Date: Tue, 26 Mar 2002 18:11:47 -0600
From: Gary <gary_q@hotmail.com>
Subject: England Swings 01

England Swings
By Gary_Q
Gary_Q@hotmail.com

The below story is a work of fiction, none of the events described
happened, nor do any of the characters exist.  This story contains erotic
and/or sexually explicit behavior between consenting males, both adult and
underage minors.  If it is illegal for you to, or you find this sort of
work offensive, don't download or read it!

The author reserves all copyrights to this story, it my be printed,
electronically recorded or reproduced ONLY for personal use.  The
reproduction or linking to this story by pay web sites is expressly
forbidden.

                          Chapter One

     Ronnie and I were relaxing in the den of my house, cuddled next to
each other in front of the TV, when we heard my dad's car turn into our
driveway.  He had his hand cupping my inner thigh, stoking the hem of my
shorts while I stoked his flat, tight stomach as we explored each other's
13-year-old bodies, something we did almost daily after school for the past
couple of months whenever we could be alone.

     He ran his fingers through my shoulder length, strawberry-blond hair a
couple of times before brushing my long surfer style bangs out of my eyes
and kissing me on the forehead.  "Yeah well, only one week until summer
vacation, and we can be together all day," I whispered into my best
friend's ear, kissing him on the lips.

     He was squeezing my golden bronze, thin leg when we heard my dad's
driver call out, "Oh, and congratulations, Doctor Richardson!"  Ronnie slid
his thin, 5 foot-four body across the couch and leaned back against the
cushions as my dad opened the front door.

     "Hi guys," Dad said as he passed the entrance to the den.  After
disappearing into his study to leave his briefcase and laptop he walked
into the den, stripping his suit-coat and tie off as he walked.  "How was
school guys?" he asked, tousling Ronnie's dark blond hair.  Before we could
answer he kissed me on the top of my head before bending over and giving me
a quick hug from behind.  "Where's your night brace?" he asked.  Before I
could answer he added, "Go!  And get me a cocktail, Tiger, I want to talk
to you two.  You guys get yourselves a coke," he said as I rushed to my
bedroom.

     Dad was sitting in the middle of the couch when I walked back into the
den, pulling the straps of my orthodontic headgear around my head.  Ronnie
met me at the bar, built into the back wall of the den.  As I had done God
knows how many times since my mom died four years ago, I mixed my dad a
double Martini.  Ronnie and I each stole a sip, of course just to make sure
it was properly mixed.  Ronnie got two Cokes out of the bar's little
refrigerator and we rejoined dad on the couch, sitting on each side of him.

     "Guys, I have an announcement, one that is going to be a little
surprising," Dad began, pausing to take a long sip from his drink.  "I am
being transferred, and Brian and I are going to move to England," he said.

     My throat dropped into my stomach, before ricocheting off it into my
groin.  I looked over at Ronnie, who's face was as distraught as I'm sure
mine was.  I knew that dad worked for the government, actually the Foreign
Service part of the State Department, and that he we might have to move
sometimes.  I was born in Hong Kong and remembered living in Washington DC
when I was young.  But we had lived here in southern California for several
years, I knew my dad had a very high ranking job, and had always figured we
would stay here close to my best friend, almost boy friend, and a life I
loved.

     "I know that's a shock, son," Dad continued, I'm sure feeling or
seeing my concern.  He wrapped his arms around both Ronnie and my
shoulders.  "But its necessary.  I've been named as the Charge d'Affaires
for our embassy in London."  He took another swallow of his drink before
putting his arm back around my shoulder.  "It's a big promotion for me, but
I don't really have a choice.  When the Department says to go somewhere, I
have to go or quit my job."

     I started off into space for the better part of a minute, trying to
convince myself I was dreaming.  Ronnie shifting nervously on the couch got
my attention and I looked around dad toward my friend.  "Wh-wh-when?"  I
more whispered than said.

     "Very soon, the current Charge d'Affairs suffered a heart attack and
the embassy was already understaffed.  It's going to be tight, but I hope
we can leave the day after you get out of school."

     "What's a charger dfairs?" Ronnie asked.

     "It's Charge-A-Dee-fair, Ronnie," Dad corrected.  "He's is the second
in command of the embassy, the only one higher is the Ambassador.  Hey,
you're going to love England son, it will be a good experience for you," he
said turning back to me.

      "I know how close you two are," he added, making Ronnie and I
exchange worried glances as both wondered if he really did, "There is a
program where it's possible Ronnie can come visit us after we are settled
in, at government expense.  How's that?"

     The phone rang before we could answer.  Dad reached over me and picked
up the cordless off of the table next to the couch.  He spoke into it a
couple of times before setting it on the coffee table in front of us.

