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Brandon, Part 3 Brandon sighed and opened his eyes, trying to blink the sleep away. His brain felt like it was wrapped in wet cotton. He closed his eyes again and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to clear his head. He had been dreaming, but was having problems remembering exactly what his dreams had been. He thought the dreams were about his castration and young Jere was standing between his spread legs. No, he remembered – he was supposed to be castrated today … or had that already happened? Opening his eyes again, Brandon lifted the sheet covering him and looked down. He was surprised to see a diaper covering his groin. He tried to sit up and felt a stab of pain from between his legs. So, the operation had taken place and he had only dreamed about Jere doing the surgery. The effort of sitting up made him feel dizzy, so he lay back and tried to figure out where he was. Looking around him, the college boy realized he was in a hospital bed – maybe something had gone wrong and he had to be rushed to a hospital. But, something wasn’t quite right. There was no window in the room, and he couldn’t hear any of the normal hospital sounds “It’s about time you woke up, sleepyhead,” Jason said, poking his head through the door. “How you feeling?” “Okay, a little sore,” Brandon said. “Not really bad, though.” He pointed down towards the diaper. “Why do I have to wear that?” “Oh, that’s nothing,” Jason assured him. “Dr. Fisher just wanted a little extra protection for you in case you moved around and pulled out one of your stitches.” Jason came across the room and pulled the sheet down. "I’ll get that off of you now, if you’d like.” “So, it’s all over?” “Sure is, champ,” Jason said, undoing the tapes on the diaper. “And, everything went beautifully. Do you remember anything?” “A little, but not much,” the slave admitted. “I felt woozy and almost drunk.” “That was the sedative,” Jason explained. “Nothing to worry about.” “Cool – but it gave me really weird dreams, I dreamed Jere did the operation.” “No, he didn’t castrate you,” Jason laughed. “But, he did help a little.” “You’re kidding!” “He put the second band on you,” Jason said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out and gently stroked Brandon’s smooth head and face. “You remember how you were worried about him? Well, he wasn’t thinking about being gelded himself. Seems he was a little bothered about being so eager to not only see the procedure, but wanting to help do it. The kid really likes you and he felt bad about being excited about something that you might be scared to death about.” “That’s really nice of him,” Brandon said. “But, I don’t know why he likes me so much, we hardly know each other.” “Sometimes you don’t have to know someone a long time to get to know them.” Jason explained. “You did something nice for him when you didn’t have to and that told him a whole lot about you.” “What did I do?” Brandon asked, racking his brain for something special he had done. “Remember you got to decide what happened with his hair,” Jason reminded the slave. “You could have cut his bangs off and then his head would have been shaved like yours. But, you didn’t do that.” “That wasn’t anything special,” Brandon protested. “It was to him,” Jason said, kindly. “Face it, little dude, at heart you are just a sweetie.” Jason laughed at the expression of confusion on Brandon’s face, then began changing the bandages between the slave’s legs. “Pretty good – just a little post-op bleeding.” Brandon glanced down between his legs – there wasn’t much he could see from his position. But, he still found it a little strange to see his penis with nothing just behind it. Jason worked quickly, putting a new bandage in place before disappearing into a little bathroom and washing up. He returned carrying what looked like a white dress. “That’s not for me, is it?” Brandon asked, an edge of panic in his voice. “Relax, dude – it’s a tunic like the Greeks wore in ancient times,” Jason laughed. He helped Brandon sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the hospital bed and stand up. “Now, put this on or you’re going to miss your party.” “Party?” “Yeah,” Jason said, helping the slave into the tunic and adjusting the single shoulder strap. He stepped back and eyed the slave critically. “Man, I’ve gotta admit that looks pretty good on you.” Looking down, Brandon wasn’t so sure – it still looked like a short dress to him. “Now, let’s see you walk across the room.” Brandon shrugged. He felt pretty good standing up, he figured walking wouldn’t be too hard if he didn’t go too fast. He quickly found out how wrong he was. Just a couple of steps caused waves of pain to radiate from his groin. Jason was at his side in an instant, sweeping the diminutive slave into his arms like he was a rag doll. “No problem, I’ll just carry you out to the pool.” Jason ignored Brandon’s protests and effortlessly carried the small slave through the basement rooms, up the stairs and out to the patio poolside. All the boys from the other night were present again and they cheered Brandon’s appearance. A long cloth-covered table had place settings for every person present. Several other tables were laden buffet style