaking, seeing how long I could hold my breath, when I started getting hard thinking about Canyon. I didn’t know why I got hard, just that I did. The film said boys in puberty got hard for no reason, or even just a thought. Maybe I was finally hitting it, then? I liked that idea as I reached for the soap.

Things were going pretty good – I was staying hard, thinking about Canyon jacking me off, and really going at it when the phone started ringing. Figuring it might be mom, I sighed and got up to get the one in her room.

“Hello?”

“Benny, dear,” mom answered me, “We’re getting out at 6 after all! How would you like to go see a movie before I leave town?”

“Sure!” I said.

“Take a bath, then,” mom told me, and hung up.

I went back to the tub and took a real bath, with soap. I tried to get hard and jerk off, but it just didn’t work that time. I guess the mood was gone? I tried harder, but all it did was make my nuts hurt, so I quit. “Scott, you fucker,” I swore under my breath and blamed it all on him for hitting me.

This wasn’t really all that weird. 1 or 2 times a month, mom would take me to the discount night at the movies. I didn’t care what it was, either. They had popcorn, pop, and candy. That’s all that mattered!

Mom sprang it on me that night in the theater. I guess it was her idea of cushioning the blow, huh? We were sitting there watching this movie about a wild archaeologist when she leaned over and whispered, “I’ll be gone for 2 weeks, Benny. You’ll be staying with Mr. Poore and Canyon until I get back.”

I spilled my popcorn.

“WHAT?!”

“Quiet!” The usher told me.

“Later,” mom said, and that was that. No Scott, no Aunt Mabel.

2 weeks in Weirdsville with the new neighbors.

The movie was pretty good, though…

I went straight to bed when we got home. I was nodding in the car, and mom reminded me I had to get up and be at Canyon’s at 8AM for breakfast. I crawled into bed, naked, fan going full blast, and was out like a light.

My alarm clock was going off in what felt like no time at all. I got up, stretched, and took my morning wood to the bathroom. It went down as soon as I started peeing. The only weird thing, when I realized I had to shit, was a sore spot on my butt cheek. I turned to the mirror on the door, and it looked like a tiny little bug bite. I checked my clock. It was 7:45, and mom was downstairs rattling around. I pulled on a pair of shorts and went down to get my usual breakfast of cold cereal, hoping the milk wasn’t bad.

She stopped me, though, reminding me that I was going to eat with Canyon. She had to be in the office at 9, so she was already on the way out the door. A peck to the cheek, and off she went. That at least solved the problem of going over to Canyon’s place, I guess.

I waited until it said 7:56. Yawning, I went outside, around the stupid bush, and dropped my shorts there. Then I kicked them over towards the fence. If nothing else, I figured I could pull them under it if I had to make an emergency run for it. I looked around, saw it was all clear, and pulled on the gate.

It opened.

I looked around for a stick or something, but didn’t see one I could reach. It was almost 8 by then, and if I was late, well…that might mess up the schedule and who knew what would happen? I mean, we already had a 1 hour of some kind of ‘detention,’ not swimming, and I didn’t want to add to it.

I also didn’t want Canyon in trouble, remembering his red butt.

The gate closed behind me with a CLICK!

I was trapped – again.

On their patio, Canyon was just bringing out a big tray. He saw me, and almost dropped it. “BENNY!” He yelled, as he put the tray down and came running to hug me. “I’ve missed you so, yesterday! How was the bike ride to town? You didn’t slide off the seat, did you?” He winked at me.

“No, it was good,” I said, and hugged him back.

HOW DID HE KNOW THAT?!

We went to the breakfast table. Mr. Poore nodded. I was watching Canyon. We sat. He sat when his dad nodded, I noticed.

I also noticed that Canyon filled the plates: scrambled eggs with bits of ham and cheese, green pepper, a western omelet, I thought. There were crisp strips of bacon, wheat toast, butter, and juice. Canyon evaluated the plate he was filling, Mr. Poore nodded at him, and he put some more on it. He nodded to the boy again. Canyon gave me the plate, and it was loaded. The only difference was that Canyon only got 1 slice of toast; I had 2.

I wasn’t sure what to do then. It smelled good, I mean I was used to cold cereal every day! But there was so much of it.

“Eat up, and eat it all,” Mr. Poore told me.

“Sir?” I had to ask, “There’s so much?”

