Benjamin Hanson

A Charitable Sacrifice

Chapter 12-21

Chapter Twelve

Sam was left to separate Blake and Asher, a challenge that proved to be much more difficult than he had planned for. Katherine had to change out of her work clothes and head to the store to buy the promised new pair of shoes. Fathers were good for many things, including the tone only their voice could hit, but it seemed futile weaponry when faced with the passion of unrelenting pre-adolescents. Blake was too new to his scholastic career to have homework, and Asher required a great deal more privacy and quiet to do it in than he had remembered needing before. Then again, Asher had been an only child in his prior life.

It was decided that Asher would be put in the home office each day to complete his take home assignments, and Blake was dragged, kicking and screaming, before the threat of not playing for a week calmed him down. Sam would play with Blake while Asher did his homework, and Asher vowed to be as quick about it as he could. He pulled out the books and worksheets and got to work as quickly as he could, and even though it was technically less work than the placement test he had taken, it seemed to take considerably longer.

Asher had to assume it was because the promise of playtime wasn't there before, and the principal had kept him company. Here alone in a room he hadn't explored before, his mind was allowed to wander and even if the present circumstances made concentration easier, it still wasn't easy. His hand seemed to reach out toward random objects before his mind convinced them otherwise, breaking up sentences and requiring him to regain his concentration every time his eyes returned to the page he was working on. When he wasn't reaching, his eyes were traveling over the bookcases, and saw the small plastic Bilbo hiding between a couple books; he giggled at the memory. By the time the short three assignments were done, an hour had passed. It shouldn't have taken so long, but such was the attention span of a seven-year-old.

He kept the work out so that it could be checked, as he was told to do, but noticed the folded piece of paper in the bowels of his backpack. A corner had managed to bend, but it was still intact. He extracted it, unfolded it carefully like some ancient manuscript, and let his eyes fall on the words. It was a permission slip for the fifth grade trip to Washington D.C., with an attached note that he could still be slipped in and payment accepted later since his place in the class wasn't guaranteed yet. It was an overnight trip, complete with a hotel stay, and the price seemed to be high even to Asher.

He had never had the opportunity to visit the capital before, but his mind wondered if it was such a good idea. Not only would it put Sam and Katherine out quite a bit of money, but he would be at the mercy of all those older kids for a much more extended period of time. It made him feel uncomfortable, but despite that it wasn't the discomfort that made him slip the paper into his pocket, it was the money. Asher hardly felt he was in a position to require so much, especially when Katherine was out buying him a new pair of shoes. Only the God he had forsaken knew what else they'd have to buy. This was at least one expense he could spare them, and his mind was glad to do it. His emotions would just have to get over the promise of excitement contained therein.

He leaped down from the chair and opened the door, calling for Uncle Samuel to check his homework. When he entered and sat, grabbing a pair of glasses and slipping them on his face, an awkward grin crept over Asher's. When had he ever needed glasses before? Sam was so old now, and he 3; well 3; wasn't. He knew he should probably feel bad about that, but somehow he wasn't able to. He was comfortable with this body now, even if a second childhood had its ups and downs. He wished he could give the same experience to Sam, but Sam's adulthood had proved to be much more inspiring than his own had been. He had to be happy, Asher imagined. Asher certainly would have been happy in Sam's shoes.

Sam had to correct a couple math problems, and said that he'd have to check with Katherine about where he had once confidently stated a comma should be, but Asher had rebutted that wasn't the case. He still looked tired when he removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

"You did well. You can go play now," he said in a non-committal tone.

Asher nearly ran out at the suggestion, but his conscience kept him glued to the carpet. He had made his apologies to Katherine, but he knew he should say something to Sam. He just wasn't entirely sure what it was.

"Are you okay?" he asked, making Sam look up as he chuckled.

"Just fine, a little tired though."

"Is it 3; because of me?"

The uncertain tone in Asher's voice made Sam's eyes look hazy. He had to take a minute to formulate a reply this time. Asher already had his answer, though, and it made him feel bad. He was causing his friend undue stress, and he didn't want to do that. Although he couldn't imagine where else to go.

"Maybe 3; I should have let you take me to the cops," Asher was the first to break the silence between them. Each word was hard to form, and threatened to bring tears to his eyes again. He was growing weary of how fragile his emotions were. Sam laughed softly, nowhere near full or even comforting, but it was something.

"Two years ago," he began, trying to figure out how to tell the story. The pencil that Asher had used was between his fingers now, twirling around in a manner not entirely unlike the one Asher had used that morning. "we were pregnant with a second kid. I'm assuming you know what that means."

Asher quietly nodded, all ears at this point.

"I'm not sure how much you know, but it takes about nine months for a baby to be ready. Sometimes they can come early and everything's alright, but we weren't that lucky. Katherine had the baby when she was only six months pregnant, and it proved to be too early for him. He died, and it hurt a lot. We survived it, and we vowed that we'd always keep Blake close and he would be our only child. We weren't going to try to have anymore babies."

Asher wanted to console Sam, but he knew that he wouldn't be telling him this if that was what he was looking for. Adults didn't look to children for consolation, and they only told stories that a child wasn't usually privy to in order to impart a lesson.

"Blake really didn't understand it that much. Eventually he put two and two together, and he decided at some point that he did want a brother or sister. He used to pray for it, actually, and I think after awhile he gave up. We tried to explain that that was never going to happen, but trying to get Blake to understand that was hard. I'm sure that you probably can't even imagine why we decided not to try again." He laughed, scratching the back of his head.

"I think I do," Asher said in a rather serious tone. He did, he very much did, and he couldn't imagine how painful that had been. Blake's hopes would have been a constant reminder of their lost child, and they didn't want to face the possibility of losing another. Parents shouldn't have to bury their children.

"It took a lot for me to convince Katherine to let you stay, and I hate lying to her. It was really exhausting, and she had a million questions that I had to come up with answers for. I don't really know what you came from, but in Katherine's eyes, at least, it was a bad situation. I hate to put that on your shoulders, but I imagine your life before couldn't have been too good if you were hitchhiking and trying to get to me."

Asher quietly nodded. It was true, so to speak. It wasn't the same bad life that Sam had created from more lies to cover others, but it was a bad life nonetheless. A bad life that he had traded away at a considerable expense.

"Blake really likes you a lot, and I'm sure you can tell that. He's very fond of you, and last night when Katherine and I went to bed she told me that she thought that, well, maybe you were the answer to Blake's prayers."

Asher lost it at that point, crocodile tears running down his reddened face. How could that even be close to possible? He had sold his soul. He was of no use to God now, and he certainly wasn't worthy of Blake's affection, or anyone's. Sam had been startled by it, and brought Asher into an uncertain hug. He didn't have the natural affection that Katherine did, but he knew that he ought to hug a crying child.

"Why are you crying?" Sam asked, trying to be supportive. His hand seemed to have a hard time rubbing Asher's back, and Asher was having a hard time replying.

"I-I'm not g-good enough for that. I-I'm a bad person," Asher managed, sniffling and trying to calm down. He didn't seem able to.

"Come on Asher, you're not a bad person. You said you were sorry for yesterday already, and you're a great friend for Blake." Sam smiled, trying to be reassuring.

"B-but God hates me," was Asher's forced and squeaky reply. He was looking up into Sam's eyes now, hoping that he could see the depravity reflected inside. Sam didn't see it though, he saw what was there. He saw a little boy's eyes full of tears.

"No Asher, God doesn't hate you. Everything happens for a reason, and your being here 3; there's a reason for that. I think I agree with Katherine about that."

Asher sniffled as Sam's hands rose, wiping away the tears and trying to stop them. "E-even if 3; e-even if I did something really bad? Something super bad?"

"Yes, even then." Sam smiled, running his thumb along Asher's jaw line. "Even then," the echo was a whisper, and his face lowered.

Asher closed his eyes to try to make the tears stop and to accept what he assumed would be a kiss on his forehead. When Sam's lips pressed against his, much larger and more supple, his body froze. He felt the lower lip rise against his, and the warmth of Sam's breath cascading over his face. The kiss lingered far too long, much longer than was acceptable, and the gentle movements of his lips told a story of something much more passionate than a quick peck. Asher's hands rose and trembled, resting against the older man's chest, and it was enough to snap Sam away. His face backed up as his vision cast over the doorway, and he stood as quickly as he could without disturbing Asher.

"I need to 3; There are things I have to do," he said with a distracted tone. Asher wanted to say something, to ask why he had done it, but he didn't have the opportunity. He watched Sam march out of the office, and he felt how alone he was again. His hand quietly rose as his fingers rested against his lips. He hadn't even kissed Blake yet, not that he had any plans to. Sam, his once college friend, his now supposed father figure, had stolen his first kiss. Had he ever done this to Blake? Was it a weak moment? Was Sam a, dare he think it, pedophile? He wasn't really sure of anything anymore.

He stayed still for a moment, staring at the same doorway that Sam had, but his mind didn't know what it should think about. He somehow couldn't process Sam as being a bad person, and he also didn't want to ask anything about the kiss now. It would be a new secret, one that Asher would keep inside for the rest of his life. Sam's piety had slipped in an instant, but it wasn't to the same level that Asher had fallen. He had committed a great sin, but so had Asher. He was now torn between whether his being there was the work of the devil or of God. In either scenario, it seemed far too strange to be coincidental now.

But there was no time to let the thoughts rise back up in his mind, for another soliloquy to fill his astonished adult space kept in the tiny frame of his body. Blake was waiting, and he was a welcome escape into childhood. He sought solace in Blake's imagination as his feet padded against the carpet and he made his way out into the hallway with a renewed exuberance.

"Blake!" He shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

Chapter Thirteen

Sam held the glass with tense fingers, swirling the soapy water inside. The milk ring on the bottom was giving way to the warmth of the water and the detergent that aided it. It was the something he had to do, and even if it was just one dish that was enough. No one had to know it wasn't more than that. The sound of the running tap was insufficient to drown out the voice of his son and his newly christened nephew, but when the french doors opened and shut, announcing their departure into the yard, he sighed with relief and allowed the faucet to stop. He was now alone, and being alone was precisely what he needed. Yesterday morning had been the beginning of an exhausting journey, although Sam wasn't entirely sure that yesterday was to blame.

When he met Katherine in college, he knew at once that she must be the one. She had grandiose ambitions, but was still fun and vivacious. She wasn't the kind that he typically pursued, those were usually girls with dark hair and tanned skin, weak wills that were easily pliable beneath pleasing words that came so easily from his lips. He treated each with momentary courtesy, but never promised permanence. He saw them as he saw most girls, a temporary object in the corner of his mind, a prize to be procured and then thrown beneath the sheets of his memories. He never imagined himself as getting married, settling down, and having a family. Those were foreign concepts, and not nearly as exciting as the pursuit of sex.

So when it was Katherine that made herself known, and her will shone as well formed iron, he had found a woman he could respect. But it was that respect that made him test her, and his tests that made her recede. Consolatory tactics and compliments weren't enough to win her, not even a single hand job. She had a variety of options, but she considered each one from afar without tarnishing her spirit for the sake a moment's pleasure. Sex wasn't important to Katherine, but it had been to Sam. In fact, sex was still important to Sam.

Sam found himself reworking his entire strategy when it came to Katherine. Romantic gestures weren't enough, he had to prove himself willing and able to run the long game. The challenge of it was exciting, and eventually that challenge turned into love. He hadn't even realized it was love when, three months after the cat and mouse game, she relented to a date. Even after that date she hadn't given it up, even though he had researched everything about her; Katherine's favorite food, music, locales, books, and even more permanent things like her hopes, desires, plans, and friends. He had assumed that turning him down after the first date was an absolute rejection, but the email that came the next morning said otherwise. It was mixed praise and admonishment, a few sentences that spoke toward appreciation for what he had done, and the rejection of his carnal pursuits. But she wanted to see him again, and he realized it then. It was love.

Word had traveled that the once proud stallion had been tamed by the red haired queen. One date turned to four, and by the fourth they were an item. Katherine finally allowed kisses and hand holding, but nothing beyond that. She had to ensure that Sam was the real deal, and Sam would do anything to prove that he was. He now could see a future with Katherine, and it was his aim, his new ambition. Unfortunately for Sam, his loins were slaves to his prior life. The word that had traveled was a challenge to less serious girls, ones who enjoyed a different game than Sam had before. They knew his motivations and wanted to break them. First it was a girl named Macy, not Tracy or Stacy as Asher had supposed but contained the familiar ring enough to make Sam realize he wasn't full of shit, that took advantage of his desires.

She was a blonde, but had the tan skin he craved. She came like a thief in the night outside of his dorm, crying in earnest because her boyfriend had hurt her. Consolations turned to fondling, and fondling turned into sex. The next morning he felt guilty, and bought Katherine a bouquet of roses which she took with amusement and chagrin. He vowed that it'd never happen again, but it did. It was his final adventure, and one that he still regretted deeply. Her name was Abigail and she was a tiny freshman. He had been a junior at this point, but whatever year the girl belonged to in college had never mattered. He remembered her being his type, but not much beyond that in terms of her appearance, save for one tiny detail. She had light green eyes that, when they looked up into his, made his heart skip a beat.

His roommate in college was boring for the most part, more focused on getting his degree than having any fun. Nonetheless he had formed a friendship with the guy, and had been roommates with him since their sophomore year. Stanley was his name, and he was as plain as the name supposed. When he walked in their dorm at the height of his ejaculation, Abigail moaning beneath him, it was her eyes that Stanley's locked on. He had turned and left out of respect, and it was enough for Sam to break off the relationship and vow that he'd never stare into those eyes again. He made Stanley take a vow a secrecy that he didn't want to take, one that went against his refined code of ethics, but he relented. Sam promised he'd make it up to him somehow. It was his second and final transgression, the last time he'd ever be unfaithful to Katherine. He devoted himself to her from that day forward, and after a short engagement at the end of senior year they were married after they both procured jobs.