     "That was your mom, Ronnie.  She wants you to come home, time for
supper," Dad informed both of us.  Ronnie shrugged his shoulders and stood
up.  I stared at him for a second before standing up and walking behind him
outside.

     "That's fucked!" he growled.

     "That's totally fucked!" I replied.  "And in a week, shit what are we
gonna do?"

     "I don't know, we gotta think of something," he whined.  "I gotta go,"
he added.  We tried to kiss, our lips just barely touching as the steel
facebow sticking out of my mouth blocked our way.  "Why do I gotta fall in
love with a tin grin!" he joked.

     "Tell your mom you're going to spend the night tomorrow, I'll show you
why!" I called after him as he ran down our sidewalk.  I watched him until
he was out of sight before going back inside.  I looked into the den, then
started to go up to my bedroom when my dad called me back.

     "I know this is a shock, son," he began.  "But I know you're going to
like it once we get there, okay?"  Before I could answer he continued.  "We
have a lot to do to get ready.  Tomorrow Mrs. Graham is going to pick you
up after school.  She'll bring you down to the consulate so we can get you
a passport and do some more paperwork.  Next week you will need to go to
the doctor for your shots, and to the orthodontist and get your records,
she will take you there too."

     Wow!  Great fun!  I thought.  "Yes, sir," I almost whimpered.

     Things didn't get any better.  Ronnie called later that night saying
he had to go out of town with his parents, not only could he not spend the
night, but we wouldn't get to see each other all weekend.  Dad was going to
make me wear a white dress shirt to school the next day instead of my
normal tee-shirt, but after some major squirming and begging I talked him
into taking one with him to work, so I could change into it for my
pictures.  The next morning he made me put my headgear I my backpack before
I left, which meant I could expect to wear it around his office so everyone
could stare at me.

     The next afternoon Dad's long black Cadillac, State Department seals
on each door, was sitting in front of my school when I came out.  My face
turned so red I'm sure it glowed from feeling all the eyes staring at me as
dad's driver opened the rear door for me and waited for me to climb in.

     Mrs. Graham, Dad's assistant was waiting inside.  "Your dad said to
remind you to put your brace on," she more ordered than suggested as I sat
down.  Still red faced I dug into my backpack and hooked the shinny steel
facebow onto my back teeth, then wrapped the straps around the top of my
head, another around my neck.

     Thankfully most of the paperwork was already filled out, and after I
changed into my dress shirt and tie, they took several pictures of me along
with taking my fingerprints.  I was very relieved when I was allowed to
take my headgear off while I was photographed, but of course was reminded
to put it back on as soon as we were done.  I was hoping to be taken home
when they were done, but ended up sitting around my dad's office, trying
not to choke with my stupid tie around my neck until Dad was ready to go
home.

     We spent all weekend packing.  The house the government was providing
us in London was furnished, so Dad made arrangements to have most of our
stuff put into storage after we left.  Most of our clothes and belongings
we wanted to take with us were going to be shipped ahead of us, so we kept
back clothes for next week and packed everything else.

     Dad brought home some pictures of our new house.  It was really neat,
and huge for the two of us to live in.  He also had some pamphlets about
England and the embassy.  I was, at least I thought then, happy to learn I
would be going to a public school that all the embassy kids attended I had
seen pictures of British kids going to stuffy prep schools wearing blazers
and ties, at least I would be spared from that.

     The next week was just as busy.  Monday, the government Cadillac was
waiting to embarrass me after school, and I was whisked off to the doctor,
who took great delight in using my arms as pincushions as he gave me all
the shots needed to go overseas.  Tuesday it was back for an unscheduled
trip to the orthodontist, who took equal delight in giving my teeth one of
the most painful tightenings he ever had, I'm sure getting his last shot at
me before releasing my records to the ever present Mrs. Graham.  Wednesday
I had to rush home and put on a suit and tie, then go to my dad's office
for his going away party.  All this time I only got to see Ronnie at
school, and was going nuts not being able to spend time with him.

     Dad was right about us leaving as soon as my school ended.  The last
day of school was Thursday.  School let out for the summer at three
o'clock, and we were flying out at five-thirty.  At least Ronnie and his
mom came to the airport to see us off.  We excused ourselves to use the
rest room and got to spend ten minutes or so privately saying goodbye, but
all we could do in a public restroom has steal hugs and kisses when no one
else was in it.

     Two planes and about 15 hours later we landed in London.  A stretch
limo was waiting for us, and after this nutcase driver scared the crap out
of me driving on the wrong side of the road, we soon arrived at our new
home, located inside what they called the compound a group of houses and
duplexes adjoining the US Embassy and surrounded by rock walls.

     The house was even more impressive than the pictures showed it.  Most
of the furniture looked like it was antique, and all of it was clearly very
expensive We met Elaine, our housekeep and cook, along with Mrs. Smyth, who
said she was the Director of Housing and Dependant Services, whatever that
meant.

