Date: Wed, 8 Sep 2004 11:27:35 EDT
From: ArtHill579@aol.com
Subject: "Carried Away" Part 8

Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild
violence, and sexual activity between young men. If you find such material
offensive or in violation of the laws of your state/country, please don't
read any further.

(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004).
If you enjoy this story, please email me.

***********************************************

I lay in that pile of garbage for what seemed like hours. In fact, in spite
of the smell, I dozed off for awhile. I woke up with a start when I felt
something crawling over me: it was a rat! Jeez, I had to get out of there. Then I
checked my watch and saw that it was almost 5:00 pm. I had been in the dumpster
for almost two hours! Those guys weren't coming back. Damn, they had tricked
me!

I climbed warily out of the dumpster, smelling like dead fish. My clothes not
only reeked but were stained all over. How was I expected to take the bus
home now? For a moment I panicked. When I calmed down I thought to myself that `
ya gotta do what ya gotta do.' I walked the two blocks to the bus stop. Other
people were there waiting for the bus, and, after one whiff of me, they all
stepped away. When the bus finally arrived I made sure I was the last one to get
on just so no one thought I had shit in my pants. I didn't think the bus
driver was gonna let me get on, but after frowning and staring at me for a moment
he motioned for me to take a seat. This guy looked like he had been driving for
a long time and probably had seen (and smelled) it all!

Almost everyone on the bus had some kind of reaction as I passed by and a few
of them got vocal. One guy said: "What the hell kid, you sleep in the zoo
last night?" Actually he wasn't too far off . . .

It seemed like forever until I finally got off the bus. The rest of the
passengers seemed to sign with relief when they were finally rid of me. Now I had
to face my folks. How was I gonna get into the house without them seeing me? To
my immense relief I found a note next to where the key was hidden letting me
know that mom and dad had gone to see her sister and brother-in-law across
town and that they would be back after dinner.

I went around to the back of the house, stripped off all my clothes and went
in through the pantry entrance where the washer was. I dropped everything in
the wash and then headed up to the bathroom. Just as I was ready to jump in the
shower the telephone rang. I decided to ignore it (hoping it wasn't mom or
dad) and started my shower. I was shocked when I looked in the mirror. I looked
like one of those street kids you see going through garbage cans. My hair
looked like a bird's nest, and my face was covered with dark smudges. No wonder
the people at the bus stop backed off!

 It was wonderful to get rid of that awful smell. It wasn't easy. I must have
been like covered, and I had to scrub and rinse several times before I
smelled clean to myself.

After I got dressed I went to the answering machine and played back the
messages. There was only the one when I was getting into the shower. It was Allen,
asking me to call him. My anger flared up at the thought of how he had walked
out on me. I was tempted to blame my encounter with Chuck and Larry on him
too, although when I thought of them my cock started to stiffen. I decided I
would make Allen wait until after I had gotten myself some dinner. I decided to
order in, so I called up Domino's and ordered two medium sized pizzas. After I
hung up the phone it rang again almost immediately. Allen again. Before I could
say anything he was apologizing.

"I'm sorry, Dave," Allen said contritely. "I acted terrible this afternoon.
I don't know what got into me. I had no right to ask you about something you
didn't want to talk about. You're my best friend and I want it to stay that
way--always".

I melted. "It's okay, Allen. I wanna stay friend too. Hey, you must have
ESP. I just called for pizza and ordered a lot more than I can eat myself. Why don
't you pick up a video at Blockbuster and come on over. My folks are out for
the evening . . . that is," I teased, "if you can get that excuse for a car
of yours running!"

Allen laughed loudly. All was well again. But I decided at that moment that I
was not going to let Allen bully me into talking about things I didn't want
to share. I had enough bullies in my life without adding another one!

That awful day, then, had a pretty good ending. I called mom and dad on the
cell to see if Allen could stay over night. Allen arrived right after the
pizzas, I got a couple of beers and we were all set. He had picked up "Freddy vs.
Jason" and, since we both were into `slasher' flicks, we were as happy as if we
'd won the New York Lottery.

Allen was true to his word. He didn't ask anything more about what was going
on with me. Maybe he still felt guilty about leaving me at the mall. After the
movie (lousy!) I told Allen that I was going to bed, although he was welcome
to stay up and watch TV if he wanted. I was so tired I was out almost
immediately and didn't even here Allen come in.

It was kind of unusual for Allen to be staying over since it was Sunday and
we normally had classes Monday. The college, however, was closed tomorrow. Some
kind of faculty evaluation day, so we could sleep in, and have the day to
ourselves. Dimly I heard mom and dad go out for work. They knew we had a holiday
from class. Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.

