Date: Fri, 31 Mar 2017 09:08:37 -0500 From: Kurt King <kingkurt1339@gmail.com> Subject: The New Life of Xander King Chapter 21 This story may contain sexual acts between males, persons below the age of consent, and relatives. If this offends you or is illegal for you to read where you're at, please close this website and go elsewhere. This story is fictional and entirely the work of the author's imagination. And resemblance to persons, places, or things, real or fictional, are entirely coincidental, and any views stated do not necessarily reflect those of any companies or organizations which do exist in real life, nor necessarily reflect the views of the author. This story is the property and copyright of the author, do not share, reproduce, repost, or any other such act which is illegal to do without the author's permission. You can find my other story at the following link: NLmK: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/the-new-life-of-matt-king/ Don't forget that you can always contact me to give me feedback! I can be found at kingkurt1339@gmail.com, and I do my best to respond to every email if I can! Any comments, questions, or suggestions are always welcome, especially as I'm constantly changing events that happen in the story, and will be publishing other stories! If you want to be added to my mailing list, let me know! You can follow me on Twitter @KurtMKing now, too! As always – don't forget to donate to Nifty at: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the archive free! This story is not a quick jack-off story. If you are looking for that, you would be best going to another story. If you are interested in not just the sex, but also the lives of the characters and their romances and dramas, then read on, and I hope you enjoy it! In the last chapter, the divorce was finalized between Mr. Scott and the now Ms. Jones, Xander and Mr. Scott went to a restaurant for lunch, where Xander got into trouble for swearing too much, and at the end of the day, called his room and light switch his own, and Mr. Scott 'Dad'. So I made a note on my last one apologizing about how short it was and that they should be back to normal length starting with this one. Yeah, bull. I forgot that this one's actually a fair bit longer than normal. :D Anyway, on to the chapter, and hope you enjoy! ~~Chapter Twenty-One - Recplex~~ [Xander] "Sir." "Oh, Xander," he turns and faces me. I'm glad I caught him before he left. Today's the day after the divorce, and I had a feeling he'd be working today, since he didn't the last three days. "Did you need something?" "I don't mind running when it's negative six out," I state. "I don't like running when it's negative six and the wind's fifteen miles per hour. There's a recplex in town that's got an indoor track, but to use their facilities, I need a membership, and to get a membership, I need to have my parent or legal guardian sign me up. I don't need one to be present for me to use the facility, however. Since you're my caretaker and legal guardian, do you think you could sign me up for it?" "Sure," he answers, and I think he's trying not to laugh, though I'm not sure why. "You want to do it now?" "Yes, please," I answer. "I can call the driver when I'm ready to be picked up." "We still need to find you a butler." "I'll have one during the summer," I respond. "I'm fine without one. I just don't like the driver, he's smelly." "Oh, right," he says. He pauses and frowns, but then quickly shakes his head, his smily returning. "I forgot to mention, but I found a new driver, since you don't like the one you've had. I'll text you his number." He pulls out his phone and sends me a text, and I add the number he sends me to my contacts list. Then, he tells me to grab what I want or think I need, and so I do, then we get in the car, and he asks me for directions to the recplex. Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the multi-building facility. The different buildings are connected by a variety of halls, and the building itself contains two ice rinks, two swimming pools, a diving pool, four full-sized basketball courts, two full-sized volleyball courts, two full-sized indoor soccer fields, two weight rooms, two cardio rooms, a cafeteria, and more. It's nice. Inside, he registers me, then I receive a membership card. He leaves, and I make my first stop the boys' locker rooms, changing into shorts and a sleeveless, before pulling back on my sneakers. After that, I lock my stuff up in a locker, putting a lock on it, then explore the building. One of the basketball courts is in use by a group of boys around my age. There are nine of them, all of them in basketball shorts and sleeveless shirts, running around the court and goofing off. They're making almost all