The house was their first investment, and the renovations had proved to be more enjoyable than he imagined. Katherine had an appetite for sex at last, one that wasn't easily satiated. In between wainscoting installations and cabinet refurbishments, they found themselves on the dingy floor of what would one day be their bedroom. Those exciting moments made time pass quickly in their minds, but the renovation had taken longer than it should. It was alright though, since they had done it themselves they had saved a considerable sum. A sum that would be more appreciated than they knew when the surprise of Blake came along.

Nurseries, it turned out, were expensive. So were diapers, formula, and everything else. Katherine had been an unexpectedly wonderful mother, and while she didn't like the fact that Blake shared her red hair and freckles, she never showed it. It was around the time Blake was nearing four that Katherine decided to bridge the subject of a second child, and getting pregnant had proven much easier than either had expected. Blake's arrival was quiet, only telling close relatives and close friends when he was a few months away from being delivered. With this baby though, they pulled out all the stocks. They announced it to the world, and even had a baby shower planned.

When tragedy struck and their tiny premature boy died, Stanley was his name given at the last minute in apology to his former roommate, a choice that Katherine never questioned, sex stopped completely. At first it was alright because Sam had found himself as heartbroken as Katherine about it, and when Blake began to pray that he could have a little brother or sister all of those emotions flooded back. He merely chuckled or changed the conversation when Blake brought it up, and it wasn't until a few months ago, when the trauma had dissipated, that he joined his son in prayer. Blake's intentions were pure, but Sam's weren't. Sam wanted the vivacious woman back that he once had sex with in every corner of the house, and while he thought in that moment that his prayers wouldn't be answered, he had to at least ask. Making children required the activities he craved, and his cravings were becoming too powerful.

He found himself masturbating two, three, sometimes four times a day. He pressed his wife's used panties to his face with hopes the smell would turn into the physical form of her splayed out before him. It never came to fruition though, and he had to deal with that. He had vowed to never cheat on her again, after all. He had tried everything to calm himself, even walks in the woods alone. He talked to himself, to the air. He even had conversations he'd never repeat. He even took to camping and found himself in long forgotten meadows without much company.

Then when Asher showed up, and Katherine said that she thought that, perhaps, the young boy had been Blake's answer to prayer, Sam felt hope rise inside him. He bridged the topic as carefully as he could, wrapping his arm around her, and all she said was that she'd think about it. She implied that sex was a possibility again, but didn't give into temptation so quickly. She was waiting, patiently, and that had always been her virtue. Even though she had a temper that could match the best of them, if she truly wanted something she could make the hours that ticked by seem like nothing. Sam wasn't so fortunate. Patience was definitely not his virtue, and it had gotten him into trouble more times than he could count.

When he looked down into Asher's green eyes earlier, full of tears and looking so fragile, a million memories of college floated back to him. He knew it was his chance to be paternal, to ensure that Katherine was happy and that he'd have her back again, but something about how pliable the boy was in that moment made him hunger. It made the stallion return for a moment, and as he kissed Asher he knew that he couldn't stop himself. He knew that he was going to do terrible things that he'd regret, all because of those eyes. Asher felt bad for knowing his secrets, so surely he wanted to make recompense. But Asher's hands had risen, and shaken him away from making an incredible mistake. He had to escape, and escape he did. He would deal with the consequences later, but somehow innately felt that Asher wouldn't tell. He was, after all, a child prodigy.

"Why did I make this deal?" Sam asked aloud, a single tear passing down his left cheek.

Chapter Fourteen

As the boys escaped into the backyard, four feet flying in equal measure and never seeming to touch the ground, Asher was glad that his mind was allowed to clear. His imagination was released once more, and it bubbled over with ideas of visiting the moon, or some more far off destination in space. Blake's hand was warm and comforting, and it led him to parts of the yard he had never been to before. It wasn't that Asher particularly minded, he assumed that Blake had secret places he liked to play, but he was curious about it nonetheless.

Asher thought momentarily of asking where they were going, but didn't want to ruin any surprise that Blake may or may not be planning. He could see the storage shed in the distance, which actually appeared to have weathered Blake's presence with much more nobility than the house had. Beyond the shed was the tall privacy fence that surrounded the rear of the property, and allowed Blake and Asher the freedom to play incessantly outside for hours at a time. Had it not been so private, Asher mused, they would have had to be watched much more closely.

When Blake rounded the shed and stopped behind it, the sight of the house now not clearly visible, he was panting and giggling. His hands rested on his hips as his body turned to face Asher, and he leaned sideways when he had. Asher's eyes traveled down to the shorts Blake was now wearing, and realized that the younger boy was in different clothes now. They were likely meant specifically for after school activities, and Asher just knew that he'd be scolded for not changing after homework. Although, to be fair, Sam hadn't exactly told him to change.

"Do ya wanna play again?" Blake asked in an excited tone, eyes locked onto Asher's with a certain intensity.

Asher giggled, nodding. "I thought we were gonna do that anyway."

"Cool!" Blake chirped, hands finding it easy to insert themselves between the elastic band of his shorts and underwear, pressing them down to his ankles. His tiny two inch [5 cm] member hadn't been so clear the night before, and in the light of day it was that much more interesting to view. It bounced as Blake's body bounced, and the puckered foreskin was kept tightly around the sensitive head. It was already standing at attention, the memory enough to excite him, pointing toward Asher like a beacon pointed toward gulls over the sea. Blake's body and mind were as transitory as the ocean, after all.

Asher's own appendage began to swell at the promise, although this wasn't the game that he had anticipated. He had imagined a carefully kept treasure behind the shed, perhaps buried a few inches beneath the earth, but not the booty that stood in front of him. But pirates were inherently unethical, weaving tales and lies to attain what they wanted most. Blake looked like a pirate now, his hands triumphantly returned to his hips and that mischievous grin looking very much like it belonged beneath a tricorne. Blake had enjoyed the game as much as he had said, and apparently wanted to revisit it again in the privacy provided by the shed.

"Are you sure?" Asher asked, feeling flush against his mixture of excitement and guilt. He wondered why it was that he still had a conscience; it seemed like such a useless tool when his soul had been sold away. But Asher cared for Blake, and surely even the damned had to have some form of compassion inside them still.

"You don't wanna?" Blake asked in a disappointed voice, the volume of his tone normal for an adult but abnormally quiet for the six-year-old. It was something akin to the hushed tone he had used the night before, which had instilled any lingering memories from the prior night that hadn't already flooded back to Asher in the moments before.

"I d-didn't say that," Asher protested, and he hadn't. He had thought it, but to disappoint Blake was a sin that he couldn't stand to commit.

He thought about explaining things, but he wasn't sure what to explain. Would he explain that these games were a secret never to be shared? No, he somehow thought that Blake understood that despite no evidence to support that notion. Would he explain what it actually meant, and that this was all a side effect of his body's inherent need to procreate and continue his line? No, that was too complex, and what they had done was hardly for the sake of reproduction. Not only were they both boys, but the concept was too far out there. Asher was certain that Blake could probably make some of the connections, but surely not all of them. Blake was bright, and he would pick up on at least one logical fallacy. It would be enough to derail any attempted explanation.

Then the only two valid options occurred to Asher simultaneously. There was the option of doing what he had promised to himself when he made his deal. He could teach Blake in very simple words that this was a carnal pleasure, and that he ought to pursue it and anything else that he enjoyed to the fullest extent possible. Life was short, and without truly living it would be a failed existence. But Blake had, coincidentally, caused Asher to break his promise. His once grand epiphany had crumpled beneath the weight of several heavy elements. There was his conscience, still intact, and a much looser but still solid moral code. There was his desire to survive, which meant that he had to be as good of a child as he could be, but he wasn't doing it for the sake of survival, he was doing it because he wanted to. He liked both Sam and Katherine and wanted to obey them. He wanted their affection, perhaps not a repeat of the affection Sam had provided earlier, but affection nonetheless.

The most important element had been his realization that carnal pursuits weren't important anymore. Did masturbation feel good? Yes, it felt better than ever now and he couldn't deny that, but it wasn't why his life was so good. His life was good because of Sam and Katherine, but mostly because of Blake. He had never had a bond with someone this palpable, and no matter what they did together that was enough. That was what gave this life value. That was what living one's life meant. So what was the second option that had occurred to Asher alongside the idea of imparting what he had once foolishly considered wisdom? It was the option of saying nothing. This was a child's game, something that they shared. It didn't matter if it was an imitation of more adult pursuits, because they were both children. They were children that shared a bond which was the most important thing to Asher. He'd play this game because Blake wanted to and because he did as well, and Asher would play a million other games for the exact same reason. And as they grew the games would change, but he'd always be there.

"I have a betterer idea," Asher grinned, causing the distraught nature of Blake's expression to fall away. "But you gotta trust me, kay?" Blake nodded, still standing there exposed and standing at attention.

"Is it another game?" he asked innocently, and Asher giggled a little as he fell to his knees.

"Uh huh! But it feels nicer than the last one."

"But 3; the last game felt too good! Kinda 3;" Blake's voice trailed off in thought, wondering if that was the case or not. He didn't have a basis of comparison, after all.

"But this one won't make your arm hurt," Asher commented, only giving lift to the new game's appeal.

"Oh! Kay!" Blake grinned, he did like the idea of that. So far this game seemed to be full of merit.

As Asher drew closer, the smell of Blake and his perspiration permeating his senses, Blake's eyes watched intently. With Asher's face drawing so close to his appendage, his imagination took hold. His hips leaped backward as his hand made contact with Asher's head, causing the older boy to pause and look up with a curious gaze.

"Why're you so close to it like that?" Blake asked, he had to know the details of the game now.

"Cause I'm 3;" Asher paused for a moment as he contemplated how to form the words. "I'mma put your wiener in my mouth."

Blake had, as Asher had discovered before, some of the most animated expressions in the world. So when disgust crossed his face, it wasn't a difficult thing to read, or an easy thing not to laugh at.

"I pee from there!" Blake announced loudly as Asher laughed, it took him that long to realize why the idea had seemed strange. Asher had to admit that in that moment he paused in his assumptions that it was a good idea. The act had never appealed to him in his prior body, but he knew about it well enough. As a child his tastes had changed, and from the smell that passed from Asher's lowered skin the previous evening, he imagined it wouldn't exactly taste like flesh. The opinion that it would taste good combated the opinion that it wouldn't, but the idea that giving even more pleasure to Blake would be a good thing destroyed the argument quickly.

"It's okay, it's not like you're gonna pee in my mouth or somethin'," Asher said, making Blake's face calm a little.

"B-but 3; what if you bite it off?"

Asher giggled again, staring down at the faint imprint of dinosaurs on his underoos, the same he had seen the night before. "I won't. Promise!"

"Okay, if you says so," Blake sighed, trying to sound more mature now. Asher grinned as his face progressively moved forward again and his lips parted, allowing the foreskin and miniature prick to slip between them.

Everything was moving in slow motion as his lips locked, and he kept his jaw just separate enough to keep his teeth from touching it. His tongue pressed up against it, allowing his curiosity about the taste to be sated; it was vaguely salty, but not unpleasant. He could smell the dormant traces of urine and sweat, but it wasn't pungent. He started to move his mouth back and forth, but the reaction he received was very different from the one he expected. The younger boy giggled, and his hands accidentally pulled at Asher's hair. Asher winced a bit and stopped, opening his mouth as he pulled back.

"Th-that tickles!" Blake declared, causing Asher's mind to furiously wonder if he had done anything wrong. Was he supposed to suck harder? Had he missed some crucial element that he hadn't heard of in distant descriptions of the act in his prior life? Was it just the sensitivity of Blake's young flesh and the act too premature? He wasn't sure what it could be, until a thought occurred to him.

"Maybe I need to do this," Asher said, moving his hand up and negotiating the foreskin down the bluish head. For all intents and purposes, he had been sucking on flesh. Maybe it required contact with the sensitive head to feel good, where the nerves were more active and sensitive.

"I dun think this is gonna work," Blake started, staring down but not protesting. When the skin had lowered he didn't shiver this time; the head was still sensitive but the warm air was more forgiving. "I think the game before was betterer."

Asher bit his lower lip as he stared at the head. He could smell it again, even more so now that he was so close. The urine was more pungent here, which made sense, but the slight traces of last night's bath did little to mask the almost dirty smell that accompanied it. He imagined this taste would be quite different, and he almost relented to the younger boy's suggestion. But now it had become a challenge to see if this would improve the feeling, and to answer the myriad of questions he had about why it had tickled.

"I'mma try one more time," Asher said, causing Blake to giggle and shrug.

"Kay," he replied simply. Asher decided he liked it when he said that word. It seemed to be Blake's token phrase.

Asher was slower this time, both because of his fear and curiosity. He didn't want this to be a failed attempt, but he was prepared to accept that as a possible outcome. His mouth spread open farther than before, and when his pink lips made contact with the pubis from above, and the tiny kept sack below, he took a couple seconds to steady himself before he bridged the gap. His lips sealed around the now exposed member, just above the lowered foreskin, and he worked at the pressure a few times before he was certain he could hold it back without his fingers' involvement. His tongue was slower to repeat the act, moving up and finally making contact with the shaft and the now exposed head.

The taste was now much saltier, and while it wasn't unpleasant, neither was it pleasant. But the feeling of the warmth of Blake inside of his mouth felt nice. It was an indescribable feeling, something that felt more intimate than a hug but not quite the same. This was as close as he could get to Blake, and that idea was nice. He wanted to be as close to Blake as he possibly could. A portion of Blake was now inside of him, and that was 3; cool.

