My Step-Dad Glen - Part 6
I only had a couple of weeks left of the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of high school. It had been a great summer, and I wanted to squeeze as much fun out of it as possible.
Glen always insisted that I be in bed by 10:00 during the school year, but during the summers I could stay up until 11:00. Since it was so close to school starting he had put me back on a 10:00 o'clock bedtime so that I would be used to it by the time school started. This was the kind of thing that I now look back on and remember him fondly as the great dad he was, but at the time I was irritated and felt like he had too much control over my life.
It was right about this time that I started to have severe leg pains at night. I tossed and turned and kicked my feet and tossed some more. I couldn't take it anymore and I went downstairs in just my t-shirt and jockeys and stood there at the bottom of the stairs. My mother was on the couch watching TV, and just as I got there my dad walked in from the diningroom.
"Hey" he said, kissing the side of my head. "What are you doing up?"
"I can't sleep" I said.
"What's wrong, honey?" my mother asked.
"My legs hurt" I said.
"Hurt how?" asked my dad.
"They just ache" I said.
My mother got up and grabbed me by the arm and said, "Come on. I haven't tucked my favorite kid in for a long time" and she led me back up the stairs to my room. I tried to describe how my legs ached, and she had me lay on my stomach and she rubbed them for a while and then scratched them gently with her long fingernails. It did make them feel better, and I started to doze off and I think I remember her kissing me good night, but I'm not sure.
The next night I got into an argument with my dad, and he sent me to bed early. It was only about 9:30, so it wasn't that much earlier than normal. Again, my legs were aching badly and I went downstairs to complain.
"Go to your room" my dad said as I stood on the bottom stair and told them that my legs hurt.
"Can you rub my legs again, mom?" I asked.
"Ryan" said my dad, "you get up those stairs and back in bed right now. Or do you want to do some time in the chair?"
I angrily stomped back up the stairs, went down to my room and flopped onto my bed. My legs hurt just as bad as the night before -- kind of a dull, constant ache -- and no matter what I did it wouldn't stop. I was getting very tired and I was very frustrated, and by the time my little alarm clock said 11:10 I was in tears. I heard my parents come up the stairs, and I just put my arm over my eyes and laid there.
I must have made some kind of noise because my dad was suddenly standing in my doorway whispering, "Ryan?"
"Yes, sir?" I said, trying to hide the fact that I was crying. It was so embarrassing at that age, and what could I say about it; that I was crying like a little baby because my legs hurt? It sounded stupid even to me.
"What's wrong, son?" asked my dad.
I hit my bed with my fist and said almost desperately, "I'm tired and I just want to go to sleep! I'm so tired, dad!"
He came into my room and sat on the edge of my bed. Putting his hand on my belly he said, "So what's the problem?"
"My legs hurt" I said in a tight voice. Hadn't he been listening? Hadn't I come downstairs and told him that they hurt? Hadn't exactly the same thing happened the night before? He was making me mad just sitting there.
"That bad?" he said, reaching down and squeezing my thigh.
"Yes, sir" I whispered, working hard not to cry.
"Turn over, son" he said, reaching under me and squeezing my butt. I turned over and his big hands started to massage my thighs and calves. His hands were so much bigger than my mom's, and it was such a relief a giggle escaped me.
"That tickles?" he said.
"No, sir" I said, sobering. "That feels really good. I'm just SO tired."
"Where does it hurt, son?" he asked me.
"Everywhere" I said.
"You have to try to be more specific" he said. "Does it burn? Is it more like a headache? Is it in your knees mostly? What?"
I thought for a second. "They just ache" I finally said. "Mostly my butt and below my knees."
"Here?" my dad said, massaging my calves.
"Ahhh! Yes" I said. It felt so good to be free of the aching, but it only stopped if my legs were being rubbed.
"I'm sorry about earlier" I said, not even quite sure what we had been arguing about.
"All right" he said, ruffling my hair. "You want to try to go to sleep while I massage your legs?"
"Yes, sir" I said, already feeling drowsy. His hands continued to knead my calves, thighs, and butt. At some point I did fall asleep.
The next morning my mom told me that my dad would pick me up right after school for a doctor's appointment. I tensed up when she said that, because I hated doctors. I didn't like being poked and prodded, and one time when I was 9 or 10 I had been made to walk down a short hallway in my underpants in front of two nurses. It was very embarrassing, and I couldn't imagine having to do the same thing at 14.
My dad picked me up after school and we waited only briefly before a nurse said, "Come this way, please."
As we passed a pretty young woman in a white coat she said, "I'll be right with you" and went back to reading some kind of chart.
"Is that the doctor?" I asked my dad.