“Yes,” he grinned at me, so I started to eat.

“This is all natural food, Benny,” he told me, “The only thing I do not use is sugar, therefore the juice has Sweet-y-Lo in it. Canyon is NOT allowed to have sugar. I can tell from looking at you that you consume a great deal of sugar?”

OK, I wasn’t fat. I wasn’t that tall, either, but I was…I guess…soft. And what was that? He bought us sugary stuff yesterday, Scott and me?

“You have a slight build,” Mr. Poore went on, as we boys ate, “It would be easy for you to balloon up into a fat boy in no time. No one wants a fat boy,” He added. “Do we, Canyon?”

“No, sir!” Canyon replied heartily. “He doesn’t have big bones, sir.”

I looked at him sitting there, stuffing down his eggs, but so mannerly at the same time. He got up to refill the juices, just like a waiter, giving me a perfect view of his ‘neat’ and almost empty crotch. He asked his dad when he wanted more, and served it. Me, I was lucky to be able to clean my first plate. Canyon’s earring’s flashed when the sun hit them, when he filled my glass, and I could see he was oiled again already. He smelled like fruit, and when he smiled at me with those perfect teeth of his, I got hard at once. He turned his back to me to go and sit down again, and his butt wasn’t red. Maybe a tiny bit pink?

I scooted in a bit, to hide my 2 inches under the table.

I noticed no one had said a thing about the missing penis trap!

I couldn’t help but look at Canyon, though! I mean, I’d never met a boy with no balls before! To say nothing of his muscles. I was used to seeing everyone else, even last year, bigger and taller than me and starting to get black pubic hair (except Denny, the redhead; his was even red!), grow some, and really just leave my scrawny ass (arse?) in the so-called dust. But little Canyon had them all beat in the strength department, I can tell you.

When we were done eating, Mr. Poore turned to me again while Canyon cleared away the mess.

“We have breakfast at 8, every day, Benny. We chat until 9, by then the dishes are done, and Canyon’s morning workout runs until 10. It is intense, and you may find it painful. However, the boy has told me that you agreed to it with him, to build some muscles?”

I nodded. I had.

But what had I agreed to?

“At 10, you will clean up, a fast shower. From 10 to 12 is morning study. We are doing Spanish architecture right now, history, and how it influenced the colonization of Mexico and carried over.”

“Like adobe brick, sir?” I asked.

“Yes, and don’t interrupt!” He said firmly.

“I…I’m sorry!”

He smiled at me. “Quite all right, Benny, we’ll deal with your little error later.” He reached over and squeezed my thigh. “We have lunch at 12, which I prepare and serve. 12:30 is another shorter workout, and from 1-2, you do nothing but sunbathe. After the workout, you will want to lay down, trust me!” He grinned wickedly.

WHAT were we going to do?

“From 2 to 4 is swimming, since it’s summer, but I have decided that your 1 hour punishment will take the place of the diving part for today. At 4, you dry off, have a shake, and nap for 2 hours. I realize you are not accustomed to that, but I think you will be begging for that nap when it comes.” He paused.

“Yes, sir!” I offered.

“Very, very good, Benny!” He slapped my leg, and my little dick was harder.

What the hell is THAT? I wondered.

“From 6 to 8, you have free time. You may watch the telly…TV, sorry! Or watch a tape. For those 2 hours, you do what YOU want to do. Canyon sometimes goes over his homework, too, just to be safe, as errors are punished. Dinner is at 8, then baths, then bedtime at 9. You will get up shortly before 8 in the morning, and I prepare breakfast. I do not allow Canyon to cook, yet. Questions?”

I nodded. He nodded back.

“My mother told me that I’ll be staying with you, sir?” I made sure I got the ‘sir’ on there. For some reason, I felt the need to.

“For a maximum of 2 weeks,” he reminded me, “Yes.” He then whistled, loud, and Canyon came running. “Go and fetch me Benny’s papers, boy! There’s a good lad!” He smiled, as Canyon scampered off again.

“Sir, this isn’t quite like the other day is it? And what papers?” I had to ask.

“Your first day over was buggered up by your very arrival,” Mr. Poore informed me, as Canyon returned with the papers. “This is all the legal work concerning your stay with us, Benny. In short, it gives me the right to give you food, shelter, medical care if needed, first aid,” he waved his hand around, “blah blah blah, the usual things. It gives me the right to seek professional care for you, such as the ER, if needed, and to shelter you, feed you, and all that rot! It also gives me the right to punish you – as I see fit.”