of the shots they try, and there's a group of girls standing against one wall, giggling as they watch the boys play and goof off. I stand against one wall, watching the boys play. They're all cute, like Dylan, but they're all slender and athletic. Dylan's gaining weight. He's still cute, though. Some of these guys are hot. The girls leave after awhile, but the boys keep playing and goofing off. I'm watching them when suddenly, one of the basketballs they're playing with flies wide from the throw, passing the boy it was thrown to and heading straight for me. I step out of the way, and it hits the wall. I hear it bounce, and turn to see it going at me again, and I turn to catch it, turning back to the boys. Their ball tried to hurt me. Even balls hate me. "Throw it here!" The one who threw the ball holds his hands up. "C'mon!" "Um, here!" I throw the ball to him. "Nice reflexes," he comments. "Bad throw. What sport do you play?" "I do martial arts," I answer. "Does that count as a sport?" "Sure!" He grins at me, bouncing the ball as he approaches. "What form do you do? What's your belt?" "I don't know," I answer. "And I don't know. I just do martial arts. I don't have anyone judging me, so it's more fun." "You play ball at school, right?" He asks. "In P.E., I mean?" "I go to the weight room and work out," I state. "Or just watch them. I don't like playing sports. It's not fun. The coaches are nice to me about that" "Okay," he laughs. "Join us if you want to, we'll have ten, and we can do five-on-five, then." "I probably won't," I state, and he returns to his friends, and they continue playing. Every few minutes, that boy comes over to me and invites me to play again, or just talks, or asks me what I think of what he just did. He throws the ball from the big partial circle on the court, and it hits the rim and bounces off, and he grins at me, telling me to 'watch this!' I don't know why, I was already watching. He tries it again and again, and the third time, he gets the ball into the hoop, and then he grins at me. "That was cool, right?" "I guess?" "Come on!" He dramatically leans his head back, then lets it fall forward, arms dropping toward the ground. "You're killin' me, Smalls!" "I know I'm small!" "Dude!" He laughs. "I didn't meant to offend you, it's a quote. 'The Sandlot'. Ever heard of it?" "What's that?" "You've never seen 'The Sandlot'? Seriously?" He exclaims. "Dude, make that the next thing you watch." "I can't," I say. "I'm watching you, and then I'll be watching whatever I'm watching after that, and then-" "Movie, dude," he grins. "You're a strange kid. You sure you don't want to play?" I try to find hostility in his green eyes, eyes that practically pop out of his head, but I can't find any. He's so much like Tessa, though his hair's brown, not cyan. He seems to just want me to play. "You're a goofball." "Ah," he says. "But I'm a goofball that wants you to play. So - gonna?" "I don't know how to play basketball," I feel my face heat up when I say that, but I hope it gets him to stop. "No problem!" He flashes his grin at me. "We'll teach you. There are really just three basics to it that you need to know to play with us: dribbling, passing, and shooting." "Huh?" "Dribbling," he says, dropping the ball and smacking it with his hand, then tosses it to me. "Passing," he holds his hands out, and I toss it back to him, and he spins and throws it to the hoop, missing it by a few feet. "And shooting. Pass me the ball!" One of the other boys tosses him the ball back, and he shows me how to dribble, then tells me to try it. I do, but the ball doesn't bounce up and down back to my hand, like it does for him. "Not with your palm," he says. "But with your fingertips, like this," he dribbles again, then passes me the ball. "Your turn." He works with me for a few minutes, then teaches me how to run while dribbling the ball, telling me to only use one hand to dribble. "Why?" "Double dribble," he explains. "Or dribbling with both hands hitting the ball, is against the rules. Only use one hand unless you pivot." "Do what?" "Turn on one foot," he says. "You can hold then ball then. Otherwise, you need to use only one hand. If you pivot, though, you have to pass the ball. You also have to dribble when you move." "Huh?" He demonstrates for me, and I think I get it. He plays with me a little bit, and I get distracted a few times while he does. The other boys split up into two teams, one wearing their shirts, and the others shirtless. They're really hot without their shirts. The boy helping me, once he thinks I'm good (his word, not mine), asks me if I want to try playing with them, and while I think I'm bad at it, the others all convince me to play. "My name's Carter, by the way," the boy who was helping me