In For a Change


By Bradley Hatcher

Brad and John were brothers who had been through a lot. A few years before, their mother was arrested for selling drugs and was doing hard time. Their father had run out long before. For four years, John had been living with the boys’ grandmother in a near-by state. However, when Brad decided to drop out of college and work full-time, John came back to live with him in the family home.

Now, John was 14 and Brad was 22, and they were alone in the world. Which was pretty much the way that they liked it. Growing up, the boys had always been close, with John basically idolizing his big brother. Having the chance to once again live with him was too good to pass up.

Just about anyone would idolize a guy like Brad. He was 6’2” and weighed 200 pounds, most of which was pretty solid muscle. He was never a jock in school, although he could have easily been. Instead, he ran with a crowd that liked to have a good time. He’d seen his share of drinking and drugging, but had built a respectable home gym with which he’d kept his body in good condition. He had blue eyes and thick brown hair that he kept cut short. He had a hairy chest and stomach and a seemingly permanent five o’clock shadow. From the bulge in Brad’s boxer-briefs, it was obvious that he was big all over. John had never known Brad to have a girlfriend, but he did run with diverse group of friends, including several other young men and women.

John was a smaller, less-developed version of his older brother. At 14, he hadn’t seen too much of puberty yet; just a little hair around his modest dick and in his pits. He was 5’2” and weighed almost 100 pounds. He had blue eyes and sandy blond hair that was getting darker each year. He was hoping that he would really hit a major growth spurt over the summer, before back to school and the ninth grade. John would try to catch glimpses of Brad in the buff or when he was working out. Even though John had an inkling that his curiosity about Brad’s body was something more, he figured that it was just a normal part of growing up, the wondering about what he’d look like in a few years time.

With the summer in full swing, the brothers had settled into a nice routine. Brad would be away each day at his job at an online service provider and would come home by dinnertime. During the day, John would do chores around the house and sometimes try his hand with Brad’s weight set. When Brad got home, the two would eat dinner together (either cooked by John or ordered out), and Brad would often enjoy a number of cold beers.

Brad was a smoker and would always sit on the back porch while drinking his beer and light up. He’d been smoking Marlboro Reds since he was 16 and took them from his mother’s pack. He was quickly hooked and found that he really enjoyed the whole smoking experience. John would sit out on the porch with Brad and think to himself what a hot smoker Brad was. It was John’s hard-on during these times that made him really question his attraction for Brad and think that it was more than curiosity.

What Brad didn’t know was that John had also taken up the family habit, sneaking cigarettes from their grandmother’s second husband on a regular basis. Before moving back to Florida to live with Brad, John had convinced an older friend to buy him a carton of Camel Wides, his brand of choice, to help hold him over. As he found himself beginning to run low, he would occasionally, secretly, borrow Reds from his brother.

While Brad got to sit outside in the night air and enjoy his smokes, John would have to get his fix during the day, before Brad got home. John had a computer in his bedroom and would open his window and use a fan to send the smoke outdoors. Luckily, Brad smoked in the house often and therefore the smell wasn’t too obvious. John would cruise sites like and as he would smoke his Wides. Sometimes he would furiously pound on his 4-inch cock while looking at the other hot guys smoking, and shoot his boy-sized load on his chest.

One day in the middle of June, John was at home at around 3:00 p.m., doing just that. He actually, at this point, was only looking at pictures and lighting up his sixth cigarette of the day. He was sitting at the computer, jeans and underwear around his ankles, Camel in one hand, and, at this point, mouse in the other. His radio was blasting the new Maroon 5 song and he was really getting into all of the hot pictures. For this reason, he didn’t hear Brad’s Jeep pull up into the driveway. John also didn’t hear Brad come in the front door and call out John’s name. Neither did he hear Brad politely knock on the bedroom door – Brad wasn’t such an asshole as to not respect John’s privacy, he’d been 14 before – and gently open the door. John, finally, did notice the door creep open and heard Brad shout his name.

John didn’t know what to do first. So many things crossed his mind. Should he put out the cigarette, close the browser window, or pull up his pants? He tried to do all three at once and the mouse went sliding off the desk, the cigarette fell haphazardly into the ashtray, and John hit the floor, tangled in his clothes. There John was, sprawled on the carpet, looking up at his big brother. Brad’s face was a mixed mask of surprise and amusement and slight annoyance.