His mouth retracted slowly, his lips had to make sure the foreskin wouldn't snap back into place. It required quite a bit more pressure and attention to detail than the first attempt. When he moved back forward, he had to redouble his efforts. The skin pressed against his pink lips and threatened to insert itself into his mouth; he wouldn't allow it, because Blake wasn't giggling. He had unlocked the missing detail, and he was proud of himself. He slowly moved back and forth, his tongue staying put as it massaged the underside of Blake's boyhood.

"O-okay, th-that works," Blake breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. His strong legs were trembling, and Asher's eyes noticed them each time he pulled back. He decided the most interesting view was the constellation of freckles on his hairless mound, and he wanted to trace them with the tip of his index finger in an odd game of connect the dots. He thought better of it though, afraid that it would tickle the now enraptured boy, and sat his hands on Blake's hips instead. There they would remain until his was through, standing in for the boyish pirate who had shared his treasure.

Blake moaned quietly as his hands met Asher's head again, but this time they weren't pulling at this hair in protest. They were running along the now messy nest without purpose or agenda, the texture more intense as his blood pooled into his length. He had no desire to buck or thrust, he was too young for that. He lacked the hormones that compelled him to perform those movements. This was a good feeling and nothing more, an intense feeling that reached into the core of his abdomen where the tingling would rise and fall in short order.

As Asher kept up his slow but measured pace, the genius idea of this arrangement started to appeal to him. Last night, when Blake had reached his first orgasm, the foreskin had covered his head and furthered the intensity of the act for far too long. Blake was forced to remain rigid and patient, a virtue that he didn't share with his mother, and one that filled Asher with an intense guilt. Asher was certain at that time that it had been too much, but once the pain of sensitivity had passed, Blake thought better of it. But with Asher bringing the orgasm with lips that could hold the foreskin back, he could keep the sensitive head protected from touch. He could linger on Blake's tool, and ensure that the synapses of his brain were given a due break after the fruitless pumping subsided. It was likely to draw more interest in the pleasure from Blake, but he didn't care. This was his form of apology.

"Asher it's 3; i-it's happenin' again. I dunno if I wanna," Blake whined, the tingling beginning to build up inside of his pale stomach.

Asher could see his abdominal muscles contracting and straining, trying to lock the feeling in and keep it from flooding out. Asher wanted to say that it was okay, that he had a plan to make it better, but he couldn't without breaking contact. He was at the point of no return where if he pulled off, Blake could possibly still reach orgasm and deal with the lingering sensitivity. So instead of speaking and facing that unsavory option, his right hand left Blake's hip and grabbed the younger boy's hand again that had been pressing down on his head. He held it, squeezed it, trying to non-verbally communicate that it would be alright. Asher wasn't sure whether he understood or not as the younger boy began to whine, and Asher moved his left hand to the small of Blake's back to keep him in place.

As Blake had expected, the tingling couldn't be kept. It trickled down into his mound and up through his length. It accosted the sensitive head that trembled, quickly circumventing the now bloated and swollen rim. The base of the tiny cocklette started to throb, and with each backward and forward motion of the older boy's lips and tongue, it twitched and pushed. He felt the strain take hold of his mind as his body froze, his voice producing sounds that he didn't understand or even hear. There was no longer a need for quiet vocalizations, and he was glad about that. It seemed that the howls were capable of keeping him more grounded, and that being quiet the night before had been far too much work.

Each muscle in his boyhood throbbed and quaked, pressing his tiny testicles closer and closer to his body. The quiet, useless marbles were frozen in stasis, and he felt his urethra trying to push out what he assumed would be pee, but it found itself unable to. Asher's mind quietly counted each second of the orgasm, and his tongue was barely touching the length now. He had to wait until the contractions diminished, and he had to be appropriate with the timing. He knew he felt eyes staring at him, and he hoped it was with wonder. He hoped that he had communicated his assurances properly, but he was left without a clue as to whether he had or not.

Blake's eyes were closed so tightly he thought he may never see the light again, and as the feeling started to fade, his dread decided to rise. Asher had moved his lips all the way to his body again, and he knew that the pumping had stopped. He wanted to back away, to quietly accept the torture of the sensitivity again, but the older boy's hand on his lower back, and the other that quietly held his own left him without the option. He desperately grasped for air as his body became as rigid as his now tired muscles allowed. He awaited the sensitivity, but after a few seconds, he noticed that it wasn't coming. His eyes opened dimly as he stared down at Asher, a stone figure beneath him. There he was, mouth still around his wiener, and he wasn't moving a muscle.

It was then that Blake realized that the sensitivity wasn't going to come rushing back, and he allowed his muscles to relax. He could feel his head sitting in between Asher's open mouth, and it was warm and protected. The extra skin that he had, the same skin that Asher lacked, was still pressed back. It wasn't there for his head to rub against. He let out a breathy giggle, as a smile crept across his face.

"You saved my wiener!" Blake announced, pulling his hand from Asher's grip. It caused Asher to giggle around it, and although the vibrations tingled, it wasn't as bad as the prior night.

"Is that 3; is that what it's like for you?" he asked, finally making the connection that last night had to have been more intense for him than it had been for Asher. Asher quietly nodded, but still didn't back away; he wasn't entirely sure when an appropriate time to do that was. It hadn't occurred to Asher that he could just hold the foreskin back and give his jaw a break, and Blake had no idea Asher's jaw needed one.

"Kay!" The word that Asher enjoyed so much escaped Blake's mouth, but it wasn't left as a solitary syllable this time. "This game's way more cool!"

Asher grinned again as he thought he felt the rod begin to soften, and he backed away to swallow the excess saliva and make sure Blake was alright. But as he did so, and the foreskin popped back into place, Blake's body went rigid once more.

"Too soon, too soon, too soon!"

Chapter Fifteen

Thankfully Blake was forgiving, and the nature of the sensitivity was much more bearable than it had been the previous evening. They both decided that, next time they played the game, a repeat being Blake's suggestion, that Asher would just have to wait a little longer. Asher had then realized that he could just hold the skin back and mentioned it, feeling like an idiot for not having the idea occur to him before. Thankfully Blake just thought of it as a novel idea, and didn't chastise Asher as Asher chastised himself.

Blake didn't return the favor, but Asher didn't particularly care. He was hard, but he wasn't horny. It had been enough to be so close to Blake, and his experiment had been a rousing success. Such was the inspiration caused by Asher's discovery that a game of mad scientist was played, the two forming diabolical potions out of standing spots of water that would be used to gain endless supplies of candy from foreign governments. Neither had time to ask for candy again though, as the game transitioned into hide and seek, something more familiar and mundane but fun nonetheless, and that game transitioned into several others.

Dinner was a quiet affair, broccoli the enemy this time. Asher managed to eat it without protest, considering that Katherine had returned triumphant with a pair of sneakers that fit him perfectly. He hadn't received any scolding for wearing school clothes to play in, mostly because they were the only clothes he had to wear. Katherine had procured some shirts and pants for him though, ones that were his and his alone. They hardly constituted an entire wardrobe, but they were an incredibly generous purchase. Asher had thanked Katherine for it all, and she said you're welcome.

Despite Blake's supposedly cool idea that he and Asher should bathe together, the plea fell on deaf ears. Asher aided in the fight a little, but gave up before he was too far into the game. His gratitude was giving him a bit more control over his emotions than usual, and the evening followed a similar pattern to the last one. Asher bathed first, taking a little longer this time when he remembered that hairless armpits could create a farting sound when you folded your hand and lowered your arm just right, and Blake was next to control the tub. They watched a different cartoon, but it followed the same line of tropes that the prior night's production had. When it was time for bed, neither boy protested; they remembered well the promises of being grounded. They also wanted to have the opportunity to sleep together over the weekend.

Both boys slept, in their separate rooms, and when the morning came Asher gave a limited fight. It was hard to stay asleep with Blake bouncing next to him. Although Katherine had to scold him for jumping on the bed, it did accomplish the aim of rousing Asher from his sleep, and Katherine was thankful for that. The boys dressed, had their breakfast, and Asher overheard Sam say that he would be picking up Asher after school. At first, Asher didn't think much of it, but as Katherine drove the two toward the newly familiar brick buildings, he started to contemplate what that would really be about.

He hadn't thought about the kiss since yesterday, allowing sleep to take the place of silent contemplation once more, but sleep had made him more rested and able to worry. Was Sam going to threaten him to keep the kiss a secret? Was Sam going to do it again? He was more than happy to keep the secret, and he could only hope that that was the scenario that would take place. The kiss wasn't necessarily bad, but it didn't really appeal to him. He saw Sam now as more of a fatherly figure, and he'd rather things remain that way. But at the same time he was going to be obedient, even if that meant the worst.

Asher watched Blake disappear into his class, and Mr. Castaway met the pair of Katherine and Asher outside of his fifth grade classroom. The district's proctor had tentatively approved his remaining in that class, pending evaluation. Mr. Castaway assured Katherine that he felt Asher would do fine, and Asher more or less agreed with a silent nod. As long as each day progressed like yesterday, the odd experience of being surrounded by older children would be acceptable. Plus it had a plethora of benefits which included graduating from high school much earlier than was typical.

Asher was prepared to say his goodbyes, much more focused than he had been the day before, but Mr. Castaway had to throw a wrench into his plans.

"Did you have time to consider the fifth grade trip?" he asked Katherine as Asher's eyes instantly fell to the floor. His plans to keep the idea a secret were completely gone now, and he wondered if he'd be in trouble for hiding the permission slip in his pocket. It wasn't quite the same thing as hiding a bad grade, but it was still withholding information.

Much to Asher's surprise, Katherine seemed to understand what he was talking about immediately. She wrestled with Asher's backpack and unzipped it, causing the young boy to blush. She extracted the completed permission slip from inside, and handed it over.

"He's really young for a trip like that, but I figure he should share in the same experiences as his classmates. How is the room situation going to work, though?" she queried, as Asher's hand rose and covered his mouth. He wanted to protest, but he couldn't. The older children were just beyond the threshold of the door, and he sought their approval more at that moment. If he was going to act like a petulant child, they'd likely treat him like one.

"Typically there are two boys per room, I was waiting to see if he'd make a friend besides Brianna."

Katherine chuckled as she placed her hands on Asher's shoulders, and Asher noticed his shirt was hunter green for the first time. It was a sickening color. One that Brianna would like.

"And if he doesn't?" Katherine asked, and Asher knew it was a valid question. He couldn't imagine a scenario where he'd crawl out from beneath Brianna's grip for one, and where he'd find anything in common with a boy three or four years his senior for another.

"He can stay in my room, unless you want to be a chaperon."

Chaperon was, Asher's emotions reasoned at that moment, a fancy word for babysitter. He was hardly a baby, he was seven-years-old! While the idea of sharing a room with his teacher didn't hold any particular appeal, the idea of Katherine coming along was embarrassing him deeply.

"I-I'll make a friend!" Asher announced, both adults looking down at him.

"There isn't any pressure," Mr. Castaway chuckled. "Just be yourself. If it doesn't work out we'll make sure you're alright."

"Sure," Asher breathed, eyes narrowing. He could see a very dark future ahead of him indeed.

"I'm sure we'll figure out the details," Katherine assured, squeezing Asher's shoulders. "Would a check be alright?"

"That's how we prefer it." Mr. Castaway nodded. "Just make it out to the school."

"I'll drop it off with Asher tomorrow," she said, turning the boy around as Mr. Castaway reentered the classroom.

"Aunt Katherine?" Asher asked, staring up into the older reflection of Blake's eyes.

"Yes?" she asked, smiling in a knowing way. He had been found out for being ashamed, and he didn't want her to think that. It was the truth, but he loved her.

"I love you," he finally said, albeit quietly. "Is it really okay? It's a lot of money."

She chuckled and shook her head, hugging him lightly. "It's just fine, don't worry about it. Go be a kid and enjoy school. Let your Uncle Samuel and I worry about that."

Asher nodded in an almost pleasant defeat, a smile covering his face.

"Thanks," he said again. "Oh, and have a good day!" he chirped, his dimples more noticeable now.

"You too," she grinned. "And I always check the pockets first," she teased. "Find a better hiding place next time."

Asher froze as she walked away. She really was rather good at this mother thing. Not only had she found the permission slip, but she knew he had hidden it. She might have even expected his motivations. There clearly wasn't going to be much he could slip past her. He'd have to be more open in the future, or the consequences could be dire. Although, to be fair, he had no plans to do anything horrible. But then again, who knew what this body was capable of? Asher was certain he was nowhere near its limits.

He finally turned and walked inside, regaining his composure as he took his place next to the classroom's princess. She smiled in greeting, but was too busy filing her nails to say much. It was an act that required her concentration, as she had recently reached the age where being precise about it was a concern. Asher thought that the falling dust of her nails was somewhat sickening as his own raised to his mouth. As he started to nibble on the tip of a nail, he quietly chided himself. How was that any better?

Thankfully Mr. Castaway started role, and Asher was able to lower his hands and push the thought from his mind. He had to ask Brianna to put her file away, and she did so begrudgingly. Asher giggled a little, he couldn't help it, and he could have sworn that he wasn't the only one. His name was on the sheet today, and he quietly echoed a 'here' with the rest of the class. Long gone were the tears that threatened to consume him yesterday at a moment's notice, but the lingering doubts and insecurities were still biting just below the surface. He'd tune into Mr. Castaway's voice just as he had done after lunch the day before. It would keep him from thinking too much about things he shouldn't, and eventually, he assumed, it would become a habit.

When role was complete, he called for homework to be extracted. That solicited groans from some of the students, including Brianna, and Asher quietly wondered if he'd find his inside his backpack. He unzipped it and, sure enough, the assignments were waiting for him. He gave it a cursory glance but something caught his eye, the decided lack of a comma from a particular sentence that had been discussed yesterday. He grinned, feeling rather triumphant.