     All I wanted to do was get something to eat and go to bed, and paid
little attention to either woman as they talked to my dad until I heard
Smyth say, "Brain is already registered at Westshire, but tomorrow I will
need to take him into town to get his uniforms and haircut."

     I froze in mid-step, staring into space as I tried to decide if I was
hearing things.  I ran my fingers through my long hair as I looked down at
my baggy cargo pants and oversized tee-shirt.

     "Dad!  You didn't say anything about no damn uniforms!" I cried.  "I'm
NOT getting my haircut, NO WAY!  Besides, it's summer, I just got out of
school!" I proclaimed as I turned toward them.  "Sir," I quickly added when
I saw my dad's angry face.  "I mean please Dad!, ah, sir," I tried,
realizing, from his facial expression, how close to death I was.

     "The schools here are on a different schedule, you'll start Monday.
And uniforms are not that big a deal, all kids wear uniforms to school
here," Smyth replied.  "And the haircut is really just a trim, it cannot
touch your collar or cover your ears is all," she added.

     "What time would you like to pick him up?" my dad growled more than
asked.

     "Would nine be suitable?" she asked.

     "Can you be ready at nine, Brian?  I'm sure you are looking forward to
going with Mrs Smyth, aren't you."  The look on his face told me there was
only one answer that offered any hope of survival, at least until he got me
alone.

     "Yes, sir," I meekly whimpered.

     To my surprise, Dad didn't kill me after Smyth left.  Elaine brought
us some sandwiches and cheese, serving me a large glass of milk and Dad a
martini.  After letting me stew for a couple of minutes Dad reached over
and lay his hand on my forearm.

     "Give it a chance, son, it wont be bad at all, I promise."  Knowing I
was still on thin ice I gave him one of my most polite yes sir's before he
continued, "Westshire Preparatory is one of the best schools in England,
the State Department is putting out a lot of money to have you attend it"

     Gee, thanks!  I thought.  They don't need to do me any favor. . . s.
My mind froze up in mid thought as I realized what he had said.  "But that
book said I was going to go to public school!" I cried.  "Sir," I quickly
added.

     "In England public school means it is funded buy the public, as
opposed to the government, I thought you knew that.  They're what we would
call private schools in the states," Dad explained.

     I stared down at my almost empty milk glass for several seconds.  Oh
God, my life is over I told myself.

     The next morning the smell of something baking woke me up, something
my stomach decided we had to investigate immediately.  I jumped in a pair
of shorts and wandered through our huge house for a couple of minutes
before I found the kitchen.  Elaine was removing a pan from the oven as I
walked in, and the aroma of sweet, fresh bread made me drool slightly.

     "Good morning, Master Brian!" Elaine bubbled in her thick English
accent.  "I thought you'd like some nice fresh muffins!"  She removed two
huge biscuits from the pan, then rushed to the refrigerator, setting a
large glass of milk, along with another of orange juice on the kitchen
table.  "Your father said you most often have your breakfast in the
kitchen, is that acceptable sir?"

     Still somewhat asleep I looked around to see where my dad was.  "I
prepared you some ham, how many eggs would you like sir?"  We were the only
two people in the room, so I wondered who she was calling sir, who she was
talking to.  "Sir, would you like some eggs with your breakfast?"  To my
shock she was looking directly at me.

     "Ah, yes ma'am, please," I answered.  I sat down and picked up the
orange juice, not remembering I was still wearing my headgear until the
glass bounced off my facebow, spilling some of the juice on the table.
"I'm sorry," I whimpered, looking around for a towel before I got into
trouble for making a mess.

     Elaine rushed over to the table, quickly wiping up my spill.  "Oh, no
sir, it's not a problem!" she exclaimed.  "Here, butter your muffins, I'll
get you a fresh glass."

     I just had time to take my headgear off before Elaine sat a plate with
some sliced ham and the eggs in front of me.  It was fantastic, after the
first bite I more inhaled than ate everything she put in front of me.
Finally, three muffins, two eggs and a ton of ham later I was full.

     "Can I bring you anything else sir?" she asked.

     "No ma'am, thank you," I responded.  "Ah, ma'am, ah, well, would it be
okay if you didn't call me sir, please?  It kinda scares me, maybe can you
just call me Brian ma'am?"

     "Of course si. . ., well I'll try, it is a hard habit to break," she
answered, snickering.  "You're a wonderful boy!" she added, patting the top
of my head.