“What the fuck are you doing, John?” asked Brad.

Not really knowing how to answer, John just looked up at Brad and thought about how best to respond. Like any kid with his hand in any cookie jar, John said defiantly, “Nothing.”

“Like hell,” Brad said. “Where did you get those cigarettes?” Brad walked over to the desk and looked down at the pack of Camels. “You’re too young to have these.”

John decided that the best course of action was to come clean. He told Brad the story of where the smokes came from. As he picked himself off the floor and pull up his pants, he told Brad the whole story. Brad checked his brother out and was impressed by the size of his package. But, he was shaking his head the whole time.

“Where are the rest?” Brad asked. John opened his desk drawer and Brad saw the remaining packs. “Well,” Brad said, picking up the half-empty carton, “these aren’t my normal brand, but you won’t be needing them anymore.” John began to protest, but Brad cut him off. “Also, I can tell that I’ve been a little too lenient with you. I’m gonna have to really lay down some rules for you, buddy-boy, if you’re gonna be living with me.”

No tears, dammit, John thought. But in this instant, he began to regret coming to live with Brad. His raging teenaged hormones took his disposition from shame to frustration to anger in split seconds of time. He became classically defiant and puffed out his smaller chest and said, “I’m almost the same age you were when you started! Those belong to me and you can’t have them!” John crossed his arms over his bare chest and looked up to see what reaction his tactic would have.

Brad picked up the open pack of Camels from the desk and emptied them out. “Yours, huh? Then why are there Reds mixed in with your Wides, huh?” John began to turn red himself and realized that he was caught, and his argument was getting weaker by the second. Brad continued, “Stay here in your room while I think about an appropriate punishment. You’re lucky I’m not mom or I’d beat the shit out of you right here. Or make you smoke everyone of these cigarettes until you puke.”

John’s shame melted away again and was replaced by another round of intense anger. “Punishment my ass! You’re not my mother or my father and you don’t have the right to do shit to me! You can try to ‘beat the shit’ out of me, but you won’t always be so big and bad.” John paused long enough to think about how much easier this would be if their roles were reversed. He was ten times cooler than Brad and would totally be more understanding. Brad was turning out to be a bully and needed to be brought down a few pegs.

In that instant, Brad was also thinking about how to either follow through on his threat or diffuse the situation. He’d been John’s age before and understood most of what he was going through. He’d never been caught looking at pictures of men and smoking in his room. Then again, he’d been pretty lucky. He decided right then that although it would be easy to discipline his brother, that he’d take another tact. He would try to make John see the situation from his perspective.

As it happened, both brothers said, at the same time, although in different tones of voice, “I wish you could look at this from my point of view.” Brad was then going to explain to John how important it is that he understand that Brad’s role now was more than brother; he was John’s legal guardian and had to look out for him. John was then going to explain to Brad that Brad had once been a kid and that he should respect John’s right to grow up and experiment. But in that moment, neither of them could move so much as a muscle.

The changes, which began instantly, were more visible first in John. The last vestiges of baby-fat on his body seemed to vanish. Then, just as quickly, his muscles began to inflate. For an instant, he looked a little like a small body builder, very bulky and with defined striations in each muscle group. He jeans, which were still unbuttoned, started to open up at the zipper. Fine hair spouted from his chest and his face began to itch. John looked like a grown man who had been compacted down to kid size.

Brad was so freaked out by the changes in John that he didn’t notice what had begun to take place in his own body. His own hard-won muscles began to deflate at a furious pace. His waist got smaller and his polo shirt began to look like a tent, hanging from his diminishing form. His khaki’s secured in place by a brown leather belt, fell from his waist as the tissue that held them up seemed to disappear. His face, with its trademark dark shadow, became noticeably lighter, until it was as bare as John’s had been only seconds before. He looked like a tall pale scarecrow. Until…

For Brad, the room began to grow. He thought that maybe he was fainting, or collapsing, or something. Anything other than the fact, which was that he was rapidly losing inches from his height. With no discomfort at all, his body compacted into itself. Then John’s transformation continued as well. John got the sense that he was on some sort of open-caged elevator or lift. His perspective on the room changed as he grew upward, and his new muscle shifted to compensate. For only an instant, the brothers looked one another in the eye, without looking down for Brad or up for John. Then, remarkably, John found himself looking down – way down – at Brad. And Brad looked up – way up – into his little brother’s eyes.