He paused again.

I gulped.

OK, I admit it – it scared me.

Hell, it terrified me!

”Yes, sir,” I managed. He then showed me the papers, signed and initialed by my mom in a dozen places. It was her signature, all right, on ‘Thomas & Fredericks Law Offices’ letterhead, so it was real. He then had Canyon run and get a pen, and he made me sign in several places, too.

“In effect, you are now my child until your mother returns,” Mr. Poore smiled at me. He then got up and hugged me. I wasn’t ready for what he did next:

He kissed me, on the mouth, and it wasn’t a short peck, either.

It was a long, serious kiss like you see in the movies.

I don’t know why, either, but when he had a hold of me, I hugged him back. It felt like the other night, and I felt almost sick when he put me down.

“Welcome to the family, Benny,” He told me, with a glance at Canyon.

“Brother Benny!” Canyon laughed, and he hugged and kissed me too. I was getting sort of used to that by then, though. I mean, with mom, it was a peck on the cheek if you were lucky. That was it. She hadn’t hugged me a long time.

“I see you still have a small problem?” Mr. Poore then asked, pointing at my rock-hard little dick. His was hard was well, but Canyon’s wasn’t. But neither mentioned the cock trap?

“I…I’m sorry, sir!” I offered, wondering when in hell I was going to have time to snoop, what with that tight schedule? If I was going to figure this out, I was going to have be very careful. If nothing else, I decided, I WOULD run through the streets naked to escape!

“Recite the schedule, please, Benny?” He prompted me.

“Up at 8, eat.
8-9, chat and clean up dishes.
9-10, workout.
10-12, school.
Lunch at 12.
12:30, workout some more.
1-2, sunbathing.
2-4, swim, dive, sun. But 1 hour detention today!
4-6, nap, protein shake at 4.
6-8, free time, TV, or study more. Eat dinner at 8, then take a bath, be in bed by 9. Get up at 8?” I recited, hoping I had it right.

Canyon clapped his hands and laughed like a little kid. Mr. Poore nodded his approval. “’Detention’? I like that word, Father!” Canyon laughed.

“So do I! We do not deviate, for any reason,” Mr. Poore then said, “If I have to leave, Canyon does it all on his own. He is trustworthy, for if he makes an error, he knows he will be punished. I control every minute of his days, and I will control yours as well, Benny. The only way to attain your goals, and to succeed at life, is to have rigid structure!”

“Yes, sir!” I said, when he paused.

“Now, if you have to go to the bathroom, you will do this at the beginning or end of meal times, or when you go to bed. We do not have potty breaks during the routine. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” I nodded. Then I held up my hand on impulse. By now, I was pretty scared and thinking I should have run away and hid at Scott’s! But I had to figure it out. Surely I could survive 2 weeks of it, if Canyon had for…how long? Life? I didn’t know.

But I was going to find out.

“What is it?” Mr. Poore smiled.

“But what if I HAVE to go, sir?” I asked.

“If you cannot control your own bodily functions, I shall control them for you, Benny,” he assured me, “Legally, I can now do that. If you have an accident like a baby, you will be treated like a baby. Is that clear?”

“Yes, SIR!” I gasped.

I mean, what the hell was he going to do? Put a cork in my…? I froze. Didn’t Canyon say he had bowel problems? I started to shiver, despite the 80F heat already. I thought about that clear little ring that I’d seen sticking out of his butt cheeks. What the hell was it?

“Oh, I think he’ll do just splendidly, Canyon,” Mr. Poore told the boy.

“I think so too, Father,” Canyon smiled, and his watch beeped. “9! Time to work out!” He crowed.

“If you have to pee, pee now!” Mr. Poore warned us.

That first workout damn near killed me.

Mr. Poore led us to his answer to a family room. It was large, and filled with exercise equipment. There were weight sets, treadmills, and all sorts of things I’d never seen before. If the “Y” had it, so did he. He started us on weights. Bench pressing.

From 9-10, we lifted. We did side presses. The room wasn’t as cool as the rest of the house, and it didn’t take long to start sweating. It didn’t take long for my arms to start hurting, either. And he only left us once when the phone rang.