with food, and Don was standing between two huge smoking grills. Jason carried Brandon to a wide, high-backed rattan chair at the middle of the dining table that had been prepared for him with soft cushions. Flaming braziers were scattered around the pool giving off light. Don took the chair to Brandon’s right and leaned over to kiss his slave. “You were perfect,” Don whispered, nuzzling Brandon’s ear. “You made me so proud of you – even the doc was impressed with how well you took everything.” Looking around the patio and pool, Don waved his arm. “This is your night – we’ve got steaks, polish sausages, hamburgers, shrimp kabobs, and that’s just for starters.” “Why?” Brandon was dumbfounded by the festivities. “To mark the day you officially gave yourself totally over to me,” Don said. “It’s a pretty important passage in both our lives and should be celebrated.” He fingered the soft cotton tunic. “You know, you look pretty good in this tunic – maybe I should get some more of them and make this your regular house uniform. It gives you that classical slave look.” Before Brandon could make any comments about the garb, Don kissed the top of his bald head and made his way back to the grills and began covering them with food. Before long, the air was perfumed with the various odors of meats and seafoods slowly grilling. Jere appeared by the slave’s side, proudly announcing that he had been able to assist in Brandon’s gelding. He shyly asked if Brandon would be willing to tutor him through summer school when he returned in a couple of weeks, explaining that if he wanted to become a vet or even a veterinary assistant he would need to improve his grades and attendance. Brandon was more than happy to agree to tutor the teen. One-by-one, all of the boys found their way to sit next to the new eunuch and offer their awed admiration for what he had done. A couple, like Carlos and Jere’s brother Jimmy, seemed nervous while they chatted with Brandon. He could understand why Carlos was nervous – he was secretly sure Don wasn’t entirely joking about having the Latino gelded if he continued to sell himself. Then, the food came – and kept coming. Brandon couldn’t believe the amounts of food brought to him. Don served him a platter with an assortment of things from the grill – he had a small serving of steak, a couple pieces of sausage, three different kinds of kabobs, and a cheeseburger. Jason appeared with another plate bearing spoonfuls of cole slaw, three different kinds of potato salad, a cucumber and tomato salad, and some fresh fruit cubes. Brandon had never seen so much food in his life and wasn’t sure he would be able to eat it all, even though the portions were small. He eventually managed to clean his plates and felt as if he wouldn’t need to eat for another month when Don called for the main table to be cleared for the special dessert. Brandon groaned – he’d never be able to eat more food. The boys moved quickly to get the plastic dishes and utensils cleared from the table and neatly packed away in trash bins. Don stood behind his slave and placed his hands over Brandon’s eyes. Brandon could hear the other boys gasping in surprise as the dessert was brought out. When Don uncovered Brandon’s eyes, he joined in the chorus of amazed gasps. Sitting directly in front of him was the largest cake he had ever seen – it had to be four feet long. That alone would have been amazing – but it was the shape of the cake that caused all the gasps. The cake was shaped like a naked human body with legs spread wide apart and anatomically correct. The penis, fashioned out of icing, jutted straight up from the groin of the cake figure just above a rather large ball sac. The cake was covered in a creamy sour cream icing. The gasps of amazement gave way to raucous laughter all around the table, with Brandon laughing the loudest. Don handed him a knife, saying that the honor of the first cut belonged to the guest of honor. Holding the knife in his hand, Brandon looked around the table and an impish grin spread across his face. “I think there’s someone else here who needs the practice making the cut,” Brandon announced, holding the knife out to Jere sitting across the table. His announcement was greeted with cheers while Jere’s face burned a bright crimson. Grinning foolishly, Jere took the proffered knife and critically examined the anatomically correct cake. “Remember, Brandon should get the first slice,” Jason called. “Cool,” Jere muttered still staring down at the cake. Then, his eyes brightened and he carefully drew the knife along the top of the scrotum, cleanly slicing it away from the remainder of the cake. “I think you’ve got competition nipping at your heels, doc,” Don laughed. “I’ve gotta admit, that’s one of the nicest cuts I’ve seen made in a long time,” Dr. Fisher joked back. Jere retained the honors of slicing up the cake and serving the slices to the others. At one point, Dr. Fisher brought Brandon a tall glass of iced tea and insisted the slave take the two pills he offered. The party lasted long into the night and Brandon found himself stifling yawns long before anyone showed any inclination to leave. Eventually Jason lifted the slave boy from his chair and carried him upstairs to the master bedroom. He