In all, the experience of changing lasted only seconds. Both brothers knew immediately that the effects might last a lifetime. This thought occurred to each of them. It filled Brad with fear and uncertainty. John, it filled with pride and satisfaction. Their mobility restored to them, each said, again at once, “What the fuck was that?” The voice that emanated out of the man that John became was deep and sure. Brad’s voice broke over the words. The world was a different place for both brothers.

“That, big brother, was the coolest thing in the world,” John said. John walked over to Brad, forcing Brad to crane his neck even further back to make eye contact with his little – big – little brother. “I’d say that we each just got our wish.” With that, John walked back to the desk, swaggering with the presence of the new power coursing through his veins. He picked up one of his Wides, and lit it expertly. He took a long drag from his cigarette and blasted the smoke down at Brad. “Ah,” John said with satisfaction, “that feels damn good.”

The brothers didn’t yet know it, but they had just exchanged 10 years. This left John a man of 24 while Brad was a boy of 12. John looked much like Brad did before the transfer. His hair was lighter and his arms a little bigger. His body looked basically like Brad’s might with a couple more years of weight training. Brad looked exactly like John had moments before, except that he was a few inches shorter at 4’11” and had darker hair.

As John smoked his Wide and thought about his next steps, Brad spoke up. “John, we have to figure this out. Don’t just stand there smoking, we have to do something! Besides, I just told you not to smoke those cigarettes!” Even as he said it, he regretted it. Brad would have to be more diplomatic if he was going to keep any control over the situation.

“Listen, little guy,” said John with a derisive tone, “big guys like me can do whatever we want to. Little boys like you will listen and do as they’re told, or they will get a spanking.” He smiled as he said, “Are we clear, Bradley?”

Brad’s heart sank. No one had laid a hand on him since he was, well, John’s age. He believed that John could inflict a lot more pain than their mother – or her string of “boyfriends” – ever could. Of course he should have expected that reaction. Here he stood in boxer-briefs that he had to hold up with one hand, a shirt that looked like it was made by Coleman, and a body that looked like he should be watching cartoons. He was looking way up at his “little” brother, who stood shirtless and in what remained of tighty-whities that bulged obscenely in every direction. In fact, Brad could make out the clear outline of John’s massive cock and balls straining the fabric. Whoa, thought Brad, this is no time to check out John’s merchandise. But from this perspective, it’s the biggest package I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen my share! With that, Brad again made eye contact with his brother, just as John sent another plume of smoke toward Brad.

Brad’s eyes burned from the smoke. Or at least that’s what he told himself as he began to tear up. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” John said finally. “You’re going to the kitchen to get me a beer.” He waited to see if Brad wanted to try another demand that he couldn’t possibly back up. Seeing none, he continued, “But first, you’re going to get out of my boxer-briefs and into some clothes that fit.” John looked down and realized that his brother was even smaller than John had been before. This is so cool! “Take off that shirt, and hand me those underwear.”

Modesty was an alien concept to the brothers before, so Brad didn’t think twice about doing as John said. Something about John’s voice and his bearing caused Brad to obey him without question. Standing before someone who, to you, is the size of an eight-foot giant will have that effect. Brad wiggled easily out of his now huge polo and slid the underwear to the floor. His once-proud cock was small, hanging limply over pecan-sized balls. A small spread of dark-brown pubes was all that remained of his furry body hair. John looked down at big-bad-Brad’s new equipment and let out a whistle. “My how the mighty have fallen.”

Brad handed the boxer-briefs up to John and went to John’s underwear drawer. As he looked for underwear that weren’t small, plain, white briefs, he sneaked glances back at John. John’s Camel rested nonchalantly from the side of his fuzz-surrounded mouth as he as he ripped away the remains of the briefs from his body. Dangling between John’s legs was a massive cock that hung down around a huge set of balls. John smiled and reached down to adjust his package. Really, to experience for the first time what a real cock felt like. It responded by filling with blood and becoming engorged.

“Now that’s more like it,” John said without removing the Wide from his mouth.” We’ll have to give this thing a test-drive very soon.” Brad heard this as he was sliding a fresh pair of John’s briefs up his legs and John was putting his trouser snake into its new home, namely Brad’s discarded boxer-briefs. John’s cock had filled out completely to its new 9 inches; Brad barely got his new briefs around his now-also-engorged though diminished four-incher before John looked back at him. “Beer here, shrimp.” And Brad was off to the kitchen.