     Smyth rang our doorbell at exactly nine o'clock.  When I opened the
door there was a shiny black Jaguar sitting in front of the house, a big
man wearing a suit holding the rear door open.  I felt my jaw drop open as
I follow her to the car, the man holding the door was huge.  Since I'm only
five-foot two-inches tall most adults look big, but my eyes were looking at
his stomach.  I looked up at him as we got closer, his neck looked almost
as big as my waist!  After Smyth and I climbed into the back seat and he
closed our door he somehow managed to stuff his huge frame into the front
passenger seat, where the steering wheel should be on normal cars.

     I was looking at the Marines guarding the entrance to our compound
when Smyth said, "Brian, this is Kevin." The big man turned round in his
seat and offered his ham like hand to me as she continued.  "Kevin is one
of the escorts here for embassy children.  Whenever you leave the embassy
grounds you ALWAYS have to be with your father, or have one of the escorts
go with you.  Kevin isn't a chaperone or anything, his only job is to make
sure you are safe, but the gate guards wont let you leave without an
escort, okay?"

     Great, thanks Dad!  I thought, I'm stuck in a fucking prison!

     "Hi Brian," Kevin said.  "That's not how it is, I've seen that face
before.  I don't tell on my kids, I don't tell them what to do, I just
protect them.  Give us a chance, just forget I'm around, okay?"

     Yeah, sure!  I thought as I noticed his brown hair pushing against the
car's headliner, wondering if he was denting the top of the car outward.
Who would even notice you!  "Yes sir," I replied.

     "How about okay Kevin, or yeah Kevin instead?"

     "Yes sir," I answered, slumping down in the carseat.  Shortly the
driver stopped in front of a small business.  As Kevin climbed out and went
to the storefront, looking into its windows, I noticed the sign read Shope
instead of shop.  I was still trying to believe all of this when Kevin
opened the car door and Smyth climbed out.  I blindly followed them into
the store.

     "Good day madam," an old man said as he walked up to us.  He looked
more like a wax figure from an old, old movie than a person his three piece
suit and stiff collar something out of an old black and white movie.  "May
I presume the young man will be attending Westshire?"  Smyth nodded and he
said, "This way please, sir."

     I stood motionless, trying to figure out who he was talking to for a
couple of seconds when I felt Kevin's brisket size arm on my shoulder.  He
guided me behind Smyth and the old fossil toward the back of the store,
tucking me under his arm as we walked.  The clerk stopped to whisper
something to a younger man, just as stiffly dressed, before ushering us and
into a corner of the store with full length mirrors on two walls.

     "Your name, sir?" the old man asked, looking at me.  I looked up at
Kevin, afraid to answer because I didn't know his last name.

     "This is Brian Richardson," Kevin responded, gently squeezing my
shoulder.

     "Good day, Master Richardson.  Please remove your shirt and shoes, and
step up here," the clerk asked, pointing to a small raised platform nearby.
I had kicked off my Nikes and was slowly raising my shirt when Smyth dug
into her purse, pulling out a pager.  After asking if she could use their
'Tele' she disappeared to the front of the store.

     Shortly she returned, and after Kevin bent over she whispered
something in her ear.  "Brian, I'm sorry, but I've been called back to the
embassy," she informed me.  I was off the platform and grabbing my shirt
and shoes, heading for the door before she continued, "No, no, Kevin is
going to stay with you.  I'll be back soon."

     "Take Brian's car, if we get done here we can walk to the barber
shop," Kevin said as he guided me back toward the platform.

     "It's okay, we can wait, maybe come back another time," I suggested as
I tried to follow Smyth out to the street, hoping against hope to get out
of this weird place.

     "Thanks, little man, but we'll manage fine," Kevin snickered as he
effortlessly lifted me back onto the little stage, and relieved me of my
tee-shirt and shoes.

     Through the mirror's reflection I saw the younger man setting stacks
of fabric on a table behind me as the old man measured my waist, chest,
neck and arms.  I stiffened when he wrapped his tape measure around my butt
and hips, then pushed it into my crouch and measured my leg length.  I saw
the younger clerk walk up behind me and hand the fossil a small piece of
purple cloth.  "Please go try these on," the old man suggested, pointing
toward a nearby door.

     I accepted the bright purple cloth to find out it was actually a pair
of shorts.  I was staring at them in disbelief when I felt Kevin's huge
hand touch my shoulder.  "Come on little man," he said as he guided me off
the platform and toward the door.

     Once inside the small dressing room I cringed as I unfolded the skimpy
garment.  They looked like dress pants, with a zipper fly, belt loops and
sharp creases down the legs, but the pant legs were only about an inch
long.  The top edge of both the front and rear pockets were lined in bright
red, as were the hem of the pant legs, if you could call them legs.  A
small red and gold monogram on at the bottom of the left leg read 'W P'.
"I cant wear these!" I exclaimed through the door.

     "Come on Brian," Kevin replied, clearly standing just outside.  "I
don't think you want me to come in there and put them on you, do you?"

