Cainanite

How to Breathe

Prologue

That's what I felt when Professor Venkhoff gave out the assignment. He even looked right at me when he explained what the assignment was. As though trying to dare me to blunder. His message was, oh so clear. He expects me to fail. Venkhoff thinks he knows me. He only knows an idea of me.

Professor Venkhoff didn't like me from the moment I set foot in his class. He doesn't think I deserve to be there. Then again, I don't think he likes any of his students very much. Yet, he downright despises me.

He keeps suggesting that I don't have the life experience to write the things I do. He really made an extra effort when I turned in my last project. He even accused me of plagiarism in front of the whole auditorium of students, though he couldn't site any sources for his assumption.

"Mr. Sidney," he said smugly. "I can't possibly see how a young man such as yourself could have any insights into this topic. It strains credulity. Rest assured if I find the true source of these writings, I will have you before the board of governors, and expelled from these halls."

When I tried to speak in my own defence, he shut me down abruptly. "Your voice is not one I am interested in hearing right now. Sit down Mr. Sidney. I have real students to teach."

It grates my every nerve that I have to prove myself to a person like him. I've known a lot of people like him over the years, but he is by far the most galling.

Of course, I won't quit. I chose to be at that university. I earned my right, despite what Venkhoff thinks. I expect that knowing I won't quit enrages him against me even more.

After his lecture, I stormed from the building. I jogged angrily over marble halls, through the ancient wings, and out into the brisk country air.

As I ran, I passed too close to a group of fellow students smoking in the parking lot.

"Yo, Mate!" called one of them, as I pushed past. I guess I bumped into him as I jogged through.

I didn't look back. I didn't apologize. I was too angry and emotional to speak. The last thing I wanted was to be caught up in their inane chatter.

The guy I ran into shouted at my back. "Yeah, keep going buddy," and, "You better run."

My yellow moped was where I left it. I jumped on, pulled on my helmet, and dropped my tinted visor. My eyes were stinging. I felt like I was on the verge of tears. I didn't want anyone to see how much Venkhoff had pissed me off. With my visor down, I felt more secure.

I sped out of the parking lot, off the campus, and headed out-of-town. I was looking for a wide and free space. I needed something that wasn't so confining.

It felt good to be moving. I gunned my little Vespa scooter to top speed. Soon the green country was flying past my eyes. I controlled myself, and let myself breathe.

You have to remember to breathe.

When I had my breath back, I could finally think.

Venkhoff had assigned us to write our memoirs. How much he thought a bunch of twenty-two year olds had to say about our lives so far, was dubious. He was looking for a way to expose me. He wanted to embarrass me. Prove to himself I couldn't possibly write the things I had, on my own. That I was just a parlour trick, and could finally be dismissed.

I wouldn't usually let something like that bother me. Somehow though, this seemed different. It was like he was invalidating my whole life.

When I was calm enough, I slowed my yellow Vespa down to a more moderate velocity. I didn't need to be pulled over, and it wouldn't do me any good to crash from undue care and attention. Though it wasn't the fastest moped on the planet, it could get up to a pretty dangerous speed if I let it. I was already out-of-town, and racing over open road.

I let the countryside wash over me. It really was very beautiful. It reminded me a bit of home. That was comforting.

I turned down some back roads, just to see what was there. My Vespa seemed to enjoy being run. The sound of its engine seemed to perk up, and it was vibrating with an especially pleasant rumble. I usually went just from the university grounds to my apartment in the city and back. I didn't often explore just for exploration's sake.

At a certain point, I came to a bit of pasture land. It was devoid of any people, and there were no animals around that I could see. What I could see was a gorgeous old oak tree on a hill. Its branches were swaying slightly in the breeze. The grass below looked inviting.

I pulled over and parked by an old stone wall. Hanging my helmet from the controls, I pulled my pack out from under the moped's seat, and walked the short distance up to the tree. The shade was wonderful. In that private spot, I sat and leaned up against the gnarled trunk. I sunk into the grass among its roots. The space was just begging for someone to sit and reflect. I did so with great humility for the ancient green sentinel.

Sitting there, I felt almost as if I was being embraced. The reality of a peaceful place brought me back to myself. I inhaled the scent of the foliage around me, the earth below me, and the leaves above.

From my pack, I drew out my portable tablet, and wireless keyboard. I expanded the screen on the tablet for word processing and rested it on a tall root beside me. I placed the keyboard on my knees, and stared over at the blinking cursor. The word processing program waited patiently for my input. My fingers hovered hesitantly over the keys. This was always the hardest part.

Framing my words usually came naturally to me. It almost always had. When I was a kid, people said I spoke like an adult. I thrived on words. I was always challenging myself with books and texts out of my age range. Words and language were my favourite playthings.

I'd have felt stupid and obvious using slang. Words held meaning, and even when I was very little I respected that. Even though I didn't speak much as a child, when I did, I was as deliberate with my words as a child can be.

Some people thought that carefully chosen words made me smug, when all I wanted to be, was understood.

Much later, I discovered writing. I liked how someone could arrange words in different orders, and how a carefully selected phrase could create an image or concept in the mind. The cadence and poetry some authors could command. It was inspiring.

Once I started writing, there was no stopping me. Finding that first word though, wasn't as easy. Especially when you were expected to use those words to tell the story of your life… To prove you weren't a fraud.

I imagined my fellow students and what they would write. I imagined a lot of stories starting with, "I was born on a Thursday in June. My parents were happy with their darling eight pounds, four ounce baby boy." I could have wretched at the thought. Who cares what you were as a baby? You threw up, you cried, you messed your diaper. Not much of that is different from person to person. Was anyone's years as a baby really that interesting to anyone other than themselves? I didn't think so.

I wondered about my own story. When did it really begin?

What set me on the path I'm on now? How many years do I go back to discover what I am, and where I am going?

What words could possible prove the truth of what I am?

I knew the answer of course. I knew it backward and forward, and from several points of view. That instant had been important for more than just me, and I knew all the parts as if they were my own. The echo of that time is still influencing who I am, and who I am yet to be.

Even twelve years after the fact, those moments were still fresh in my memory. Wounds still raw despite the passage of time. Though now adult, I can still feel everything I felt then.

I cast my mind back those twelve long years. I knew the very instant it had begun for me. What started my journey to the moment that changed everything. It had started on a day about a month or so before my eleventh birthday.

I'd been an intelligent, but innocent thing. So many lessons I would teach the child I was, if only I had the chance. What seemed unknowable to me then, seems so obvious now.

My fingers fell to the keys as the realization took me. It wasn't so much who I was, but the memories of who I was. All those remembered moments. Some moments mundane, some profound. All coloured with what I had become. Infused with meaning I would only later come to understand.

Over time, the meanings of those moments had changed and bent. I understood them as a person filled with experience and relationships, not as the child I was.

I finally knew where I had to begin. I knew there were only two stories that mattered.

My story, and her story. I could remember every part as if it were my own.

It all started because of a locked door.

Chapter One
The Forbidden Room and the Play Date

"Only cause it's cold out," I protested, and I threw my towel at her. She ducked away from the flying towel and ran away from me toward the pool. Despite the cold, we never wore bathing suits. We weren't nudists, but we didn't go out of our way to hide our bodies.

I liked Hanna, and she liked me. She had been my best friend since we were both five. We had often been paired up for trips to the museum, and day trips to farms, or factories as a part of our home school curriculum. Sometimes when we got together I'd play the piano, and she'd sing. We complimented each other in all the best ways.

Hanna was a petite little blond girl, but she had an old soul. She was both wise and funny. She suited my personality perfectly. When we were together I never felt like I had to hide anything from her. I don't think I could have kept a secret from her if I had wanted to.

Our mothers had gone off shopping for the afternoon, and left the two of us to our own devices. Hanna and I had just finished playing a board game in the kitchen, and despite an unseasonably brisk September day, we decided to go outside for a swim.

It was no accident that Hanna, a girl, was my play-date. My parents knew I was always more comfortable with girls of my age. Other boys played rougher than I liked. They were always more rambunctious than I was, and I always felt they were crass and stupid. Girls my age were more thoughtful, and contemplative. We seemed to have more in common.

Although I liked boys toys and boys games, when it came to being around other children my age, girls were better. I enjoyed girls games like dressing up, and playing house more than wrestling, or sports. I was fortunate that my parents were supportive and nurturing in this regard.

The few boys I have met who were like me, were often mocked or pressured out of associating with girls. Their parents ashamed by their son's gentle nature.

On the deck above the pool we had both shucked off our clothes without embarrassment. On my parents Virginia estate we were far enough away from other homes, or prying eyes to be concerned someone might see us naked.

As I watched her run naked across our yard, I envied Hanna in the cold air. The worst that happened to her, was she might get goosebumps. Between her legs was a gentle line. An attractive fold of skin that wouldn't pucker in the cold. Whereas I had to contend with my already tiny penis and scrotum retracting right into my abdomen.

My little member wasn't as neat and organized as she was down there. But then I could pee standing up and she couldn't. Though at the moment, with my penis making its way up inside me, peeing would be difficult. I'd have to practically reach in and pull it out. Until I warmed up, upright peeing would be out of the question.

Pulling off the last of my clothes, I ran down to join Hanna. She was sitting at the edge of the pool. Her long blond hair fluttered around her shoulders in the breeze, and she was contemplatively dangling a toe into the water.

I sat down beside her and dipped my toe in too. The water was frigid.

"Jason," she lamented as I sat beside her. "It's too cold to swim." She frowned as she hooked some of her blond curls behind an ear. "I was really looking forward to playing in the pool. Did you know it was this cold?" She made a show of crossing her arms over her bare chest and rubbing her arms, as if for warmth.

I shook my head, and was beginning to feel bad. If there was a cardinal sin in our house, it was to offend a guest. If my parents were ever strict with me, it was because they entertained so often. Guests were something sacred. Now I wondered, had I broken the rule and offended not just a guest, but my best friend?

Hanna smiled mischievously, making clear she was having fun with me. She uncrossed her arms, and reached for my lap. Playfully, she pinched the point of my shrivelling foreskin, and wiggled my little penis side to side. "I guess the shrinky-dink knew all along," she laughed.

Normally I would have laughed with her at her innocent touch and her joke. But not this time.

Even with my penis shrivelled in the cold, and half up inside me, her touch sent a tingle of pleasure through my groin. Involuntarily, I felt my pelvis shudder, and a wave of heat cross my face. I was too inexperienced to know what the feeling meant. We had played doctor when we were younger, and we were close enough friends, that I didn't consider her touching my penis any more unusual than my touching it myself. What happened to me happened because I hadn't known she was about to touch me there.

I know now, that as a boy comes closer to puberty, his nerves become more sensitive, and respond more intensely to outside stimulation. At the time though, I didn't know that, and though her touch was not unwelcome, I was embarrassed by both my reaction and wave of sensation. It must have shown on my face.

Hanna noticed the second I reacted. Her smiling face instantly transformed to a look of concern. She released her pinch and with her fingers still hovering over my groin. She squeaked, "Did I hurt it?"

I shook my head. "No, no. It is all right," I croaked out. "I don't know… I mean it didn't hurt. It was just… I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." My embarrassment doubled.

Hanna carefully removed her hand from my penis, and instead squeezed my knee. She smiled again, though this time with a hint of worry. My family's guiding rule was ringing in my head.

Never offend a guest.

Hanna must have sensed my feelings.

Trying to change the subject, she looked out at the pool and said, "We could still try to swim. Its cold, but I bet it won't be that bad. It'll be like the time our parents took us swimming in the mountains. Remember the glacier lakes? They were a lot colder than this."

I considered the cool water. "Okay. But we have to go at the same time." I was eager to forget my embarrassing faux-pas, and get back to playing with my friend. If that meant swimming in freezing water, then I was up to the challenge.

She stood up beside me and offered me her hand. She puffed her flat chest with determination. "On the count of three?" she said.

I stood up and we clasped hands, entwining our fingers. We braced for the jolt of ice we knew was coming.

"One," she said

"Two," I said.

"Three!" we shouted together, and still holding hands, jumped in.

The shock of cold wasn't as bad as we had expected, though my penis did retract the rest of the way. My scrotum puckered to a hard patch, and my tiny testicles reverted to invisibility. We swam around the pool for a bit, and in a few moments my embarrassing reaction to Hanna's touch was forgotten.

It was still too cold to swim for more than a short while, so after playing one game of toss with a beach ball, we pulled ourselves out of the water. Shivering, we held each other close for warmth and ran dripping wet into the sauna built in the side of the guest house.

We weren't allowed to use the sauna at full temperature, but we were able to get a good steam going in just a few minutes. As the warmth started to return to us, my penis started to return from hiding. I was grateful my shrinky-dink was becoming just a dink again. It wasn't very big, but I was pleased it was back on the outside of my pelvis where it belonged.

I bunched my hair up and squeezed the water out of it as we warmed. My brown hair wasn't as long as Hanna's, but at almost shoulder length it could still hold a lot of moisture. Hanna did the same, but when she was finished, she flared her beautiful blond curls out dramatically and laid back on the cedar bench. It formed a kind of halo around her head.

Hanna lay on the bench beside me with one knee up, and the other leg flat. Her fair skin was turning pink again, and her nipples were starting to relax. They had pinched to points in the cold water, as had mine. Tiny beads of sweat began to form across her chest and body. Her stomach rose and fell with the rising heat.

I watched a bead of water form on the inside of her raised knee. As it grew it began to roll down the line of her hairless leg. As it rolled it picked up other drops, and grew into a trickle of water. The trickle followed the exact shape of her leg to her groin. The water perfectly trickled to the top of her cleft, and down between her legs, following the line of her slit. As it did, she shivered, and I recognized the stimulation.

It was the same thing I felt when she touched my foreskin unexpectedly. I suddenly felt better about myself. Though not yet eleven years of age, and still completely ignorant of sex, I now understood that both boys and girls must feel pleasure when touched on their privates. I had learned something very important. I leaned back, and enjoyed the heat of the steam.

After a little bit Hanna sat up. Her skin was flush. She shook her head and her hair matted to her face and shoulders comically.

"Now I'm too hot," she said in an exasperated way.

"Yeah, I know," I apologized. "Sorry about that." I was covered in sweat myself.

Hanna scrunched up her face in thought. "Jason. Do you mind if I ask a question?"

"Go ahead." It wasn't like Hanna to hold back. "What?"

"Your parents are rich, right?"

My parents had developed software that was used worldwide, and in hundreds of different industries. Because of that, we had indeed become rich. I was well aware that my young life was one of privilege. "Yeah, I guess they are," I admitted. "Why're you asking?"

"Well. I know that you have a pool and a sauna, and lots of other things. So how come your parents don't have a hot-tub? You know, hotter than the pool, but not as hot as the sauna?"

I knew precisely what she was talking about. Though I had never been in it, I knew exactly where to find what she wanted.

I didn't hide anything from Hanna. She was my best friend. "We do too have a hot-tub," I said. "It's in the basement."

Hanna thought about it for a moment. "How do you know it's down there? It's always locked up. I thought they don't let anyone in the basement."

Even though I'd never been allowed in, I had, on occasion, seen inside.

In the mornings after entertaining, my parents made it part of their routine to clean the basement room. Though forbidden from crossing the threshold, I would often stand at the door as they carefully wiped down every surface. They would scour, clean and polish until the basement room gleamed and glistened.