"Henry, can you collect the homework please?" The teacher asked. A tall and thin boy stood from his seat in response, wearing a pair of older glasses, some shorts that were a tad too short, and a plain t-shirt that wasn't much to write home about. His legs were very pale and stood thin and tall, like bean sprouts.

Brianna and a couple of the girls around her started to giggle, leaning in toward one another. Asher tried to determine what they were laughing about, and Mr. Castaway was preparing to stop them, but a knock on the door called his attention away. The man sighed as he walked over, opening the door and looking at Principal Nyugen outside. He nodded to something that Asher couldn't hear, and turned to face the class.

"Alright everyone, simmer down. I'll be back in just a few minutes. Henry, just put the homework on my desk when you have it all collected and return to your seat. If anyone acts up, it'll be straight to the principal's office with you," he jested, miming the cutting of a throat.

"Yes, Mr. Castaway," the class said together, including Asher.

As soon as the door closed behind the man and he walked away, Brianna's eyes darted over in a clever stretch before she giggled again, returning to her conversation. This time she was speaking in a whisper of sorts, but it was clearly at the high end of what could be considered a whisper. Clearly it was intended to be heard by the person they were talking about.

"Can you believe what Henry is wearing? It's like his parent don't even care! I bet they buy his clothes second hand," was Brianna's first audible statement, and it caused Asher's mouth to fall open. He had supposed that, perhaps, she had some hidden kindness beneath the shallow exterior. Apparently he had been wrong, very wrong.

He glanced up at the older boy as casually as he could, noticing that his face had a pained expression. His lips were thin and still, and apparently he had no desire to defend himself. He was going to take the teasing without flinching, and Asher couldn't believe it. Well, he could believe the boy would respond in such a manner, but he couldn't believe that Brianna would be so mean.

"Do you mean that Henry?" he asked, breaking Brianna from her girlish chatter. She grinned and nodded, clearly expecting the younger boy to follow her example.

"Yeah! I mean, come on right? Look at him. He's pathetic!"

Have you ever seen a martial arts film? The cinematography that's used to portray when a warrior's training and body reach a perfect state of unification? Cue the heart thump, the dramatic music, the bright colors, the look of realization; the hands that moved so quickly and precisely that it was apparent the warrior's body had become a deadly weapon that couldn't be stopped under any circumstances. It appeared that Asher's adult mind and childish body had reached a point of profound agreement, neither tolerated bullying. Even if it would be in defense of an older boy's honor and possibly be at the expense of his meager social standing, he'd do it. He'd put Brianna in her place.

"I don't like that!" Asher shouted, his small hands landing on the desk for dramatic affect. He almost flinched, but held it back. He was already in the game, and there was no backing out. It caused a stir in the class, and a lot of eyes to fall on him.

"Um, what?" Brianna asked, not entirely sure what was going on.

"What if he's wearing that 'cause his parents are poor?" It was a valid question and probably more truth than fiction.

"So what? It's not my fault if he's poor." Brianna giggled, causing the other girls to giggle in turn.

"It's not his fault neither and you're makin' him feel bad!"

"Why should I care?" she said, starting to sound a little more serious. "He's not my problem."

"Yeah? Well you're just a bully!" Asher knew the response was rather matter of fact and carried no real weight, but he wanted to say it just the same.

"And you're just some dumb kid! I can't even believe I wanted you to sit next to me," she scoffed, looking more annoyed than anything now. The next statement that came out of Asher's mouth was proof of that filter no longer existing, and while he didn't regret saying it, it did cause time to freeze as soon as it escaped his lips. He knew he'd be in for a world of trouble, but it was worth it. He was proud of what he was doing.

"Yeah? Well you're a bitch!"

The class fell silent, mouths dropping everywhere. Even Brianna shut up at that. Asher had challenged a twelve-year-old and won, even if he had said a very bad word. It felt dirty against his tongue, even as an adult he wasn't used to cussing. Although he couldn't think of a better word to describe her.

Suddenly the silence broke as applause filled the air, and Asher blushed. He couldn't believe that he was actually being supported for this. Apparently the times had changed in ways that went beyond electronics and fashion. There were still bullies in the world, but there were people that wanted to see them put in their place now. When he had been in school the first time, his act wouldn't have elicited a peep. But now, it made him a hero of sorts, even if just for the moment. Asher was swelling with pride as Brianna burst into tears, rushing from her seat and to the hallway. As the door closed behind her Henry continued his work, smiling down at Asher when he picked up his homework.

"Thanks," he said rather quietly, and Asher nodded with the brightest smile he could manage. He had done the right thing.

Mr. Castaway ran inside and the applause immediately muted. Henry picked up the rest of the homework as quickly as he could and deposited it on the teacher's desk before returning to his seat in the back of the room. His eyes surveyed everyone, and fell on Brianna's friends who seemed about ready to burst.

"What happened?" he asked, his tone a forced calm.

"He called Brianna the 'B' word!" One of the girls accused, pointing at Asher. He clammed up, staring at a fixed point on the chalkboard, some leftover tape residue. He wouldn't dignify the accusation unless asked.

"Wh-what?" Mr. Castaway blinked, eyes diverting to the obviously guilty ridden child before turning to the rest of the class.

"Is that true?" he asked, looking from face to face at the lines of kids behind the first row.

"I didn't hear nothin'," one boy said, shrugging. He was an athlete, but obviously not a stereotypical one.

"Me either!" came a girl with pig tails, a little chubby and a very kind person.

"Not me," came the bored town of a boy with spiked hair and a vacant expression. He was a troublemaker, but apparently not a bully.

"Nope," came Henry's voice, and it surprised even him that he had said it. In fact, it managed to surprise much of the class. The girls were staring at each other finding themselves at a loss for words, not sure what to do next.

A knowing look passed over Mr. Castaway's face. He was able to piece that puzzle together easily enough. Thankfully for Asher, he was young enough and new enough to teaching that he perceived it as being a misguided, but yet still semi-noble act.

"I guess majority wins," he chuckled, causing the rest of the class to chuckle as well.

"I think we were about to start with writing," he said, rubbing his hands together. The class collectively groaned, but Asher smiled. He had gotten away with it, and he didn't have to be worried anymore. What was Brianna against an entire classroom of her peers?

Chapter Sixteen

Brianna returned and class resumed as normally as it could. Apart from her refusing to cast her gaze on Asher anymore, all was generally back to normal. One thing that Asher did have to respect about Brianna was that she had a fine command of which battles she could win or lose, and she somehow understood that her friends had failed to send Asher toward a verbal execution. With that result she wouldn't try anything herself, but Asher did wonder if she was biding her time. His quiet sense of accomplishment diminished into one of contemplation, and while fear threatened to skirt at the edges of each thought it refused to overwhelm them completely.

When the lunch bell rang and the line of kids made their way into the lunchroom, Asher was called aside and admonished to be more careful in the future. There was never the question of whether he had done it or not, there was a quiet understanding between the two that it was a known, and that Mr. Castaway had spent all of his cool chips on that one transaction. The rest of the year would feature a more controlled Asher, one that wouldn't break rules so blatantly. If Asher was to void that unspoken contract, he would be due punishment regardless of intent. It was the best result that Asher could fathom, and he certainly wasn't going to press the issue.

He found himself at the lunch table with a very new crowd, sitting directly next to Henry. He was shy and mostly kept to himself, but today he was king. Usually he sat where he sat and quietly ate, but today he was surrounded by those who had decided to punish Brianna for her misdeeds. He was asked questions, encouraged to speak freely, and was even given a cup of chocolate pudding that he was assured the giver didn't want. While Asher wasn't the focus of attention, and he knew he ought not to be, he felt that he was looked on and treated as an equal. Despite their age difference he had proven himself to some degree, and he wasn't just some nerd. The green shirt was no longer a sign of his enslavement to Brianna's whim, but a reflection of the eyes that had bore into hers and put her in her place. He had redefined himself, and that redefinition seemed to extend to everything now.

Despite the myriad of questions and answers, Henry talked to Asher with a genuine kindness and regard when he was able to get a word in. Asher found it funny now that he had spent the morning childishly proclaiming he would find a friend with complete doubt in the back of his mind; there was no reason to ever doubt it. Asher simply had to be Asher, and that was enough. His convictions and ideals didn't make him a pariah, and there was nothing wrong with who he was or what he believed. Certainly his perspective had evolved, but he was still an innately good person. His being a good person was an interesting idea to Asher.

He had to listen to Mr. Castaway intently when class resumed, and pushed all the thoughts of his accomplishments and his new friend from his mind. If those ideas overcame him, he wouldn't be able to focus and he'd be caught unaware if a question was thrown his way. Thankfully he was ready for the couple that did, and he answered them just fine. It was easy to tune into Mr. Castaway's voice, and it was a welcome break from the tumbling thoughts that usually consumed him, but when the final bell rang, and his voice became a memory for the day, his thoughts began to rise again.

He was excited to see Katherine and to tell her what a great day he had had. He couldn't imagine how delightful it would be to tell her that he had made a friend, and to him Henry was now the perfect friend. Blake wasn't a friend, he was something much more, so this was a very different sort of relationship to share with another person. It was the first true friendship that this body had known. He wondered about what they would do in their room at the hotel, and how much more exciting the trip would be now that he wouldn't have to share space with Mr. Castaway.

But as those thoughts reached their zenith and threatened to bubble from his lips, his eyes fell on the familiar Jeep and they were silenced. In his moment of victory, he had completely forgotten about Sam's arrangement that morning. It was an arrangement he hadn't had enough time to question, and that had been all too quickly replaced as the most pertinent thing to ponder. So as he sauntered up to the side and opened the door with no shortness of effort due to its weight, he slid in with a solemn sort of composure. Sam, for his part, seemed to be much in the same mood. He wasn't smiling, nor did he provide anything in the way of a greeting. He was just there, and Asher found himself desperately missing that confident smile that he usually wore, that he usually resented. Why did he have to lose it on the day that Asher had developed his own?

"School was good." Asher's voice was quiet and contained, refusing to show any fear or confusion. He was certain that he hadn't done anything wrong, but he did wish he knew why Sam had volunteered to pick him up. It was only his second day of school, but he thought of Katherine's transport as the norm now. He wanted that norm back.

"That's good," Sam said in an unreadable tone. It wasn't cheerful or scornful, but not the sort of tone you'd want to hear when you were wondering after a person's intent, when their face gave no clue and you had little else to cling to. He turned the wheel and headed out onto the road.

"Was your day," he paused for a brief moment before continuing, "good?" Asher was nearly ready to just up and ask what was going on, but he wouldn't give in to his body's mood. His adult mind was holding firmly against it, even if it was an increasingly impossible battle.

Sam said nothing in response, which was the worst response of all. Asher's hand lowered and fumbled with the top strap of his backpack, and he wondered if perhaps his mood was the best to follow now. Maybe he had done something wrong, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Surely Mr. Castaway hadn't called, and the kiss they had shared the day before wasn't of his own volition. Was it guilt that caused his tongue to sit silent? Asher could only hope. He started to open his mouth, to ask what was on Sam's mind, when his eyes noticed something that in hindsight he should have noticed before. They weren't heading toward the house, they were heading in the opposite direction. Asher felt his stomach sink.

"Wh-where are we going?" Asher managed after a few minutes, town turning into forest much too quickly for his comfort. He couldn't be entirely certain that they were headed to the spot where they met, but something deep inside of him said that they were. It was a place he didn't particularly want to ever see again.

"I made an incredibly stupid mistake." Sam finally said, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel; although this time there wasn't any music for them to tap in time to. He had an incredible poker face, and Asher began to grasp at the hope that this mistake he mentioned was the kiss. Maybe they were just escaping into the wilderness to chat, that wouldn't be so bad.

"Somehow I thought that I was able to trust things, that when I was told that my prayers would be answered everything would be fine. Now I know it just doesn't work out like that. Life isn't meant to be some amazing thing with magical cures. And do you know what the worst part about it is, Asher? The worst part is that I felt guilty for kissing you yesterday. I felt like I corrupted this blessing from God and that wasn't the case at all."

Asher's hand released the strap, dangling in midair as his arms and legs went numb. It was a soliloquy that he couldn't understand entirely, but the ending was clear enough. Sam had felt guilt for kissing him, but now he didn't. He didn't feel that guilt because Asher wasn't a blessing, he had figured it out. Asher couldn't help but wonder how, or why, or in what form. Had the demon come? Had this been a private realization? Either way it didn't matter. Whatever relationship had been there before was now broken. He felt tears start to come to his eyes as he imagined never seeing Katherine or Blake again.

"I'm s-sorry," Asher said, finally regaining control of his arms. He held his index fingers against his eyelids, willing them to remain shut. He wouldn't cry, he couldn't. It wasn't as if what he said wasn't the truth. Asher's thinking that he somehow deserved to share a life with them, to share the surname Carson, had been so incredibly foolish. He had to deal with the consequences of this new body, and one of them was a life that could never be normal.

"For what, exactly?" The question came from Sam's mouth with a tone so calm and collected that it made Asher flinch. He felt as if the threat of crying had left at that moment, but his fingers remained just the same. He didn't want to see what face issued forth that tone anyway.

"F-for 3; not being a blessing. For being 3; me," he said as honestly and earnestly as he could, and as Sam chuckled in an odd sort of way, he felt guilty for saying it. He had felt that honesty was important, but at the moment perhaps it wasn't.

"I think you should be more sorry for blowing my son."

Asher's hands fell to his lap. For some reason the thought of Sam ever finding out had never occurred to him. His eyes were half lidded, but his gaze was set intensely on the carpet beneath his feet. How do you apologize for something like that? He had to reason with himself for hours to make it alright, so he couldn't expect to reason with an adult; particularly when his mouth was incapable of forming words in the same way it once had. He was caught between feeling he was justified, and feeling that he was indeed the worst possible person on the planet. Naturally Sam would hate him for that, and whatever came as a result would be his due.