     I took a deep breath and stepped out of my cargo shorts.  After
staring at the ugly shorts for a few seconds, hoping the would go away, I
stepped into them and pulled them up my legs, having to squirm somewhat to
get them over my backside.  As I buttoned and zipped the fly I felt them
pushing against my crouch and conforming to my butt.  "They're too tight,"
I called through the door.  When I looked down I saw they only covered less
then an inch of my thighs.  "And they're not long enough!" I added.

     "Come on out, let's have a look," Kevin directed.

     "No!  I'm not gonna let anyone see me in these things!" I cried, my
voice raising in pitch.  Before I could say anything else the door opened,
Kevin's huge body completely filling the opening.  With my chin on my chest
I slowly walked back into the mirrored area.  I shuttered when I saw myself
in the mirrors.  The shorts were skin tight and didn't cover as much of me
as a pair of boxer type underwear would.  As I shuffled toward the platform
I got a side view, the damn things seemed to accent my teenage bubble butt.

     "A perfect fit," the old man said, pulling on the hems.  "Now, put
this on," he continued, holding a white dress shirt up behind me.  I
glanced over at Kevin, trying to prevent the tears forming in my eyes from
running, but slid my arms into the garment.  It was more comfortable then I
expected, a lot softer than the ones I already owned.  As the old man began
buttoning me into it, I noticed a large red and gold monogram on the breast
pocket, again reading 'W P'.  He moved behind me and pulled the sides of
the shirt in toward my waist and chest, making marks on the fabric as he
did.  "Do you prefer long or short sleeves, sir?" he asked as he checked
the fit around my neck.

     "Master Richardson, do you prefer long or short sleeves," he repeated.
"Please slip this on," he continued, holding a matching purple blazer
behind me.

     "Ah, short sleeve," I mumbled as I numbly allowed the coat to be
pulled over my shoulders.

     "Give him two long sleeve, for dress wear," Kevin added.

     Dress wear!?! I thought as I looked at the blazer style jacket in the
mirror.  It was an exact match to the shorts, even also having red trim on
around the collar, coat opening, bottom of the sleeves and hem.  The breast
pocket had matching red trim, and another 'W P' monogram.  Fuck, I bet
there's a bulls-eye on the back.  The old man spent a minute or so marking
the blazer for alterations before stepping back, asking me to step down
from the platform and have a seat.

     He put a small stool in front of me, and measured my feet before
disappearing toward the back of the store.  Quickly he reappeared, pulling
a pair of brightly polished dress shoes out of their box.  Handing them to
me he asked me to try them on.

     After I put them on I stood and walked around the room as I was told,
feeling like a stuffed monkey or something.  When I walked near the chair
Kevin was sitting in he smiled at me, making my red face glow even
brighter.  "I cant wear this crap," I whimpered.

     "Hey, you look great," he responded, extending his arm toward me.  I
shyly shuffled over to him and he slipped his arm gently around my waist.
"Everyone at your new school wears exactly the same thing, all the embassy
kids do," he said, brushing my hair out of my eyes with his other hand.
"Besides, you're a good looking kid, these show off your cute body," he
added.  I was trying to think of something to say when he slid his hand
down my back, cupping my butt cheeks and giving them a firm squeeze.

     Finally I was allowed to put on my regular clothes.  As I came out of
the dressing room Kevin and both clerks were standing in front of the table
I had seen the younger clerk stacking things on earlier.  As I approached I
got still another shock, the old man was holding up several pair of long
purple socks, with wide red stripes on the top.  "Here are his stockings
and school shorts, he gets six of each.  Also three ties, two jumpers, a
belt, two pair of school shoes and a pair of trainers.  Oh and two school
caps," he was saying.  "We will have the alterations completed this
afternoon on his shirts and blazers, may we deliver them to the embassy?"

     Kevin had started to explain that we were without transportation, that
we would have to pick everything up later, when I longingly looked out the
front of the store, wishing to get out of there.  "Ah, Kevin, is that your
car?" I asked, seeing the black Jaguar parked in front.

     "Well, it's your car, but very good!" he replied.  The clerks quickly
packaged everything and carried it out to the car, and we finally were out
the door.  "We're going to walk to the barber shop, meet us there," Kevin
told our driver.  Wrapping his big arm around my shoulder he guided me down
the street.

     "I wanta go home," I whimpered after several seconds.

     "Sorry little man, but you have to get a trim."

     "No, I wanta go home to California!" I exclaimed.  "I cant wear those
stupid clothes, and any school that makes you wear stuff like that is gotta
be just as dumb.  And why do I gotta have someone watch me all the time, I
didn't do anything wrong?"  Kevin pulled me closer to him and began gently
stroking my arm as I added, "Fuck, this is a fucking prison!"