The basement room wasn't actually all that different from the rest of our home. It was a larger room with beautiful marble floors and modern leather furniture. Abstract modern art decorated white walls. An entertainment system, tastefully concealed behind a dark glass panel, powered the hidden speakers in the ceiling. There were chrome stools at the well stocked bar. There was an upright piano, and all the things you'd expect for big parties. The space was open, flowing, and well lit, just like the rest of our house.

There were differences though. The leather furniture was all low backed, and suited to lounging and stretching out on. Upstairs our furniture was higher backed and more austere. Here and there, in the basement, shaped chrome railings protruded from the marble floors, dividing spaces. To my immature mind they appeared to be monkey bars, perfect for swinging and dangling from.

"I don't know. I guess I don't really think about it." I really hadn't until that moment. "But, they do too let people down there," I protested. "It's where they go when they have people over. But, they say it is a 'No Kids Allowed' space."

"You know what's down there?" She suddenly leaned forward attentively.

As long as we had known each other, neither Hanna, nor I had ever been allowed inside the forbidden room. I hadn't thought Hanna was as curious as I was. I was the one living with it in my home after all, not her. We had never talked about it because it was just the way things were.

To my childish imagination, there were two things about the basement room, other than it was forbidden, that most peaked my curiosity.

The first lay at the back of the room. A large lavish bed, king size or bigger. It had a tall headboard of chrome that matched the railings around the room. Covered in a decadent silk duvet, and dozens of massive pillows, I wondered why it was there. Did adults need nap-time while they entertained? Did they jump on the bed and have pillow fights? I was not allowed to jump on my bed, or have pillow fights. It made me jealous to think the adults were doing something which I was forbidden. It seemed they were hoarding all the fun for themselves.

Second, there was that low and wide Jacuzzi tub set into the floor. I imagined my parents and their friends splashing each other playfully, and kicking water over the edge. When we used our backyard pool I was discouraged from splashing, as it was considered rude. I had often been scolded for just the type of play I imagined the adults enjoying once I was sent to bed.

"I guess." I admitted finally. "I've only seen through the door. I never went inside or anything. They have a hot-tub in the floor though. They've got a bar for drinks, an' a bed, an' a bunch of other stuff. They say it is for adult parties. They use it a lot."

"Why don't they let anyone in there when they aren't throwing a party? I mean, they have a pool, and that's a lot more dangerous than a hot-tub? And your dad has a bar upstairs too, so it can't be he's worried you'll drink and get sick." Hanna was bubbling with questions. "It doesn't sound dangerous or anything. How come they don't let kids in there?"

This line of thought was a revelation to me. "I guess I never asked."

I smiled weakly. I was a little embarrassed that I'd been living with that locked room all my life, but never really found out anything about it. I felt dumb, and was even more embarrassed I was being dumb in front of my friend.

"What do you think they do in there?" Hanna pondered wistfully.

I had wondered this, and been curious about it almost my entire life, but it was the one thing my parents would never talk about. The explanation I had been given from the time I could talk was, "You wouldn't understand." The last time I had asked I must have been only four or five. It was around then that I had been permitted to see in while they cleaned, but never enter the room. Just seeing in had satisfied me, and I had never allowed myself to ask again.

To my knowledge, the subject never came up, and I had never heard my parents speak about the room outside of our home.

Hanna continued to overflow with questions to which I had no answers. In the end I promised her that I would tell her everything when I finally found out for myself.

I also promised myself that I would, one day, find out all about that locked room.

When we were done in the sauna, we returned to the house. We collected our clothes from the deck, and towelled the excess sweat and chlorine from our bodies before we went in. Prior to getting dressed though, it was a rule that we shower after a swim. Hanna and I were obedient children.

Trying to change the subject from the locked room, but more because I was finding myself curious about the tingle I had earlier experienced when Hanna touched my little penis by the pool, I clumsily decided to experiment. When we both stepped into the shower I casually suggested we make a game of it. 'I'll soap you up, if you soap me up.'

Though I expect Hanna knew my intentions, she agreed, and obliged my curiosity. As I rubbed lather down her slender body, I slipped a finger along the line of the cleft between her legs, and gently rubbed. If she felt a tingle, she didn't show it with anything more than her smile.

When it was her turn to soap me up she rubbed circles around my chest and abdomen. She teased me by delaying the moment she knew I was waiting for. Finally, her hand slid the lather over my undeveloped package. She gently encircled my penis with a finger. She worked the soap back and forth, then let my little member slide out of her grasp.

This time the tingle felt like an explosion. I felt woozy for a moment from the wave of pleasure. I had never felt that way when I had touched myself. I wobbled on my feet, and my face must have been inscrutable. I knew suddenly, the key to that wave of feeling was getting someone else to touch me.

Hanna was looking at me with worry again.

"It's okay," I said.

"Did I hurt you again?" she was pulled back in horror and concern.

All I could do was laugh. Hurt me? If she only knew. I was consumed by the humour of that idea.

"If you are going to laugh at me," she admonished. "then I'm not playing any-more." She had gone from worry to anger in a moment. She began to step out of the shower.

She was still covered in lather, and angry at me. I couldn't let her go. Still laughing I grabbed her arm and pulled her back. I couldn't think of what to do except one thing.

I hugged her and planted a kiss right on her mouth.

She froze for a moment, bewildered by my actions. Then she softened and put her arms around me and kissed me back.

When the embrace ended she was still looking at me with confusion.

"You didn't hurt me," I finally managed to say. "It just felt really good. I didn't think it would feel that good. It was weird and scary, all at once. I'm sorry I made you worry." My explanation was woefully lacking. I tried again, "It was funny because you thought you'd hurt me, when it felt really good."

Her eyes were still worried and angry. I'd hurt her, and I was suddenly feeling ashamed. "You are my best friend Hanna. I'm sorry."

Hanna looked at me sceptically for a few moments, before I saw her forgive me. "Okay," she said at last, finally starting to smile. "But if you want me to touch it again, you'll have to warn me first."

"I didn't know what was going to happen," I swore to her. "I never felt that before."

She appraised me there in the shower. Water rained down on our naked and lathered bodies. She studied my eyes. Her green eyes penetrating, as she judged my honesty. "Okay," she said at last. "I forgive you. Next time, we'll both know."

We hugged again. Our bodies felt good with bare flesh pressed together. The hug lasted a long time. Both of us experimenting with the way our bare flesh felt sliding wonderfully against each other. Finally, we rinsed each other off, and the last of the lather swirled down the drain.

When our mothers returned, they found their two ten year old children dressed and dry with hair combed. We were sitting at the kitchen table. We had just finished our second board game, and were laughing about who had won and who had tried to cheat.

For the time being, our experiments in the shower had overridden any thoughts of the locked room in the basement. We were back to giggling, and playing like we always did, yet there was something different too. Something just a little more.

As I watched Hanna leave in her mother's car, I was smiling ear to ear.

My mother noticed my mood. "It seems like you two had a nice time," she said happily.

"It was really fun," I answered.

And why wouldn't it be? I was smiling over the two words Hanna had said in the shower. She had said, "Next time…"

I had discovered something new and wonderful, and it was something I shared with my best friend.

Chapter Two
An Awkward Conversation

I wouldn't have considered hiding what had happened, or not telling my mother the whole unabridged truth. I just hadn't said anything because I hadn't been asked.

"Hi Jason," she said politely as she knocked on the frame of my open door. "Can I come in?"

"Sure, Mom." I put my Math work aside as she came in. I was pretty much done, and was just checking my answers.

She motioned me over to the bed. "Sit with me."

I put down my pen as I stood up. I made sure to push my chair up to my desk, before I went to her. In our house it was always important to put things in their place.

As I sat down beside her on my bed, she put her arm around my small shoulders. I was momentarily worried my parents were going on a long trip again, and leave me behind. It had been years since they had left me with friends so that they could travel for their business. I still remembered they told me about those trips, in just this same way, with an arm around the shoulder on the edge of my bed.

"What is it, Mom?"

"I had a nice coffee with Hanna's mother today," she said.

Had I not been such an innocent child I might have been worried when she said that. What did worry me was her next sentence. "Nobody is mad or upset, and you'll still be able to see Hanna whenever you want, but I need to ask you a question?"

"What about? Is everything okay?"

"Everything is perfectly fine, Jason. I just wanted to let you know you are not in trouble, and everyone is perfectly happy." My mother's long dark hair framed a face with serenity. "What I need to ask you, is this. Did you and Hanna find a new game to play when you were last together?"

I was suddenly relieved. So, that was what this was about. "Yes, Mother."

She brushed a bit of long hair from out of my eyes. "Tell me all about it."

I told her everything that had happened, and how it made me feel. I told her what I had discovered about myself, and I told her how happy I was when Hanna said there would be a next time.

Perhaps if I hadn't been so sheltered. If I had been raised watching modern media. If I had associated with children outside of my parents' group of friends, children who were more knowledgeable about these sorts of things, then a red flag might have been raised. I might not have been so honest with my mother. I was truly ignorant that what we had done might have been inappropriate.

Though I was raised in a state innocent of sex, I was fortunate to have understanding parents. Even their friends were open, honest and accepting. It turns out I was not in trouble at all. Nor was Hanna.

My mother explained to me, that what had happened with Hanna was nothing to get upset about, but it marked an important milestone in our development. It was important that our parents know about it, so that they could guide us in the right direction. It was lucky Hanna had asked her mother about why I had reacted like I did.

She told me that Hanna and I would be free to explore each other's bodies, and play to our heart's content. But warned that there would be further changes. She mentioned that at some point in the future we would have to have a talk about prevention, whatever that meant, but for now it wasn't a concern.

I was relieved I wasn't in trouble.

My mother smiled at me with her usual beautiful expression. "I have one last thing to ask you."

"Yes, Mother?"

"Did you get an erection?"

"A what?"

"Did your penis get stiff?"

For the first time I was embarrassed, more because I didn't understand than from shame about my body. "What? No, Mom. It only gets stiff once in a while. Usually when I have to pee really bad."

I had only ever had a few mild erections. My tiny penis stood out no longer stiff than limp, a mere inch [3 cm] or so. Maybe an inch and a half [4 cm]. I hadn't measured. When erect it didn't even grow long enough for my foreskin to retract. If I had loose fitting pants on at the time, my erection would be completely undetectable. I knew other boys from the home school program, a few years older than me, who sported stiff penises frequently. I could tell because they had members capable of tenting the fabric of their shorts. If I ever had to pee badly enough to get a stiff penis, which was rare, my member would barely dimple my trousers.

I was fully aware that my penis was small. Even younger boys I knew had bigger equipment than me. I was often charged with looking after the younger boys when the home schoolers went on joint field trips. I would help them change and go to the bathroom. I knew full well, I had the smallest penis. Only the occasional four or five year old boy would have one as small.

I didn't feel any shame about it. Some people have blue eyes, some people have green. Some people have big genitalia, and some people like me, have small ones. I don't think I even associated that it was the fact I had a penis that made me male. I knew girls didn't have them, and boys did. I had never thought about why that was. None of my friends cared about my penis. It was just another appendage, like an elbow or a finger. Hanna had pinched it with no more thought than she would have, had it been my nose or my ear.

For that reason, I was finding talk about my penis confusing. I hadn't ever given it much thought. Until recently I hadn't even known it could feel good if touched.

"Why does it matter if it got stiff?" I was trying to comprehend.

My mother looked shocked. "You don't know?"

I was getting worried. "What don't I know?"

"Oh dear, Jason. I am afraid your father and I have missed a few points on your education."

It was sounding to me like they had missed more than a few points. I had had no clue my penis could feel good if touched. I had no idea why it mattered if my penis got hard or not. Was it a good thing, a bad thing? It didn't make sense.

"Jason," she said solemnly. "You are such a gentle little boy. I'm sorry if this is confusing for you. I promise that your father and I will explain it to you. We want you and Hanna to be happy. But we also want you to be safe."

My mother was beautiful. If she hadn't been a computer programmer, she might have been a model. She was still slim and gorgeous. Even having a child hadn't affected her looks.

When she spoke to me in this way, I was reminded of the scene in Pinocchio, where the Blue Fairy came to speak with the little puppet, telling him he could be a real boy if only he tried hard enough. Her beauty made me feel inadequate of her love.

Though it might not have made sense, I said the only thing I could think of. The only thing I could ever say to her when she spoke to me like this.

"I'll try my best, Mother."

My beautiful mother lightly ruffled my hair, then smoothed it back. "I know you will, darling. You are starting to grow up, and your father and I need to discuss how best to guide you in this."

I was feeling confused, but as always happened when my mother spoke to me, I felt safe. I knew at that moment I could ask her anything. Perhaps I was bolstered by the fact she had said I was growing up.

"Mom?" I asked. "Will you ever let me go into the basement?"

As soon as I spoke the words, I wished I could swallow them back. I had asked about the forbidden. I hadn't asked about the room since I was four or five years old. It had become an unspoken topic, and I had built a mystique around the idea. I froze while a wave of fear coursed through my veins.

A look passed over my mother's face that I couldn't decipher. She stood up and walked to my door.

"Finish your school work and go to bed," she said. "Your father and I will discuss if you are ready."

With that, she left, closing my door as she went. I sat in silence on my bed for many minutes. I had imagined she would get mad. I had imagined I would be punished for asking about the basement room. All the fear and paranoia I had had was for nothing.

My parents would discuss it. My mother hadn't been mad. She simply hadn't expected me to ask. When I managed to compose myself, I finished my Math work, and got changed into my pyjamas. As I slid into bed, I knew two things. I was growing up, and I would one day be allowed into the forbidden basement room.

When I was ready.

Chapter Three
The Sleepover

That intervening week was busy. Despite what you might think, I actually saw more of Hanna. She was invited to join me for my daily schooling sessions. We sat together at the kitchen table as my mother talked about science, and Math, and we read from the classics.

It was good to have company for my school-work. Hanna and I held hands beneath the table, and giggled at our own private jokes, when my mother wasn't looking.

When it was time for me to practice the piano, she'd sit beside me on the bench, and either play along with her recorder, or if there were words, she'd sing along. The music sounded sweeter than ever. Usually a chore, with Hanna accompanying me, I actually found joy in playing my chords.

For the first time, Hanna's mother seemed to take an interest in me. At the end of the day, when she came to pick Hanna up, she would speak to me. It isn't that she hadn't before. As my mother's friend, she was always nice to me. But now she seemed to take a genuine interest.

She would ask me what kind of games I liked to play, what I thought about certain things, how I was coming along with my school-work. Had I been wiser to the ways of the world, I might have expected her to be angry with me, or keep Hanna from me. Instead, I was happy for the extra attention, and wasn't surprised when she asked me to spend the night with them.

That Saturday night, when my mother dropped me off at Hanna's, I was greeted with a warm hug by her mom and a pat on the back by her dad. Hanna's parents lived in the suburbs. Their house nestled among many others. There were toys on the lawn, and other children playing in the street. It was different from where I lived, but in a good way.

Hanna's dad was the kind of guy who called boys 'Sport' or 'Champ', and called his daughter 'Princess'. As Hanna was an only child like me, I guessed her dad was happy to have a boy in the house.