“Canyon,” I panted, “I can’t do this!” I was near to tears, it hurt so bad. HOW did Canyon DO it every day?

Canyon looked serious, but he didn’t stop moving. “Don’t stop, Benny, and for Christ’s sake, don’t get up! Just keep working! You can do it!” He encouraged me. Mr. Poore came back in, checked on us, and somehow, I made it to 10.

We had switched to sit-ups and leg work at 9:30. For an hour. Non-stop. I couldn’t hardly walk!

I was amazed at how much stronger than me Canyon was. The kid had to have been pushing twice as much weight as I was!

Canyon just seemed sweaty, though. Sweaty and cheery and egging me on.

When Canyon’s watch beeped, it was 10, and time for school. Mr. Poore made us drink a quart of ice water, each, then take a fast shower.

So we studied Spain until 12. Mr. Poore explained that there was more academic focus in bad weather, and I was shocked to find out that Canyon didn’t have weekends. The schedule didn’t vary on Saturday or Sunday, either. All we had to do to stop his lecturing was hold up our hands, just like in school. We sat at little desks in what used to be the utility room, complete with a blackboard and everything. And boy, was I glad to sit down and just listen! I thought my limbs would fall off. It was like the bad dream of waking up naked in school, only this time, the 3 of us really were. The difference was, he praised us and it was a lot of fun, really. I didn’t think being home-schooled like Canyon would be half bad!

By the time noon got there, I had to pee so bad that I was dancing. They laughed, but I made it to the bathroom just in time.

Lunch was simple – cold meat and cheese and vegetables, and a few whole grain crackers. Another quart of ice water, with lemon. I had about 3 more crackers than Canyon, though. But I got stuffed again.

The 12:30 workout was a nightmare: calisthenics.

For almost half an hour, we did jumping jacks, toe touches, push-ups, more sit-ups, and then we had to do laps around the back yard for ten minutes, non-stop. I thought I was going to puke, I was so sore and hot and tired. This proved the only exception to the clothes rule – Canyon and I were given running shoes. They came back off when were done.

At 1, it was another quart of ice water. I almost couldn’t get it down, but the looks Canyon was giving me got me to do it. I stumbled over to where I’d first seen him sunning himself, and let him put oil all over my sore body. Then I just collapsed and started to drift off.

“Habla usted español?” Canyon then said cheerfully, and I opened my eyes to see the boombox again. Canyon had his Spanish tapes, and pencils and paper.

How can he do it? I thought.

“You’ll get used to it, son,” Mr. Poore told me, as he knelt down to rub something on my back. As we listened and talked Spanish with the tape, making notes, he moved down my back to my butt cheeks. I flinched when he hit the sore spot, but when he got to my legs, I just whimpered. Whatever it was felt so good, though, and his touching me…my dick was pressing into the hard patio so much it hurt, but I didn’t wanna move.

I realized that I had taken an hour from Canyon that one day, so our swimming lessons began at 2. It was all I could do to move, but I had to keep swimming. At least the water took the stress off of me, some.

At 3, he stopped us.

“Canyon, you may sun now, and do more schoolwork, or swim and dive. It is time for Benny to learn what happens when he makes an error. I must take him inside and instruct him.” Mr. Poore told us.

I was shaking by then, and he had to help me out of the pool.

“Yes, sir,” Canyon said, looking like he was about to cry again.

I know I wanted to.

“One hour of punishment,” Mr. Poore told me, as helped me down the stairs and into the basement. By then, I was a sweaty, shaking mess. Laying out hadn’t helped; I was still weak. He flicked on the lights – all of them – and I could see where all the hardware store money had gone:

The basement was huge, made up like a family room, but it contained lots of furniture like I’d never seen before. The bench that I’d laid on before was off to the side, and in the middle, near the wall was a barber’s chair. It faced the wall, towards a big mirror, and as he guided me over to it, I could see the straps on the arms and footrest, and thick belt on the seat. I looked around. The room and the furniture looked threatening.

I saw straps on just about everything, like restraints…

I bolted, but he grabbed me. I tried to struggle, but I was so limp and weak I couldn’t. He put me in the chair, and I started crying when he buckled my wrists down and secured my feet. I felt stupid, but something had snapped. I was terrified. Suddenly I didn’t care about Canyon, my Tyrone theory, or anything! I just wanted OUT!