     "You are NOT in a prison, and it's not a stupid school, did you know
some of Britain's royalty attend Westshire?  Like boys that are going to be
future Kings and such? So do the kids of many important people from all
over the world.  I'm not watching you, I'm guarding you, to be sure no one
can hurt you.  An escort is a polite way of saying body guard, that's why
you have your own car and driver, too."

     "Why do you say its my car, why do I need a car?"

     "Mostly because it's bullet proof."  I stopped dead in my tracks,
almost slipping out from under his arm.  "Do you know what your dad's job
is now, who he is now?"  I just shrugged my shoulders.  "Your dad is the
second most powerful American in Europe, actually in this part of the
world.  Give it, give us a chance, little man, your dad needs your help
right now," he said, pulling me in front of him.  He draped his big arms
over my shoulders and rubbed my chest for a minute or so.  "If something
happed to you it could screw up your dad's judgement regarding some major
things.  ALL I'm doing is making sure no one can hurt you, okay?" he added.
He waited a minute or so for me to respond before ushering me ahead down
the sidewalk.

     The haircut went fairly well, considering I had to get one.  Kevin
scared the crap out of me when we walked in and he told the barber to give
me a buzz cut, and leave an eighth inch on top, but he caught me before I
could get out the door and convinced me he was teasing.  I ended up with a
Dutch boy sort of style, loosely parted in the middle.  They trimmed my
bangs just above my eyebrows and left my hair so about half of my ears were
covered.  When we left I somewhat liked my new style better than my long,
surfer hair I had before.

     When we got back into the Jaguar Kevin climbed in the rear seat next
to me.  "I still like the buzz cut better," he quipped as we drove off.  I
couldn't help giggling, and without realizing I had done it punched him on
his big arm.  He grabbed me, pulling me against him before he started
tickling my stomach and ribs, and soon had me giggling so hard I was
begging him to stop before I wet my pants.  He kept the torture up for a
couple more seconds before tucking me under his arm, cuddling me against
him in the soft leather seat.

     I was still feeling silly when we got back to the embassy compound.
When Kevin and our driver bent over to retrieve my packages from the trunk,
I reached over and ran my fingers quickly through his hair, yelling
"Buzzzzzz" as I did.  With almost lightening speed he grabbed me, picked me
up, and draped me over his forearm, my arms and legs dangling like limp
ropes.  He grabbed a package in his other arm and carried me up the
sidewalk like a sack of potatoes.  He rang the doorbell but then pushed the
door open, not waiting for someone to answer.

     He had only carried me a couple of feet inside when a white haired,
very distinguished looking man stepped into the entry way, my dad beside
him.  Kevin froze when he saw the elderly man.  "Good morning, Mr.
Ambassador," he almost whispered.

     "Good morning, Agent Thompson," the man replied.  "And this must be
young Brian," he added, smiling at me.

     "Yes sir," Kevin answered, glancing down at me.  He stood there for a
second or so before looking back at me and setting me down, I think he had
forgotten he was carrying my 90 pound little body.  Without thinking I
tucked myself back under the big man's arm, somehow feeling more secure
leaning against him.

     "Yes, Charles, this is my little tiger, Brian Junior," my dad said,
walking toward us.  "Brian, this is Ambassador Eckhard."  I flashed a
nervous grin as I shook the man's hand.

     "And this is Special Agent Thompson.  Agent Thompson, this our new
Charge d'Affairs, Dr.  Richardson." the Ambassador said.  "I see you two
are getting along quiet well," he added with a slight grin as Kevin and Dad
shook hands.  "Agent Thompson is with the Company, but his publicly known
position is that of serving as Protective Escort."

     I was trying to digest what the elderly man was saying when Dad began
praising my haircut, making me go over to him and model it.  Kevin excused
himself, and I unthinkingly found myself walking to the door with him
ignoring Dad's request.  The Jaguar was gone from in front of the house,
but I noticed four or five kids about my age, or a little older, kicking a
soccer ball around in a yard across the street.

     I closed the door behind Kevin, and turned to go ask Dad if I could go
over to see them, when Elaine appeared in the entryway carrying a small
tray that, much to my dismay, contained my headgear.  "Your father has
asked I remind you to wear it," she said, holding the tray out to me.

     "Yeah thanks," I grumbled.  "I mean thank you ma'am."  After putting
it on I went in the kitchen and got myself a soda, and after digging
through the cabinets to find a straw so I could drink it with my headgear
on, went to my room.