Hanna's mom wasn't the organizational whiz that my mother was. She was friendly and well meaning, but she always seemed to be a step behind in everything. I think for her, having two children in the house was a little more than she was used to.

Their house was messier, but no one seemed to mind the clutter. Her mom and dad were also more boisterous than my own. Quicker to laugh, they seemed more easy going, but more emotional too. Once or twice while I was there I thought I heard the raised voices of Hanna's parents from another room. Whenever they were with us though, they were all smiles.

Whatever was happening between her parents in private, Hanna seemed not to notice. If she heard the shouting, she ignored it well. "C'mon," she'd announce as though it didn't matter. "Let's go play outside." She'd take my hand and laughing, we'd race each other to the door. Any troubles there might have been, were instantly forgotten.

Hanna and I played games on the lawn before supper, then watched a movie in the living room with her parents. We ate popcorn and drank soda, and nobody told us to use a coaster.

After the movie Hanna's mother stood up and clapped her hands. "All right kiddos. It's bath-time, and then off to bed."

As I got up from my comfortable spot on the floor, I began to pick up my popcorn bowl and my soda cup, like my parents had taught me to. Hanna's dad promptly stopped me.

"That's all right, Champ. We'll look after all that. You're a guest here." He smiled at me as he took the items from me. "I'll clean. You two just head on up." As he said it, he gave me a wink.

The wink seemed odd, and out-of-place. I shrugged it off though, and pretended I understood. I didn't want to be rude. I smiled thankfully at him, and rushed to catch up with my friend.

I liked Hanna's home. It was so different from what I was used to.

When Hanna and I got upstairs, her mother was already running the bath. "Do you like bubbles?" she asked me.

"Yes, please," I said.

She poured a pink concoction into the water, and bubbles instantly began to froth up. It smelled of rose petals, and lavender. "Get undressed you two," she told us.

Hanna and I obediently stripped off our clothes as her mother filled the tub. When she was finished she turned around to appraise us. Her gaze lingered on my tiny penis. As she looked, I thought I saw her smile to herself.

"All right," she commanded. "Into the bath. Wash your hair, and behind your ears. One of us will be up in while to check on you."

Hanna and I climbed into the tub, and her mother left us to it.

As soon as her mother was out of the bathroom Hanna pulled me up to her, and kissed me. I was surprised, but kissed her back. It felt good to have our naked bodies pressed up again like that. We wrapped our legs around each other, and scooted in tight.

Even when our kiss ended, Hanna's arms were still around me.

"What was that for?" I asked.

Hanna smiled shyly. "I'm glad you're here," she said. "I love that we're together."

"Me too."

"I was worried when I told my mother about what we did," she admitted. "I think she was mad at first. But after we talked about it, she told me she wanted us to be together even more."

I nodded. "My mom said kind of the same thing. She asked some weird questions."

"Mine too"

"My mom asked if my penis got hard." It was a relief to talk to Hanna in private like this. Though we had been together through the week, we hadn't been left alone to talk the way we really wanted. One of our parents were always there.

Hanna nodded in recognition. "My mom asked that too." She pulled back a bit from me and looked down at my little boyhood through the bubbles. "Does it ever get hard?"

"No," I admitted. "Sometimes if I really have to pee, but that's it."

Hanna continued to look at it. "I wonder why it matters if it's hard or not?"

"I don't know." I touched myself, and moved my penis around. "It feels good when you touch it though."

Hanna unwound her legs from mine and propped herself up on her knees. "Can I?" she said. I nodded and braced myself.

Her touch was gentle and exploratory. I sat shivering from the sensation as she carefully touched and examined my inch and a half [4 cm] long appendage. I could feel her fingers prodding the thin foreskin as she moved it over the glans beneath. She squeezed the point of flesh between thumb and forefinger.

"It's like a little star shape." She said.

"What is?"

"The tip."

I looked down at the tip of my foreskin where the skin came together at the opening. The way the flesh bunched together did look a little like a star.

"You can slide the skin back if you like," I suggested. For years now the glans and foreskin had been separated. Even when I was quite little I liked to tug it back when I peed. Since I was seven or eight, the skin could finally be pulled back the whole way.

Delicately, she pushed the skin back along my short shaft and exposed the head. "It's all pink," she said with wonder.

I realized that she hadn't ever seen the head of my penis. It was always covered modestly by my foreskin. Even when we were really little, and played doctor we hadn't really explored each-other. We quickly got over the novelty of seeing each other naked, and it hadn't progressed. This was different. As her fingers brushed the pink bundle of nerves, I must have moaned or made a noise.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned again that she had hurt me.

"I'm okay," I assured her, though I was intently biting my lower lip.

She continued her careful appraisal of me. Her fingers gently rubbing. She slid the skin back and forth over the head, opening and closing my 'star'. She found a way to hold me so with a gentle squeeze, the tip would emerge, but when she released, it would tuck itself back in. She did it rapidly in and out a few times in quick succession, and the sensations made me buck my hips in the bath.

I was blushing, but didn't want her to stop. I bit my lower lip as hard as I could to keep from crying out. I didn't want one of her parents rushing in to see what all the noise was about.

She giggled at all my reactions. Eventually she moved on to my scrotum, and I could feel her fingers roll my balls inside their bag. In the warm bath they were hanging lower than they usually did, and she could really get a good feel. "They're like little grapes," she said as she jiggled them on her finger tips.

"Yeah. They're not very big," I admitted.

She closed her hand around them and squeezed them in the palm of her hand. I felt a jolt of pain as she applied a bit of pressure. "Careful," I winced.

"Did that hurt?"

"A little. But it still feels good. Just don't squeeze too much, okay."

"I wanted to see if they were hard or soft," she explained. "Sorry I hurt you."

"It's okay," I said. "It wasn't bad."

"They're soft," she told me with a smile. "I like the way the skin feels, too. Like a baby's."

She played with touching me for a few more moments, then satisfied with the data she had collected, tilted her head to the side. "Did you want to touch me again?"

"Okay," I said eagerly.

She spread her legs to each side of me, and leaned back in the warm, frothy water. I touched her with trepidation. What I found was smooth and beautiful. There were pink lips that framed her dainty slit. Like me, she was hairless and undeveloped, but I found the sight enchanting. She had something so much nicer than my tiny, clumsy penis.

My touch was light and cowardly. Hanna frowned. "No, Jason. Like this."

She took my hand and pushed my fingers firmly down. She guided my hand to rub her lips. She slid my hand over her cleft, and when I got used to the pressure she expected, she let me do it myself. As I rubbed, I let my fingers penetrate her. She was tight, and the moment unexpected. I saw her draw a sudden breath. It was my turn to worry about her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"It's okay," she said. "Keep doing that."

I continued carefully, but bravely. I let the tips of my fingers move inside her. Her eyes were closed and she now was biting her bottom lip. I wondered what she was feeling. As I continued to rub and explore, she began to make cute little squeaks, and her pelvis was quivering. All at once her body spasmed, and she let out a deep gasp like she had been holding her breath.

I pulled my hand away, not knowing what I had done. Hanna was panting and was just as confused as I was.

"What did I do?" I worriedly asked.

"I don't know." She struggled to define it as she sat up in the tub. "I can't explain it. It was…" She was at a loss for words. Instead she threw her arms around me, and again we kissed. "Thank you, Jason," she said when our lips parted. "That was wonderful."

We both laughed at how awkward we were.

The rest of our bath was uneventful. We dutifully cleaned ourselves, washed our hair and behind our ears. We joked and talked about things that didn't matter. It was good to have a friend like Hanna. We were just rinsing off when her father came to get us.

"Just about done, you two?" he asked.

We told him that we were.

"Well, lets get dried off and ready for bed then." He held out a big towel for Hanna. "Come on Princess, I'll help you dry your hair."

Hanna jumped out of the tub, and into his embrace. He rubbed her down vigorously, and patted the water out of her hair with the towel. He sat on a stool by the tub, and Hanna sat on his lap while he brushed and dried her blond locks.

If she was too old for this kind of behaviour I didn't know it. I was used to all the families I knew being open about nudity. It was common for all the home school families to gather at my parents estate in the summer, and all the kids would strip off and go swimming. Often the parents would join us. Nudity was really no big thing.

As he assisted his daughter, he studied me as I dried myself.

"Have you had fun so far?" he asked.

"Yes sir. Very much, thank-you."

"Good to hear, Sport."

His gaze made me feel slightly uncomfortable. Like Hanna's mother, he seemed overly interested in my penis. But his expression wasn't as friendly. I told myself it was because they didn't have a son. Perhaps they weren't used to seeing boys naked very often. Still, I didn't like being looked at in that way.

When I was finished drying, I dropped my towel and turned to face him. I decided it would be best to let him have a good look for himself. If he was wondering about me, I'd let him see I had nothing to hide. He stared for a bit, then smiled and nodded.

"You are a good kid, Jason. I'm glad you're Hanna's friend." Putting Hanna down he walked out of the bathroom. He looked back over to us as he left. "Brush your teeth, then off to bed."

When we were finished. We retreated to Hanna's room. Hanna and I pulled on our sleeping clothes. She slipped into a white cotton camisole, and I pulled on my blue silk pyjama bottoms.

Her room was pink and wonderful. She had a delightful canopy bed, and the room was decorated with unicorns and winged horses. Her stuffed animals looked over us from their row of shelves on the far wall. Girls always had the best stuff.

We climbed into her bed, and it was warm and comfortable. As we did, Hanna's parents appeared at the door. "Goodnight, you two," said her father. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"If you need anything we are just down the hall," added her mother. And with that, they turned off the light, and closed the door.

Hanna's night light filled the room with a soft pink radiance. Green glow-in-the-dark stars ignited on the ceiling. Hanna and I snuggled in close. Our bodies touching under the covers. As we moved closer, I could feel her adjusting her camisole under the blankets, raising it higher. Quietly, she took my hand, and guided it between her legs. My fingers touched her bare cleft, and I knew what to do.

I gently worked my fingers inside her. I rubbed her slit, and was surprised to find a bit of moisture. It made the rubbing easy, and I hoped I was pleasing her. As if to answer, she began to kiss me and rub my chest. I kissed her back, and a wave of contentment washed over me.

We stayed like that for a long time. Several times she spasmed and gasped for air, but each time it happened she hugged me and kissed me passionately. I was learning how to please her in a new and marvellous way. I hoped the night would never end.

We awoke the next morning tangled up in the sheets and each-other's arms. Somehow, in the night, we had become more than just best friends.

Chapter Four
The Appraisal

"How is my little man?" he asked.

"Very good. Thank-you, Father," I answered quickly. "How was your trip?"

"Much better than expected." He patted my back, and handed me his carry on bag. I dutifully hefted it. Though my father carried the bag with no effort, I struggled to hold it with dignity.

As I laboured to carry his bag into the house, my father waved to the driver to bring in the rest of his luggage. I made it to the door in time to hold it open for him.

As my father swept into the house, he saw my mother. They embraced each other and kissed as though they hadn't seen each other in a year. Though it was my parents routine, I found myself understanding that kiss a little better. For the first time I felt my face go a little hot, and thought of Hanna.

My father was full of stories from the Middle East. He spoke of his friends there and their odd customs like serving the hottest tea on the hottest days. He filled my mother in on the changes to their software, and she agreed with his appraisals.

I'm not ashamed to say most of the conversation went over my head. I was just glad to have my family back together, and pleased by their happy voices filling our home.

As the conversation wound down, my mother glanced at me and gave my father a knowing look. He read her thoughts and turned his attention to me.

"Jason," he said. "Why don't you take my bag upstairs? You can then wait in your room until we call you. Your mother and I need to have a talk."

"Yes, Father." I was suddenly filled with apprehension. This was the conversation my mother told me they would have. The conversation that would determine if I was ready to enter the forbidden room in the basement.

I scrambled to retrieve his bag, but managed to compose myself as I walked it upstairs. I lay his bag on his side of my parents bed, and then ran to my room. Once there I found myself pacing back and forth between my desk, and my bed.

As the time wore on, and I still couldn't hear anything from downstairs, I tried to go over my latest reading assignment. The words on the page were like fly-paper. My eyes refused to move from one of the first sentences of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them.

Over and over I read those words. They didn't make any sense to me. My mind refused to be distracted. The great secret of our family was possibly about to be revealed to me. Or maybe not. Either way my ten year old self couldn't concentrate.

I was nearly foaming at the mouth with frustration when my father came to get me. His face was implacable.

"Come with me."

I put down Tom Sawyer, and immediately followed him. He led me to his room. Inside, my mother was casually lounging against some pillows on the bed. She had changed into her nightgown. She was as beautiful as any movie star. It was good she was here. Sometimes my father frightened me a little.

My father sat down on his side of the bed, but did not invite me to join him. I stood alone just inside the door.

He wasn't the biggest man, but he was fit and muscular. He wore glasses, but didn't always have to. He could sometimes appear geeky, but he played that up mostly for his clients. He had always reminded me of Clark Kent. He could appear mild, and harmless on the outside, but underneath the surface was an iron Titan.

My Father sat quietly for a moment while he looked me up and down. When he spoke, his voice was soft and kind.

"I understand you've been spending a lot of time with Hanna this week."

"Yes, sir."

"Have you been enjoying it?"

I was feeling embarrassed, and I didn't know why. I nodded instead.

"You've discovered some new feelings, haven't you?"

Again I could only nod.

"That is very good, Jason. I'm glad to hear it." He allowed me to stand there quietly for another few moments. "I want you to tell me what you two have done."

My voice caught in my throat. Talking to my father wasn't like talking to my mother. My mother could always make me feel protected, even if I had done something terrible. Under my father's gaze, I felt as though I was being judged.

My mother spoke softly, "It's all right, Jason. You can tell us."

It came out then in a torrent. I told them how I had discovered my feelings when Hanna touched me by the pool. I told them how we touched each other in the shower. I described for the first time what we had done in the bath, and what we had done in her bed. I told them how I felt when I touched her, and how good it was to kiss her, or just hold her hand. By the end I was crying. The emotions were powerful and confusing. I felt weak and tiny to be crying in front of my father.

"It's all right, Jason," said my mother. "Let it out."

I managed to stop my tears, and wiped my nose on my sleeve. Normally I would be scolded for soiling my clothes, but this one time my parents let it go.

When I composed myself, I saw my parents share a brief look of agreement. My father was smiling at me kindly.

"It sounds like you are indeed growing up," he said. In another moment, his brief smile faded, and he motioned to my shirt and trousers. "I need to have a look at you. Take off your clothes."

I wasn't shy about undressing in front of my parents. But I had never been naked in their room. Sure, my parents had seen me naked in the bathroom, or in my bedroom as I changed. They had seen me naked countless times by the pool, and I had seen them. I had however, never been naked in their private space. We weren't nudists after all. We didn't walk about the house naked for no reason.

Once again, my brain stalled. Somehow my fingers managed to undo my belt. I pulled off my shirt and trousers. I pulled off my socks, and finally dropped my underwear. When I was as naked as the day I was born, I stood timidly in front of my father.

I was suddenly aware how thin and hairless I was. How small I was in comparison to my father. Everything he was, I wasn't. His skin was dark, and mine was pasty white. He was muscular. I was thin. He had wide shoulders and thick arms. My shoulders were narrow, and my bare arms were like twigs. One of his legs seemed as big around as my whole torso.