About an hour later I heard Allen moving around. "What's up?" I said.

"Oh, I'm just kind of an early bird. Thought I would take a shower and wake
up."

"Okay," I said, "I'll follow you and then make some breakfast."

"Why don't we just go to IHOP or something. I'm in the mood for some
pancakes and I have the feeling you would probably make a mess of them if you tried
to make `em here."

"Probably better than you could do," I grinned. "But, yeah, that sounds
good. Let's figure around 10:30 am. See ya later . . ."

*************************************************

For the next two days I thought about my brother coming home. What would it
be like seeing him again? It had been almost two years. Yes, we had written or
emailed each other on occasion and even spoke on the phone for Christmas, but
that wasn't the same as being together. I had "graduated" and taken over Bob'
s room after he left. He would be occupying the guest room (my former room)
during his visit.

I mentioned that we didn't have a lot in common. Our personalities were quite
different as were our interests and friendships. I had never really felt
close to Bob and his long absence seemed to increase the distance.

Mom and dad seemed real excited about seeing Bob again. I myself seemed to
have mixed feelings. I was going through a complicated time in my life. It wasn'
t just the bullying thing at college (although that was becoming a real
preoccupation for me), but also the whole idea of becoming an adult, assuming
responsibilities, and looking forward to a career and a life of my own . . . and
dealing with my sexual feelings, which had suddenly started to demand a major
part of my attention. I was wondering for the first time whether I was gay or at
least bisexual. I was wondering about my tendency to seek out guys who were
dominant and abusive and who used me sexually.

When I thought about Bob, things got even more complicated. I seemed to
regress to childhood, when I was the kid and he was my big brother. That hadn't
been the case for the last two years, but now, at least for a few days, I felt it
was going to happen again. Could I share any of my feelings with Bob. As far
as I knew he was totally straight and even homophobic. Was there any way he
could understand or sympathize with what I was going through? I doubted it. So,
far from asking his help, I would even have to hide the things that were
happening to me from him. That was why my feeling about seeing him were so mixed.

We picked up Bob at the airport. He had arrived on a special military plane.
He was wearing his fatigues and looked more than ever like the marine and the
super macho guy.

He kind of gruffly said hello to each of us and lifted me off the ground in a
bear hug. Was I intimidated? Your damn right I was! He picked me up like he
was a rag doll and I could feel his bulging muscles.

And I had another problem. When I saw him, and felt him when he picked me up,
I sprang a major boner. Damn, he was my brother. No matter, as I've said
before, my cock has a mind of its own. But who could blame it? My bro was over six
feet tall, wore his light brown hair in a buzz cut, had a handsome but
rough-looking face, and was built like a brick wall. Then there was his dress. The
fatigues, the marine beret, and the shiny black combat boots (the foot thing
again!) just made me think of what it might be like to be sexually dominated by
him. He was a marine, he appreciated discipline, he was confident, and would
probably be very good at giving orders.

Bob was carrying a small bag, but his duffle bag was on the carousel. We
waited for it to come around. When Bob pointed it out I rushed to grab it. Ouff!
What was in there, rocks? Bob saw me struggling with it and chuckled.

"Here, Davey," he said, "let me get that, it's real heavy."

Feeling a bit humiliated I offered to take the carry-on while Bob hefted his
duffle bag over his broad shoulder. Since Bob had little to eat on the plane
we stopped at a Red Lobster where he could chow down. Then we headed for home.

Bob was tired from his long trip and wanted to hit the sack right away. He
promised to tell us all about his adventures the following day. We were all
surprised when he announced that he had been given a ten-day leave, so he would be
around longer than we thought. I wondered again if this might be a chance to
get closer to him. As soon as those thoughts crossed my mind, however, I
started to think about his hunky body and my cock started jumping again. What was
wrong with me . . . my own brother?!

While I was having breakfast the next morning getting ready for school Bob
burst into the kitchen drenched in sweat. He was used to getting up around 5:00
am and going for a two hour jog. "Hey Davey, how ya doin?" he panted. "I'm
goin' up for a shower. I smell like a skunk. When do you leave for class?"

"Oh, in about an hour," I said. "I got a 9:00 an class."

"Okay, man, see ya later. Good luck."

 Once again, without willing it, I checked him out. In his jogging shorts his
muscular, slightly hairy legs were on full display and his tight butt was
much more clearly visible than in his fatigues. My eyes followed him as he
trotted up the stairs. Got to stop that . . .