It was then that Asher had a memory from the prior day, where he was absolutely certain that he felt someone watching him. He reasoned at the time that it had been Blake, but why couldn't it have been Sam? Why hadn't he even thought of that as a reasonable assumption? The hiding place seemed so ideal, the perfect place to be. He had far more faith in his childish presumptions than he did in doubt. Doubt, it seemed, was something you should give a lot more weight.

"I 3;" Asher began, but he stopped. There wasn't anything to be said. As Sam veered the Jeep onto the shoulder and Asher allowed himself to look up, he noticed the familiarity of it all. He was back at where his new story had begun, and he supposed it was a poetic place for it to end. He prepared himself to leave the Jeep, extending his arm toward the door latch, but a sound hit his ears that made him stop again. It was a sound he somehow thought he'd never hear, and it was an unexpected end if there ever was to be one.

"If you're going to play games like an adult, you don't need us to raise you. But before you go off and ruin whomever you want to ruin, I'm going to show you what it's really like to live in a grownup world." He had unzipped his pants, and his erect member had been fished through the hole in his boxers.

"D-do 3; Katherine and Blake know?" At that moment Asher wasn't sure why he had asked it, or why it was at the fore of his thoughts. Some part of him knew that he should be running, or accepting the odd punishment with disdain. His mind was incapable of caring though. All that he wanted now was to know that the family he loved so much would be alright, and that he wouldn't be tarnished in their eyes.

"No, I'll just come up with a reason why you had to leave. I don't think Katherine deserves that burden," the response was slightly delayed and held a nearly imperceptible tremble. The question hadn't been what Sam was expecting either.

"Thanks," Asher said lightly, before turning and staring at the erect length. At seven inches it wasn't far beyond average, but to his young body it was difficult to fathom as anything other than gigantic. He'd accept this, even if it wasn't a rational response. He'd do it because Sam had given him that one kindness; he could live the rest of his life and know that Katherine and Blake wouldn't hate him. At this point, that was the greatest gift he could hope for.

Sam hesitated, his fingers resting against the reclining lever of the seat. He had prepared himself for this, was erect for this, but his mind was having a difficult time fathoming Asher as a terrible person now. His heart told him that Asher had corrupted his son, his only son, but nothing that Asher had said made any sense in that context. He hadn't said much, a mere six words, but none of them were selfish. None of them were things he expected of a seven-year-old. Asher should be angry, hesitating, begging, pleading, running. He should be doing anything but what he was doing. There didn't even seem to be lust in Asher's eyes at the idea when presented with his appendage. Asher stared at his cock as an obligation, the way that an adult stares at a church before they go inside, or a funeral home.

Sam tucked himself back inside his pants with haste. His hands firmly grabbed the steering wheel as he stared blankly ahead. He wouldn't be able to get something out of his deal after all, but he could still be resolute on turning his back toward it. He couldn't allow himself to think of Asher as being good, not after what he did. He had to protect Blake, even at the expense of his own desires. It was his job as a father, and it was a job that he felt was the most important one he had.

"Just get out."

Chapter Seventeen

For Asher, walking back through the woods was a strange action. When he had left it a mere few days before, he was still struggling to find a coexistence between his mind and body. Each sound or feeling was amplified and threatened to distract him, and his more carnal needs were the basis of every emotional reaction. But now he felt baptized, in a sense, but incredibly alone. He was glad that Blake and Katherine wouldn't hate him, and the decision to be mature, rational, and accept fate was one made by body and mind. How he had come to this place so quickly he wasn't sure, but he was glad that he had. His wouldn't be a life of carnal pursuits, his once perceived ultimate life, but a life where he was good, just, and allowed himself somewhat more than his prior piety every did.

As the sound of the water entered his ears for the second time, the same urge to pursue it and play didn't rise. His feelings were numb and battered, because they had given up the life and because they felt guilty, and while his adult mind ought to be thinking of a plan to survive it wasn't. Quite the contrary, it was thinking of walking, of placing each foot in front of the other; it had no agenda, no further thoughts to entertain. He made his way down the hill and then up toward the clearing. He briefly thought of going through the other side, to see what fate would have provided had he chosen to go that way, but he pushed it aside. Walking was comforting, it was being a part of nature, a piece of the world that couldn't judge him or rebuke him. He would be as silent as that nature, and he would embrace it as long as it lasted.

The afternoon sun was bright and lit the path toward the clearing well, and as he walked through and saw the expanse of land he wondered where it was that he had appeared. He wanted to lie there and sleep, to awaken undisturbed and ready to start thinking again. Each footfall brought him somewhere deeper to where he had been, but where it was wasn't apparent at all. It wasn't as if he had been a meteor that fell from the sky, leaving a permanent indentation. It had just been a patch of earth, like any other, and other than it being where his new life began it held no special characteristics or purpose. All the same he had to return to it, to express through silence that he had changed. He had let go of the bitterness that had surrounded him in his prior life, and had evolved into a human being that he could respect and admire.

Asher was prepared to give up on the quest as fruitless when his foot unceremoniously hit against something protruding from the ground. He yelled out as he fell forward, arms extending to brace the fall. The sheer shock of it was enough to cause him to pause, as his eyes surveyed the grass and the slight glimpses of dirt beneath. He would have recovered and stood, continuing his journey to nowhere in particular, but a familiar voice echoed out across the clearing.

"You must be incredibly upset. I can't begin to imagine how upsetting it has to be to have all your plans foiled. Was it worth it? This deal we made?"

"Yeah," Asher said rather quietly, and he meant it. He hadn't expected to hear from the demon again, but here the voice was. Had it been here all along? Why had it even asked the question? He knew that the demon was fully capable of reading his mind.

"But I hardly see that you lived up to this 3; charitable sacrifice that you postured. I don't even think that you believe in it anymore," the voice was cold and teasing, almost as if he was trying to make Asher break. Asher managed to right himself and sit, but there was no demon to be seen. Neither was there any indication that he was where he had arrived.

"You were right, I did it 'cause I wanted to. I wanted to be bad and do all the stuff I missed out on, but I think it's more fun to have friends and a family. I don't think it was so bad before now, I mean, other than being sick 3; but I never had friends or nothin'. Not real ones. It was lonely, and now I'm lonely but 3; I had it for a bit!" Asher's tone began as calm, but eventually became rather chipper. He realized in that moment that the memories were enough for him. It would be nice to have his family back, but it wasn't necessary. Memories, he felt, were stronger than pain.

"Well I'm certainly glad that you found some happiness for yourself in this field, but as I said at the onset I am a businessman and payment is due when it is due. And for you, at least, that time is now."

"Kay," Asher chuckled a little. It was a ridiculous thing to accept so freely, to not feel pain about, but he didn't care. The demon could throw him into the very pits of hell for all he cared. He had those precious memories to keep the flames at bay. And somehow that word, that simple 'kay' that rolled off of Blake's tongue so easily felt so right escaping his own lips.

***

Sam's mind had refused to quiet as he drove the long stretch back home. He couldn't reconcile what Asher had done with what Asher had said and how he had reacted. There was something so strange about it, so wrong. Every ounce of his mind wanted to believe that Asher was evil, but his heart was telling him that couldn't be the case. All that he wanted was answers, and it seemed that they weren't going to come of their own accord.

He pulled onto the side of the road when he was barely back inside the town's limits, slamming his hands against the steering wheel. He pressed his head back into the seat with a vicious intensity, wishing that it would break against the force. He wanted to hurt something, even if it was inanimate, just so he could share his pain and frustration and not be in it alone. He felt like the universe had played some cruel joke, and it wasn't fair. Surely he hadn't been the most pious of people and had made a lot of mistakes, but was he so evil that he deserved this?

"Please. Please just say something!" Sam pleaded to the air around him. He didn't expect anything in return, but he wanted it desperately. "I know that I've made mistakes, but why this? Why did it have to turn out like this? Please! Just tell me what to do! Do I need to sacrifice myself?"

When the voice responded it certainly wasn't from any body, nor from anything external. It was inside of him, but it didn't carry the same warm quality that it did before. It almost sounded like, well, his voice. In the eternal battle of id versus superego, the angel had seemed to fill the ego's shoes.

"There isn't anyone that exists who isn't flawed to some degree or another, and while you've committed more sins than some you've certainly not committed as many as others. But at the end of the day, does it matter? Everyone is an imperfect being."

"But that doesn't 3; this isn't what we agreed on!" Sam shouted in response, even though the voice was inside of his head. Whether there was anyone around on the streets to see or notice he didn't care.

"How is this not what we agreed to? You were to take in a lost child and show him kindness and mercy, and in exchange your burdens would be lessened."

"But he 3; he molested my son," Sam said quietly in response, echoing the internal debate his mind and heart had been having.

"Was that really molestation? Truly? Did you see your son fighting back? Did he seem displeased? As the adage goes, boys will be boys!"

"It was 3; it was wrong! That sort of thing 3; it's a sin!"

"Did you kiss him?" the voice asked, causing Sam to pause. He had and he knew it, and Asher had hardly said it was alright.

"Well, yes 3;" Sam's voice seemed to trail off, it lost any of the strength it had before.

"You've sinned, you'll keep on sinning, and so will he. As has and will your son for that matter. What makes this a sin you can't see to forgive when I have been so kind?"

"I guess I should 3; have thought about that," Sam finally admitted, staring blankly ahead.

"Well I suppose it's all well and good that you've realized your mistake but what are you going to do about it?" His inner voice asked.

"I guess I need to 3; oh my, I left him in the woods."

"I'm a businessman, plain and simple. Go and retrieve your charge, your payment is due."

Sam escaped the Jeep with an unnatural speed, ready to grab the phone and file a missing person's report. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been. It was a long way to the house from here, but he couldn't fathom driving it. Asher was on his feet now, he didn't have the luxury of transporation. He'd have Asher back no matter what happened. He would ensure that this poor lost child had a family, that he was treated with the kindness he deserved. He would show him the same love he showed his biological son, and he would repair the hole that had been left in his family for so long. The angel hadn't ruined his deal that he made in the clearing months ago, he had.

***

Asher was a little shocked as the clearing became very much not a clearing, and certainly not anything that resembled hell. Trees were bursting from the ground around him, and growing at such speed and timeliness that he barely had time to register that he was now lost deep inside of a forest with no discernible path or exit. He supposed that it had been odd that a random clearing existed where no people were, but why this? Why was the clearing even created? Also, where was his payment coming from?

"I don't understand!" Asher cried out. "Why aren't I goin' to hell!? Is this hell?"

The voice chuckled, but it didn't carry the same cold quality it usually did. It was amused, as if Asher had been missing some huge joke all along.

"I don't 3; get it 3;" Asher's voice trailed off as he stood, taking a few steps forward and placing his hand against one of the trees. He had to feel it, know that it was tangible. He half expected flames to appear at any moment, but none seemed to be coming.

"Why do you think you're going to hell?"

"I 3; sold my soul!" Asher exclaimed, looking rather shocked by the question.

"There's something about you that has amused me greatly. Now that you're in this body, you've realized that you have an overactive imagination. You supposed that was because you were a child again, but did it never occur to you that you always had one?"

Asher paused as he tried to think, trying to push back the impenetrable haze that separated this body's life from the previous one's. It was thick, and didn't want to part. He couldn't remember having an overactive imagination, but was it possible? It seemed possible.

"Well 3; okay. Is my punishment to wander in the woods forever?" he blinked.

"Punishment? You can't liken payment to punishment, that's hardly fair. No, your payment is to be a part of that family. You fill an essential need."

Asher felt his heart skip a beat. Why would that be his payment? He had never actually asked what the payment was, just assumed. That was it, he did have an overactive imagination both before and now, but why would a demon want him to be in the place that made him happiest?

"But you're a demon! You're supposed to do mean stuff!" Asher declared.

"You're the one that supposed me to be a demon. You never asked, Asher. You made your assumptions and went with them."

"Then you're 3;" Asher tried to press a word out but nothing came to mind. He wasn't exactly sure what the creature was now. He looked around as he waited for a response, but nothing echoed back. There was no response to hear.

"Please tell me what you are!" he cried out again, but the same silence surrounded the area. He sighed deeply, feeling both confused and relieved. His feet started to travel toward where he thought he started, although he wasn't sure. He would just have to keep going until he found civilization again.

"Wait 3; if you're an angel, then why do you sound so weird?"

A solitary white feather was the initial reply, falling from the sky and landing on the bridge of his nose. He grabbed it, turning it around between his fingers as he admired it. It was lovely, and a nice break from the ever present greens and browns. Asher giggled, shaking his head.

"You're a weird angel."

"What do you think we are? Women in dresses that float about and play harps?" the voice finally responded with a rather annoyed tone.

Asher laughed and shrugged, walking forward with more purpose now. "I guess I never thought about it. Anyway, thanks!"

The angel didn't reply, but it was alright. He somehow knew that he would be allowed back now, and that his penance had been paid. He may be in a great deal of trouble, but that would be fine. He had a family, and whatever good or bad things came from that were to be expected. Not every day could be sunshine, and not everyday would be cloudy. Life was an exchange of good and bad, and he had reaped the rewards of his prior life at last. He was whole, and he wouldn't have to burn for the rest of eternity. The only thing that mattered now was finding his way out of the forest.

"But I'm hungry!" His stomach demanded.

Chapter Eighteen

When one is full of passion and resolve, that individual can accomplish a myriad of things. Passion has been the basis of a great many discoveries, great and small, and has pushed normal people well beyond their limits in every field imaginable. It fills the mind with grandiose ambitions, and makes the steps to seeing your goal to fruition seem seamless and easy to attain. Unfortunately, sometimes insurmountable obstacles rise against even the most devoted, and for Sam that obstacle was Katherine. When he ran inside the house fully secure in his plan to call the police and mobilize the neighborhood, he soon realized that a few steps had been arbitrarily skipped in the process of realizing that Asher must and would return.