He studied me patiently.

"Your penis is still quite small," he said matter-of-factly. "Your mother says you still aren't getting erections."

"No, sir."

"Come over here. I need to touch you."

I shuffled over to him. As I came near enough he pulled me in, and stood me between his legs. He felt my small muscles, and ran his hands down my skinny body. His touch was strong, but soft. He looked at my hands and fingers.

"You're starting to fill out," he said." Your body is fit and growing."

Then he reached down and cupped my testicles. He appraised their weight. "Still just a baby in some places though." My face burned hot from embarrassment.

Suddenly he turned me around, so that my back was to him. He reached around me with his powerful arms and his fingers found my little penis. I was like a doll in his embrace. "Tell me what you feel when I do this," he said, then began to stroke my tiny member between thumb and forefinger. He slid the skin of my penis gently back and forth over the glans.

My mother looked on as my father touched me, with her usual sense of serenity.

As my father rubbed my penis, a sensation of incredible pleasure overrode my shame and penetrated my pelvis. Like a spreading fire, it worked into my belly.

Hanna's touch had been gentle and timid. My father's touch was firm and experienced. He knew better than two ten year old kids how to do this. His strong fingers lit up every nerve expertly. I shivered and shuddered in bliss as he held me. As the feeling passed I found my knees had gone to jelly, and I was leaning against my father's chest. His arms securely held me.

"It was very nice," I said inadequately.

He squeezed my shoulder in a moment of approval. He said, "That's good, Jason."

He then turned me back around to face him. "Lay over my knee," he told me.

I did as instructed. As I did so, I was facing my mother. She smiled and nodded. I knew I was safe.

"Spread your legs a little," my father coached.

As I complied, I felt his fingers probing by bottom. As his fingers touched my hole, I felt a new and odd pleasure. I was concentrated on his hands stroking my buttocks, and his fingers caressing my sphincter. It was a different kind of pleasure from touching my penis. It was bewildering and odd, but felt somehow very nice. Then it became even odder.

I felt one of my father's strong fingers penetrate past the coil of muscles, and work its way up inside me. It didn't hurt, but I had never felt anything like it. I let out a gasp.

Then another amazing thing happened. My father's finger found a spot inside me that I didn't know I had. His finger pressed and stroked, and my world went sideways.

My insides seemed to explode with dazzling lights. I struggled to catch my breath. The pleasure seemed to rush outward to all my extremities. I had no idea I could feel that way.

When he was finished my father gently lay me on his bed beside him. I was covered in sweat, and struggling to catch my breath. My heart was beating wildly. I couldn't have stood if I had wanted to.

My father and mother watched me closely, as I recovered. Slowly I sat up.

"Did I do okay?" I asked faintly.

"You did perfectly, Jason," my mother said. "Now I want you to go have a bath, and get ready for bed. Your father and I will come and tell you our decision, when we tuck you in."

Weakly, I stood, and gathered my clothes. I ran my bath and brushed my teeth robotically. As I bathed I struggled to comprehend the powerful sensations I had just experienced. I had never been touched in that way by my parents. I didn't know what or even how to think.

Before I knew it, I was dry, and in a clean set of pyjamas. I lay in my bed facing the plain ceiling, my mind as blank as it was.

When my parents came into my room, it was all I could do to sit up and face them.

"Jason," my mother said. "You are growing up, and experiencing new feelings. We want you to explore those feelings. We want to help you discover yourself. If you think you are ready to experience more of what you felt tonight, then your father and I want that too."

My father sat down on the edge of my bed. "We are going to bring you downstairs tomorrow night. It will be just you, your mother and me. We will show you some of what we do. You may feel more of what you did tonight. If, afterwards we feel you can handle it… we'll decide how to proceed from there."

He then patted my knee, and kissed my forehead. My mother gave me a hug. As they left, they told me they loved me.

Despite my spinning mind, and the empty feeling in my gut, I told them I loved them too.

Chapter Five
My First Time in the Hot-Tub

I desperately wanted to talk with Hanna. I wanted her to hold me, and I wanted to hold her. I wanted to tell her what had happened. I wanted to talk to her about what was going to happen. I wondered if she would be happy for me or worried.

Without her beside me, playing my scales on the piano was far less enjoyable. The notes seemed hollow, and flat. As I played through my music book, I longed to hear her singing in her clear and honest voice. Isn't it weird how different music can sound when it is shared as opposed to playing solo? The life goes out of the music when played alone.

I busied myself with reading more of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I laughed at his ability to make a bunch of kids do his chores for him. And I immediately liked his shoeless friend Huck Finn. As much as I enjoyed the witty story, it felt light years away from my own experiences. Where Tom baulked at authority, I gravitated towards it. Where he saw the lure of adventure and excitement, I saw danger and foreboding.

The day crept slowly along. But my parents were in a good mood, and it soon rubbed off on me. My father joined me in a few games of chess, and he even let me win once. My mother sang as she cleaned around the house, and prepared our lunch. Her voice was clear, and full of joy. I almost forgot to sulk at being grounded for no reason.

In the afternoon my father put on some of his favourite music, grabbed my mother's hand and began to dance. I laughed at how silly they were spinning and twirling around our living room. After a few songs they grabbed my hands and pulled me into the dance. I soon forgot myself and danced with them without being self conscious.

Supper was a very light meal. A bit of steamed chicken and some vegetables. When I complained, they told me it was so I wouldn't get an upset stomach tonight. Over the course of the day, I had almost forgotten.

Tonight.

After supper my mother led me up to my bathroom, and instructed me to have a bath. I did so without hesitation. Before I was finished, she returned with something that looked like a small hot water bottle with a hose attached. She quietly and calmly explained its function to me.

It was the first time I had ever had an enema. I wasn't sure why I needed to be so clean down there, but I was determined to gain entrance to the forbidden room. I would do whatever it took.

My mother had me lean on the edge of the tub while she gently inserted the hose. She squeezed the hot water bottle until I felt the pressure of warm soapy water inside my bowels. After a few moments she told me to release into the toilet. It really wasn't as bad as I thought it might be. It was embarrassing with my mother helping me, but she told me next time I could do it myself. I was much happier with that option.

After I was rinsed and dried, I put on my silk pyjamas, and waited in my room for my parents to instruct me.

They arrived shortly, and beckoned me to follow. I could hardly contain my excitement as they led me downstairs.

At the door to the forbidden room, my father paused. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked. "We don't have to do this tonight. There's plenty of time yet." He held my chin and made me look him in the eye. "Perhaps when you're older?"

I thought about it carefully. Beyond that door lay the answers to my lifetime of questions. I shook my head. "I'm ready," I told him.

My father smiled and unlocked the door.

Inside the lights were on, and everything was as I remembered seeing it. There was the jacuzzi hot-tub set into the floor. There was the giant bed and the chrome railings. The bar, and stools, and low backed leather furniture were all as I remembered seeing them.

My father stood to one side, and motioned me in. I stepped forward timorously. For the first time I crossed the threshold.

Inside it looked much the same, but I could now notice rings and rails in the ceiling. What their purpose was I couldn't know. I noticed cupboards on either side of the entrance. Behind their glass doors were objects I didn't recognize. Some colourful like toddlers toys. Some round, some cylindrical. Many had straps, or bobbles attached.

As I stepped toward a cupboard my father stopped me. "Not tonight, Jason. We'll get to those in time."

He took my hand in a gentle way, and led me over to the Jacuzzi. "This is what we'll be doing tonight," he said.

I looked into the water, and back at my father. I began to protest, "But, I just had a bath."

"Just take off your clothes and get in," he told me pointedly.

As I pulled off my silk shirt and pyjama bottoms, my parents also undressed. I had seen them naked before, and seeing them undress wasn't so surprising. However, when they both had their clothes off, they stepped close and kissed passionately. My father ran his hands down my mother's body, and she ran her hands down his. I didn't know where to put my eyes. They were entwined together in a way I had never seen before. Hand in hand they stepped past me, and down into the water.

As I followed them in, the water began to bubble. The water was warm and inviting. Unlike me, my parents did not sit down in the water. Instead they stood thigh deep and took turns running handfuls of water down each other's bodies. My mother's nipples became hard points and I wondered, why? It certainly wasn't cold in there. Then, I saw something I swear I had never seen before.

My father's penis became hard and erect.

It may seem odd that I had never seen an erect penis before. But it isn't like I was looking for one. Any of my friends who were boys, were as young or younger than me. The older boys didn't associate with me much, and though I had seen their erections puff out the front of their pants, I'd never seen one exposed. If we were together in the nude, they either hid their erections or got them under control before letting it all hang out.

I had never seen a porno, and I hadn't gone looking for anything like that on the internet. I know it must be hard to believe that a boy in this day and age had never seen one, but I hadn't.

I was well aware that my father was better endowed than I was, and I had noticed his penis dangling before. Seeing it now, however, was really something. Where he might have been four or five inches [10-12 cm] soft, erect he was truly magnificent. My father kept his pubic hair closely shaved, so there was nothing to distract from the pure power and majesty that was his manhood.

I was transfixed and my parents noticed. My mother motioned me over. "Come here, Jason."

She pulled me over and wrapped her arms across my chest. I was aware of her hard nipples brushing against my bare back. My father's penis was almost at eye level. It was at least eight times the length of my own, and exponentially thicker. His testicles dangled proudly and heavily below.

"Touch it," my father said.

My hand went out slowly, and when I touched it, I was surprised to find it gave off heat, and throbbed beneath my little fingers.

"Like this," he said. He took my other hand and also placed it on his shaft. He guided both my hands up and down, sliding the loose skin over the head and back again. "Keep doing that," he told me.

I was absolutely mesmerized. My father arched his back in pleasure as I stoked his mighty penis. My mother whispered soft words of praise to me and rubbed my back supportively.

My father knew his limits, and politely stopped me at a point. "Thank you, Baby," he told me as he removed my hands. He had never called me that before.

"Now I'll show you what a penis is really for." He moved me aside, and pulled my mother in close. She spread her legs and he lifted her up and onto his penis. My mother's slit opened, and I watched in shock as my father slowly impaled my mother on his titanic shaft. My mother moaned in ecstasy, and steadily she took all of my father's manhood within her cleft.

My father grasped my mother's breasts, and she responded by thrusting her pelvis into him. As they moved in synchronicity they kissed and caressed each other. It was a stunning ballet of flesh and passion.

As they moved rhythmically together, I understood. A penis and a vagina were meant to fit together. What I was discovering with Hanna, might eventually lead to this. I tried to picture Hanna moaning and thrusting her pelvis like my mother, but I couldn't do it. I tried to imagine myself with a mighty oak of a penis like my father. Try as I might, I couldn't wrap my mind around it. It wouldn't click.

For the first time I watched as my parents climaxed together. Even though I was just inches away, I could only suspect what they were feeling. My father and mother submerged into the pool once they were finished, and my father lay back in the water, momentarily spent.

My mother raised herself out of the water, beads of crystal water falling from her pert nipples. She took my hand and pulled me over to the other side of the jacuzzi and touched my chin with her fingers. "Now, let's see if we can give you some pleasure." She said it as if she might have been offering me a Popsicle.

"Sit up here," she told me, and she patted her hand on the edge of the tub. I jumped up on the edge, and turned to face her. "Let me do this," she told me. She gently laid me back on the warm marble, and spread my legs. She brushed her hair to one side and lowered her mouth over my boyhood. Her lips surprised me, but her tongue downright shocked me. As she sucked on my tiny member, her tongue traced circles around it. Her saliva was warm on my skin, and all my nerves froze in pure attention to that moment.

As good as I had felt when Hanna touched me, as amazing as it was when my father stoked my penis, this was better. My whole body quivered and quaked beneath her mouth. Somehow she was able to use her tongue and lips to push back my foreskin, the combination of pressure and suction on my sensitive glans, was extraordinary. The whole world became brighter, and I almost fainted.

My mother was patting the side of my face. "Breathe," she said. Sensing my distress, she had stopped her ministrations. "You can't forget to breathe, Baby."

"Okay, Mom," I said. "I'll try my best." The world was still popping in little explosions around me. I gulped a few deep breaths, and everything came back into focus. I sat up to find my father grinning at me.

"How was that?" He asked.

All I could do was nod. Words hadn't begun to form in my head yet.

"Do you understand what a penis is for, now?"

I thought I did. As my words returned, I clumsily and naively tried to explain what I thought I understood. "A penis and a vagina fit together. It's how a woman and a man can make each other feel good."

My father nodded. "It's not just between a man and a woman. A penis can fit two men together," he paused for effect. "or a man and a boy."

This I didn't understand at all. There wouldn't be a place to put it. "How?" I asked.

My father considered my question for a few moments. He passed a look to my mother, and my mother looked at me.

"It's all right," she said to him at last. "I think he's ready."

My father's hand hooked under my upper arm, and he pulled me back into the water. His insistent strength was undeniable.

"This is why we're using the jacuzzi, for this first night," he explained. "Your mother will hold you. I want you to float in the water."

I submerged myself in the water and my mother turned me to face her. She gently held me under my arms. I let my legs float up, and my father stepped behind me. I was reminded of when they were teaching me to swim. My mother had held me in just this manner, belly down, keeping my head above water. I almost expected her to tell me to kick. Instead, she remained quiet, but her eyes were filled with compassion.

I felt my father's hands spread my legs apart. He was putting something on my hole, that was slick and somewhat cold. He moved in close behind me. Even in the warm water, I could feel the heat of his penis as it approached. I began to realize what he was doing. Anticipation mingled with fear.

"I'm not going to go all the way in," he said to me. "I just want you to know what it is like."

When I felt his penis press into my rectum, I tensed.

"Don't squeeze," he said. "Just let it happen."

As I forced myself to relax my sphincter, I felt the head of his penis slip inside me. The pressure was unbelievable, but the heat of my father's glans was radiating another level of pleasure through my body.

"There you go," my mother said. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

I was still trying to comprehend whether I was feeling pain or pleasure. The memory of the hidden spot my father had touched the previous night came back to me. It was just a little deeper, and the throb of my father's penis was overriding my good sense.

I didn't know what possessed me, but I suddenly pushed backward, out of my mother's arms. My backward motion caused my rectum to further engulf my father's shaft. I felt him slide into me fully, his member parting the coil of muscles as it slid into place. The sudden agony was mixed with bliss, and my mind was rebelling against contrasting sensations.

Without my mother's arms to hold me up, my head dipped below the surface, and I swallowed a lungful of water. She yelped in worry, and my father gasped in surprise. His arms quickly encircled my waist, and he pulled me up. I coughed liquid, and drew air.

With his staff now fully in me, my father's voice was shaky and uncertain. "Good god, the kid is tight," was all he was able to say. His strong arms were quivering, as he held me.

"I think we have our decision," my mother said once she realized what I had done. She kissed my forehead, and brushed the long wet hair away from my face. "I'm very proud of you right now," she told me.

My father's hands flattened out across my abdomen, and his fingers touched my penis. As he thrust into me, his fingers gently stroked me. My father was gentle but powerful. He slid in and out of me again and again.

I felt a mix of euphoria, ecstasy and ache. My mother held my face in her hands, as my father took me. Her expression never showed anything but love and pride. "Remember to breathe," she said.