**********************************************

I made my regular stop that morning at Chris' house to pick him up for class.
As usual he was late, and Mrs. Foster offered me a snack and some coffee. I
kept wondering how such a nice woman could have had such a monster (even though
he was a cute one) for a son.

While I was waiting for Chris, his younger brother ran down the stairs and
made a race for the door. "Late for the bus mom, see ya' later." That was the
first time I had seen Chris' younger bro (the one, I guess, he had picked up
the medicine for). I concluded that being late must run in the family. He looked
like a younger version of Chris and once again I found my cock stirring. I
guess it was open season for any good-looking guy, I thought to myself, kind of
ashamed because of my lack of control. On the other hand, I reasoned, I had
really just "come out" to myself and I was like a kid in a candy shop, getting
pulled in all directions--even toward my own brother.

Chris finally came down. "Okay, Stanton," he said, "let's get moving."

"Chris!" his mother scolded, "that's no way to talk to Dave. He's good
enough to stop by here every day and pick you up. At least let him finish his
coffee."

"That's okay, Mrs. Foster," I said, "we both got class at the same time and
I gotta get going too. Thanks for the coffee."

She smiled and kind of shook her head as Chris led me out the door.

"I really like your mom, Chris," I said, once we got moving.

"Sure you do," Chris said, "where do you think I got my charm from? She's
real cool--most of the time."

"By the way, Stanton," Chris said grinning, "I hear you were down in the
dumps the other day. How didya like it?"

"Chris, why do you do these things to me, I never did anything to you. In
fact, I do you favors almost every day?"

"Whoa, dude," Chris said, "I didn't have anything to do with that. I hear
you got Chuck and Larry pissed about something. They said that you got what you
deserved."

I said nothing. What was the use?

"Oh, by the way," Chris continued. "I'm gonna need a ride to Ben's house
after classes today. The guys got a little football game goin'. Hey, you wanna
join us?"

Thinking about what would probably be in store for me I shook my head `no'.

"Ah, that's too bad, Stanton, I feel real bad about that cause we need an
extra guy. Well, next time I'm not letting you off the hook so easy. If we're
gonna be friends you gotta learn the game. Got it?"

"Yeah, Chris," I said vaguely, hoping he would forget about the whole thing.

********************************************

When I got home later that afternoon Bob was nowhere to be seen. I asked mom.

"Oh," she said, "Bob went over to visit an old friend. He said that he
probably wouldn't be back until later this evening."

When I went upstairs something drew me to the guest room where Bob was
staying. My thoughts turned again to what a hunk Bob was, however you looked at him:
in his spiffy military uniform or even his grungy jogging outfit. My cock
started to jump, and that usually spelled trouble.

I walked into the center of his room, looking guiltily toward to the door.
Nobody was around. Mom was in the kitchen getting supper ready and dad had
called on the cell to say that he was tied up in traffic and probably would be late
for dinner.

As I looked around the room I saw that Bob's habits had changed. When he was
home before, his room was always a mess with dirty underwear strewn all over
the place, books, CDs, and papers piled high on his desk, and ash trays
overflowing with cigarette butts. Mom had to constantly nag him to clean up after
himself and he did--once in a great while.

Now his room looked like it wasn't even being used. The bed was so well made
that surely it would pass the proverbial quarter test. All his clothes were
folded up neatly in the dresser or hanging in the closet. But I could still
smell him. His sweat, his odor, whatever you wanted to call it. You knew it was
Bob.

It was that smell that led me to his closet where I started to rummage
around. I found his laundry bag with his sweat-stained jogging suit. I found his
combat boots lined up neatly next to his jogging shoes and loafers. I sat
Indian-style on the floor. The boots fascinated me (and my cock). I picked one up and
rubbed the smooth black leather back and forth across my face. I looked at
the heavy tread on the bottom. Getting more daring, I stuck my nose into the
boot and took a whiff. In spite of Bob's new-found cleanliness, the boot smelled
of sweat and that musky foot odor. I found it intoxicating as I had found the
feel and smell of Nick's athletic shoes on my shoulders in English class. I
thought again about whether I had a foot or shoe fetish. When I thought about it
that way it sounded so gross and nasty. But I couldn't help myself.

I should have taken a warning from what had happened in English class, but
when that feeling would come over me I seemed to be heedless of any consequences.

Just as I took the boot away from my face and was picking up the other one I
heard a voice at the door. It was Bob--obviously home just a bit early!

"Davey!" he said sounding both surprised and annoyed. "What the hell are you
doing in my room?"

(To be continued)