On his way to the kitchen, Brad began to orient himself to his new body. John’s comment that ‘we’ll’ have to give John’s cock a test-drive filled Brad with a real sense of desire. He found himself hoping that John was speaking literally. Although the conversation had never come up with John before, Brad was bisexual and could get off just as easily with his dick buried in a pussy as with someone else’s dick buried in his. He had been planning on having “the talk” with John just as soon as he thought the boy was old enough. Somehow fate had stepped in and accelerated the necessity of that.

Brad was on auto-pilot as he fetched one of his Bud Lights out of the fridge for John. He couldn’t twist the top off, so he used a bottle opener. Without thinking and out of force of habit, he took a huge pull on the bottle and was greeted almost instantly with a light head. He smiled and realized that he was literally a light-weight now and would have to go easy. He took another sip before John entered the kitchen and scooped the beer out of Brad’s small hands.

“I think that belongs to me,” John said. “Little kids don’t get to drink beer, smoke, or anything else that they used to.” Brad’s face turned red with embarrassment or drunk and he saw John take a big swig of the amber drink. John sat at one of the kitchen chairs and put his massive legs up on the table. Brad’s eyes darted from the bulge in John’s boxer-briefs to the beer to John’s almost-finished Camel. Brad was in full-on sensory over-load.

“That’s not fair,” he managed to say. “I bought that beer and I’m not a little kid.” Some of that was slurred, but Brad kept talking. “I am still an adult, even if I don’t look like it. You can’t boss me around, I took you into my home!” From John’s perspective, Brad looked like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum. He started to giggle as he began to get drunk himself from the beer and the power. In a flash, Brad jumped into John’s lap and grabbed the larger man’s shoulders. He shook him as hard as he could and said, “Don’t laugh at me! I’m being fucking serious!”

John grabbed his brother’s arms and held him still on his lap. “What you’re being is a spoiled brat, Bradley.” Each time John called Brad by his given name, he got even more angry. “I’m calling the shots now and you’d better fall in line. Obviously someone, somewhere has decided that things are going to change here, now. I’m in charge and it’s about time you got that through your little thick head!” With that, John thumped his brother on the skull, something they’d done horsing around with each other countless times. John smiled down at Brad and began to really enjoy having this kind of power over his once-all powerful brother.

John was having another reaction as his cock again began to swell. Brad felt it pushing up through the thin material of each boy’s underwear and his anger was quickly dissipating. John wasn’t sure about how Brad would take that and quickly changed tactics. He flipped Brad over his knee and gave him a number of playful swats on the behind. What was playful for John began to hurt Brad a little. Brad’s attention, however, was on the fact that his own smaller dick had begun to strain against his briefs and John’s swats were causing the dicks to rub together.

Brad was on cloud nine, but as John noticed the effects of the unintended frottage, he stood up and lifted his brother from his lap. He was amazed at how light Brad felt in his arms. It began to dawn on John that this wasn’t just a game to be played. There were some serious consequences taking place in the Hatcher home. Brad was placed easily on the kitchen floor and John took his beer back to his room. Brad was left in the kitchen, actually afraid that he’d done something to offend John. He hadn’t even considered that maybe John wouldn’t even like his small weak body. Brad went in search of his little brother.

He found John sitting on his bed, his knees drawn to his chest. He’d lit another Camel and was staring into space, not looking at Brad. “John, what’s wrong?” asked Brad with some concern.

“Nothing,” said John, for the second time that afternoon. “I just need to think about all of this.” John looked at his brother and took a drag of his cigarette. At least Brad was calming down about his smoking. He half-wondered if Brad’s new body was craving nicotine yet – or if it even would.

Brad looked at his brother with concern, but understood. He was beginning to feel less drunk and more like it was time to take stock of the situation. His growing desire for a piece of his new “big” brother would have to wait. He wondered if he was in a second puberty and he was thinking with the wrong head. He needed to get out of the house for a while.