As my father worked his way back and forth inside me, both ecstasy and pain grew ever stronger. His fingers caressed my boyhood. His manhood set my insides ablaze. The pain slowly faded to nothing, and my whole body was exploding in pleasure.

I screamed out, and my limbs jerked uncontrollably. My world went upside down, and inside out. I felt something hot explode inside me, and both my father and I fell helplessly, like rag dolls into the water.

My mother caught me up as I sank like a brick into the water and cradled me in her arms. My father clung to the side of the tub as if for dear life. "Jesus Christ," he swore. He was shaking and his eyes didn't want to focus. "Jesus Christ!"

My mother held me quietly until she recognized I had some rudimentary control of myself again. Trusting I wouldn't pass out and drown, she left me at the side of the tub and stepped out to retrieve some towels. My father looked at me from across the whirlpool with a sense of wonder on his face.

"Oh, Baby. Thank-you," he said to me.

I noticed blood in the water between us. I was scared and confused, and I didn't understand entirely what I had just done. I was suddenly thinking of my gentle Hanna, and I started to cry.

"Shh, Baby," my dad said to me. He quickly came over to my side of the tub, and wrapped his powerful arms around me. "Shush now. Everything is all right."

I clung to my father and sobbed. I held onto him like I never had before, and he held me tenderly like he never had either. I was crying my eyes out, and I didn't know why.

When my mother returned with the towels, the two of them bundled me up, and carried me upstairs. It was devastating for me to cry in front of my father, and embarrassing having him carry me like a toddler, but as the tears ran, I clung to him for dear life.

My father carried me to my room. My mother wiped something cool and soothing on my rectum. Together my parents dried me, and dressed me, and placed me gingerly in my bed. They took turns kissing me, and telling me how proud they were of me.

My father held my hand. And looked at me seriously. His voice was uncertain. "Now that you know what we do downstairs, do you think you can handle it? Would you ever want to do that again?"

For the first time in my life I realized my father wasn't just worried about me, he was worried for me. I had never known such compassion from him. I had never seen him look as vulnerable as he looked right then.

I thought of Hanna, and how a playful touch had brought us closer together. Now the same feelings of ecstasy I had discovered with Hanna, had shown me a side of my father I had never known. I knew I could never go back to the way things were before. I knew I couldn't live without those feelings ever again. I would die if I lost them now.

It took every ounce of courage I had left to look my father in the eye. "Yes please, Daddy," I said. "Yes, please."

Together my parents embraced me, and we all cried together. Something that I hadn't known, that had been bottled up my entire life, suddenly released. At that moment there were no more boundaries. We were closer than we had ever been before.

They held me until I fell asleep. That night I slept more soundly than I had in my life. Whatever the future held, I knew my family would be there for me. I was loved, and I loved them in return.

Whatever tomorrow brought, I was sure I could face it.

Chapter Six
What Do You Do With a Problem Like Jason?

I winced as I rolled out from my covers. My muscles and nerves rebelled at being put into service. It seemed like a long time before I could find my footing, but I was determined, and didn't want to disappoint my parents by being lazy, and staying in bed too long.

The pain inside me flared with every step I took. I braced myself against the wall, as I tenderly urged my body along. Each step down the stairs to our kitchen was a newly discovered torment.

My parents were already enjoying breakfast when I finally made it down. The smell of cooked bacon and eggs frying in butter made my mouth water. There was music playing on the radio, and despite the cost, all seemed right with my world.

My mother was slicing oranges at the counter when she first noticed me. Her eyes flared with surprise and worry, and she instantly called out to my father.

"Jim. Look!" she cried.

My father dropped his paper as he saw me. "What are you doing up?"

"I'm all right," I began to say. I didn't want them to think I was weak, or unready.

"The fuck you are!" he bellowed as he launched himself from the table. He caught me up in his arms as I wobbled unsteadily. "Are you fucking stupid?" he yelled angrily. My father's fingers bit into my upper arms as he lifted me from my feet. "Are you trying to permanently injure yourself?"

Overwhelmed with shock and shame, my eyes welled with tears. "No, Father. I'm sorry, Father," I choked.

In a second my mother was beside him. Her hand gently pressing against one of the muscular arms that held me.

"Jim, you're frightening him."

In another heartbeat I found myself crushed in my father's embrace. The power of it momentarily took the wind from my lungs.

"Don't scare me like this," he said into my ear as he held me close.

I struggled to control the tears. "I'm sorry, Father. I won't do it again."

"Stupid child," he whispered, as he cradled me. "Stupid, stupid child. I don't know what I'd do if…" He didn't finish the thought.

He carried me to the living room where he laid me on the couch. He took a blanket from a nearby chair and tenderly wrapped me in it. I could see him holding his power in check as he tried to be careful with me.

"Don't move around too much until we know how badly hurt you are," he instructed.

"I won't, sir," I told him. "I promise."

As my mother brought in a plate of food, my father stood with his back to me. His shoulders were at an odd angle. My mother stopped and looked at him with concern. She made a motion to touch his arm, but he flinched away from her.

"I need to find the damn phone," I heard him say. There was something wrong with his voice. He walked away determinedly not looking back, and my mother watched him go.

When he was out of the room she sat with me on the edge of the couch. She touched the side of my face. "Do you think you can eat?"

The bacon looked crisp and delicious. The eggs were fluffy, and fresh orange slices decorated the plate.

"I am very hungry," I admitted, as I dried my eyes with the palms of my hand.

She flipped another errant lock of hair off of my forehead. "Of course you are," she said. "A growing boy has to eat."

She handed me the plate, and I dug in. I felt like I hadn't eaten in ages. My mother gently reminded me of the fork, before I could start on the eggs with my fingers. She sat there with me as I ate, patient and radiant. Her long dark hair framed her beneficent face. When I finished, she dabbed my mouth with a cloth, and took my plate.

As she stood up, she told me, "You can watch some TV." Without moving she had somehow conjured the remote. Cartoons blared to life on the plasma.

I tried pitifully to protest her choice for me. Cartoons were kiddie stuff, and I almost never watched them. I much more enjoyed things on PBS, like Nova Science or Odyssey. I had all of Carl Sagan's Cosmos on Blu-ray.

As I tried to pivot around, I was halted by my tangled innards. My voice choked off abruptly and she didn't hear me.

She'd taken the remote with her. Did she even notice it was still in her hand?

I thought better of shouting after her when the pain subsided. It would only come out in my high pitched whiny voice. It was an immature tone I knew better than using right then.

Even so, as she walked away, she was leaving me with a full stomach and a lessening ache within me.

Over the raucous noise of cartoons that didn't interest me, I caught snippets of my parents conversation in the other room. Their voices were muffled but agitated.

"… are you calling?"

"…tor Freidmont… could be… permanent damage."

"… being a bit dramatic?"

"…insides could be in shreds… my fault."

" …overreacting… fine by tomorrow… being foolish."

"… taking any chances."

"…think it is necessary… support you."

I thought I could hear the tones of buttons being pressed on the phone. Just as I was straining to listen, my parents shut the door, blocking me from hearing any more.

A trickle of fear ran down the back of my neck. My parents never spoke in raised voices to each other like that. Something had gone wrong, and I knew it was because of me. Despite the effort of the happy cartoon characters who pranced drunkenly for my distraction, my eyes burned. I struggled to control myself.

As I fought not to cry again, I shifted my weight slightly, and my bowels pulsed again with violence. I instantly regretted moving. I had to stay still. I gulped down a swallow of air and chose to focus on the pain. Better to focus on it, or I'd be bellowing out like a baby. As it shuddered through me, I was able to quiet myself.

Before the last commercial break, I was again myself. I could be strong for my parents. I'd show them I wouldn't whine and cry. I could be good. I was growing up, and I would prove it to them.

They didn't need to yell and fight because of me. They'd see.

When my parents finally returned, my eyes were dry and I even managed to put a smile on my face.

My father had his keys in his hand and his driving glasses on. The dark glass hid his eyes. My mother merely smiled at me.

"We're going to see Doctor Freidmont, Jason," my father said as he leaned down beside me, and began to scoop me into his arms.

I was only wearing my short pyjama bottoms, and a light t-shirt. I protested. "Father, I'm not dressed."

As he lifted me into his arms he pulled the blanket around me. "Doctor Freidmont saw you into this world, Jason. You weren't wearing anything then. I'm pretty sure he won't mind."

"It's all right," my mother told me. "The Doctor is expecting you right away."

Without another word, my father carried me out the front door, and deposited me in the passenger side of his Lexus. He attentively affixed the seat belt around me. In a few moments we were out of the driveway and on our way down the hill heading to the medical complex in town.

We drove in complete silence. My father didn't speak to me. He kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. I suddenly had nothing to say either. Even if I did, I was afraid I would break down in tears again. He was so distant and cold it scared me. I so desperately wanted to be strong just once. I didn't want to embarrass my father any more than I already had.

When we arrived, the nurse recognized us as we came in, and despite people waiting in the lobby before us, waved us toward the back.

"Hello, Mister Sidney," she chirped. "Doctor Freidmont will be with you shortly. You can take Jason into Exam Room one."

I was carried past the people in the waiting room. I was aware that both the adults, and the children looked up from the books they were reading, or the toys with which they were playing, to watch me. My father had left the blanket in the car, and I felt exposed in my thin shorts and tee.

In the exam room, my father carefully rested me on the table, and without a word to me, stripped my shirt from over my head, and tugged off my shorts from my legs. As he tossed my meagre clothing aside, I realized that he had not closed the door behind us as we entered, or it had swung back open. I felt humiliated to be carried in and stripped like an infant without even the dignity of a closed door between myself and the people craning their necks at me from the waiting room.

I remained unable to speak to my father, and he showed no concern for the open door, or my nakedness. I felt small and insignificant as I sat waiting for the doctor. It seemed like an eternity of unwanted scrutiny from strangers before he finally arrived. Mercifully he shut the door as he entered.

Doctor Freidmont shook my father's hand firmly as he entered. "Hello, Jim." He was a portly man in his middle age. His grey hair gave him an air of experience. His round face seemed honest, and pleasant enough.

"Charles," my father said. "This is Jason." He motioned to me on the table.

"Hello, Jason," the doctor nodded to me. "I understand you're in some pain."

"Yes, sir. Just a bit," I lied.

The doctor nodded, and set a bundle of papers on the counter. He hummed to himself as he washed his hands in the sink before he finally turned back to me. "What say we have a look at you, then."

He moved up to me and probed my stomach and my sides. "Mm-hmm," he noted to himself. "Okay Jason. I'm going to need you to turn over so I can get a look at the area."

I turned over slowly. The doctor's hands on my thighs gently adjusted my hips, and motioned me to spread my legs. I felt miserable in that position. The doctor's finger pressed into me with insistence. Here and there he touched a live nerve, and I winced in agony.

"Very good," he finally pronounced. "Now I need you to lie flat on your back, please."

Once again I did as instructed.

The doctor pressed his fingers into my abdomen, and the palms of his hands brushed my tiny penis, as he worked his fingers lower and lower. My pelvis involuntarily twitched.

"Now, I'm going to help you sit up," he said. His hands cupped my shoulder blades, and he gently lifted me upright. He had me breathe in and out as he listened to my heartbeat with his stethoscope. Just like a regular check-up he looked in my ears, my eyes and even my nose.

He had me swing my legs over the edge of the table, and cupped my testicles. He frowned to himself, and made a note. Finally he had me hold my arms out at my sides and slowly alternate touching my nose with the tips of my fingers.

When he finished, he spent several silent minutes writing on his pad, before my father could take no more.

"Dammit, Charles. Tell me if he is all right."

Doctor Freidmont put down his pad, and turned to my father. "He has some very serious bruising, right down through the muscle layers. There is some mild tearing, but nothing that will need to be stitched. For the next few days he'll need some antibiotics and painkillers, and lots of rest. You dodged a bullet. There is nothing permanently damaged. He'll be fine in a few days."

My father's shoulders visibly relaxed, and he suddenly found something to look at on the ceiling. I saw him take a few cleansing breaths, and he finally removed his dark glasses.

"Frankly, Jim. I'm surprised at you," the doctor admonished. "What the hell were you thinking. He's too small for that kind of activity. Especially with you."

"It went further than I planned," my father admitted. His eyes looked tired. "We decided he was ready for some of it. But, we didn't plan for this particular thing to happen so soon."

"With the size of you, you could have done some serious damage, and you are only lucky you didn't ruin him. Boys his age are flexible, and they can stretch, but there are limits."

"I know."

The doctor softened then. "You have a very brave lad here, Jim," he patted my head. "If you had come at me with that monster of yours, I'd have died of fright before you got within three feet of me."

My father and the doctor laughed together. My father smiled for the first time that I had seen all day.

"You should have seen him, Charles," my father said of me. "I have never seen a boy orgasm like that in my life. I'm telling you it sent lightening through me when it happened."

"I can imagine it did," the doctor nodded. "Not surprising when you consider the stage of his development."

"What do you mean?"

Doctor Freidmont turned to me, and absently motioned to my penis. "Do you see how underdeveloped he is?"

"I know he's small."

The doctor shook his head. "His genitalia is half the size of other boys his age. His muscle tone is that of a child much younger. At ten and eleven years of age, other children are rocketing toward puberty. Jason is creeping towards it."

The doctor picked up the bundle of papers he had come in with from off the counter. "I had his charts sent over from your regular paediatrician's office. Jason is on a much slower curve to puberty than other children. Where other boys can already maintain an erection, I'd be surprised if Jason could even get one."

My father nodded, slowly understanding. "He can't yet."

"It will probably take him two or three years longer than other boys to enter full-on puberty."

"What does that have to do with how he orgasms?"

"As I said. Jason is inching toward puberty. Some changes have taken place. His nerves are becoming more sensitive to pleasure, and his mind is rewiring itself to process those nerves, but the framework has yet to be built around them. Probably won't happen for a long time."

The doctor stood beside me as I sat with my legs hanging over the edge of the table. He lay one hand on my waist to stabilize me, and with the other he pressed a finger into the side of my bare groin for demonstration to my father. "All the nerves he will ever have are already there, and alive. Waiting for his body to grow around them. As he grows they will eventually spread out through his body. As he grows they will grow with what will be built there."

The doctor began to press and wiggle his finger deeper into my groin and I felt something inside me leap. Surprised, I spasmed at his touch. The something he touched sent waves of tingles to my core. I whimpered and trembled. The doctor's hand steadied me.

"You see," he said to my father. "All his nerves are concentrated in a space a few inches round. Press him most anywhere, and he'll light up like a Christmas tree."

The doctor's finger kept probing that spot, exciting my insides. My eyes were rolling, and my back arched. I was humiliated, but intense sensation paralysed me in place. Unconcerned, the doctor continued. It was unrelenting. He let me twitch and spasm without sympathy.

"If I did this to you," he explained to my father. "you might feel a slight tingle. Most likely, you'd feel nothing but pressure. Your nerves have all concentrated in that monster of yours. His are decentralized, but clustered in the millions. As he goes through puberty, those nerves will move to different areas, and spread out. Like you, his orgasms will become more penile centric, and less intense. Right now if I excite one spot, I am exciting every sexual nerve in his body."