     Much to my surprise Elaine was in my bedroom, busily putting my
uniforms into my closet and drawers.  I faintly smiled at her and jumped on
my bed, not really feeling like talking or anything.  I didn't even notice
she had left until I reached over to take another drink of coke.  As I
looked around the room for her my eyes stopped at my bedroom window, and
the now eight or so kids playing soccer across the street.  I watched them
for a minute or so, noticing two pretty hot looking boys yelling and
dribbling against each other as they fought for control of the ball.  An
auburn haired boy really caught my attention he was just beautiful, his
tight body reminded me so much of Ronnie's.  I started toward the door to
go ask my dad if I could join them when I remembered my headgear.  Yeah,
after everything else today, I'm gonna go meet them wearing a car bumper? I
thought, Not even!

     I leaned back on the headboard of my huge bed as I tried to convince
myself how suck my live had become, and an hour or so later was doing a
good job at feeling sorry for myself when a loud crashing sound interrupted
me, almost like an explosion.  Kevin's statements about my bullet proof car
and my dad's new job flooded my mind is I sprang upright, and watched a
soccer ball bounce as it rolled across my bedroom's floor.  "Oh shit!" I
heard a high pitched voice cry though my now broken window.

     I had just gotten to the window when my bedroom door burst open.
Elaine sprang across the room and grabbed me by my tee-shirt, tearing it as
she physically threw me about half way across the room, away from the
window.  Dad caught me before I hit the floor, Ambassador Eckhard right
next to him.  Dad very harshly turned me and pushed me back toward the
hall, but stopped when the Ambassador started laughing.  "Welcome to
embassy duty!" he chuckled as we turned back toward him, holding up the
soccer ball.

     Dad had just pulled me into a hug when our doorbell rang.  Elaine
disappeared down the hall as Dad and his boss started laughing.  "I bet
that's someone is looking for this!" the Ambassador snickered as they
guided me toward the front door.

     When we turned the corner into the entryway there were three boys and
a girl standing at the open door, Elaine glaring at them.  "Oh God, it's
the Ambassador," a high pitched voice almost whispered.

     "Yes, it is the Ambassador," Eckhard replied.  To my surprise he
bounced the offending soccer off the floor, and passed it with his knee
very adeptly toward the kids.  The auburn kid caught it and handed it to a
blond haired girl behind him.

     "We're sorry sir, I mean sirs.  Please, I kicked it but I didn't mean
to, sir!" he whined, his face turning as dark red as his hair.  He was even
hotter than he looked earlier from my bedroom window.  He was wearing white
gym-shirts that just covered his wonderfully round bum, and a sleeveless
cutoff tee-shirt that displayed both his thin, tanned arms and his tight,
flat stomach, almost as works of art someone carefully framed.  I only had
a few seconds to look him over before I saw a group of Marines drive up and
jump out of their truck, rifles and machine guns in hand, but I noticed his
shorts showed a nice pouch between his legs.

     The Ambassador stepped past the kids and waved at the Marines, who
climbed back into their truck before he turned back to us.  "You might want
to reset your alarm Doctor,"he said to my dad.  "Excuse me Eric, this is
Dr. Richardson and his son Brian." he said to the auburn haired kid, " I'm
sure you haven't forgotten your manners, have you?"

     "No sir, I'm sorry!  Hi sir, I am Eric, this is my sister Jennifer,
and our friends Joe and Raul.  We are very sorry we broke your window, but
I promise it was an accident sir!" I noticed he had braces on his teeth
too, besides seeing how cute his freckles and button nose were.  Dad poking
me in my back, a little harshly, snapped me back.

     "Ah, hi, ah, I'm Brian.  Ah, this Elaine, she's a great cook."
Realizing I just totally screwed that up I added, "This is my dad
Dr. Richardson, and Ambassador Eckhard."  Oh God, I fucked that up even
further!  I thought as I saw everyone's snicker, DAHH, yeah they know who
the Ambassador is!  "Ah, I'm sorry, we just got here and stuff."  Yeah, as
if they didn't know I did, along with seeing I was a dorky metal mouth!?!
I told myself, knowing I was totally red faced by now.

     "Do you play soccer any?" Eric asked, flashing an almost blinding
silver smile.  I could almost feel his eyes moving between my face and my
hips.  "Want to go kick some?"

     I started to say no, not about to be embarrassed any further, at least
for today, when my dad said, "Just be back before three o'clock, Mrs. Smyth
wants to meet with you, a little orientation session."  Before I could
react he pushed me toward the door as the other kids stepped outside, and
dad closed the door behind us.

     I stared at the closed door for a couple of seconds, Eric and the
other kids urging me to go with them.  "Ah, well I gotta go change, is it
okay?" I asked, remembering my torn shirt.  Everyone giggled before I
opened the door and peered in, looking for Dad.  He was nowhere to be
found, so I rushed down the hall into my bedroom, dug through my clothes
and found a pair of Boardie shorts and a muscle shirt, jumping into them.