Prior to this realization, he had prepared himself for a long and winding diatribe about his sister calling and declaring that she wanted her son back. It would have taken quite a bit of convincing, but since he had effectively convinced his wife of Asher's identity before, he was sure that he could come up with a valid excuse for a sudden and unexpected departure. Sam had volunteered to pick Asher up and had, in fact he had realized that there were likely plenty of witnesses to that. He imagined it would be easy to say that he had run away, or that they had gone to the woods and been separated, but what would another lie gain him?

The angel had reasoned, correctly, that he had sinned and would continue to do so. But as he had forgiven Asher, realizing that his transgressions were a mere child's game, he couldn't lie and utilize the same defense. His lie would just be a lie, another lie to cover up a myriad of prior ones that he had already taken part in. Of course some of those lies were necessary, particularly when it came to taking Asher in, but others on top of that seemed like too much. He had to at least make an attempt to be good.

"Where's Asher?" Katherine asked quizzically, looking at her husband's panicked face. The question came far too soon for Sam who hadn't exactly come up with a brilliant plan just yet, just realizing that it had to be lacking in dishonesty. His usually suave tongue had fallen at her words, and his face gave away that something was wrong. He had to tell the truth, or at least a part of it.

"I don't know!" Sam proclaimed, which was definitely true, although Katherine clearly wasn't satisfied with the answer. Her lips drew into a thin line, and her arms crossed over her chest.

"How do you not know? Wasn't he at school? Where's the Jeep? Why didn't you call?" The questions were numerous and fair, but Sam was grasping at air for valid answers. Thankfully for him, Blake had overheard.

"Asher's gone!?" His voice squeaked high at the question, his tone loud and demanding. It broke Katherine's anger instantly, and she fell into a mode of motherly comfort as she bent down and placed her hands on either side of his shoulders.

"Don't worry, sweetie. I promise that we'll find Asher. Now why don't you go put your shoes on so we can go drive around, hmm? I bet if anyone could spot him from far away it would be you."

"Kay!" Blake shouted, running immediately toward the stairs and the location of his shoes. Sam sighed in relief, glad for the momentary reprieve.

"Now you listen to me," Katherine started as Blake's footfalls clearly reached the landing. She stood to her full height, pressing her index finger into Sam's chest with a painful intensity. "Ever since Asher arrived you've been odd, and I don't care what the reason is or what the hell is going through your head, but that poor boy is out there all alone and I can only assume that this is entirely your fault! You are going to go to your Jeep, you are going to figure out where he is, and you are going to find him. For every tear that falls down Blake's cheeks, it will be a year before you as much as see me naked. Do I make myself clear?"

Sam's eyes grew large as he took a step back. She hadn't been quite this fiery since college, although with the circumstances as they were he couldn't blame her. "Y-yes, ma'am."

"Then what the fuck are you waiting for!?"

"I'm out!" Sam shouted as he ran back outside, not even glancing behind him. He was certain that if looks could kill, this would have been his final day on Earth.

***

Asher had decided early on that heeding the request of his stomach wasn't going to be possible, and although it was verbose and impossible to tune out entirely, he did his best. He had been heading toward where he thought he had begun his exodus from his new family, but with the terrain so drastically altered many things became an illusion. To his eyes all was flat before him, but his calves picked up the light strain caused by a sudden upturn in the ground's angle, and even realized the effect when it inverted. Even the trees seemed to blend together, the minute differences barely comprehensible when there were so many collected together.

Time had been the final proof as the sky turned to golden hues accented by reds and oranges, casting strange autumnal visions around him. His eyes weren't a match for what he was aiming to accomplish, and he had been traveling in randomly divergent curves that were definitively not going toward the road. He thought of finding moss on the trunks, but he couldn't remember in which direction it grew. On top of that, he had no idea if that direction would even be helpful considering he had no idea where the road lie. He would just continue as he was, knowing that the angel had told him to return and feeling greatly assured that his efforts wouldn't be in vain.

It would be unfair to say that Asher's spirit was built in stone, it did waver and tremble as the gloaming ebbed. His stomach constantly reminded him of his hunger, his legs of their exhaustion, his enthusiasm of its dampening. His adult mind and his childish feelings were afraid, and it was a point on which they could both agree. It was that fear that smashed the various complaints, and became the most impressing of all of his circulating moods.

"It's okay Asher, we're gonna make it!" he said to himself, it wasn't as if there was anyone else around to encourage him.

"Nope, we're gonna be all alone. I bet that really was a demon and he just had a feather or somethin'. We're gonna have to learn how to eat berries and stuff," he replied almost instantly, jumping over a line of rocks.

"That's not true! If that was true we woulda gone to hell!"

"Maybe he was waitin'," he reasoned.

"For what? I don't think hell gets any worser!" He almost slapped himself in the back of the head for the extraneous 'r'.

"I dunno 3;" he decided, voice trailing off. If anyone could see or hear him, he knew that he'd seem insane. Although Asher had to reason that dealing with supernatural beings had to make you a little odd at the end of the day.

He pulled the lone feather from behind his ear as he stopped, staring down at it. He wondered if, perhaps, it had some properties to it he hadn't been aware of. Maybe if he just released it it would magically float back toward the road and everything would be alright. He could follow it well enough with these eyes, even if the light was quickly diminishing now, and he could hope that it traveled with some rate of speed that could beat night's grand arrival. He held his hand out, feather upturned, and cleared his throat.

"Take me home," he commanded, releasing the feather and watching it expectantly. As it began to float forward his mouth turned into a grin, but then as it floated back toward him that grin fell just as quickly. It fell to the ground, and had it not been as light as, well, a feather 3; he imagined it would have made a dull thud. He bent over to retrieve it, and placed it behind his ear once more. He stayed there, crouched, and looked directly ahead of him.

"Maybe it's like bein' a ninja!" he grinned widely again as he closed his eyes, willing his auditory senses to increase in power and efficiency. He waited to hear a car, the water, or anything really. Perhaps he'd even hear his name being called out through the evening's air, and he could immediately dart toward it and be done with his proverbial and abridged temptation of Christ. Per usual, his imagination failed him. There was nothing to be heard except for the leaves protesting against the wind, and he could hear that just fine with his eyes open.

He stood and clenched his fists at each side, deciding once and for all that his imagination had caused him much more harm than good. On top of that, it was getting far too late and he didn't have the luxury of forty days, or forty hours for that matter. He picked a spot ahead of him, his arms began to pump, and his legs followed in kind. He would run until he could run no more. And while his mind was reminded of a theme from a particular animated film about a valiant Native American woman, he pressed it aside.

***

As the hours ticked by friends were called, and Sam found navigating the forest to be difficult primarily because of Katherine's flurry of texts; some were updates, others possible sightings, but the majority were curses that made him feel even younger than the boy he was pursuing. He did discover that, much to his surprise, he wasn't where he supposed himself to be after awhile. There was no clearing, but he had camped in this exact spot many times. He had, in fact, lost one his tent's stakes here. He had even parked his Jeep by the road in the exact same spot where his tire treads had been, a visible landmark to remind him that he was exactly where he needed to be.

He called for Asher in vain, and even headed toward the spring that he had collected water from a few times. When he decided that this was most likely some sort of divine punishment, he returned to the Jeep and began to drive up and down the drag of road instead. He figured that Asher wouldn't be foolish enough to stray too far from the road, and that he'd likely hitchhike to safety at some juncture. He also imagined that Asher could be purposefully avoiding being found, but he hoped that wasn't the case. He had to have faith that wasn't the case.

Chapter Nineteen

It was when Sam stopped at a rural gas station to fill up that Asher stumbled out of the woods for the first time in many hours. It was nearly ten, and the stars were mostly all accounted for. It wasn't a road that he immediately saw, but a small house that looked nearly like a shanty in comparison to the home he shared with his new family. It didn't particularly matter though, it was a place to be and a place that he could ask for directions. He was exhausted, starving, and he didn't particularly care to entertain any ideas that it may be inhabited by mass murderers. It was either this or escape back into the woods. He was certain he'd never go near the woods again.

As he strolled up to the rear entrance to knock, the door opened. Asher froze, momentarily, until Henry's eyes caught his. Both boys battled for a moment's silence, but it was Henry that broke it.

"Asher? How do you know where I live?"

"Well, you see 3;" Asher's cheeks became flushed as he tried to invent a plausible response that wouldn't get him in a great deal of trouble. He didn't particularly want Henry running back inside to tell his mother that a seven-year-old had been wandering through the woods for hours on end.

"Did you 3; want to play?" Henry asked with a tone that seemed hopeful but full of doubt simultaneously. Asher instantly felt bad that he couldn't, but then wondered why he would think it would be acceptable to play at this hour.

"N-not now, but 3; I promise we can! I mean, I kinda got um 3; lost! And now I need to go home before I get in trouble, and 3;"

Henry looked somewhat unconvinced and surprised at the same time. Asher thought only he had such a penchant for wearing multiple expressions at once. Clearly his newly acquired friend had bested him.

"Well that's alright 3; How did you get lost?"

Asher wanted to explain, but he couldn't. In fact, he was slowly realizing that his return to Second Street would be accompanied by either a new tale Sam had fabricated, or a flurry of questions he wouldn't know how to answer.

"It's top secret," Asher finally said, wanting desperately to go slam his head into a tree now. If only there was a tree that wasn't a part of a forest within sight 3;

"Like a spy!?" Henry asked excitedly, and Asher giggled. Apparently Henry wasn't entirely out of the imagination play zone. That worked for him.

"Yup! So 3; how do I get to Second Street?" Asher asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. He finally felt himself relax.

"Oh 3; well, that's kinda far from here," Henry admitted, looking a little upset about delivering the bad news. Of course it paled in comparison to how Asher felt about hearing it.

"Mom!" Henry called, causing a shiver to run up Asher's spine. He wanted to run, but where to? Just as he began to formulate an excuse and a quick dart to see if there was, in fact, a road in front of Henry's house, his mother appeared. She was a tall woman that couldn't deny Henry even under the best of circumstances. The only notable differences were her small chest and long hair.

"Yes?" she asked, looking between Henry and Asher incredulously.

"This is my friend Asher! He needs to get home but it's far away. Can you 3; take him?"

"Asher!" she exclaimed, causing the subject to jump back a good foot. "This whole town has been in an uproar looking for you! Come inside this instant so I can call your aunt!"

"Y-yes, ma'am," he said quietly, following the tall woman into the rear entrance. Henry stared at him with a sort of awe, and Asher didn't dare guess what was going through his mind.

It was almost immediately after the phone call was made that tires squealed on the opposite end of town, and Sam screwed the cap back on his gas tank. The flurry of texts were enough to know that Asher had been located, and he knew that he'd have to head back to town as quickly as possible. Now he had to quickly figure out exactly how to explain all of this to Katherine.

Asher had barely sat on the old sofa, staring at the wood paneling on the far wall, when he noticed that his time at Henry's residence wouldn't be the most enjoyable. Henry's mother was staring at him like a prison warden, and Henry was simply staring in that same awe, mouth agape. Asher was certain he wanted to be chastised rather than experience the silent treatment, but there seemed to be no hope of that. Then again, Henry's mother barely knew him. He started to wonder if he would even be allowed to be Henry's friend anymore.

"Y-your wall's nice!" Asher blurted the bizarre compliment out like a confession; he had no idea what else to say. Henry's mother's expression was unchanging, but Henry now looked confused. Asher imagined he had never been in this sort of trouble before.

"Lookit," he started, diverting his eyes to the carpet. It was green, a loud sort of green that was unnatural and profoundly offensive, but at least it wasn't the shade of green that Brianna fancied. "I know I did a bad thing, but 3; I just made Henry as a friend today! Please don't take him away!"

The last thing Asher had expected to hear was Henry sobbing, but that was what first met his ears. Henry's mother's resolve broke, and she began to comfort her son as best as she could. She started to formulate a reply, making it through just a couple words of assurance that this wouldn't be the end of their newly born friendship, but the sound of Katherine's car pulling onto gravel made time stop.

The woman stood and tried to make it to the door before Katherine arrived, which in most circumstances would have been simple, but apparently Katherine had developed an unnatural speed over the course of the past few hours. Her fist was hostile against the door, and Asher's eyes widened. He was certain that he was going to be killed. He thought momentarily of pleading for asylum from Henry's small family. As Henry's mother opened the door, Asher looked at Katherine with a curious gaze, a kind smile was etched across her face.

"Thank you so much Bonnie, you have no idea how much this means to me. Where's Asher?"

Bonnie nodded and directed her arm toward the waiting boy who had felt a bit relieved at the look on her face. Unfortunately for him, that was an expression meant for Bonnie and Bonnie alone. Her face contorted to rage so quickly it was barely perceptible, and her swift movement forward brought her hand to Asher's ear before he had anytime to protest or beg for mercy.

"Home! Now!"

Asher felt tears of pain coming to his eyes as he was practically dragged across the carpet and toward the door. He now knew the rage that Sam had briefly mentioned, and he knew that he would never inspire it again. He couldn't be perfect, but he'd become the world's best thinker. He wouldn't even take a bite of food again without considering the consequences.

"Bye, Asher! See you at school tomorrow!" Henry shouted and Asher heard it, barely accepting the statement as reality as he was pressed into the car. Blake was in the back, but Asher didn't turn to look at him. Blake didn't dare utter a peep, he knew well what his mother was capable of when she was angry.

Katherine sped backward out of the driveway, nearly colliding with another car as she did. The car leaped forward and started to head toward Second Street, and Asher sunk as deep into his seat as he could.

"Put your seat belt on now!" She demanded, and Asher replied with as much speed as he could muster.