says. "What's yours?" "Alexander," I answer, and before I can tell him what I go by, he interrupts me. "Cool," he says. "You're on Skins, Alex, since you're new, so take off your shirt and go to their side. Don't worry too much about the rules, we're not playing for sport or anything, just for fun." "Okay,' I say. "But it's-" "First to five!" He shouts, running onto the field. "Xander." I try to correct them every time they call me 'Alex' while we play, but never manage to get it out. Other than that, hanging out with them is a lot of fun. I make a lot of mistakes, but my team makes up for it. It's a lot of fun. We lose. Probably because I'm so bad, but I don't think anyone was keeping proper points, we didn't stop until after both of our teams hit five points. Carter's team hit nine, but they kept saying 'four' until my team hit four, and then they said five and 'one more game!' That 'one more game' was the one where we got our fifth point. I think they let us. I don't understand the rules to their game, but playing with them is a lot of fun. I don't like being shirtless, though. What if they notice I have a boner? And when they bump me, it gets worse. They're really cute and hot and sexy. And Carter keeps goofing off and showing off to me. I think he's just trying to impress me because I'm new here. He's not especially skilled. I don't know why he'd want to impress me, anyway. "So, Alex," Carter says. "How do you have such a hell of a body? I'd kill to have a body like that." I feel all the blood drain out of my face, my body going cold as ice. That's a metaphor to describe the coldness my body feels when I feel scared. "What's wrong?" He asks, concern on his face. "You look like you saw a ghost." "Please don't kill me." "Wasn't planning on it," he grins. "You're too cool and hot to kill." "You think I'm hot?" Focus on that and not the contradiction. "I did say I'd kill for a body like that," he says. "How old are you? You look ten, but those are some killer six-packs." "Thirteen years, four months, thirteen days." He blinks several times before responding. "You seriously just pulled your exact age out of your ass like that?" He asks. "I didn't give you the hours and minutes," I shake my head. "And they don't record the seconds." "Close enough," he hits me on the back pretty hard, and I try not to punch him. That won't be good for me. "Damn, that's good. You're older than me, I just turned thirteen. Is it too personal if I ask how you got those scars on your back?" "Yes." "Okay," he says. "Wanna play another game?" "No." "Alright," he says. "Wanna just practice shooting some hoops? Don't get better if you don't practice, if you know what I mean." "I do." "Want to?" He asks. "No," I answer. "But I will, because you all seem like nice people, even if you said you wanted to kill me and keep calling me 'Alex'." "Do you prefer 'Alexander'?" He asks, then smiles apologetically. Only Tessa and her crew do that. "Sorry, man, didn't realize you didn't like it getting shortened." "I prefer 'Xander'," I state. "My brothers started calling me that when I was little. I only go by it now. I will not respond to other names, so do not call me 'Alex' again, or I will ignore you." "Alright," he grins. "Sorry 'bout that, Xander. Let's play!" I keep missing my shots, but he works with me on how to aim. They all do. They're fun. We spend a lot of time shooting the ball and having fun, and then we all sit down on the benches by the wall and drink water from the bottles. I didn't have a water bottle, because I wasn't planning on playing, just walking around, and so Carter shares his with me. I find it disgusting, but I need water and am exhausted from all the playing, and too tired to go and hunt down a water fountain or vending machine. "Got a girlfriend?" Carter asks me when I hand him his bottle back. "No." "Got a girl at your school you fancy?" "No." "Got a boyfriend?" "No." "Got a boy at school you fancy?" "No." "But...?" "But what?" "You answered that last one differently," he grins at me. "There's a boy you like, isn't there. You don't know him from school, though, do you?" "Not my school," I shake my head. "I met him through this weird girl I met at the store. She invited me to her Halloween party, and then the zoo, and I met him there. He used to play soccer, then went into the foster system, like me. He likes me, too. We're not dating, though. I want to date him, but I'm not sure." "Why not?" Carter takes another drink from his bottle. "I think he's having sex with someone." Carter chokes on his drink, and the others all stare at me. "What makes you think that?" He asks. "Gut feeling," I use the metaphor that means it's just a feeling I have about him. "But it wasn't wrong about Luke and Finn having sex, or that