I clutched the doctor's hands for mercy. The sensations were overriding any control I had over myself. Finally, my body bucked and shuddered from the intensity of his touch. My skinny body shook and shook again until the spasms finally quieted under his hands.

With my humiliation complete, he stopped probing. The doctor removed his hands leaving me confused, and panting for breath. My bottom lip quivered, and I struggled to slow my heart, and not to lose it again.

"I don't have to touch his penis to make him orgasm, just be in the general vicinity. As he grows, most of those nerves will be re-tasked to produce sperm and reproductive fluids. His orgasms will become less intense than they are now, as his nerves become more specialized."

My father considered the doctor's words as he spoke them. He appraised me coolly as he understood. "Damn shame to lose a gift like that," he said finally.

The doctor chuckled and slapped my back. "Oh, Jim. It's nothing a couple of quick snips couldn't fix."

My father looked at him with confusion. The doctor waved his question away before it was spoke.

"Jim, I have to tell you. With the ruckus you made on the phone, I was worried things were more serious than they are." He motioned to the door. "Before you came I also called a friend of mine. Doctor Sheila Lindsay. She's a Developmental Psychologist. I thought it best she appraise Jason's state of mind before…" He struggled to describe his concern. "If he had to be hospitalized. She is a friend, and you can trust her."

My father nodded.

"I'd still like to bring her in if you don't mind."

"Of course," my father said.

Doctor Freidmont opened the door a bit and waved somebody in. A moment later a woman entered. Her hair was cut shorter than my mother's, and was styled professionally. She wore a white blouse and brown sweater over a tasteful skirt. When she entered, the doctor introduced her to my father. She took his hand and clasped her other one over his with concern.

"How are you doing, Mister Sidney?"

"Better now," he said. "And it is Jim."

They exchanged pleasantries for a few moments before their attention turned back to me. They spoke briefly about the state of my health, and the new doctor nodded as she stole glances at me. My nakedness felt fresh and uncomfortable as she met my eyes.

"Hello, Jason," she finally said to me. "I'm Doctor Lindsay."

"Hello, Doctor Lindsay."

"I'd like to talk to you for a bit, if you don't mind." She seemed kind, and her smile light. She seemed not to notice my state of undress.

I nodded timidly.

She turned back to my father and Doctor Freidmont. "Can you leave us for a bit." It wasn't a question.

The two men left the room, and Doctor Lindsay quietly closed the door after them. I shifted uncomfortably on the exam table.

She picked up the chair from the corner of the room, and moved it beside the table. She sat down, and adjusted her sweater, before she spoke to me.

"Do you understand what has happened to you?" she finally asked.

I stared down at my bare knees and nodded.

"Can you tell me what you think it was?"

I struggled with my voice, and my inadequate language. I described, as best I could, the previous night to her. She never seemed surprised or shocked at what I said.

"How did it make you feel?" she asked in a non-committal way.

I found it difficult to put into words. How could I describe such intense and overpowering sensations. The word "good" didn't seem to cover it. It seemed small and incapable next to what I had felt. It was the only word I had though, and I gave it to her.

"I see." She didn't react or make any indication she was judging me. She continued to ask me questions. She asked about my home life, my friends, and my school-work. She asked me about boys and girls, and what sorts of things I thought I liked better. It seemed like we talked for a long time, about all kinds of subjects. When I finally spoke to her of Hanna, she seemed to take special note. Speaking about my friend, I felt my mood lighten. Doctor Lindsay smiled at me, and let me babble off topic.

Finally she stopped me. "Thank-you, Jason. It was a pleasure talking to you." She stood, and straightened her sweater. As she moved the chair back into place she said, "I'd like to speak to you again sometime, if that's okay."

I nodded. I had never known an adult I could speak to like that.

She let Doctor Freidmont and my father back into the room.

"Well, Doc?" my father asked.

"He seems to be coping well," she told him. "He is very bright and special. You should be proud of raising a boy like him."

My father seemed uncomfortable with the praise. "Thank you, Doctor."

Doctor Lindsay's face became serious then. "If you don't mind waiting here for a few extra minutes, I'd like to have a consultation with Doctor Freidmont."

"Oh," my father seemed momentarily taken aback. "Yes. Of course."

The two doctors stepped outside, leaving me with my father. He paced around the room for a moment, then finally noticed my pyjamas on the floor. He picked them up and wordlessly handed them to me.

"Thank-you, Father," I said as I took them. I was suddenly very grateful for my meagre coverings. Father watched me as I pulled my t-shirt over my head. When I struggled to pull on my shorts without hurting myself, he came to me, and lifted me off the table so I could slide them up over my injured bottom.

As he set me gently down, he said, "You've done very well, Jason." It was the first words he said to me since we had left the house.

I tried hard to keep myself together. As I fretted on the table, my father wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and sat down next to me. He squeezed me into his side, and his powerful hand patted me kindly.

I rested my head against his barrel chest, and closed my eyes. I listened to his heart beat, and more beautiful music I couldn't imagine.

When the two doctors returned, I must have been dozing off. My father gently roused me, and it took me a few seconds to remember where I was. My father stood, and again I was left alone on the table.

Doctor Lindsay went first. "I've spoken with Doctor Freidmont, and he and I agree. There is a procedure we feel Jason could benefit from greatly."

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Doctor Freidmont interjected. "And frankly Jason is the ideal candidate. I want you to hear us out before you decide."

"I will," said my father.

"Have you ever considered castration?" asked Doctor Lindsay.

My father's eyes went wide. "Castration?"

"For a boy like Jason, puberty would be a terribly destructive force," she said. "I've studied the development of boys from all over the world, and boys like Jason, who are slower to develop, find themselves left behind by their peers. When they do eventually begin puberty, it destroys every bit of self identity they've built for themselves. A child like Jason, spends so much longer with the body and hormones of a child, that their permanent identities have formed before the testosterone comes crashing in. His coping methods will be totally inadequate for the change."

Doctor Freidmont continued the explanation. "A normal child's permanent identity, those coping tools, are formed during puberty. The hormones help shape the brain during this critical time. Jason's permanent identity will be formed without those chemicals. Testosterone, when it comes, will be a damaging force."

"What kind of damage are we talking about?"

"Depression, mood swings, suicidal thoughts," suggested Doctor Lindsay. "He'll be fighting a battle between his identity and his body."

"Isn't that normal for a child going through puberty?"

Doctor Lindsay shook her head. "Normally yes, but with Jason, his development curve is much shallower. That means that when he does go through puberty, It will start later and last much longer than normal."

"The normal period for the critical changes are two to four years from the time of puberty starting," Doctor Freidmont mentioned. "The outside range is four to five years. Jason will probably be looking at six to eight years. Six to eight years of crippling depression. You can imagine the kind of damage that will do."

"Normally I wouldn't recommend it," said the female doctor. " but speaking with Jason, I can tell you. As remarkable a child as he is, puberty will destroy him. It would be better if he didn't have to go through it."

"He's our only child."

"Jim, you and Marie are still young," said Doctor Freidmont. "But if you are worried you can't have another, then a sample from one of the removed testicles could be frozen, and stored for when he gets older. When the time is right, they can use the tissue to grow the sperm he'd need. They are doing it now for children who have to go through chemotherapy, where the risk of sterility is high."

"We're only thinking of what is best for Jason," the female doctor again prodded. "We might have recommended early testosterone therapy, to help him enter puberty sooner, but the underlying problem would still be there. Frankly, I'm not of the opinion that Jason is mentally suited to it. Not to mention the long list of side effects hormone therapy would have on his body. To his liver, his kidneys, his thyroid glands. He would most likely end up sterile anyhow."

Doctor Freidmont saw my father's worried face. "Listen, the procedure is very simple. We can do it on an outpatient basis. He'd be in and out in less than an hour, and on his way home with two new souvenirs. We could put some false ones in, and no-one would be the wiser. If you wanted me to do it now, I have everything in this office I need. It could be done and you'd still be home in time for lunch."

"I'd have to discuss it with my wife," my father said.

A twinge of fear ran through me. He was actually considering it.

"I understand. Let me get you some information on the subject. Castration really is more common than you might think. And I really think more children would benefit from it. Jason surely would." Doctor Freidmont smiled at me and gave me a wink.

"Give it some thought," said Doctor Lindsay. "Two little lumps of gristle for a happy childhood. It's not such a high price." She collected herself to leave. "It was nice meeting you, Jim."

My father shook her hand farewell. "It was nice meeting you, Sheila."

When she was gone, my father returned to pick me up. Once I was in his arms, he turned to Doctor Freidmont. "Give me the information. I'll give it a look."

"Of course, Jim. I'll send it over to your house. As you leave, please see the nurse on duty. She'll give you some pills for Jason, and some prescriptions for you to fill."

"Thank-you, Charles," he said. "We're having some people over for a little entertainment next week. One of my clients from Dubai will be in town. Are you interested in joining us?"

"Of course," he said, then clapped me on my back. "If this little goer is there I wouldn't miss it."

"He will be," my father said simply.

"Wonderful," the doctor exclaimed.

As my father reached for the door handle, Doctor Freidmont stopped him. "Jim," he said. "I think it goes without saying. Keep the anal play to a minimum."

My father nodded as we left.

On our way home we stopped by the chemists to fill my prescriptions. As I waited for my father in the car, I clutched the blanket around me, my head swimming with questions. There was a problem with me I didn't know I had. It seemed like everybody knew about it except me.

My hand slipped down the front of my pyjama bottoms, and I felt my testicles. They were small, and insignificant, but they were a part of me. They rolled freely in their soft skin.

Castration. I knew what that meant. I had been on field trips to farms, and seen them do it to pigs and sheep. Would that really happen to me?

I imagined a great lummox of a farmer flipping me over in a filthy pen, and grabbing my little sack with his dirty hands. With a large knife, he'd pierce my scrotum, and wiggle the blade. I'd scream and squirm like I'd seen the lambs do, but it would be to no avail. My little balls would pop out, and with a flick of the farmer's wrist, the cords would be cut.

The farmer would casually toss my severed bits to the pigs, who would hungrily gobble them down. I'd whimper and bleat, and finally be cast empty and alone to recover in the shade of the barn.

A group of us home schoolers had seen that very scene just that spring. The memory was still fresh in my mind. I remembered Hanna and I clutching each other in awe as the farmer quickly worked his way through a small flock of lambs. I had flinched each time the knife flashed. Hanna had been strong, and watched it all the way through.

I had felt sorry for the little lambs, but had never pictured someone doing that to me. Now it was all I could do not to imagine it. It was a struggle to strip that concern from my face before my father returned.

He had bought me a juice when he picked up my prescriptions. He had me sip from it, as I downed my first pills.

By the time we returned home, the painkillers had begun to work. The pain in my rectum was replaced by a burning worry in my stomach.

Chapter Seven
Hanna

Despite my body feeling better, my mind was still reeling from the events of the previous day.

My mother had taken the news of the doctor's suggestion stoically. When the papers Doctor Freidmont had sent over arrived, my parents read them dutifully, and without emotion.

My mother had commented, after reading the pamphlets, "As long as he is in a safe environment, I don't see the problem. Things would be a lot easier for him. I've often thought so."

My father had nodded his agreement, but said, "There's no need to rush the butcher's blade. We can wait until the time is right."

My heart sunk when I realized what that meant, what had been decided. I found myself hoping that the time my father spoke of would be a long ways away.

That morning, seeing my pain was under control and I had my mobility back, my parents let me back downstairs. My routine was restored.

After breakfast my father went over my Math work with me, which I had neglected, and later had me read aloud from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

I was horrified by the murder of young Doctor Robinson by the half-breed Injun Joe. I was relieved when the trio of Tom, Huck and their friend Joe Harper escaped to the island to become pirates, but worried for the fate of the hapless Muff Potter, wrongly accused of the grisly deed. I felt mad at Tom Sawyer for being so glib.

I thought of how Tom had hurt Becky by lying to her. I thought of the worry Aunt Polly must be suffering. I decided I didn't like Tom Sawyer very much. He and I were too different. Tom Sawyer was the boy I could never be.

Despite the return to a sense of normality, I couldn't get the fear out of my head. I was aware that my parents were being extra nice to me. Their touches were tender and thoughtful. Their words were carefully chosen, so not to upset me.

Knowing they were concerned, I tried extra hard to be extra good. For their sakes, I wanted them to see I wasn't flawed. They didn't have to be worried about me.

I struggled to keep my emotions in check. They felt raw and powerful. Always just below the surface, they threatened to rear their ugly heads at any moment. I was inexperienced at mastering such a tsunami of feelings, but I knew I had to be brave for my parents.

After lunch my parents tried to cheer me with some happy news. Hanna and her family were coming over for dinner. It had been days since I had seen her, and she was seldom from my mind. I wanted to share everything with her. I missed her smile and her touch. I missed how easy everything felt when I was around her.

Despite my joy at the possibility of seeing Hanna again, I felt another weight grow in my chest. I had crossed the threshold into the forbidden room. I knew things and felt things that she hadn't. Our family secret had been a living, quiet thing in our house my entire life. Was it still alive? The shadow of it threatened to consume me.

As my mother was clearing away the plates from lunch, I tugged on the sleeve of her blouse. I could barely meet her eyes when she faced me.

"Mom?" I asked.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Like always, she was beautiful and patient. Her eyes didn't waver from me, as I worked up my courage.

"When Hanna comes. I mean when she gets here…"

"Yes?"

I felt clumsy and tongue tied. "What do I say to her? Can I tell her about…" I motioned to myself, and found myself floundering for all the words I wanted to say. "What do I tell her?" was all that came out.

My mother laid a hand on my shoulder, and her face softened, just for me. "Oh, Jason," she said. "Hanna is your best friend. We love Hanna. You can tell her anything that is in your heart."

I felt a twinge of relief, and hugged my mother tightly. She held me close and patted my back. When the hug ended she told me, "Go and get cleaned up. They'll be here shortly."

I forced myself to walk, as I went upstairs to my room. Once inside I carefully closed myself in the bathroom, and ran the tap in the sink at full flow. I sat on the toilet without lifting the seat, and finally, when I knew I couldn't hold out any longer, I let myself cry.

As I sat, I let the waves of emotion out. I sobbed and sobbed. I didn't try to stop the tears streaming down my face. Pain, pleasure, fear and love boiled with my tears. I was crying for terror, for relief, and for confusion. But I was crying for joy too.

All of my emotions were deep pools, and I had to let them drain. It was the first time I had ever cried in private like that. For the first time I didn't want sympathy for my tears. I only hoped no one would know my weakness.

Had I a poets soul, I would have known what was happening to me. I would have known that this was the first time in my life I had truly wept.

There is a difference between crying and weeping. Crying is self pity. It is wanting attention, or to be rescued. Crying is shouting, "Look at me. Help me!"

Weeping is different. It is the body's gift to the mind. Weeping allows you to come to terms with your emotions. It allows the conflicting elements of yourself to rise into a storm, and blow themselves out. Weeping can calm a troubled sea.

When my storm had finally blown itself out, I didn't feel the shame I usually did from being weak. The landscape of my mind was calm. I washed my face, towelled off , and changed my shirt.

When I returned downstairs, I found myself able to smile honestly. My parents surely noticed the change in me. I found my father standing beside me. He studied my face for a moment, then grinned, and gave my shoulder a squeeze. When we heard the car outside, he let me go out to greet them.