"I have absolutely no idea what happened! Whether it's my stupid husband or you that's at fault, we're going to have a very long chat when we get home! And you can bet that you're going to be grounded for a whole week! No television, no playing, nothing! You're going to go to school, come straight home, do your homework, sit in your room, and think about what you've done. Are we clear?"

"Y-yes," Asher squeaked. He was absolutely terrified, and nothing was going to stop that, but he was at least glad that he wasn't going to be sent back to his invisible mother, a possibility that had only briefly occurred to him. Even at her most terrifying, he loved Katherine. He wouldn't want to be away from her even if it meant being grounded for an entire month.

Sam was waiting on the front porch with a forlorn expression on his face, and Asher recognized that he was willing to welcome him home. He also realized that from the combination of his expression and what Katherine had said, he hadn't added another layer to the lie that was his new life's story. Asher figured that he owed Sam some debt of gratitude, so he'd take the brunt of the blame. Katherine had commanded Blake to his room which he obeyed, and Asher followed her inside without any need for being told to do so. Sam was last in line, and the three piled into the kitchen.

As soon as Asher was pressed into his usual spot, Katherine sat with force and Sam joined her without making direct eye contact. Asher tried his best to look at Katherine, but her eyes seemed to have transformed into a shade much darker, and even her hair seemed to have gained in volume. He now wondered how he ever could have imagined his angel was a demon when Katherine looked more like a demon than he had ever imagined a demon to look.

"Explain," she said coolly, causing both Asher and Sam to shiver in rhythm. Sam seemed to be trying to open his mouth, but nothing was coming from it. Asher had to take initiative, and as hard as it was he managed to start speaking in spite of himself.

"Uncle Samuel picked me up from school, and 3; we got into a fight. I shoulda listened but I didn't. So I got mad and ran outta the car and into the woods. I kinda got lost then 3;" His voice trailed off as he tried to decide whether that was reasonable or sufficient.

"And why didn't you go after him?" Katherine asked of Sam in that same tone, and Sam's face developed a sickening pallor. Both Sam and Asher realized that this coolness was much worse than her yelling. Asher had to continue, and continue he did.

"He tried but 3; I didn't listen. I just keeped running and didn't go back. I'm faster," Asher said with an audible sigh at the end. He was so incredibly tired, and the black circles under his eyes showed it clearly.

"Listen to me!" Katherine began as her voice began to tremble, but this wasn't a tremble of anger. This was something much more profound and unexpected. Asher had doubted whether she actually loved him before or not, she had only known him for such a short time after all, but all of those preconceptions were shortly eradicated. "It doesn't matter what you call me, or how long you want to be here, but I love you! In my heart I am your mother, and how your real mother feels about you 3; I don't care! You have no idea how scared I was! You have no idea how sick I was with worry! Anything could have happened to you out there and there wasn't anyway for me to protect you! Asher, I love you! If you ever do anything like that again I'm going to chain you to this house!"

Asher's chin trembled as tears began to stream down his cheeks. She did love him, and he was so incredibly happy. He even noticed how relieved Sam was, and that he didn't seem to harbor any ill will toward his return. The angel had been an angel, and he was right. This was where he belonged, and even if it filled a hole for them it also filled a hole for him as well. His payment was as far from a punishment as anything could be, this was the greatest blessing he could imagine.

Katherine held her index fingers to her eyes, regaining her composure and keeping herself from crying. There was so much more she wanted to say but she was spent. She was relieved that Asher was home, and she'd never allow this to happen again.

"You're never picking him up again," she laughed, glaring at Sam teasingly. Sam merely chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

"M-mom?" Asher asked, wiping his face messily with his hands. The intermingled tears and dirt from his travels made for quite a sight.

"Yes?" Katherine asked lightly, a little taken aback by the title.

"I'm hungry," he said, forcing a smile. Katherine smiled brightly and nodded, standing and pushing the chair back.

"I'll get you fixed up, but go take a bath first."

"Kay," Asher said in response, leaving his own chair and heading toward the stairs. A bath would be welcome, and he just hoped he could remain awake to finish it. Blake was silent in his room, so Asher decided to carry on toward his destination. With the door shut tightly behind him, he ran the water and slipped out of his clothes. He noticed that the green shirt now bore a noticeable tear, and he was glad that it would now be unfit for school attire.

Chapter Twenty

The food that evening was delicious, and the food seemed to increase in its capacity to be so as the long week slowly crawled by. Other than school, it was the only thing about being alive that was tangibly enjoyable. Blake had tried in earnest to suffer in solidarity on the first day, but only managed to last a few hours until he escaped into the backyard. Asher couldn't blame him though, if he'd had the option he would have been outside as well. Unfortunately he didn't, so he found other ways to spend his time.

After school he would do homework, but he'd take his time about that. After homework he would take a nap, but those never seemed to last for very long. It was then that he'd retrieve a few pieces of loose leaf paper and begin to scribble random thoughts and ideas. Some of them weren't of any importance, but others were plans for games that ended up becoming incredibly short stories. He realized that they were hardly high literature, but something about placing what he'd rather be doing into words was comforting and didn't make each day so boring.

He wasn't sure whether he'd ever share them with anyone else or not, so before dinner each night he would fold the papers into neat squares, and place them beneath the bed where no one else could see. He didn't mind if anyone accidentally came across them, there wasn't anything damning there, but something about this body appreciated a good secret. It was good that it did, or his prior life remaining hidden would be a rather difficult thing to accomplish.

The weekend was certainly the hardest. Without school, his only hope was to sleep in. Unfortunately for him, it was only by an hour, and breakfast was apparently a requirement. He was allowed to talk to Blake though, and that was encouraging. They were small conversations each morning, but a welcome relief. Blake was always capable of giving him creative energy, and without school in the way Saturday and Sunday was spent writing more than he had before. Then school returned, and that Wednesday he had completely forgotten the time when he entered the car.

"So what are your plans for today?" Katherine asked, smiling and seeming to be in a generally good mood.

"Plans? Oh! I'm not grounded anymore!" he grinned, causing the older woman to laugh.

"Yep, the prison sentence has ended. I hope you learned something."

"I did," was Asher's simple response, and he had. It was an undue punishment of course, but she didn't know that. She had given it to him out of love, and he had learned how much he loved his new family. Even through the trails and tribulations of excessive boredom, that love remained and would, he imagined, for the rest of his life.

"I think I'm gonna play with Blake."

"Just don't forget about your homework," she warned, which gave Asher a reason to smile again.

"There isn't any tonight with the half day tomorrow."

"Oh? Teachers have gotten awfully lazy, huh?"

"Uh huh!" he said excitedly, nodding his head. Katherine just laughed in response, turning into the driveway.

"Can I have a sleepover with Henry this weekend?"

"Did you ask his parents?" she asked, unbuckling her seat belt and stopping short of opening the door.

"Not yet, Henry's gonna ask. He said he'd let me know."

"Would that be here or there?"

"Here," he responded. "I think Blake would like him. He's fun."

"Well as long as it's alright with Bonnie it's alright with me."

"Cool! Thanks, Mom!" He opened the door and ran toward the house, hearing Katherine doing much the same behind him. He opened the unlocked door and burst inside, looking earnestly for a good few seconds before yelling Blake's name out.

"Hey! Use your inside voice!" He heard Sam call in the same fatherly tone he had used on the first day they had met. Asher blushed a bit, but nodded.

"Sorry, Dad."

It wasn't the first time that week he had called Sam that, and while it was more difficult to utter than Katherine's version, it had become palatable very quickly. While they had never specifically talked about his taking the blame, he smiled and nodded in ways that showed that he both realized and appreciated what he had done. He even sneaked in some extra paper at Asher's request when he began to run low. Sam's spirits seemed to be much higher now, and he was glad. Sam had been the unpredictable one throughout, even though he had expected Katherine to hold that title. Perhaps their relationship just wasn't meant to flourish until their payment had been made.

Blake came running downstairs with a grin, hopping from foot to foot excitedly.

"Are you not grounded!?"

"Nope!" he grinned, grabbing Blake's hand and running with him toward the back of the house.

"That took a million years!" Blake proclaimed, causing Asher to giggle. In a lot of ways it had felt like a million years.

"More like a billion!"

"What's that?" Blake asked, looking confused.

"Just a bigger number," he explained, making Blake giggle in turn.

"Then 3; a million billion!"

"Like when the dinosaurs were!" Asher knew in his mind he should have said that long ago, and that the time frame was imperfect and the order of the digits, but Blake had understood. It was natural that he would, after all.

"Then I'mma be a tyr'osaurus!" he proclaimed, slashing his arms wildly as they escaped into the afternoon sun.

"And I'mma raptor!" Asher proclaimed in turn, chasing after the love of his life as Blake giggled and roared with each retreating step and turn to attack. The grass became a dense jungle, and Asher was alright with that; at least it wasn't the woods. They certainly wouldn't be pretending to be modern mammals anytime soon.

The games ebbed and flowed easily as they usually did, and Asher was comforted that he wouldn't have to spend the time later regretting a lack of inner-soliloquy. His family was secure, yes, but school was as well. His class had become his permanent one, and Henry had become his permanent recess and lunch time partner. Henry had desires to become an entomologist, even if he didn't know the term just yet, but his knowledge of bugs and their habits would have been impressive even if Asher was still an adult. There was a part of Asher that liked bugs just because he was a boy, although not quite to Henry's extent. All the same, the way he spoke with authority and passion on the subject made it endlessly interesting. Asher enjoyed the way Henry's face lit up when he was interested in something.

The duo had even readily agreed to be roommates at the class trip, and both Katherine and Mr. Castaway had given their blessing. It was an agreement that made the two happy, but it was one that made sense. Both were different, Asher for being young and Henry for being socially awkward, but together they seemed to share a mutual understanding and affinity. In the end their friendship made sense on paper, but had proven to strengthen quickly to being something more than a convenient arrangement. It was a true friendship in every sense of the word, and neither of their flaws mattered to the other.

So with Asher left without anything to worry about other than his mandatory obligations, he played hard and didn't think about much. When dinner was called, he hate, and complained about the vegetables as was his due. When it was bath time he went, but that was something he never really complained about. He didn't imagine he'd ever be nearly as tired as he had been the day he traversed the woods, but a bath was always relaxing and enjoyable in a quiet, subtle sort of way. Blake wasn't as big of a fan, but they couldn't share everything in common.

Katherine had been kind enough to let them sleep together that night in honor of his liberation, as long as the two promised to comply the next morning. Despite it being a half day, they'd have to go to school all the same. If they weren't agreeable, she warned, there would be no further sleeping together. Both of them decided that was an acceptable arrangement, and no matter what happened they would both be morning people the next day, even if the agreement was much easier for Blake. Sam didn't even seem to bat an eye at the idea, and simply smiled, nodded, and went along with it. Asher was desperately curious as to why he wasn't afraid of what had happened before recurring, but it was something he figured he'd never know. Those thoughts fell away though as soon as the two were tucked in and the door shut, Blake snuggling close to Asher and smiling brightly.

For the longest time, the two said nothing. Asher's eyelids began to become heavy, and he assumed sleep would be coming for them both. It was alright with Asher, he was certainly happy enough just being this close. Although when Blake's hand lowered and grabbed the front of his pajamas, Asher's partially lidded eyes became as light as feathers and parted. He giggled softly, looking into Blake's eyes, and it was clear from Blake's expression that he had an enormously good idea, and that sleep wouldn't be coming for just a bit.

"I wanna do your wiener this time," he said in a very resolved fashion, smiling cheekily.

"Kay," Asher said simply, starting to slide his pajamas and underwear down. He almost laughed, realizing how ridiculous it was that he wasn't having an inner-struggle about it. Every time before he had spent each minute debating, worrying, or quietly accepting. His moods changed and ripped away his conscious body, so powerful was that internal debate, but now there was none to be had. He ought to have it, considering what Sam had found them doing, but from the way he hadn't protested about them spending the night together he could only assume that it was either a blessing for them to continue or an acknowledgment that he had ultimately came to the same conclusion that Asher had.

Asher's imagination had become a more quiet thing now, particularly after the angel's comments. It had a time and place to be active, and that was in the backyard or on the playground. When it came to his interpersonal relations, he had to let life go as it would go. If he spent the greater part of his existence worrying about any number of possibilities, he'd never truly live. Although, he figured, his imagination was worthy of making one final suggestion considering the circumstances.

"You know," Asher began, reaching out and locking his fingers with Blake's waistband. "we can both do it at the same time."

"Huh? How's that?" Blake asked, a tad too loudly, as he shot up into a sitting position. Asher placed his right index finger against Blake's lips and joined him, crossing his legs beneath him. His three inches were already quite hard and protruding, and he was more than ready to do what it was Blake wanted. Despite that, Asher had found that giving Blake pleasure was its own form of pleasure, and the two sharing in the same experience could be nothing short of ultimate bliss.

"Well," Asher whispered, setting the expected volume they should be using while conversing, "if my head is by your wiener, and your head is by my wiener, and we're both on our sides, we can do each others wieners at once."

Blake almost shouted out how brilliant the plan was, but his hands rose to cover his mouth. His eyes still gave away the expression though, that same animated excitement that Asher enjoyed so much. Slowly the hands slipped away, and Blake whispered his response.

"That's super smart!"

"Do you wanna try it?" Asher asked, making sure that he was alright with the plan despite his noticeable excitement.

"Yeah! Do you think we'll tingle at the same time?" Blake was nodding quickly, and his face bore both excitement and wonder. It made Asher grin so wide that it almost hurt.

"Prob'ly," Asher replied, making Blake all the happier to oblige.

Asher helped Blake out of his pajama bottoms and underwear, casting them to the end of the bed to join his own. He looked down at his life's love's length for the first time in over a week. It hadn't changed in any noticeable fashion, but he felt more happy to see it than he ever had before. It was sort of like seeing an old friend after a prolonged separation.