Finn's found himself a boyfriend." "You know a lot of gay guys, don't you?" He asks. "I guess." "Ask him out." "No." "Why not?" He asks. "You'll find out if he's dating or not if you do." "He's single," I say. "He just has sex with a friend of his." "Then ask him out." "That's what Tessa says, too." "Tessa?" He raises an eyebrow, and I mimic the action. "Hey! You can do it, too! It's not every day I meet someone who can raise just one eyebrow! So who's this Tessa chick?" "Tessa Martins," I answer. "She's crazy and weird, but really cool." "I knew it!" He exclaims. "As soon as you mentioned a Halloween party, then the zoo, I knew it had to be Tess!" "She doesn't like being called that." "She's my cousin," he grins at me. "She really is crazy, isn't she? And she's always changing her hair color because of Matt. Have you met him? If you know Tessa, you've probably at least seen him around." "He's my cousin." "No way!" He exclaims. "That's so cool! My cousin is friends with your cousin! I officially declare us friends!" "I don't think that's a good enough reason to call us 'friends'," I state. "So?" He asks. "I still say we're friends. Let's go to the cafeteria, I'm starving. Don't forget your shirt!" It's only then that I realize that like the other four from my team, I'm still shirtless. I quickly pull my shirt back on, and the ten of us make our way to the cafeteria, where we all buy food and eat, the others chatting. They chat more than they eat, I eat more than I chat. After we spend an hour in the cafeteria, they ask me if I want to go swimming with them. "I don't swim," I say. "I was pushed into a pool and held down when I was a little. A lot. I don't go swimming. Even if I did, I don't know how." "No problem!" Carter grins. "They can go swimming, while we go do something else. What do you want to do?" "Take a nap," I answer. "Or cuddle. I like cuddling. Read a book, maybe. I've been practicing cooking lately, so that's possible, too." "What about sports?" He asks. "Or wanna work out? I can spot you." "I worked out this morning," I respond. "I don't play sports very much. I'm not very good." "Lack of practice," he says. "Come on, tell me, are there any you're interested in?" "Dylan plays soccer." "Is that your crush?" "I don't want to play soccer, though," I say. "I like martial arts. It gives me more useful skills than soccer does. Soccer just teaches me to run and avoid people and kick a ball. Martial arts teaches me how to fight and defend myself and kick Luke's ass when he tries to jack me off or suck me and I don't want him to." "Gotta say," Carter laughs. "All of Tessa's friends are oddballs, even if it's just by the friends they have. You're an oddball, too, but you're a cool oddball." "How am I an oddball?" "You take things pretty literally," he says. "And don't hesitate to say what's on your mind. I bet you know some pretty good jokes." "I don't think I do." "Tell me a joke." "No." "Do a knock-knock joke." "But then I'd be lying." "Huh?" "If I did a knock-knock joke," I say. "When you say 'who's there?', the correct answer would be 'me' or 'Xander', not whatever I say. It's not good to lie. Lying is when you say something false intentionally. I don't lie." "It's used," he says. "When referring to a situation involving deception, or for a situation that's based on a mistaken impression or idea. If you're joking, you're not lying. Um...think of it this way, Xander: in the world of the joke, what you're saying is the truth. Do you seriously never lie?" "Yes," I answer. "I only recently started using metaphors. That's not lying, that's using a comparison to make a point." "Yet it's not giving a true statement," he counters. "In that situation, you're not lying because you're creating an image in someone's mind to get the point across, you're comparing two things. A joke's the same way. As long as it's a harmless joke. Try it. Do a knock-knock joke." "Knock-knock." "Who's there?" "Chew." "Chew who?" He looks confused. "I don't know," I answer. "But please, not me." He mouths 'chew who' and what I said a couple of times, then he grins at me and laughs. "That's really good!" He claps me on the back, and I jump. "Wow, Xander, that was actually a good one. I've never heard it before." "I made it up," I say. "It was probably bad." "Dude, seriously?" He asks. "It's awesome. I gotta use it. You seem a little touchy about your scars, when you turn eighteen, are you going to get them tattooed over?" "Huh?" I look at him, confused. "You know," he says. "Tattooed, get a tattoo to cover them up, so no one sees them? I think they're pretty cool, but if you don't like them, a tattoo over them would be cool, too." "I didn't think about that," I didn't think about that. "If you did," he throws me a basketball, gesturing