Brad wandered over to John’s closet and looked through his brother’s clothes. He selected a Volcom t-shirt and some (very) baggy cargos. He grabbed some socks and dressed himself quietly. He noticed that his pant legs were dragging the ground, and rolled them up a little. Hopefully this is the style now, Brad found himself thinking. He slid on a pair of John’s Airwalks and tied the laces very tight. As he walked to the mirror, he felt his heel threaten to come out of the shoes, but decided it was the best he could do for now. The image in the mirror filled Brad with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he looked none the worse for wear. He looked like any random middle-schooler that you might see at the skate park or the mall. But on the other hand, he was fully a foot shorter than he used to be and was wearing clothes that should fit his little brother just right. “This’ll have to do,” he finally said.

John was paying some attention to his brother as he stubbed out the remains of his Wide in the ashtray. He got up and stood next to Brad, suddenly feeling under-dressed. “Not bad,” John said, as he tousled Brad’s mop of hair. “You really look the part.”

“Thanks, I think.” Brad had decided to take a quick walk through the neighborhood so that he could clear his head. John looked less serious than he had when Brad walked in, but he wanted to lighten the mood. “Hey dad, can I go out and play?” Brad asked mischievously.

John smiled down at his brother and said, “That’s a good idea, son. Don’t be out too long. Seriously, come back soon. We have a lot to figure out here, Brad.”

“I know, kiddo, I just gotta get my thoughts together,” Brad replied. Besides, I’m jonesing here and after the shit I gave you before, I know better than to try to smoke around you! Of course, Brad wasn’t going to say that. He didn’t want to create another awkward moment. Or worse yet, get spanked by his kid brother. “I’ll make it quick.”

With that, Brad left the house and headed to his Jeep. He kept a spare pack of Reds in the glove box. He grabbed his pack and an “emergency” lighter and headed toward the park that was on the next block. He waited until he was into the park and on a deserted trail before he lit up. He took a very tentative drag from the humongous-seeming Marlboro and coughed a little. This thing is bigger than a ‘100 to me! Better take this slow. He thought about what it would look like to anyone watching him. Like some kid who’d stolen his dad’s cigarettes and snuck off to “act cool.” But those nonexistent observers wouldn’t know that in fact, Brad Hatcher bought these Reds with his own money and easily could smoke a pack a day. And that he’d been doing it for six years now.

Back at the hacienda, John was getting into better spirits. Literally. He raided Brad’s liquor cabinet and had fixed himself a Jack on the rocks, just as he’d seen Brad do before. With that, he was enjoying one of Brad’s Reds, from a new pack that John had found in Brad’s bedroom. He was enjoying his drink, smoke, and something else from Brad’s room. A well-worn issue of Freshmen, a gay porn mag full of hot young studs. Nothing like a good jack-off to take John’s mind off of the serious situation at hand. That, and John really had to pump out some of his sexual frustration, pronto. Even though he now knew that Brad liked dick, he still wasn’t sure about whether or not they should get it on.

Or if Brad would even want to. John was coming quickly to terms with his own sexuality, but from the looks of the magazine, Brad was more into twinks. John could easily look twinky, but his buffed hairy body and stubble sort of defeated the look. Then again, before the transfer, John’s new look would have been his absolute jack-off fantasy come alive. He was hoping that maybe Brad’s taste would also have changed to better suit his new body and experience.

As John scanned the pages of the magazine, he began to stroke his cock with abandon. He eyes were on the pages, but his thoughts drifted back to earlier in the kitchen. It was so easy to take Brad and lift him from the ground, and place him effortlessly onto John’s waiting lap. His cock strained through his boxer-briefs and went so naturally into the tight crevice of his brother’s ass cheeks. Although he’d never fucked or been fucked by anyone, it seemed so right that should have continued to grind Brad into the hard heat of his sex. Next, he could have picked Brad up and placed him roughly onto the table, peeling off those tight little boy briefs.

Like he’d seen it done in porn on the net, he would have taken Brad’s dick into his hands and stroked him to pulsing erection. His tongue would be drawn to the tight clean pucker of Brad’s waiting ass. He would thrust his tongue deep into Brad’s hole, and prepare him for a finger or two. Next – “Shit!” John exclaimed as his cock erupted with a spout of white, hot cum. It covered the page of the magazine and continued to spurt for nine or ten times. “Holy shit!” John said again as he stopped cumming and began to laugh hard at the situation. He’d just covered his brother’s magazine in spunk. He cleaned up his deflating cock with the boxer-briefs and wiped the magazine as best he could. A small puddle remained on Brad’s bed as John took the last drag of his Red and downed the last shot of Jack. That was something else. I had no idea it could feel that good.