"Guess so" he said, and we stepped into an exam room and the nurse took my blood pressure and temperature. She confirmed that the lady out in the hall was Dr. Keller.
When she was done she left us alone and my dad said, "Better take your clothes off now, son."
"Huh?!?" I said, panicked.
He laughed and said, "Just kidding. Boy, you're really uptight right now."
"That was funny dad" I said, dryly. "You're a funny guy." It suddenly occurred to me that I was wearing jeans, and that if she wanted to look at my legs I would probably have to take my pants off. I looked at my dad miserably and was about to tell him what I was thinking when the door opened and Dr. Keller walked in.
She asked us both some questions and then she said, "Well, let's take a look at your legs, Ryan."
I gulped and looked at my dad.
"Did you want him to take his pants off?" asked my dad.
She smiled and said, "Yes, that's normal."
"I hope you're wearing underwear, son" said my dad, smiling.
"Dad!" I said. Of course I was wearing underwear. I just sat there looking at both of them. Then, resigned, I kicked off my shoes. I gave them both one last pleading look and when my dad looked like he was about to stand up and "help" me I quickly undid my pants and pulled them down and off.
"Hop up here" said Dr. Keller, patting the exam table.
She lifted one leg and massaged my calf and said, "This where it hurts?"
"Yes, ma'am" I said, blushing. When she lifted my other leg my dick stiffened in my jockeys and I glanced down to make sure my shirt was covering me. I kept my hands at my sides so as not to call attention to myself, and my face was hot.
"Can you stand up, please?" she said.
I held the bottom of my shirt with one hand and stood up. I turned around and slightly bent forward when her hand pushed gently into my back.
"You see how tight all this is?" she said to my dad and her finger ran gently up the back of my thighs. My dick strained against my briefs. She and my dad talked about something, but I couldn't pay attention I was concentrating so hard on making my dick go back down.
"All right, Ryan" I heard Dr. Keller say, and she patted my back.
"Doctor" said my dad, "can I talk to Ryan alone for just a minute?"
"Okay" she said, kind of awkwardly. "Sure."
She left us then and my dad started laughing uncontrollably.
"What?" I said, looking at him from the side.
He reached over and before I could stop him lifted my shirt, exposing the bulge in my shorts.
"Pretty, isn't she?" he said, and smiled broadly.
I know I blushed deeply because my face was so hot. My dad laughed some more and clapped me hard on the back.
"Don't tell mom" I said, pulling and stretching my shirt downward.
"I thought we'd talk about it over dinner" he said, smiling.
"Come on, dad" I said. "I mean it."
He handed me my pants and said, "Your mother knows you get erections, son."
"Dad!"
"Well, for heaven's sake" he said. "How do you think you came into the world? She's not a virgin, you know."
"Dad!" I said, totally exasperated. Talking about my mom and _s_e_x_ had one good point: my dick had shrunk back to it's normal state.
I pulled on my pants, and my dad walked over and opened the door and asked the doctor to come back in.
To make a long story short, she basically told us that sometimes when a guy got to be my age muscles and bones and tendons and ligaments didn't all grow at the same rate. When, for example, bones grow faster than the rest muscles or ligaments are stretched farther than normal and that's painful. She said the aching in my legs could go on for months (which, in fact, it did) and that if it got worse or some other symptom accompanied it to get back to her. Otherwise, there was nothing to be done but the leg rubs.
As we were driving home I said, "Do you mind about my legs, dad?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"About rubbing them EVERY night?"
"Do they really hurt that badly?" he said, and rubbed the back of my head.
"Yes, sir" I said.
"Your mom and I will take turns" he said and pinched my ear, but not painfully.
"I love you, dad" I said.
He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to him, keeping his eyes on the road the whole time. "God, I love hearing that" he said, laughing. I tried to sit back up but he held me there against his chest. I punched his leg lightly, and he let me go.
That weekend my mother went out with a friend of hers. Since we were home alone I came down to the kitchen in just my underpants and ate a bowl of cereal and some toast. My dad told me to load the dishwasher when I was done, which I did.
The laundry room was just off the kitchen, and he was in there loading the washer. "How're the legs?" he said, glancing up from his work.
"Fine" I said. "They only hurt when I go to bed."
"You want to go to the movies today?" he asked.
"Sure!" I said as he started the washer.
"You didn't take a shower last night, did you?" he said.
"No, sir" I said. I had just gone straight to bed.
He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around, and in one quick motion he hooked his finger into the back of my jockeys and yanked them down to my ankles.
"Hey!" I said, but he smacked my butt and said, "Go get cleaned up" and he picked up my shorts and threw them in the washer.