insisted on undressing the young man and covering him with the sheet before reclining on the bed with him. Brandon tried to fight the sleep, but found it hard to do as Jason gently stroked his smooth chest. It wasn’t long before his eyes sagged closed. When he woke the next morning, Brandon’s groin throbbed with an incessant, but dull pain. Both Don and Jason had already gotten up and left the room. For a moment, Brandon thought about calling out to one of them, but decided he should start doing things on his own and not get too used to being waited on. Trying to sit up turned the dull throbbing into sharp, stabbing pains that brought tears to his eyes. Brandon carefully rolled over to the edge of the bed and delicately shifted around until he could get his feet on the floor. It took him several minutes to gingerly rise to a standing position. Panting with the exertion, he turned and took his first tentative step towards the bathroom. Each step brought fresh waves of pain through his groin. Gritting his teeth, Brandon finally made it to the bathroom where he faced the challenge of sitting down to relieve himself. He was still sitting there, bathed in sweat when Jason found him. The bigger college student scolded Brandon for not calling for assistance as he scooped the slave into his strong arms and carried him back into the bedroom where he gently placed the slave on the bed. Jason disappeared into the bathroom and returned minutes later with a damp washcloth. He continued his scolding, threatening Don’s anger if Brandon pulled out any of the stitches, as he gave the slave a sponge bath. Pausing, Jason was shocked to see the look of fright in Brandon’s tear-brimmed eyes – the little guy really thought he had been serious. He quickly hugged the bald head to his chest, caressing it as he explained he hadn’t really been angry, just concerned for Brandon’s well-being. Jason had the small slave spread his legs wide so the dressings on his incision could be changed. Happily, Brandon’s exertions hadn’t opened any of the stitches, but the incision was an angry-looking red line extending from under the base of his penis towards his anus. Jason guessed the incision was about two and a half inches long. Jason gently cleaned the wound and applied fresh antibiotic ointment before applying new surgical sponge dressings. As he finished, he carefully explained that Brandon should expect to be stiff and sore for the next couple of days. He made the slave promise to ask for help rather than risk causing himself harm. Finishing the sponge bath, Jason helped Brandon slip into the tunic he had worn the night before and carried the boy downstairs where he fixed a special light breakfast for him. As Jason sliced fresh bananas, strawberries, and pineapple for Brandon, he explained that Don had left the estate to run a few errands, but would be back by early afternoon. He waited for Brandon to finish eating before making the slave take his pain killers, insisting the boy drink all of the water in the glass provided to wash the pills down. Once breakfast was cleared away, Jason carried Brandon into Don’s office and sat the slave in front of a computer, telling the college boy that he could make himself useful by cataloguing the new DVD movies Don had recently purchased. He left the room, returning minutes later with a stack of about twenty movies. Exploring the programs on Don’s computer, Brandon was able to find the existing listing of movies someone had entered – there had to be almost three hundred titles listed. He shook his head in wonder – there was no order to the list. It was just a hodge-podge of titles. He decided he’d fix that and quickly created a table in Microsoft Word with columns for title, director, star, release date, and type of movie. He worked quickly creating order out of chaos. Before he was finished, he found Don had duplicate titles of several movies. The table could be sorted alphabetically by any one of the category headings easily – it could even be sorted through multiple column headings, so Don could see at a glance what he already owned and avoid buying duplicates. Brandon was just finishing getting the DVD list in order when Don entered the office. The slave shyly showed him the changes he made. Impressed, Don stroked his slave’s stubbly head, praising him for his efficiency and initiative. He also gently scolded the young man for trying to be brave and not asking for help when he so obviously needed it. Glancing at his watch, Don announced it was time for Brandon to take his pain pills again. He scooped Brandon up and carried him into the sun room near the kitchen. Jason had the pills ready and another huge glass of water. Brandon dutifully swallowed the pills and downed the entire glass of water without being told to do so. After dinner, Don presented Brandon with two more white tunics and a pair of sandals that had leather laces that reached halfway up Brandon’s calf. He explained he had bought the two tunics from a costume supply house and had paid for them to make seven more of much better quality. He didn’t need to explain that from now on, the tunic and sandals were Brandon’s required daily uniform. The following days followed pretty much the same routine – Jason giving the