John washed his face in the bathroom sink and returned to reality. He looked at the clock and realized that it was almost 4:00. Brad had been gone for almost half an hour.

Brad had been having a good time himself. He’d had a couple of Reds and felt a lot better about life in general. His young body, unaccustomed to smoking, was finally getting used to the good sensations that had kept him lighting up for years. He’d had a couple of close calls as a couple of people – adults – had jogged through the trails he was on in the park. A lady just gave him a dirty look as he tried to hide his cigarette. A youngish man, maybe in his early 30’s eyed Brad appreciatively as he’d jogged by. Brad remembered then that this park was a notorious pick-up spot for gay men.

As he sat and smoked, Brad thought a lot about the situation. There was no one that they could tell. Who would believe them? If anyone did believe them, they’d be locked up in a lab somewhere while teams of scientists tied to understand what had caused this change. Brad was spiritual enough to understand and appreciate that there were things in this world that couldn’t be explained so easily. Real-world considerations like work and survival would have to be planned for. But, the uncertainty of how long this transfer might last made planning difficult.

Just as Brad decided to head back home, he paused and decided to have one more of his Reds. He couldn’t take the chance of trying to smoke with John around until the two of them could talk things over like adults. Brad was struck by that irony even as he struck up his Bic and lit his cigarette. He took a longish pull from the brown filter and closed his eyes. Smoke issued forth from his nose and mouth. He began walking back in the direction of his house when he was startled out of his reverie.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, young man?” Brad turned around and wondered how John had found him. He was getting ready to turn on the charm and try to get some sympathy from his brother. That’s when Brad realized that he was in deep shit. It wasn’t John who was speaking to him, but a police officer. He was about 5’9”, or, to Brad, a giant. He looked to be in his mid-20’s and had blond hair, green eyes, a tight body, and a very serious demeanor. The cop was hot, in every sense of the word. Brad was scared shitless and turned white. Brad knew many of the police officers in town but he didn’t recognize this one. He figured the cop must be a rookie.

“Nothing,” was all Brad could say. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Yes, you’re going to be, son,” said the policeman. “I had a report of some kid smoking in the park. What are you, twelve years old?” Brad began to turn from white to red. How dare this pig? Maybe wearing the baggy clothes did cause Brad to look even younger than he was. Or was supposed to be.

Defiantly, Brad said, “No, I’m sixteen.” The cop gave Brad a closer look and considered what he’d said.

“Well, you’re a small sixteen. Actually, you’d be a small thirteen. Even if I believed that, you’re way too young to be smoking in this park. Or anywhere else, for that matter.” The cop took the cigarette from Brad’s small hand and put it out under his shiny black boot. “Where do you live? I’m taking you to your parents.” Brad was really filled with fear at that.

“I can find my own way home,” Brad said. “We just moved into the neighborhood and my house is very close by.”

“I wasn’t giving you a choice, kid,” the cop said with typical police arrogance. “Now, where do you live?”

Brad was getting ready to run when John appeared on the scene. “He lives on the next block, with me. Is there some problem here officer?” John asked. John didn’t like cops; he saw them much as Brad did. Arrogant pigs who needed to be taken down a few pegs.

The officer looked up at John and his tone changed slightly. He regarded John and looked him up and down, appreciatively. “Are you the boy’s father?” the officer asked. John thought fast and locked eyes with Brad. He nodded his head to Brad as if to say: play along. John knew that with his new massive body and nearly a full beard, he looked like he could be a young father to such a small boy.

“Yes, I am. This is my son,” said John. “Why are you holding him here?”

“Your son here was smoking cigarettes. I can’t get from him his real age, but it’s obviously not 18.” The cop’s superior attitude from earlier returned in full force.

John’s face showed disappointment. This was going to be harder than he thought. Addressing Brad, John said, “Bradley Allen Hatcher! I’m going to blister your tale when we get home!” To the officer, John said, “Officer, I’m so sorry for this. He’s never done anything like this before. I don’t know what’s gotten into the boy.” Now it was John’s turn to use some charm. “It’s been so hard on him since his mother left. I guess he’s just acting out. Please, let me take care of punishing him.”