for me to take a shot. "What would the tattoo be?" "A dragon," I throw the ball in the same way he showed me how to do, and the ball bounces off the rim. "I hit the rim!" "Good job!" He exclaims, hitting me on the back. We dribble and pass and shoot around some more, a few of the other guys returning and playing with us, and we start a game of three-on-three. I'm on the skins team again, because I'm the new guy. Supposedly. I think Carter just wants to see me shirtless. Around lunchtime, we all go to the boys' locker rooms and take a shower. I'm a bit nervous to do that, but they all just strip off their clothes and go right into the showers. They don't even hesitate. There's one other boy in here, and I don't know him. I didn't know them until a little bit ago, though. "Gonna walk around sweaty all day?" Carter asks me, and I shake my head and undress and go into the showers, scared that he'll make fun of me because I'm hard. "Damn, Xander! Guys, look how big he is!" They all look at me, and I realize that Carter's hard, too. Everyone else jacks off so that they're hard, and they all measure their dicks against mine. They actually put their dicks against mine to see who's bigger. I am. I reign supreme among us, both in length and thickness. Carter's got a foreskin, too. He's about three and a half inches. We finish our showers, get dressed in clean, non-sweaty clothes, and I stuff my sweaty clothes in my bag, and we head to the cafeteria, my bag on my back. We eat again, then I tell them I'm leaving, then leave, meeting the driver outside. Well, I go outside, but then realize that I don't know what he looks like. "Master Xander," a young guy approaches me. He's probably around eighteen or nineteen. Brown hair and blue eyes, and if I were a few years older, I'd probably call him cute. "I'm Quinn, your new driver." I pull out my phone and call the number Mr. Scott gave me, and his phone rings. He pulls it out and answers it. "Where would you like to go, sir?" He asks. "Home," I hang up the phone. We get into the car, and I'm silent most of the way home. He talks a lot, telling me about himself. This is his first job as a driver, but he's trained in self-defense, and is armed at all times, certified to conceal carry. He used to be a farmer. "Are you lying when you tell a joke?" I interrupt him. "What was that, sir?" He asks. "When you joke," I say. "Are you lying?" "Yes and no," he answers. "Huh?" "Some can see it as lying," he says. "But you're not actually lying, you're just joking. Some jokes require what could be seen as lying, while others can use factual information. If you're not intending to deceive someone, except to create a humorous joke, then I don't think it's lying, no." "Knock-knock." "Who's there?" "Chew." "Chew who?" "I don't know," I respond. "But please, not me." He starts laughing, and the car swerves a little bit. He corrects it with an 'oops'. "That was actually pretty funny," he says. "Mr. Scott told me you didn't tell jokes." "Was I lying?" "No," he says. "You were not lying there, you were simply telling a joke." "How old are you?" "Nineteen." "Okay." I go back to staring out my window. Carter's another kid, so he could have been lying, but my new driver is an adult. Why would he lies? Unless he's planning on hurting me, too, but I think he's a nice guy, so he's got to be telling the truth. Plus, I don't think he's lying, which means he's got to be telling the truth. When I think someone's lying, they're lying. Every time. We arrive at the house, and I head to the annex, going into the sauna and lying down in there, staring at the ceiling as the air heats up. I like it really hot in here. No one else does, so it gives me a lot of privacy. No one usually bothers me in here. If Finn or Luke come in here, it's only for a few minutes, because it's too hot for them. I like that. I like it here, too, especially now that Ms. Jones is gone. I slipped up last night. I called the room 'my room'. I didn't want to, but I was so comfortable and tired that I did. Mr. Scott didn't hear me, it was all in my head. With a start, I sit up. I said 'goodnight, Dad' to him. I called him Dad. I didn't mean to, I was just so tired and exhausted that it came out. But he didn't say anything to me this morning about it. He feels like what I think a dad would feel like to me. He acts like a dad to me, too. Not like Ms. Jones, who just tried smothering me. That was annoying. I don't want to call him 'Dad', because if I do, that means I'll be getting comfortable here. Comfortable enough that if I start doing it and have to leave, it'll hurt real bad. It will anyway, though. I'm comfortable enough to call it 'my room' and 'my light' and call him 'Dad' when I'm exhausted, even though I have to try