Asher had to help guide Blake to where he ought to be. Though there wasn't much difference in height, Blake was either too close to his stomach or too far down with his first two attempts. His questions of whether this was alright were met with tiny giggles, and thankfully Blake didn't take offense. Asher found their unpracticed union to be fun, and he wouldn't have had it any other way. They both would become accustomed to these games eventually, but when they were fresh and new they were that much more exciting.

"You can, uh, get used to it before I start," Asher said when Blake was finally staring directly at his little soldier. He knew there was a chance that Blake wouldn't like the taste, although Asher had no problem with that being the case. He was just fine with the possibility of him giving pleasure and never receiving it in return.

"Kay," Blake said, extending his tongue like a puppy and licking the ever exposed head with a latent curiosity.

Asher had to close his eyes, having not quite expected that. There was something about Blake's tongue that was different; it was silky, soft, and warm. He had expected to feel the taste buds or, well, anything that would have the capacity to diminish the pleasure to some degree, but he didn't feel any of that. His young tongue was ideal, and even though Asher had briefly contemplated going all the way, he couldn't imagine it feeling any better than this.

"S'not bad," Blake commented, taking the length into his mouth without any further hesitation. His tiny lips clamped at the bottom of the shaft as he began to suckle, like a child much younger than he was, and the feeling inside and the tongue pressing against his glans was almost too much for Asher to take. He knew that he wouldn't last long, but he had something bigger to worry about. He had assured, well, at least something close to it, his young friend that they'd tingle at the same time. How could he keep that promise at this rate? Fortunately for that worry, Blake's teeth brushed against it and Asher found his hips moving back in reflex.

"N-not the teeth!" he quietly pleaded, causing Blake to blush.

"S-sorry 3;" he said earnestly, sounding very disappointed in himself. Asher almost chuckled, it was something that he should have expected but didn't think about. It was Blake's first time, and mistakes were going to happen.

"No, it's okay! It just kinda hurt is all," Asher assured, and Blake nodded. He hesitated, looming over the appendage, and it took Asher's hand on the fire red mane to reassure him.

"'Member when I tickled you the first time? I made a mistake too, so it's okay."

"That's true," Blake grinned, nodding his head. It gave him the resolve he needed to return to the act.

At first his mouth was ridiculously wide, the lips doing much of the work, but surprisingly that felt good enough of its own accord. Eventually though, Blake figured out that he was being overly cautious. His mouth lowered and lowered with each pass, and eventually he felt comfortable with the suckling again. His teeth remained a fair distance away, and Asher had to snap himself back to reality to return the favor.

His hands were trembling by the time he managed to reach the tiny hood of Blake's incredibly rigid boyhood, and he was trying valiantly to keep his orgasm at bay. He figured that, if he started returning the favor, maybe it would help him take his mind off of his own pleasure. His fingers worked the hood back and, to his surprise, it relented with incredible ease. Apparently Blake had been playing alone during their week's separation. Instead of using his lips this time, he just held the foreskin back with his index finger and thumb, and moved his mouth on to suckle and bob, adding the lost element that Blake had apparently forgotten about.

The salty taste entered Asher's mouth and he found himself salivating. It was a taste that he enjoyed now, and the boyish smells that intermingled with soap were a nice addition. He remembered being mildly afraid of it the first time, but now it was as much a part of Blake as Blake's personality. It tasted just right, and it felt just right. It was warm and rigid, and he wanted nothing more than to bring it pleasure. It felt good, perhaps too good, and it was that pleasure that would be Asher's undoing.

He felt his tingling begin to build, but he had barely begun the process of pleasing Blake. His mind rushed with worry of disappointment, and he knew that he had to somehow hide it. He couldn't stop the series of events that would follow, but surely he could keep from panting until Blake did so. But as the tingling rose and fell and his penis leaped to life, he was quickly reminded of the sensitive nature of a post dry cum. The silky, warm mouth was only the more torturous because Blake wasn't bobbing his head. The suckling made his glans engorge, and even prior to the miniature length leaping and pleading for release it was already much too sensitive.

Asher closed his eyes tightly as he tried desperately to ignore it, sucking just a bit harder and bobbing his head just a bit faster. The climax didn't seem to want to relent, and neither did Blake. He hadn't noticed that Asher had climaxed because he refused to let out a peep. He could feel the pace of Blake's breath as it escaped his nose hasten, and he hoped that meant that he would be in the same state very soon. But when Asher's length gave its last desperate attempt to push out liquid from his taut testicles, pleasure gave way to agony. The agony of sensitivity, and something akin to what he had imagined Blake to feel when the foreskin rubbed against his tiny helmet.

He didn't let his body go rigid, he knew it would be a dead giveaway, and while his blowing had become somewhat unpredictable in pace, he kept at it. His toes were curling to the point it nearly hurt, and he was thankful when the intensity of sensitivity began to ebb. What he found most surprising though was that his prick hadn't shrunken, it was still standing tall and proud. What was possibly worse was that what the sensitivity had given way to was another round of pleasure, and he began to wonder why. He had heard of men that were able to cum again relatively quickly after orgasm, but it was a rare gift. Men had something called a refractory period, some were longer than others, but Asher had just discovered that he had none at all.

As he saw the pale legs in front of him begin to tense, he realized that Blake would be feeling his own tingling rise and fall in short order. It allowed him to focus again, but he had to work to maintain that focus. Asher felt his own bottom tighten, and this time the tingles were like prickles across his lower abdomen. They had returned much quicker than he had imagined, and at a rate of fury that he hadn't quite expected. While it was only by a few seconds, and it made Asher have to resort to a simple suckling imitation of Blake, his second orgasm came first.

His mouth was only practicing instinctual motions, his body unable to comprehend the sensation a second time and with this power. He felt Blake's own length twitching inside of his mouth, but that was the only thing about the outside world that he could understand. His fingers were only holding onto Blake's foreskin at this point because they had been there for so long. Asher's breath was escaping his nose quick and fast, casting warm air on Blake's snug cullions. Blake was whining around Asher's length, and Asher was as well, although he hadn't even realized it.

It felt like his body was reaching into an even deeper repository than his testes, perhaps the valiant dick was even trying to push his very essence forward. None of it would have it, and the orgasm would last for even longer than the first. It took Blake's tapping his head several times for him to move his head back, and when he did he barely managed to keep the foreskin away from Blake's sensitive head. Blake's mouth pulled away, but Asher's length still drummed on. It didn't calm down for a couple minutes, and when it did he felt incredibly dizzy.

When Blake pulled his hand away, assured that he could handle his glans being covered once more, Asher rolled onto his back, panting breathlessly, and stared at the ceiling. He had almost forgotten that Blake was there, or that there was even a world outside. Blake had been quietly watching, observing, but waited to say anything. When he did Asher was glad, because he was certain he would have been stuck in that mental blank space forever.

"Are you okay?" Blake asked, making Asher chuckle. Asher placed his hands against his chest, and he was amazed at how fast his heart could actually beat.

"Y-yeah 3; I th-think it was 3; just 3; betterer 'cause we both did it together." He had partially lied, but he didn't care. It certainly was exciting to give pleasure and receive it at once, but the multiple orgasms were mind numbing; he wasn't sure whether it was worth it just yet or not. That would be a subject he'd have to consider anoother time. He had been quite wrong when he thought that wandering the woods would be the most exhausted he could be, this had been it.

"Did I do good?" Blake asked, tilting his head curiously. He had been sitting up, and up until now, Asher hadn't even noticed.

"Mmhmm! Great! It even worked out jus' like you said!"

Blake grinned proudly, obviously tired himself but not quite at the same level.

"Kay!"

Asher giggled a little as his head hit the pillow. He had tried hard to keep it slightly erect, but it was a losing battle. He'd have to sleep no matter what Blake wanted.

"D'you want me to put your jammies back on?" Blake asked, making Asher smile. He didn't want to say that he was incapable of doing it himself, but on some level Blake seemed to understand it. Asher simply nodded in reply, and Blake was happy to oblige.

Asher didn't remember quite when he went to sleep, but when he did it was instantaneous. It was a deep sleep, the kind he couldn't have been roused from even if an earthquake had struck. While tired, Blake had enough energy to do one last thing once his fingers were assured that Asher's underwear and pajama bottoms were in the right place and not twisted. He hopped off the bed and toward the hallway, opening the door quietly. He escaped into his room and grabbed a tiny present wrapped in blue, a white ribbon surrounding it. When he returned to the bed he slipped it inside of Asher's arms, and lie at his side. He stared at Asher quietly for awhile, admiring his cousin, brother, and friend. He couldn't imagine how he had been so lucky, why he always felt so happy when Asher was around. Finally his eyes closed and sleep came, and the two wouldn't make a peep until the next morning.

Chapter Twenty-One

Dear Diary (I think it's okay to be called a diary, I think 'Dear Journal' would sound pretty dumb. It's not like diaries are just for girls anymore, right? At least I think so. Maybe I should try the other one.)

Dear Journal (I guess it's not so dumb, but it's a lot longer. I mean, Journal has two whole extra letters in it! That's like more seconds I could be playing with Blake! I think I'll stick with Diary. Oh, I have to write that again now.)

Dear Diary,

Hello! My name is Asher Carson and I'm seven-years-old. I'm in the fifth grade and my teacher is Mr. Castaway, and he thinks he's really cool. Well, I guess I think he's really cool too, I mean he did let me get away with something. Although Diary I can't tell you what that is, because someday someone might read you and that would be bad, so if I don't write it here I have plausible deniability! At least I think that's what I think that means.

Anyway, I'm in the fifth grade because I'm a progidy 3; prodigidy 3; prodigy 3; because I'm smarter than the other first graders. At first that was pretty scary, because there was this girl named Brianna who was really mean and stupid, but now she can't be mean to anyone because she got embarrassed. Oh, I wasn't supposed to write about that 3; Well I guess it doesn't matter, this is in pen anyway.

I have a really cool friend named Henry and he likes bugs a lot. I think maybe we'll go to college together someday. I think that sounds like a good idea. I hope we can stay in the same class for the rest of regular school, anyway. I don't think his mom wants to move away, and I don't think we're going to move anywhere. I guess he might make different friends someday but that's okay, I'm pretty sure we'll always be friends.

Anyway, oh! I almost forgot! Blake is my cousin. Well, he's kind of more like my brother. Well, maybe he's more like my best friend, I don't really know. Either way, I like him a whole lot and he likes me. We play together a whole lot and his games are always fun. He even likes it when I pick games, and we've never had a fight. So maybe since we've never fought it's not fair to call him a brother.

Blake went with Mom to buy me you the other day. He picked you because you have flames and he thought you would be fun. I think the flames are fun, at least. It makes you a really cool diary, and definitely not a diary that would belong to a girl. If you were pink I probably wouldn't be writing to you. Maybe if you were purple I would, but I'd have to think about that pretty hard. Anyway, they wrapped you up and when I woke up this morning, there you were! So I had to think all day about the things I wanted to tell you.

I didn't have to do a whole lot at school today since it was a half day. That means we got to leave before lunch instead of waiting until three o'clock. Usually Blake gets out earlier than me because he's in kindergarten but today we got out at the same time. I can't wait until next year when that happens all the time, because it's kind of weird that most days we don't get to ride home together; at least I think so. I'd ask what you think but you're just a diary so you can't talk. At least I hope you can't, because if you could then that would be scary.

Although next year I'll be in middle school I think, so the times might still be off. That would be terrible! I need to ask Mom about that later. I'd ask Dad but I don't think he really knows. He told Blake and me that him and Mom are trying to have another baby, so I think that's all he's really thinking about. Blake still doesn't know where babies come from, maybe because he didn't ask. I don't think I'm going to tell him, though.

Tomorrow Henry is going to spend the night, and that means that he gets to meet Blake! I hope he thinks Blake is as cool as I do. I think that he will, he plays pretty good for a ten-year-old. Although sometimes I think that I might have more energy than him, and I know Blake has more energy than me, so that might be hard. Maybe I should ask Mom to make cookies or something. I wonder if she makes cookies. Henry would have to have extra cookies, though.

I mean, Blake and I could just not have any cookies but I don't think that's going to happen. Cookies are really good, or at least I think they are. I'm pretty sure that's the case! But I keep talking about cookies and I haven't even asked Mom about it yet! You'd probably think I was pretty stupid if you could think, diary.

You know, I don't think I like this diary thing. I think that you deserve to have a name. I don't know what to call you, though. I guess I could call you Holden but I think The Catcher in the Rye is a pretty boring book even if I have to read it. I think I'll call you Wesley. Wesley is a good name, right? Well, you don't know, you're just a diary, but at least you have a name now!

Well I think I'm gonna go because I wrote a whole lot, and I don't want to use all of you up too quick, Wesley. So be a good diary and don't, um, do things diaries shouldn't do. I don't know what those are but it would probably be hard to do anything since you're a big empty book. Well, a kinda empty book since I wrote this. I promise I'll tell you how everything goes at school tomorrow.

Your friend, Asher

***

Dear Wesley,

Hello again! Today is going really good! Henry and Blake like each other a who 3;

Sorry about that, we had a pillow fight. It was a lot more fun than telling you stuff. But I promised I'd tell you about my day so I'm going to do that. I got back my math test and I got an A-, which I think is pretty good. Mom thought so at least, and she even put it on the refrigerator! I didn't listen to the teacher much though, bec 3;

Sorry again! Mom brought some milk up because she said it's supposed to make us tired, but I don't think that's going to happen. I bet we'll be awake forever! Blake is trying to find Hungry Hungry Hippos but I don't think he will. His room is pretty messy, so it's hard to find stuff in here. But if he fi 3;

Hi! It was a good day. Sorry but playing is more fun than telling you stuff. We'll start again tomorrow, okay?

Your friend, Asher

P.S. Mom can make really good cookies!

The End