     "Cool!" Eric said from behind, scaring the crap out of me. After I
blushed a couple of times, Eric and I rushed back down the hall toward the
front door.  Elaine was waiting for us, holding the tray she had served my
headgear to me on earlier in front of her.

     After I stared at her a couple of seconds she said, "Dr. Richardson
said it's okay sir . . . I mean Brian."  I looked at the tray and back up
at her, slightly lost.  "Well, I'm sure it's okay if you want to wear it,"
she added.  I quickly ripped the straps from around my head and neck, then
the facebow out of my mouth almost throwing them on the tray.  I smiled up
at her in thanks, she smiled back before saying, "Now shoo, go meet
everyone."

     "I hate that thing, it's totally embarrassing when someone sees me in
it," I said as we trotted toward the street.

     "Yeah, my sister and I got them too, so it's cool," he replied, giving
me a wide smile.

     We kicked the ball around for a few minutes, talking a little as we
did.  I checked out Eric every chance I got, enjoying his golden thighs and
long tight legs.  He was about four inches taller than me, but probably
about my age.  Another kid named Stan caught my attention too, his body was
totally hot.  He was sort of compact, only slightly taller than me, lean
but not as skinny as I was.  His golden blond hair and emerald eyes were so
fascinating I had to be careful not to stare at him.

     After a few minutes everyone seemed ready to stop playing and catch
their breath.  Jennifer disappeared into a nearby duplex, returning a
minute or so later with several bottles of cold water everyone passed
around.  "What form are you in?" Eric asked.  Seeing my puzzled look he
said, "What grade in school?"

     "Oh, I just finished the sixth," I replied.

     "Cool!  We're probably going to be in the same form, maybe you'll get
some of my classes," he replied.

     "Me too!" Stan added.  "How old are you?"

     "Thirteen," I answered.

     "You're thirteen?" they said almost in unison.

     "Well, I'm short is all," I answered, trying to keep my voice from
cracking with embarrassment.  "Besides, my birthday was just last month.
Do you guys go to Westshire?" I added hoping to change the subject.

     "Everyone goes to Westshire," Eric snickered.  "Well all the boys do,
almost everyone on embassy row does."

     "Do you gotta wear those dumb uniforms all the time?  They look so
dumb!"

     "Yeah, but it's not that big a deal, 'cause everyone wears them," Eric
snickered, glancing down at my crouch.  I found myself wondering if his
uniform shorts were as tight and skimpy as mine, and how hot he would look
in them.  I told them I was from California and only wore a tie a couple of
times a year for events I had to go with my dad, and we talked and joked
for a few minutes.

     "Oh great, here comes the bitch," I commented, seeing Smyth coming out
of the embassy building.  Everyone snickered.

     "You don't like her?  She's pretty cool really, she sets up trips and
stuff for us, Stan sort of likes her too," Eric answered, almost giggling.

     "Shit, I've met her two times, and she's already made me get a
haircut, stuffed me is those stupid purple clown suits and has this
overgrown house-ape guarding me waiting for me to screw up!  I think she's
a total bitch!"  Everyone started laughing, and Eric playfully slapped my
leg.

     I pushed him back and we were horse playing back and forth as she
neared.  "Brian, finish your water before you come in, I need to talk to
your dad for a minute, okay?" she said, giving us a smile as she added, "Hi
Kids!"

     Everyone said 'hi ma'am' or 'hi Mrs Smyth' to her before Stan chimed
in, "Hi Mom!"

     I felt my shoulders droop to my knees as my mouth dropped open.  I
closed my eyes for a second trying to build up the courage to look at Stan.
"I'm sorry dude, I didn't mean it," I whimpered.

     "Its cool, don't worry about it," Stan stammered, trying to laugh and
talk at the same time.

     "Yeah, and he's cute when he blushes that bright!" Eric added.  They
all laughed for a minute or so longer before he added, "Hey, you want to do
something when you get done?"

     "Ah, you guys wanta?  I'm sorry for being so dorky and stuff, well I
guess I am," I whimpered, knowing I had made such a total fool out of
myself in the last couple of day nobody would want to associate with me.  I
found myself wondering if the ways I had read about killing yourself
worked.

     Stan and Eric exchanged glances before looking back at me, both of
them grinning.  "You're not a dork, you're a nutcase!" Stan proclaimed.
"Do you smoke shit or what?"

     "He's gonna fuck with your mom and the compound up totally, YEAH!"
Eric replied.  "You want to meet us after Mrs. Stan-Bitch is done with
you?"  He asked.

     "Yeah, cool," I replied, still trying to figure out if they were
serious or screwing me around.  "Hey, I still gotta hook up my Playstation,
maybe if you guys wanta come help it would be neat?  I got a bunch of
games!"

      Stan and Eric accepted my offer before I started back toward my
house, praying they were serious, that we could become friends, at least.

To be continued. . .