“I thought you might protest, they sometimes do,” he told me, “That is an error, Benny. I never said I was going to cut your hair today, or how short. Your actions, however, have earned you a punishment, since you did not trust me and assumed.”

“You…you can’t!” I gasped. “This is…weird! It’s illegal! You can’t tie me up!”

“Oh, but I can, and I have!” Mr. Poore informed me. “You see, you and your mother BOTH signed the forms. You both gave legal consent for me to perform any sort of aid and/or succor to your person – or punishment.”

He was right, he had me.

And he knew it.

Even mom had agreed, she’d signed it.

And I doubted she’d even read it.

That was mom for you.

“Now, Benny, you have made several errors, and you offered to take Canyon’s punishment from the other day. Do you remember that promise?” He asked.

“Yes, sir,” I choked out, staring at the naked boy in the mirror who was strapped into a barber’s chair that was being jacked up higher and higher.

“That was very noble of you, Benny. For that, you have a choice. Normally, I would shave your head – bald – with a straight razor, for being such a bad boy. If you moved, you would be cut and bleed badly. Maybe even bleed to death. However…” He paused. I just looked at him, trying stop crying. “Would you like to be bald, or have a haircut like Canyon’s? The choice is yours, since you’re new at this, and clearly not ready for real punishment.”

“C-Canyon’s, please, sir, thanks!” I said quickly. Adrenaline was pumping, and I was starting to come out of my wobblyness. Still, I couldn’t move; I was strapped in.

“Why?” He asked, as he got out a set of cordless clippers.

“I…I like Canyon, sir. Can I look like him, too?” I tried to flatter him.

I think it worked. He looked shocked. Then he smiled.

“Oh, Benny, that’s a beautiful thing to say! Of course you can look like him! It might take 6 months of exercise, but you can! And you will!” He said happily. Then he kissed me again. So help me, I don’t know what it was! I was hard again, and I didn’t want him to stop. Shit, am I gay? I wondered wildly. There I was, naked, restrained, being kissed by a man, and I was turned on?! I didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because then he turned the clippers on.

I closed my eyes.

I could feel the hair falling.

I could feel the thing vibrating.

I could feel the bare blades on my scalp.

He shaved the sides, up to my temples, down to stubble. He called it a “0000” cut. I called it bald. Then he combed out my tangled dark mop, and went after it with scissors, measuring the length with his fingers. It looked silly, when I thought he was done, but then he began blending the ½” he’d left on top. It faded right into the shaved part, and then he rubbed some cool gel into it. I dunno how long it took. He was meticulous.

Then he put some shaving cream on my neck and sideburns. He pulled out a wicked razor knife, and began shaving. “Sit still, good boy, don’t move, don’t talk,” he encouraged me. I sat still as a statue, visions of losing an ear in my mind.

I could feel him patting it dry, then wiping it with cool aftershave. It stung some, and when I looked up, he was holding a hose connected to a faucet in the wall. He sprayed me off with warm water, chair and all! Then he grabbed up a nice camera.

“No, please,” I whimpered.

The red AF sensor light on the front came on, and he took a picture.

(Film, digital didn’t exist then. And auto focus was something brand new!)

FLASH!

Suddenly I smiled. The boy in the mirror looked nice, handsome, even. Soft, but nice. He was smiling at me, too, I thought.

“Do you like it, Benny?”

That was me?

“Yes, sir! It’s great, thank you, sir!” I said happily. (I remember that NOW, but I didn’t then. Back then, I was 12. It was fine. I had an army haircut, like Canyon’s and I loved it. But I didn’t know why. All I knew was that I loved it. It made no sense; I was sure I’d hate it, I’d been so scared.)

He freed me, and gave me a towel. I still ached as I dried off, and I cleaned up the mess when he told me to without arguing. There was a floor drain for it all, and it was easy. But this much I knew – I was NOT going to argue. But he had taken naked pictures of me? THAT was illegal, I KNEW! I asked about it, adding my concern for him and Canyon.

“I only took pictures of your head,” Mr. Poore assured me, “And it’s so considerate of you to ask!”

“Oh!”

He then told me it was 4. My haircut had taken the hour of detention time. It was time for the protein shake and the nap. Boy, was I ready for that nap!