hard not to do it when I'm not exhausted. I apologize to the sauna fairy for not staying longer, then get out of the sauna - my sauna - and take a cold shower to close up my pores, then go up to the room - my room. There, I pull on some fresh clothes and get on the computer for a few minutes. My computer. After that, I go into the main house and see if he's here. The staff says he's still at work. I pull out my phone and call him. "What's up, Xander?" "Why haven't you adopted me?" "Where is this coming from?" "You started the process at the end of June," I say. "I've been in your care for six months, now. Why haven't you adopted me? Am I doing something wrong?" "You're not doing anything wrong, Xander," he responds. "Linda was wanting to complete the adoption immediately, but I felt that that would overwhelm you and scare you. I've been waiting for you to be ready." "I'm ready," I state. "Adopt me today." "I don't think that's possible," he responds. "And where is this coming from, Xander?" "I want you to adopt me." "Why?" "Because of reasons!" I stomp my foot in frustration. "The court is open until five, and all we need is my case worker and a lawyer. Until you adopt me, I'm just your foster son. The family court only has one thing this afternoon." "And you know that how?" "Adrian knows people." "You talked to him again?" "No, but I know Adrian." "That doesn't make any sense." "It doesn't have to," I say. "I'm just your foster son. I'll meet you at the courthouse in an hour. Do you want my lawyer or yours to be there?" Thirty minutes later, I'm at the courthouse, waiting for him to show up. His lawyer's already here, and so is mine, as well as my case worker, who looks baffled. Just under an hour after I spoke with him, he shows up, dressed in the suit he was wearing this morning. I'm the only one not in a suit. I hate suits. Since the court has open sessions now, we just enter the room. A gay couple in their early twenties are speaking with the judge, being argued against by some woman who says that gays should not be allowed to adopt. There's a boy around ten years old with them, and he looks bored. Every time the woman talks, he rolls his eyes. The judge tells her to shut her hole. He doesn't say it like that, he's a lot more polite. But the message is the same. He says that he's already spoken with the boy, and that he feels that the two men are capable of taking in a child, and that he sees no reason as to why they should not, and so he declares the adoption official. The boy actually cheers and hugs his new dads. Once they leave, our lawyers approach the judge, telling him that one client wishes to finalize the adoption of the other's client. That confuses the judge for a moment. "You're Mr. Scott's lawyer," Judge Hallir looks at one lawyer. "And you're Mr. King's lawyer," he looks at my lawyer. "How does a boy have his own lawyer?" "By knowing people," I answer, and he looks at me, an amused look on his face. "Instead of questioning why I have a lawyer, just finalize the adoption. I've already been with him for six months now, and with Ms. Jones gone, I'm ready." "I just finalized your divorce yesterday," the judge looks past me. "And you're wanting to adopt today?" "He's been wanting to adopt," I say. "I just wasn't ready. They divorced because she couldn't handle me not liking her, and he sided with me when I wanted space and she didn't want to give it to me. He's a capable parent, even if he's only just learning. Will you just finalize the adoption already?" The judge talks with us a few more minutes, talking with the case worker and trying to get me to say something other than to finalize it, and eventually finalizes the adoption, but I insist on keeping my last name as "King". We go out to eat at this really fancy five-star restaurant. I prefer the food of the Wolf's Dragon better, but they're still good. We stay out late, watching a movie and just driving around town, but I get tired because it's been a long and busy day for me, and so he brings me home, and walks with me to the annex. "I'm going to bed." "Goodnight, Xander." "Goodnight, Dad." ~~END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE~~ Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! As always, any feedback, be it comments, questions, suggestions, etc., can be sent to me at kingkurt1339@gmail.com – I try to respond to every email! Let me know if you want to join my mailing list to get updates on my stories. You can also follow me on Twitter @KurtMKing now, too! And we get to see more of Xander's fine logic in this chapter, don't we? We also got to see Xander opening up to yet another group of people, and doing something I'm sure shocked all of you, in the showers. Thanks for reading, and look forward to Chapter 22!