Hanna leapt from the car before her father could bring it to a full stop. I heard her mother shouting after her as she jumped from the moving vehicle. She looked like an angel as she ran across the lawn. Her white dress and blonde curls flew.

We threw our arms around each other as we met, and we fell to the ground laughing. How I had missed her. There wasn't a moment since we had parted that she wasn't in my mind. As we laughed in each other's embrace, I knew she felt the same way.

Our parents greeted each other warmly and exchanged pleasantries. Hanna and I sat in the cool grass holding hands as the adults chattered. We were in a time outside of theirs. Another universe.

"Hello," Hanna said. Her voice was music.

"Hello," I said.

We picked each other up off the grass and walked away from the adults. I was dimly aware of our parents shouting after us as we walked away. I'm sure now it was something like, "Don't wander too far," or "Play nice," or some such. But I couldn't have cared less.

We walked round the house, past the pool and the guest house, and down the garden path beyond it. When we found a sufficiently private space, we sat cross legged on a stone bench. A little fountain bubbled happily nearby. Some koi my father had brought back from Japan swum happily to and fro. Occasionally a golden head would breach the surface. Perhaps they were curious about us. Perhaps they only thought we were there to feed them.

I was filled with a powerful sense of peace. The afternoon sun was warm, and we were together.

Silence fell lightly over us. It was comfortable, and unforced. At last Hanna took my hands in hers, and her beautiful green eyes, connected with my mine.

"Did it hurt?" she finally asked.

So she knew.

I nodded. "It hurt. But it felt wonderful too. When did they tell you?"

"Yesterday morning. Your mother called and said you might have to go into the hospital. My parents told me then."

I nodded, knowing it was true. "So I guess I don't have to tell you what the room is for."

Her curls brushed her shoulders as she shook her head. "It sounds a bit scary."

"It was at first," I admitted. "But I think I'm okay now. I don't think I was supposed to get hurt. I think that was my fault."

Hanna's eyes widened as I told her my tale of my first night in the hot-tub. Every detail. As always, there was no secret I could ever keep from her. Even if she hated me for it, I had to tell her everything.

When I finished she stared at me quietly for a few moments. At last she threw her arms around me and squeezed me tight. "Oh, my Jason. My poor, poor Jason."

As she hugged me, I hugged her back. When she finally let me go, I found myself with a question burning its way through my resolve.

"Do you still love me?"

Hanna's eyes flared, and she punched my arm with all her might. Angry, she launched herself from our bench, and stormed off a few feet. I clutched at my injured arm, and called after her.

"What was that for?"

She turned back to face me. Spitfire in her eyes. She was a ten year old Valkyrie in her white sun-dress.

"Of course I still love you, you big dummy," she yelled. Her fists were coiled by her sides, and her flat chest rose and fell, as the nostrils of her cute nose flared. "How could you ask that?"

Just as soon as her rage had come, it quickly faded. Her fists relaxed, her breathing became shallow, and her beautiful green eyes began to brim with tears. "I should have been there for you."

I stood in concern and stepped towards her. She took a step back, still angry. "I should have been there for you," she said again tearfully. " You shouldn't have had to go through it alone. I don't care if it was wonderful. You were scared, and you were hurt, and I should have been there for you."

I suddenly understood. If it had been her instead of me, I'd have wanted to be there too. I couldn't imagine her feeling even a moment of pain, that I wouldn't want to help her through. If she so much as stubbed her toe, I would feel it to my core.

"I'm so sorry, Hanna," I finally said. "I wished you were there too. Every second I wished it."

Hanna fell into me then. I held her as she sobbed. And odd mix of strength and weakness rose up. I wanted to cry too, but I was done with that for now. My storm had settled.

I held her as she cried herself out.

At last she finished crying, and still holding each other we sat back down. Under the bench we found a bag of pellets, and we took turns tossing handfuls of feed to the koi. They gathered greedily, splashing the surface.

I watched Hanna's face as I struggled to find my voice. It was the face of a perfect doll. I never wanted that face to feel pain or worry. Never before had I found something so difficult to tell her.

"Hanna," I said at last, struggling to control my fear. "there's more."

She looked at me with concern. I have never known a face more full of love.

I could never hide anything from Hanna. I couldn't even if I had wanted to. "The doctors found something wrong with me," I finally let it out.

She clutched my hands as I told her. I didn't understand it all completely, but I told her what I did know. What I would eventually face. What I would lose.

Her face was etched with horror. "How?" she asked. "How can they do that to you?" Her voice was shrill and disquiet. "You're a boy not a pig. They can't do that to a boy."

"I don't think I have a choice," I admitted. "They made it sound pretty serious. My parents have already decided."

"Oh, Jason," she said when the reality hit home. She was shaking her head. "No. You can't let them. We have to do something." She gripped my hands tightly as she thought. Her eyes searched as she grappled with it. "We… We'll run away. We have to run away."

I thought of Tom Sawyer, and the worry he caused Aunt Polly. I could never put my parents through that.

"No," I told her. "I can't do that."

I knew the answer before I asked her, but I had to ask. "Hanna?" my voice quivered, fearing I was wrong. "You'll still love me after, won't you?"

She pulled me close, and we kissed. Our lips pressed together for a long time. When our lips parted we breathed together.

"Of course I'll love you," she said, as we stared into each other's eyes. "Stop being so stupid. I'll love you forever and ever and always. No matter what."

I felt strong as I held her. Stronger than I had ever been.

I can't remember the rest of what we talked about, that sunny afternoon. But I remember the sound of our happy voices carrying through the air and down the valley below. I remember her touch and her eyes, the way she giggled as the gold and orange fish jumped out of the water for the morsels she tossed them.

When we were eventually called in to supper, we found the parents chatting in a surprisingly open and honest manner. Where before they had been reserved, or seemingly spoke in the code only parents understand, their language now was frank.

As we ate, they chatted about the upcoming night my parents were planning, and who was invited. Highest among the topics was of a man called Shahriar Bin Kali.

"He's some kind of prince isn't he?" asked Hanna's dad.

"Something like that, yes," said my father. "His family is a part of the royal family of Dubai. He's not in line to inherit though. That said, he's very powerful and influential. You can't get much done in that part of the world without him. He is a man who can open doors, or close them. His coming here is a very special honour."

Hanna's father was intrigued. "Is he very rich?"

"Oh, yes," my father continued seriously. "That he is. I suspect most of the Sheik's money is borrowed from Bin Kali. The prince is not the type of man who relishes being in the spotlight, however. You won't find any pictures of him shaking hands with presidents or prime-ministers, but you can rest assured any documents they sign about the middle east, he's probably underwritten."

"My goodness." Hanna's mother seemed concerned. You could see horror on her face as she contemplated the ramifications.

"You needn't worry about Shahriar," my father soothed her. "He is very modern and westernised. Though he hasn't admitted it, there are those who know him and suspect he's been secretly supplying and influencing the Arabic Spring. When Mubarak tried to shut down the internet in Egypt, it was Bin Kali who kept it going. Or, so the rumours go. Some say it was Bin Kali who exposed a certain courier in Pakistan. They say he supplied weapons and aid to the freedom fighters in Libya."

Everyone at the table was impressed. I understood a little about the situation and found myself eager to meet the man. My childish mind pictured Omar Sharif or Alec Guinness in Lawrence of Arabia. I'm not ashamed to say I kind of thought of my father playing the role of Lawrence, bravely facing the wild of the desert where only Bedouins and mad dogs could roam. I was awkwardly proud of him.

"We needn't make any special arrangement for him. He is surprisingly down to earth, if a bit lavish at times," my father concluded.

Hanna's mother was visibly excited. "Still. Such an important man. Are you nervous that Jason's first time entertaining will be in the presence of royalty?"

My father looked across the table to where Hanna and I sat close together. He gave me a pleasant smile. "I'm sure he can handle it."

I felt a touch of pride at my father's words, but was aware of Hanna beside me. Her mood had shifted, and she had become still. I sensed something wrong. She was angry, but trying to hide it.

My father appraised Hanna, then turned to her parents. "Will Hanna be joining us soon?"

Her dad tried to laugh politely. "No, not yet. Though we've told her about it, she hasn't expressed an interest. We won't press the matter until she is ready. We all agreed that we'll only invite them when they ask, and she hasn't." He turned to Hanna. "Or have you changed your mind?"

Hanna quietly shook her head.

"There you have it," Hanna's dad explained. Though he seemed a little disappointed.

"Kids," my mother regarded us. "You understand we don't tell the children about this lightly. All of us parents have decided not to force you into anything. We only tell you about our lifestyle when you are ready, and only introduce you to it if you ask.

"We're what's called Kinseyans," she explained. She told us this as she might have had it been part of our school work. "It means literally of, or pertaining to the work of a doctor called Alfred Kinsey. He studied sex in the fifties and sixties. He was the first person to recognize that sex was healthy and natural to the human condition. He revealed that sex was integral to who we become as people, and that how we grow with and integrate sex into our lives helps define us."

The adults at the table listened politely, but continued drinking and eating as though this revelation was no big deal. Hanna and I were locked in place by my mother's casual nature in telling us all this.

"In an environment of openness, acceptance and guidance, sex is as healthy as breathing. Kinsey discovered a lot of variation in how we achieve what we desire. It's all equally valid, and equally important. He also recognized that sex before a person is ready is unhealthy and very damaging. We never force anyone to do anything they're not ready for. We take precautions not to introduce it too early, but it often comes down to our best judgement."

I was aware of the revelation as it hit me. I was responsible. I had asked about the room downstairs. They had appraised me to see if I was ready. My father had asked me if I was sure. Even after, he had asked me if I could handle it. Every decision had been mine. Every step into the forbidden room and what happened there, had been my own. I hadn't even been aware of what I was choosing.

My mother smiled with her usual serenity. She was casually revealing the secret of our lives, as though explaining some scientific function, or what a split infinitive was. It was an extension of our kitchen table education, but with a difference. This was something we were living. "We share our sex and our intimacies," she went on. "It lets us build a stronger community, and gives us a safe output for our desires."

My mother stressed, "We don't want you to keep secrets, but we must ask you not speak of this to the other children. It is something they have to discover on their own. Everyone has to come to this at their own pace. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mrs. Sidney," my Hanna said beside me.

"Yes, Mother," I agreed. My head was brimming with new information and questions, but I didn't know where to start. For now I would just accept it and try to understand everything later.

The parents were all smiling at the two children at the table.

"Sex," my father said. "is wonderful. We believe it should be shared with anyone who wants it. It brings us all together in mutual feeling. But we'll never force it on anyone who doesn't want it, or isn't ready. You take your time, Hanna. Jason will be there for you when you are ready."

Hanna's dad interjected abruptly, "For moral support any-ways." He laughed at his private joke

Hanna's hand gripped mine under the table.

My father gave her dad a wilting stare.

Hanna's dad became uncomfortable under my father's disapproval. "Well, it's not like he'll be good for much else after he's castrated."

My father stood so abruptly his chair propelled backward over the marble floor. It crashed into the opposite wall with force, and cracked as it struck. The sound of it echoed through the sudden silence of our dining room.

The titan beneath the surface of Clark Kent was straining at the edges of his disguise.

My mother remained the picture of the polite host. "Now, Jim," she admonished my father calmly. "David and Carol are our guests. Why don't you fetch us some drinks, and I'll clean up."

"Yes," my father said, as he reigned in his temper. "I'll do that."

"Actually," said Hanna's dad. "Carol and I have a long day tomorrow. Perhaps we should be going."

The mothers began to protest. "We were having such a lovely time," Hanna's mother pleaded. "David, apologize." There was an edge of warning in her voice.

Hanna's dad stood slowly to meet my father's eyes, trying to calm the beast. "Jim. You know I didn't mean anything by it."

My father blinked a few times, and the mild mannered Clark Kent was again in attendance. "Yes. Sorry, David." He cleared his throat. "I'm sure you didn't mean any harm. What do you say I get us some drinks?"

"No. Thank-you," said Hanna's dad firmly. "Don't trouble yourself. We really should be going." He motioned to his wife. "Carol, we've imposed enough for one night, don't you think? Hanna, get your stuff."

As Hanna's parents stood to leave my mother pleaded. She assured them there was nothing to worry about. I could see both her and Hanna's mom fret about the tense situation. It was clear Hanna's dad was embarrassed, and wanted to leave before matters got worse.

My beautiful blonde angel held my hand and made not a move.

Her dad flicked his hand at her when he realized she wasn't following. "Hanna. Get your stuff."

"I'm not leaving," she told him.

Her dad was flabbergasted. "Hanna," he shouted. "We are leaving. Get your stuff."

"I'm staying with Jason," she told him.

There was a sudden cacophony of words as the parents tried to sort out the unexpected variable in the room.

"Hanna. We can't impose on the Sidneys like this," said her mom, trying to maintain some control.

"Listen to your father. Get. Your. Stuff."

"Oh, if she wants to stay it would be no imposition."

"She hasn't her things with her. I'm so sorry."

"Not at all. She could wear some of Jason's pyjamas. They are about the same size. She could stay tomorrow night if you're all right with that. We could even make a long weekend of it."

"I suppose we could drop off some of her things tomorrow. If she really wants to stay with Jason. David, maybe we should."

"Princess, don't you want to come home with Mommy and Daddy?"

"I want to stay with Jason."

You could feel the air thicken. It was ripe to explode.

My mother seized the tense moment and transformed it masterfully. "It's settled then. Hanna, we'd love to have you." She said it as though a decision had already been made. "You'll stay the whole weekend. David, Carol. You'll bring her some changes of clothes tomorrow, and you can pick her up on Monday. Such a lovely idea. Won't this be fun?"

And just like that, the mood in the room dissipated.

Our mothers then stepped away plotting, and the fathers awkwardly shook hands. My mother, the Blue Fairy had waved her magic wand and transformed a tense situation into a wonderful one. In a few moments it was like the tension had never happened, and this was the plan all along.

Hanna never let go of my hand the whole time.

Later that night after her parents left, we retreated up to my room. My parents gave us a wide berth.

"I'm sorry my dad said that," she at last admitted.

"It's okay," I said. "It's true though. We'll never be able to do anything. Not like the parents can." I already knew the truth when I had seen my parents together in the whirlpool. That, was something I couldn't do.

"I don't care," she said. "I don't want to if it's not with you."

I was again aware of the warmth I felt when I was near her. We played quietly in my room together, until it was time to get ready for bed.

While we were in the shower, my mother took Hanna's clothes to be washed. And laid out some of mine for her. We hardly noticed her come and go. We were too into each other.

As the water fell, we were in each other's arms. Her hands were more confident as she stroked me, as were mine as I stroked her.

Thin and hairless bodies pressed into one another, as we strained to please each other. Washing was only a secondary concern.

After our shower we dried off and discovered, my mother had found a spare toothbrush, still in its wrapper for Hanna. As we brushed, we giggled at how funny Hanna looked. She stood beside me in a pair of my small white Y-fronts. She wore nothing else. I was similarly attired.

There was little difference between us physically. We were small, and skinny, and undeveloped. Our chests were flat, our nipples small and lightly coloured, legs and arms like twigs.

In the mirror I noticed our differences were insignificant. Her hair was past her shoulders, curly and blonde, where mine was half the length and a straight sandy brown. Her eyes were green, and mine were hazel. At the front of my Y-fronts was a little bulge, not much. At the front of her Y-fronts there was not.