slave a sponge bath while his incision healed, and keeping Brandon off his feet as much as possible at first. After a few days, Jason grudgingly permitted the slave to take short walks from one side of the room to the other, carefully watching for any signs of pain that might show on Brandon’s face. After the third day of not being shaved, Brandon tentatively mentioned the fact that his hair was growing in pretty fast – already his head was covered in a soft, golden fuzz. Jason laughed and told the boy not to worry, he’d be slick bald again soon enough. The days passed and Brandon found it possible to move with less and less pain. Jason seemed satisfied each time he changed the bandages that the incision was healing nicely. The redness had almost entirely disappeared. To keep Brandon occupied, Don had insisted the slave immediately begin tutoring Jere every day after school, telling the college student to concentrate first on math and reading skills. Jere dutifully showed up each day right after school let out, a backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. For three hours every afternoon, Brandon worked with the teen adding his own homework assignments to the ones the lad's teachers had already assigned. Jere would occasionally grumble, but he returned every day with the assignments completed and ready for more. Dr. Fisher returned on Saturday morning to check on how Brandon was healing and to remove the stitches. He was pleased with the way the incision looked, praising both Jason and the slave for taking good care of the wound. He watched as Brandon got dressed and commented to Don how good the slave looked in the ancient Greek style skirted tunic and sandals. “You know, cover his head in curls and he’d look like he had just stepped off a Grecian urn,” Fisher joked. “It’s a thought,” Don mused, watching the young man finish lacing up his sandals. Once Dr. Fisher pronounced him fit to return to normal activities, Brandon fully expected to have his head and body lathered and scraped clean as soon as he had his next shower. The next morning, he happily sank to his knees in the shower with Jason and began sucking the older college student’s large dick. He had to force himself to take his time – neither Don nor Jason had permitted him to have sex with them while he was healing and he had missed servicing them. He was eager to please them and himself at the same time. He was gladly working Jason’s cock with his mouth when he felt a cold liquid being poured over his head. Closing his eyes, he resigned himself to leaving the shower bald as a cue ball again. Instead, the liquid turned out to be shampoo which Jason quickly worked into a lather as he massaged it into the thick pelt of fuzz covering the slave’s head. Stepping from the shower, Brandon still had a covering of fuzz on his head. Over the course of his last week of break, Jason began showing Brandon his normal household duties during the mornings, before Jere showed up for his tutoring each afternoon. Brandon discovered it would be his responsibility to phone grocery orders to be delivered to the estate and make sure everything was delivered. He leaned when the lawn care company was due to arrive each week, and how much they were to be paid at the end of the month. Of course, he was initially embarrassed to be seen in his tunic, but none of the tradespeople made any comments, and he began to get used to having strangers see him in his unusual garb. The day before he was scheduled to return to the university, Don surprised him while he was tutoring Jere. Don sat quietly off to one side of the patio during the lesson, listening intently as Brandon drilled the teen on his math assignment. “How’s he been doing?” Don asked when Brandon finally called a halt to the tutoring session. “Pretty good,” Brandon said honestly. “I’ve started him on basic algebra and he’s beginning to pick up the fundamentals. In fact, he just got back a quiz from school today. He got six out of ten right.” The slave dug out the quiz paper and passed it over to Don. “That doesn’t seem too good to me,” Don said dryly, examining the paper. “Normally, I’d have to agree,” Brandon said. “But, considering that a week ago he would have left every question blank – that is a significant improvement. You see on this quiz he made an attempt to answer every question – and the last two questions were on things we haven’t covered yet.” “I stand corrected,” Don said, approvingly. “Looks like you’ve done a good job.” “Actually,” Brandon said, “it’s Jere who deserves the credit. He’s really applied himself – even when he clearly didn’t want to.” “Good job, Jere,” Don said. “Tell me something, what is your present grade in the class as of now?” “Well,” Jere squirmed, ashamed to answer. “Well, it’s probably still an ‘F.’” “I see,” Don said. “That’s because you didn’t apply yourself earlier in the school year – when you bothered to attend classes.” “If I do good on the next tests and the final test, I might be able to get a ‘C’ in the class,” Jere said hopefully. “But, Brandon’s leaving tomorrow and I won’t have anyone to tutor me.” “That won’t be an excuse for slacking off,” Don said firmly. “Brandon will only be gone for four weeks – and in the meantime, he can continue tutoring