“We’ll discuss you punishments that you’ll be taking for Canyon, as well as for you own slight errors, later, Benny. For now, we have a schedule to see to. Upstairs!” He pointed. As I passed him, he slapped me across my bare butt so hard that I yelped!

“That’s a sample, boy,” He warned me, “for later.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, and we went up to find Canyon in the kitchen with the blender going full tilt. He poured us our drinks. 3 of them. I was surprised as we all had one. We were then told to go and lay down. Canyon seemed to be just bursting to say something, and he kept smiling at me. His father nodded at him.

“Benny! It looks so GOOD!” He almost squealed, touching the near-bald sides of my head and patting my nape. (That’s the back of your neck.) “It looks like mine!”

“Benjamin chose that style, since he was given a choice,” Mr. Poore told his son. “He was a bad boy about it at first, but we’ll deal with that later, shall we? So we don’t alarm him too badly on his first day, what?”

I figured a spanking was coming later, then. I tried not to think about it.

“Oh, yes, sir,” Canyon said in a low, quiet tone, as we laid down on the warm palettes in the living room, and Canyon evaluated the red handprint on my butt. I was out as soon as my head hit the palette.

The alarm went off at 6, and I was surprised that I felt so good when I woke up. Napping might not be such a bad idea after all? I was still sore, but my legs no longer felt like rubber. I was wondering what to do with the 2 hours of free time, but Canyon had that planned. He had a video about the Spanish conquest in the New World, and we watched them overrun the Mayans, or somebody down there. Mr. Poore retired to his office, wherever that was, and told us to behave.

I decided to try and pry some more out of Canyon, but he wasn’t very helpful. He did tell me he was sure that his father could put a clasp in my necklace, but he didn’t see why. I just looked at his neck, as his was off again. The tanline was very white where his necklace was usually locked on. It was the only tanline on him.

“You’ll get a line like me, too,” he assured me. I thought it might flatter him, so I touched the sides of his head with both hands. It was rough, and he giggled when I rubbed his ears and tickled his neck. Yeah, he was pretty immature, in some ways, I thought. I don’t know why, but everything that had been buzzing in my head – the Tyrone mystery, what was up with Canyon, the dick-trap tube, all of it – just went right out my ear.

We watched the video until almost 8, when Mr. Poore returned and told us to wash up for dinner. “You’ll find clothes in the bathroom,” he added. “Canyon’s are white, yours are black.”

Imagine that, I thought.

We took a quick shower with a thing that attached to the tub faucet, and I helped Canyon get dressed. It made me wonder just how long he’d lived like this, as he didn’t know what to do with the long socks. Once we were ready, he was wearing a white satin vest over a long-sleeved white dress shirt and a pair of white satin shorts that were pretty short. His white socks came up to almost his knees, and his set had come with what looked like girls’ ballet slippers. He was fidgeting with his tie while I fixed his hair.

“You look like a cherub,” I told him. He just laughed.

My outfit was the same, only all black, and I had a jacket. I felt silly.

God, I hope Scott doesn’t see me! I fretted.

Mr. Poore was delighted, and dressed in a formal black over red tux. He took several pictures of us in the dining room. I sniffed. Someone had been cooking, but I found out he’d had it catered.

“This must have cost a lot, sir,” I commented.

“Yes, it did,” he patted my butt in reply, as Canyon’s watch beeped.

It was 8, and the doorbell rang.

“Go answer the door and invite your mother in, Benny,” Mr. Poore told me.

“Mom?” I just stared at her when I opened the door. She was wearing a long dress, red, and she’d put on makeup. I’d never seen her so dressed up, or in heels, and she looked … good! I thought Mr. Poore better watch out for himself. She had ‘manhunt’ written all over her, even if I could count on one hand how many dates she’d ever had.

She looked at me the same way. I felt like an idiot.

“Oh, Benny, you look simply adorable!” She kissed my cheek; the usual fast peck. “Let me look at you! Turn around!” So I revolved a couple times for her, and she grabbed me by the head, rubbing it, and fiddling with my ears. “This haircut is so nice! Did Mr. Poore do it?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said automatically. “Do you like it?”

“I wish you’d done it sooner,” she smirked at me. Then she grabbed my hand and I led her into the dining room. I was going to tell her HOW he’d done it, but then again, there he was.