I realized with a pang of apprehension that one day soon, there would be even less difference between us. After my balls were out, my little bulge would be even smaller. I put the thought out of my mind. This was a happy moment, and I wanted to relish it.

When we were finished, we dressed in the pyjamas my mother had left for us, and cuddled together under the blankets of my bed. Hanna seemed to luxuriate in the smooth silk of my sleepwear. She was used to cotton, and the new sensation excited her.

My parents wished us a good night, as they passed our door, but were reluctant to intrude on our privacy. They closed the door as they went. The room was left in darkness. Only the moonlight coming in through my window lit the face of my gentle Hanna.

We dozed happily for some time nuzzling against one another.

Part way through the night, Hanna woke me. She was pulling at my pyjama bottoms. As I blinked awake, I wriggled out of them for her. Hanna smiled and did the same. We tossed off our night clothes carelessly, and our hands again danced across each other's flesh.

Hanna kissed me on the chest, then again lower. Her long hair brushed my skin with each kiss as she dropped further down. I lay back in pure joy. Tenderly, she kissed the top of my bare groin, then the tip of my penis. Lovingly she planted a kiss on each of my testicles. Her hair and her breath was a wonder.

At last she took my little member into her mouth. She suckled it like a newborn at the teat. The now familiar waves of sensation took hold of me. I gulped air, remembering to breathe.

It was different from when my mother had done this. Though my mother was clearly more experienced, Hanna had a kind of passion that changed everything. Hanna wasn't trying to educate me, she wanted this. Her desire changed the equation in a very palpable way.

When Hanna took a breath, she manually tugged down my foreskin with her delicate fingers, exposing the glans. She returned her lips, and sucked needfully. Her tongue drew across the sensitive nerves like she was trying to draw out my flavour.

My back was arching, and my hands clutched fervently onto my sheets. Hanna's hands stroked up and down my torso, legs and sides. The breath from her nose, and her soft chin working against my tender scrotum sent as many nerves alight as did her mouth. Wave after wave of pure delight detonated within me.

The warmth and suction and wetness of it possessed me. I was hers completely. It might have been seconds or aeons. Time was meaningless as the feelings ravaged on.

A soft moan finally escaped my lips. My body was overloading from the endless explosions rippling through. At last my body stopped trembling, and I quieted. Hanna removed her lips. She rested her head against my inner thigh, and she looked up at me in the wondrous moonlight.

I somehow found the strength to sit up. As I did I took her face in my hands, and brought her up to kiss me. It was a grown-up kiss. A more passionate kiss than we had dared before. Our tongues flicked in and out, enjoying the taste of one another.

Finally, I turned her over to lay where I had been. Bravely, I returned the favour. I kissed each nipple on her chest, running my tongue in little circles. As they became hard, I let my teeth graze them. Her body broke out in goosebumps.

I kissed my way down her silky form, past her belly button, to the space between her legs. I licked her cleft like a lollipop, and to my amazement, her lips parted, gently and inviting. My mouth closed over her slit, and my tongue found its way inside. There was a wetness there again, but it tasted sweeter than anything I had ever known. I wanted every drop.

Each time my tongue penetrated, I felt Hanna's body quiver. Her hands clutched my hair as I licked her. I let my lips caress the petals of her flower. She was shuddering and holding her breath.

"Remember to breathe," I told her.

Lifting her pelvis, I wrapped my hands around her thighs, and lay my thumb at the top of her cleft. With it I stroked the top of her lips and the little bump I found there, while my tongue continued to explore.

She was vibrating as I held her. I couldn't stop. I certainly didn't know what I was doing. No one had ever shown me this. I was operating on pure instinct. The carnal animal inside me somehow knew what to do. Until that night I hadn't known the creature inside me existed. It wanted to feast, and feast it did.

Hanna bucked and whimpered excitedly. As her hands clutched my hair ever more intensely, I recognized her whimpers were a word. "Yes," she whimpered. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes."

At last when her bucking and shuddering could grow no more, her back arched, and she let out a terrible and wonderful scream. It was piercing. Frightening and astonishing, it broke through the night.

We were panting in each other's thin arms when the knock came at our door.

"Are you two all right in there?" it was my mother's voice.

"Should we come in?" my father too.

Hanna and I were struggling to suppress our laughing. In our passion we had woke the house.

"No," I managed to say between us giggling and shushing each other. "We're okay."

"Hanna?" my mother asked from the other side of the door.

"I'm okay, Mrs. Sidney," Hanna managed to say at last. "Sorry we woke you."

We could hear grumbling and shuffling from the hall.

"Just try to keep it down you two," came the word from my father.

Hanna and I fell into each other as the footsteps retreated from our door. We giggled some more, and eventually fell asleep. We didn't bother with the pyjamas. Our bodies felt better skin to skin.

We were still naked and in each other's arms, our pyjamas and Y-fronts cast haphazardly on my bedroom floor when my mother came to wake us. She stood over us with a bemused look on her face.

"Breakfast will be in a few minutes." She regarded Hanna as the little angel pulled the sheets up over her exposed nipples. We were both blushing fiercely. "You can wear some of Jason's clothes for now. Wear whatever you like, but it is customary to dress at the table."

"Yes, Mrs. Sidney," Hanna meekly replied.

My mother left shaking her head. Hanna looked at me guiltily. We had been caught with our hands in the cookie jar. We laughed at each other as we at last sprang out of bed.

I admired Hanna in the sunlight, as she dashed to my wash-room. Her form was perfect. Her skin was like porcelain, her lips were pink and perfect. Her blond hair fell artistically around her shoulders. Though I had seen her naked countless times, for the first time I truly admired her. With or without clothes, in darkness or in light, she was everything I knew I wanted.

After we took turns in the wash-room, we went about picking something for her to wear. We decided on a pair of blue shorts with a brown belt, under which she wore another pair of my white Y-fronts. We chose a simple white button up shirt. In the direct light, the shirt was almost see-through, but she didn't mind. With some white athletic socks and a pair of my trainers, which we happily discovered fit her, the ensemble was complete. I thought the look was dazzling, but she giggled when she saw herself in the mirror.

"I look like a boy," she said.

I certainly didn't think so. Even though we were dressed quite alike in my clothes, I could feel her femininity nearly pulsing through the air.

"Then kiss me, pretty boy," I teased her.

She laughed and let me peck her cheek, but before I could do more she ran away from me. We laughed and chased each other all the way down to the breakfast table.

Even though I still had to take my pills, and wasn't allowed to play very rough, my day with Hanna was a pure delight. Everywhere we went, we held hands. We went grocery shopping with my mother after breakfast, and only one person commented on the way Hanna and I looked.

"What beautiful children," an old lady remarked, as we followed my mother through the grocery store. "Are they siblings?"

"Yes, we are ma'am," Hanna told the kindly old woman before my mother could answer. As if to demonstrate her point, Hanna pulled me close, and we kissed deeply and lovingly for the old woman's benefit.

The old woman's face flushed with red, and she sputtered incoherently at our passion.

My mother was horribly embarrassed, and towed us from the market before we could make another scene. Now our inside joke, we continued to call each other brother and sister for the rest of the day.

"Could you roll down the window, brother dear? I'm a bit warm."

"But of course, darling sister. My pleasure."

Each time my mother reacted to this, we would burst out anew, in fits of laughter.

After supper, Hanna's mother appeared with a small bit of luggage. She spoke to Hanna briefly, and Hanna again assured her she wasn't ready to come home. She left Hanna with a kiss, and a hug.

That night, as we unpacked Hanna's luggage, I marvelled at her clothes. Hanna eyed me suspiciously, and I could see her mind working.

"What?" I asked her.

"Nothing," she coyly replied.

That night we again slept in the buff. Though this time we kept our touching and investigation of each other mild. It was simply good to be by each other's sides. Whether we were exploring our passion or not, we didn't care. Just hearing Hanna softly snoring next to me through the night was pure bliss.

In the morning we were woken by a knock at the door. My mother was reluctant to enter.

"Breakfast in ten minutes, children," she called politely.

Before we could dress, Hanna stopped me.

"Uh, uh," she chided me, as I tried to open a drawer. "I had to spend all day yesterday dressed as a boy."

"Oh, no," I lamented.

"Oh, yes," she giggled.

Hanna was the first one down to breakfast. As she appeared at the bottom of the steps she made a trumpet sound with her mouth.

"Twa, ta da da da. Dah dahh! Mister and Missus Sidney, I present to you," she paused for effect until she was sure she had both my parent's attention, "your daughter, Jessie."

It was all I could do to stand myself at the bottom of the stairs, my humiliation was so intense.

For my outfit, she had chosen, a light pink blouse with a lace collar. I wore her white patterned skirt, which didn't quite cover my knees, bobby socks and her pink Clementine shoes. She had tied a ribbon around my waist, and she was very proud of how she had styled my hair, combing it back and to one side, with a butterfly hair comb holding it in place. Even my underwear was hers. She had picked for me a lightly flowered set of her pink panties, complete with a little red bow at the front. They were comfortable. If a bit snug.

Before I had come downstairs, I had almost decided to like the idea. The thought of wearing Hanna's clothes excited me. The feel of the different kind of fabrics. Fabric that touched her flesh touching mine. The scent of a different laundry detergent in the fibres. Even the way her girl clothes hung differently from my body than what I was used to. It felt dangerous and new.

Now at the bottom of the stairs, the feeling had changed to simple embarrassment.

My parents nearly fell out of their chairs laughing.

"Oh, this is too much," my mother said between snorts. "I must get my camera."

I cried out after her, "Mom, don't."

Despite my pleading she dashed away to retrieve it.

My father could barely contain himself as he chortled. His face was screwed up in humour as he addressed us. "Good morning, ladies. How nice of you both to join us for breakfast."

"Daad," I whined.

Before I could even sit, my mother appeared with her camera. She had Hanna and I squeeze together. She somehow managed to coax a smile out of me, as she had us pose again and again.

Though I felt boyish and clumsy and overexposed in Hanna's clothing, looking back at those pictures I actually made a quite fetching little girl. My shoulders were narrow, lips pink, and my eyes large. My hair had been grown out all summer, and though it was fall, had yet to be cut. Even if it wasn't as long as Hanna's hair, It was enough for a bit of girly style.

If you stumbled across those pictures without context, you would see only two little girls posing playfully for the camera.

Despite my humiliation I was determined to see this through. If it was only around the house, I knew I could last the day. But, of course it wasn't.

I think my parents and Hanna quickly become co-conspirators. I realize they took a kind of perverse pleasure in my discomfort, because they suddenly found a lot for us to do around the city.

After breakfast my father took us into town to a park with slides and climbing equipment. I found it difficult to run and play, both because of my still sore bottom, but also because there seemed to be no way to move without embarrassing myself. I quickly realized there is a lot of work that goes into wearing a skirt. Each time I tried to climb something or swing as I usually would, my father would shout at me from the bench where he watched.

"Careful there, Jessie. Keep those knees together. Do try to be lady-like." Then he'd laugh as my face went blush. Neither Hanna, nor my parents ever once missed calling me Jessie, or missed referring to me with the female personal pronouns.

When a couple of boys tried to hassle me for being too slow on the slide, Hanna stepped in protectively.

"C'mon little girl," they taunted me. "Hurry up and let the men through."

"Hey!" She appeared, with fists raised. "Leave her alone. She's with me."

"What are you gonna do?" They threatened with typical boy bravado.

Hanna was unfazed. "I'll kick you square in your boy parts, and cry to my daddy that you tried to look up my dress."

The two playground toughs quickly realized they were outmatched and backed off.

Hanna sat down beside me on the slide. She entwined her fingers with mine. "Don't worry, Jessie. I wont let those mean old boys push you around."

If that wasn't bad enough, after lunch my mother decided on going clothes shopping with her two little 'daughters'. I spent the day being dragged from shop to shop. I was forced to try on all kinds of girly outfits. Hanna and my mother never ceased to take pleasure in my discomfort.

I was disappointed that not once through the day did anyone notice I was a boy. My timid nature and embarrassment was taken as though I was a shy little girl. My constant blushing did nothing to take away from that fact.

To my continuing horror, my mother even bought me several outfits. When or where she thought I might wear such things again, I did not know.

Everywhere we went the shopkeepers commented on Hanna and myself. "What lovely little girls." or "How adorable they look."

The pinnacle of my humiliation came when they sat me down at the cosmetics counter and announced to me they were going to 'do my face'.

Hanna and my mother took turns applying eye shadow and lipstick to me. They argued amiably about whether I was an autumn or a summer complexion. They fluffed and styled my usually flat hair. Hair-spray and perfumes descended on me like a cloud. They found little clip-on earrings and other jewellery to accent the product.

When they finally showed me the mirror I didn't recognize myself. There sat a beautiful little girl. Her hazel eyes were wide with a light green shadow enhancing them. Her lips were full and a little pouted. A bit of powder realigned her cheek bones into an elfin like architecture. Not a boyish trait remained. I sat transfixed with the girl in front of me.

I was only fortunate that no one we knew saw me that way. Though if they had, I'm not sure they would have recognized me. My mother could have easily passed me off as a cousin from out-of-town.

My father didn't let me off the hook when he saw me. He gave a cat-call as I climbed into the car. Hanna and my mother were as satisfied with themselves as is the cat who ate the canary.

After supper I was forced to put on a fashion show of the outfits my mother had bought. My parents clapped and applauded, and had me twirl in my dresses as they snapped pictures. Hanna instructed me on the best catwalk strut. By the end I was actually starting to enjoy myself.

Despite the fun, that night I was grateful to be allowed to wash my face and strip out of my girl clothes. Though I had learned a lot with my adventure into the feminine, I wasn't anxious to return. The clothes I had modelled were neatly packaged up for Hanna to take home at the end of our visit. I noted to myself to remember, should I ever see Hanna wearing one of the items we gave her, I'd give her a tough time and tell her how it had looked so much better on me.

As we showered before bed, and the last of my girl style washed down the drain, Hanna lamented.

"Aw. You're a boy again."

"Hi," I said.

She threw her arms round my neck, and kissed me. "I missed you today, Jason."

I blinked as she hugged me. I hadn't thought I'd gone anywhere.

We slept again, pressed up against one another. It was a comfort and sense of belonging I never wanted to end. We stroked each other, and kissed each other through the night. Holding her in my arms, I'd never felt more complete.

In the morning when her parents came to get her, we cried not wanting to ever be apart. This time, there was no reasoning with them. They placed Hanna's luggage in the trunk, and Hanna in the back seat.

I jogged as far as I could down the drive as they pulled away. Hanna's eyes never left me, nor mine hers, until the car was too far away to see.

When they were gone, my father gently guided me back into the house with an arm around my shoulder. We walked slowly, and it felt good that he understood.

When I returned to my room, I found the spare toothbrush my mother had produced for Hanna. It was red, and sitting in the glass by the sink next to my blue one. I found a marker, and carefully wrote on the handle.

H - A - N - N - A.

I replaced it dutifully in the glass for when she returned.

The drawers we had emptied and the space we had made in the closet for her felt too empty, but I couldn't bring myself to fill them. These spaces were now Hanna's. From that day forward I would always leave space for her in my life.

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