you online everyday. We’ll work out a schedule once he gets back to the university.” He stared hard at the teen. “Are you sure you can pull a ‘C’ in this class if you work hard?” “I’m pretty sure,” Jere said, his voice lacking total conviction. “Brandon, what do you think?” Don asked. “Is a ‘C’ really within the realm of possibility for Jere?" “I think so,” the slave said confidently. “That is, if he keeps up his present level of effort. In fact, I think numerically, he’ll be in the high end of the ‘C’ range. It’s too late to get into the “B’ range, but he’ll be close.” “Okay,” Don mused. He sat quietly regarding the nervous teen. “Here’s the deal – you get a grade of ‘C’ and I’ll arrange for Dr. Fisher to find a paid part-time summer job for you.” Jere’s face brightened, but Don held up a hand to prevent the teen from saying anything until he was finished speaking. “That’s the carrot. Now for the stick – if you make anything less than a solid ‘C’ you’ll get to see how it feels to have your head shaved bald, and it will stay that way all summer and into the school year until you earn that solid ‘C’ grade. Do you understand?” “Yes, sir,” Jere’s voice was a frightened squeak. “That means if you get a grade of ‘C’ minus or lower, you will be shaved bald in front of everyone,” Don said firmly. “No excuses – I don’t care if you manage to fall and break both arms.” “I understand,” Jere said, swallowing hard. “I can do it.” “Good boy,” Don smiled. “I think you will, too.” Don stood, and indicated the two boys should follow him. He led them down into the basement, past the entertainment room into the playroom section of the basement. Brandon found himself in a tiled room he hadn’t been in before – it looked almost like a locker room with several shower stalls along the far wall, and several wooden benches in the middle of the room. “You can fold your tunic and put it on one of the benches, along with your sandals, Brandon.” The young slave didn’t hesitate and quickly stripped and had his uniform neatly folded on the bench in a matter of minutes. Jere stared in open fascination at the gelded slave – this was the first time he had seen Brandon naked since the operation. It was thrilling, and a little strange, to see another naked male with only a penis between his legs and nothing at all hanging beneath. He felt his cock harden and strain against his shorts. “Starting to get a little fuzz on your chin and cheeks,” Don said, caressing Brandon’s face. He moved his hand to the soft, golden pelt of hair covering the slave’s head. “And, I bet you think I forgot about this mane you’re starting to grow. It’s time to get you cleaned up again before you leave here.” Brandon just bowed his head, while Don went over to a glass fronted cabinet. He returned with some rubber gloves and a large white jar. He held the items out to Jere. “This is EpilStop hair remover, I want you to apply this to Brandon – you’d better put these gloves on first, though.” Handing the things over, Don went to the door. “Follow the directions and then shower off. I’ll be back to see how good a job you do.” Jere watched the door close behind Don. Instead of going right to work, he couldn’t resist running his hands over the slave’s head. He was amazed at how soft the blonde fuzz was – it felt like velour under his hands. Standing there rubbing Brandon’s head, Jere was reminded of how much taller he was. He was at least six inches taller than the slave, even though he was several years older. “Your hair is so soft,” Jere whispered. “I love the way it feels. You know, if it was up to me, I’d wouldn’t be doing this.” “It’s okay,” Brandon said, softly. “It’s what Don wants.” Jere guided Brandon over to the first bench and had his sit down. He quickly pulled the latex gloves on and read the instructions on the jar of depilatory. He decided he should start with the slave’s head, so he took a generous dollop of the crème and began to coat Brandon’s hair with it. He worked the depilatory in well, making sure Brandon’s whole head was liberally coated. He worked the lotion all over Brandon’s cheeks, chin, and upper lip before making the slave stand and raise his arms. Jere took his time applying the white crème to every inch of skin on the slave. When he was finished, only the bottoms of Brandon’s feet, his palms, and upper part of his face were free of the depilatory. “According to the instructions, we need to let the stuff work for about twenty minutes,” Jere said, consulting the jar. “How’s it feel?” “Okay,” Brandon shrugged. “It was cold at first, but now it feels like it’s heating up – kind of tingles.” Jere consulted his watch and the two young men waited for the time to pass – chatting occasionally, both unsure what to say to each other. When the time was almost up, Jere checked the cabinet for a washcloth and towel. He took the washcloth and wiped it over the top of Brandon’s head. The blonde fuzz just slid right off, leaving a patch of smooth skin in its place. He guided the slave into a shower stall and instructed Brandon to wash off. Stepping back, Jere watched the slave shower – he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Almost as soon as Brandon stepped under the spray from the nozzle, his hair just washed right off. Brandon