The police officer seemed to consider John’s plea. He walked over to John and extended his hand. “Mr. Hatcher, I admire your sense of discipline. I’m Officer Jackson. Since you and little Bradley here are new to the neighborhood, I’ll let you get off with a warning. Next time,” said Officer Jackson, “I’m not going to let you get off so easily.” There was a playful twinkle in the cop’s eye that only Brad caught and understood.

“Well, uhm, thank you, Officer. I’m Jonathan Hatcher and I appreciate this more than you know,” John said. “Bradley, come along, now.” As Brad walked over to his “father,” John reached down and into the large cargo pocket on the side of Brad’s pants. “You won’t be needing these anymore! Head straight home and go directly to your room. I’ll be right behind you.” With that, Brad gave John an angry look but did as he was told.

When Brad was out of the park, Officer Jackson indicated the pack of Marlboro Reds in John’s hand. “May I?” he asked. “And please, call me Bill.” John gave Bill a Red and lit it for him. He took one for himself and sparked it like a pro.

“Sure, Bill. Call me John,” he replied. As both men stood there smoking their Reds, they talked casually. “It is hard raising the boy on my own,” John ad-libbed. “His mother ran off with another man and I’m just getting the hang of this single dad stuff.” John had a quick wit and believed that he was being convincing.

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t have anything to do with women myself,” said Bill Jackson. “Too much trouble. Anyway, it was nice meeting you and your son. Good looking kid. Takes after his dad.” Bill was openly leering at the larger man by this point. “I’d keep him off these trails if I were you, though. Men cruise this park from dusk till dawn. It’s not safe for a boy.”

John considered Bill’s words and wondered if Bill was cruising himself. As he finished his Red, he field-stripped it and threw the remains into the nearest trashcan. “Thanks again, Bill. I better get back to the house. I know one boy who’s going to be very sorry that he stepped foot in this park. Even if it meant that I got to meet a nice new friend.” The men shook hands again and held each other’s glance for a little longer than would seem normal.

As John walked home, be understood the sexual power that a body like his possessed. He didn’t know how long this wild ride would last. But he knew that he would continue to find ways to enjoy it while it did. Next, John’s thoughts turned to his “son,” Brad. They were going to have to be more careful. Brad’s little encounter in the park could have had terrible consequences for both of them. He was thinking of what the appropriate discipline would be for sneaking cigarettes in the park.

Brad got home and went straight to his room, as ordered. He was relieved that nothing bad happened in the park. Officer Jackson seemed like a nice guy and if he ever got his body back, he’d have to remember to look for him in the park at dusk. Brad was trying to reconcile the guilt that he had over being caught, his desire to get into Jackson’s pants, and the dread at his next encounter with John. Brad saw a wet spot on his bed and felt it with his hand. He brought the goo to his nose and sniffed. Yep, just as I thought. Without thinking, Brad brought his finger to his mouth and was not without joy and excitement over the taste he found there.

John took a deep breath and walked into the house, taking care to lock the door. He went to his room looking for Brad. Brad wasn’t there and John called out for him.

“I’m in here,” said Brad. John went to his brother’s room and found him in bed, next to a very conspicuous puddle. John wasn’t sure if it was his or Brad’s, or maybe a mixture of both. “I should ask you what this is,” said Brad, “but I think I already know. You whacked off in my bed!”

“I should ask you what the fuck you were thinking, taking a risk like that!” John exclaimed. “And I didn’t whack off in your bed. I whacked off in my bed. Get your ass to the smaller room.” Brad looked up defiantly at his younger brother. “I said move your ass!” With that, John lifted Brad easily for the second time of the day. When his hand found his brother ass, it was not playfully as it had been before. John held Brad tightly with his left hand and swatted Brad’s reddening ass four more times with his right. “Go to your new room and think about what you’ve done! And I don’t want to hear a single word!”

Shocked, embarrassed, and a little hurt, Brad stomped off to his new room. The balance of power had shifted in his home that day and he had to think of some way to change things back. He crawled into the large bed and rolled into a tight little ball. The erection that he’d sprung earlier when John spanked him diminished and he wished that his and John’s last encounter could have gone differently. Brad’s stomach grumbled, he needed a drink, he was jonesing for a smoke, and his little brother was holding all the cards. What hand would next be played? •

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