Mr. Poore greeted her with a quick, businesslike kiss on the cheek. Mom played the embarrassed act. I didn’t buy it.

“So where’s this boy of yours I hear so much about?” Mom asked, and I looked over to see Canyon peeking shyly around the door frame. No way was I doing this solo. I went and took his hand and pulled him in.

“Oh no! If I have to do this, so do you!” I hissed at him.

“Clothes itch!” He protested, his face red, as I presented him to my mom.

“Mom, this is Canyon Poore, my friend,” I introduced him.

Mom looked surprised. Then she got all stupid, you know, like how women do with little kids? Except Canyon wasn’t a little kid – he was only like an inch shorter than me! She pinched his cheeks, bent down and hugged him, and then took his hands in hers and just stared at him like she thought she should know him or something.

“Oh, he looks like a little baby angel!” She smiled at him.

Canyon’s face got even redder. I made a face. ‘Baby angel’? Boy she didn’t know Canyon, that was for sure!

“Pleased to meet you, Mum,” he said. (I later found out that was how he greeted ladies.) But right then, it surprised me and I snickered. A warning glare from Mr. Poore shut me up, though. I just stared at him as he then kissed her hand, and then pulled out a chair for her at the table.

We all sat.

Dinner was a huge roast with vegetables, and I wasn’t surprised to see Canyon pouring us both big glasses of water. Mr. Poore did the serving, the perfect host, and when I looked at the stack of meat on my plate, I didn’t think I’d be able to eat it all. Yeah, I was hungry, still sore, but not so wobbly. That and I didn’t know what half the vegetables on my plate were.

“Is this from ‘Company’s Coming Tonight Catering’?” Mom asked.

“Yes, I thought I’d give them a go, Lois,” Mr. Poore replied. “Not remarkable, but still quite good, don’t you think?” He looked at Canyon and me.

“Yes, sir!” Canyon said.

“He’s so mannerly!” Mom pointed out, “Did you say he’d been ill? I think Benny mentioned it.”

“Canyon had an accident, shall we say, when he was 9? It’s taken him a while to recover, and he still requires intense therapy, doesn’t he, Benjamin?” Mr. Poore asked me.

He’d called me “Benjamin” – for the 2nd time that day. It was a warning sign, I felt it.

“Very intense, sir,” I nodded, “I did his routine with him today, and it almost killed me!”

He nodded back and sipped his water. Then Mr. Poore laughed. Canyon just smiled at me. I could feel him put his hand on my leg under the table, and my dick got hard at once. I was starting to worry about it. Why did I do that when he did that?

“Canyon, go and fetch the wine,” Mr. Poore then told him.

“Red, sir?” He asked.

Mr. Poore nodded.

Canyon came back with a bottle and a corkscrew, and opened it like a pro. He poured a glass, and Mr. Poore examined it and sniffed it. He gave it a sip. “Excellent,” he declared, as Canyon poured another glass – then 2 more, but only half full.

I just stared at it when he put it in front of me.

We were being served booze?

Now THAT was illegal!

“Benny’s never had wine before,” Mom pointed out, as she sipped hers. I guess she liked it?

“Drink up, boys,” Mr. Poore said, “And don’t you dare spill any on those clothes, Canyon!”

“No, sir!” Canyon nodded, and he sat back down and swallowed half of his in one drink!

I tasted mine, and it was gross! It was just…GROSS! I thought I’d choke. Canyon kicked my shin, though, and I got the idea. I sucked half of it down, coughed, and got dizzy all at once. Everyone else laughed.

We ate some more. The meal was great, but the wine…it took me the rest of dinner to finish it. Canyon finished his fast, and he was staring at the bottle with a longing look on his face. He was only allowed ½ a glass, though. Mom sure seemed to like it, and she and Mr. Poore polished off another whole bottle! She was giggly and stupid by the time we got to dessert. Chilled fruit with whipped topping, homemade, Mr. Poore said.

I was so stuffed, and so dizzy, I didn’t know if I could eat any more. I managed it, because I was afraid of being punished for it. I kept thinking about Canyon’s red butt that day, and I just knew a spanking was coming.

When we were finally done, it was getting close to 9.

“Canyon, tell our GUESTS goodnight,” Mr. Poore glanced at me and winked. “It’s your bedtime, and you’ve already cleaned up, so another bath isn’t needed. I’ll be in shortly to tuck you in.”