rinsed the washcloth and carefully scrubbed himself from head to toe. When he finally turned off the water, he was as hairless as the day he was born. Jere handed Brandon a towel and got one for himself. He helped the slave dry off, marveling at how soft and smooth the college boy’s skin felt to the touch now. “That looks much, much better,” Don said entering the room again. “Jere, you did a good job there. There’s just once finishing touch he needs now.” Don went to the cabinet and removed a battery operated beard trimmer. Brandon’s stomach churned – he didn’t have any hair left to shave off other than his eyebrows. As Don approached, he flicked the trimmer on and Brandon closed his eyes, trying not to embarrass himself. The buzzing filled the room, echoing off the tile walls. Don touched the humming blades to his slave’s right eyebrow and erased it in seconds. He did the same with the left one, leaving the slave totally hairless for the first time in his life. After dinner, Brandon was sitting on the patio by the pool tracing where his eyebrows had been with his fingertips. Don bought him a mug of coffee and sat next to him. “Pretty humiliating, isn’t it?” Don asked. “I guess it will be tomorrow when I go out in public for the first time,” Brandon admitted. “But, I think that’s the reason you did it.” “I had a couple of reasons, and humiliation was one” Don admitted. “If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll probably figure out the other reason before too long.” “So this is like another test?” “A little one, maybe,” Don mused. “We’ll see. Are you pissed with me?” “No!” Brandon almost shouted. “It’s want you wanted – that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” Brandon fell silent for a few minutes, but his face showed that his mind was racing furiously. “There is something I don’t understand,” he finally blurted out. “What’s that?” “Well, granted my experience is real limited,” Brandon began. “But, all the stuff I read in magazines and online about how masters treat their slaves – you’re – well, you’re different from them. They all talk about locking leather or metal collars on their slaves, making them sleep on the floor, beating them and stuff.” “Would you rather I beat you?” Don asked in amusement. “No, I don’t want that,” Brandon assured him. “It’s just you treat me better than all the stuff I’ve read. You treat me with respect.” “Look, you little knucklehead,” Don said affectionately. “It takes a lot of guts for someone to give themselves to someone else’s ownership. It’s a serious commitment – and anyone able to make that kind of commitment deserves respect. That’s one reason.” Don reached out and stroked his slave’s smooth head. “You are going to experience things that are designed to humiliate you – those missing eyebrows are just one example.” “But, I think I understand the reason for things like that,” Brandon interrupted. “It’s like a reminder that because you own me, you can do things like that – you can let me have something or take it away.” “There’s more to it than that, but you’ve got a pretty good start there,” Don said, nodding his head. “Wait, wait – there’s more,” Brandon said, excitement growing in his voice. “I’ve been sitting here thinking – at first, I was feeling kind of sorry for myself – wondering if people in the airport would stare and laugh at me, and what the people at school will say. And, then I realized it didn’t really matter what the hell they think, because they don’t matter. But, pleasing you does matter. So they might laugh at me – but you didn’t. And, you could have. You could have shaved off my eyebrows and laughed in my face, instead you’ve still treated me with respect. I can’t say I still won’t blush beet red if, or when, people laugh, but it won’t matter all that much, either.” “What did I tell you, Jason,” Don called to where Jason had been lurking in the shadows. “Didn’t I tell you this kid was pretty swift?” “I think he’s a treasure,” Jason said, coming out of the shadows. “Jason was worried about what you were brooding on out here,” Don said, making the older college student blush. “I think he loves you almost as much as I do.” Brandon glanced over in Jason’s direction and found the young man grinning sheepishly. “I know he hates the idea of you going back to finish the semester and leaving here.” “Maybe I could stay here and send a letter saying I was dropping out,” Brandon suggested. “Not an option,” Don said. “You do that and it will mean getting transferred to a university here will be even harder and you’ll lose at least one semester – maybe even the whole year.” He shook his head. “Look, I don’t want you to leave, either – but, it’s the best thing to do right now. It’s only four weeks. You’ll be back where you belong before you know it.” Don rose and kissed Brandon on the top of his bald head before disappearing back into the house. Brandon stayed on the patio, staring out past the pool towards the rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean feeling comfortable and at peace with himself for the first time in his life. For as long as he could remember, he had felt like an outsider. Don was right, he belonged here. To be continued ….
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