Canyon kinda bowed to my mom like a little show-off, kissed her hand again, and told her how nice it was that she’d come. Then he hugged me. I hugged him back. Then he kissed me on the cheek and told me he loved me!

Mom just stared, her jaw dropped. I felt like falling through the floor. Mr. Poore just smiled slightly at me.

Canyon scampered off to his room, and I realized that I hadn’t seen it yet. That was another item for the weird-list: like when I was at Scott’s, we mostly hung out in his room, or vice versa. I made a note to myself to get to see that room.

I looked back at mom, but Mr. Poore was offering her the last of the wine, distracting her. I thought, ‘good, maybe she won’t remember him kissing me!’

Mom offered to help clean up, but Mr. Poore wouldn’t hear of it. He then showed us out, walking us to the gate and unlocking it. “When did that get there?” Mom asked.

“It was there when we moved in?” Mr. Poore told her, and THAT was a bald lie! I just stared at him. “Benny can bring the clothes back on Monday morning when we take you to the airport, Lois,” He went on, “I’m sure you have things to do with him this weekend before you leave?”

I looked at mom. I had a feeling if she didn’t say something, I was going to be expected at 8 again, and that my 2 weeks would start 2 days early.

“Yes, we’ve got so much to,” she giggled again. The wine had gone to her head. Mr. Poore looked disappointed as he looked at me. “I like to put everything in order before I go on a long trip, get the house ready to close up, shut off the utilities and all that. Are you sure it won’t be a bother to take me to the airport?”

“Canyon hasn’t had a field trip in a long time, Lois,” Mr. Poore assured her. “I’m sure he’ll love it.” He was still looking at me, though. “Lois, there is the matter of the legal documents, especially in the area of punishment.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“While Benny was almost the perfect child today,” He patted my shoulder, as we went through the gate. “He did make a few mistakes. Nothing large, and his worst one was punished by how short his hair is. We still have issues to resolve, however,” He glanced at me.

That was sorta another lie, too.

“What did he do?” Mom growled, giving me a not-so-hard cuff to the head. “And what was that about kissing that boy?”

“Oh, just small things, Lois, really. Nothing broken. And Canyon is a little – affectionate, I’m sure you saw? Why, in just 2 days, he’s come to think Benny like a brother! He’s also a bit…developmentally behind, shall we say?”

Mom bought it, thank God!

“Good, for a minute I thought Ben was gay!” She snorted.

‘Ben’ again…not “Benny.”

“But since I’m to be his legal guardian for 2 weeks,” Mr. Poore gave her a look, and she didn’t catch it. But I did. “I think I must inform you, that I feel that Benny could do with a proper spanking. Some of the things he says he does? How long has it been?”

My stomach flipped. I thought I was gonna be sick. I KNEW that was coming! He’d smoothed over the kiss-thing, but now he was on about getting me spanked!

“’a sample for later,’” he’d said, after the haircut.

“Too long, I suppose?” Mom glared at me, not even bothering to ask ME what I’d done! I started to say something, but didn’t. Mr. Poore was right there, you know. “I admit, he does run wild. And some of his friends…” she sighed.

“A firm hand is required, Lois,” Mr. Poore told her. “Mainly, it’s his manners, or lack of them. He did well at dinner, but he’s a quick study and has been learning all day from Canyon. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a weekend for yourself, just you? We could take him 2 days early?”

I just about threw up! If I had to go then, there, then I wouldn’t have the chance for 2 weeks to tell Scott anything, or try to solve this big mystery!

“Oh, no! I can’t ask you to do that,” Mom replied, and I know I sighed in relief. “I feel bad enough about you taking him, as it is! It’s so generous! No,” She sighed again, and I could tell, she was drunk. “He can spend tomorrow and Sunday contemplating being grounded,” She hiccoughed, “while he helps get the house ready to close up!”

“Good idea,” Mr. Poore replied, but he sounded disappointed. “Goodnight, then! I’ll see you Monday at 8:30 to leave for the airport?”

“Yes, thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. Poore,” she replied, and slapped me across the butt. Hard. For her. It stung, and besides, I was getting sore all over again.

“WHAT did you DO to upset him so much?” She demanded of me, as we walked towards the house.

The gate closed behind us with a CLICK! that sounded like a gunshot in the dark.