I laughed at the thought of running through the downstairs, up the stairs, and down the hall to the bathroom naked.
"I'm naked" I said, laughing.
"Come on, hurry up" he said, patting my side. "We'll catch a matinee and then take your mom out to lunch if she's home by then."
"Yes, sir" I said and ran out into the kitchen and flung open the door that separated it from the dining room. Just as I did that the front door started to open (you could see it from the dining room) and I did an immediate about face and crashed back through the door to the kitchen.
The front door slammed and I heard my mom say, "Anybody home?"
I collided with my dad as I came through the kitchen door, nearly knocking us both over.
"Glen?" my mom called from the other room, and I tried to push passed my dad back to the laundry room but he was hugging me tightly to him.
"We're in the kitchen!" he said. "You wanna see Ryan naked?" and he laughed.
I laughed, too, but said, "Let me go!"
As the kitchen door opened I pulled free of my dad and jumped behind him, grabbing his shoulders and using his body as a shield for my own.
"Sharon got sick" she said, then saw how I was crouching behind my dad. "What are you doing?" she said, grinning at me.
"Ryan's naked" said my dad, and I laughed nervously and put my mouth against the back of his shoulder and suppressed the giggles that welled up inside me.
"Are you?" she said, and started to lean sideways to look behind my dad.
"Don't!" I said and laughed nervously some more.
My dad reached back and patted the side of my leg and said, "Come on. She's your mom."
"No" I said, laughing some more. I started to giggle uncontrollably, I felt so silly being stark naked in the kitchen with both of them.
"Do you always run around naked when I'm not home?" she asked me.
"No" I said. "Dad pulled my shorts off and threw them in the washer."
"Oh, thank you" she said to my father.
"Towels are done, too" he said. He patted my leg again and said, "Come on. Get off me."
"No!" I said, and they both laughed.
"Honey, I'm your mom" my mom said, smiling.
"You're a girl!" I said in mock spite.
My dad tried to step aside then, but I clung tightly to his shoulders and maneuvered with him making them both laugh some more.
"Try that" my mom said, throwing a dishtowel at me. Unfortunately, my hand involuntarily reached out and caught it, and when I did that my dad stepped over to my mom and kissed her and I quickly held the dishtowel down in front of myself. I just stood there for a second before making my legs move and I quickly pushed passed them and burst out the door knowing they could both see my bare ass as I left.
I ran up the stairs and down the hall to the bathroom, laughing as I stopped to open a new bottle of shampoo. As I was finishing my shower my dad came in and brushed his teeth and I heard my mom say, "Any day, guys" from the hall.
"It's okay" I said as I dried off inside the shower.
My mom walked in and started to brush her teeth as my dad finished, and I screwed up my courage and stepped out of the shower just holding my towel in front of me instead of wrapping it around my waist. I felt very awkward and stiff, and my mom smiled and nodded at me in the mirror and my dad turned and looked at me.
"Come here, buddy" he said, pulling me to him. He took my towel and threw it over the shower curtain rod and pulled me up against him so that my entire back side was exposed to the room. I laughed nervously.
"I don't think I want you walking around the house completely naked in front of your mom, but I don't want you to be embarrassed if it's necessary. Like when you had your hernia operation, okay?"
"Are you embarrassed?" she asked me.
I pushed harder against my dad even though I couldn't have gotten any more covered up in front and said, "Yeah, of course. A little."
"Who's my naked boy?" my dad said, and kissed my forehead.
My face got hot again, and I was suddenly regretting my decision to step out of the shower like that.
I pushed my face into his chest and closed my eyes and said, "Now I'm really embarrassed."
"Do you want your mom to leave now?" my dad asked.
"Yes, please" I said, still with my eyes closed and my forehead pressed against him.
They both laughed and I heard the door close and I opened my eyes. I laughed some more.
"Ready to make a run for your room?" he said.
I grabbed the towel off the shower curtain and said, "Nope" and wrapped it around myself. I went to my room and got dressed, and as I came downstairs my mom kissed me but didn't say anything.
We had a very nice day going to the movies and then lunch afterward. We ate at the mall food court and while we were there I ran into a couple of guys from my track team. Their names were Tim and Donald, and I didn't particularly like Donald.
I opted to go with them, however, when my mom made my dad go shopping with her, and we all planned to meet back at the food court in one hour. Tim and Donald and I walked around for a bit, and one thing led to another and Donald was being a jerk and was daring Tim to shoplift something. He wouldn't let up and kept calling him names and then started in on me. To make a long story short, Tim and I both ended up pocketing these little rubber figure things (hard to describe) and as we were walking out of that particular store we ran into my parents.
"Hi!" my mom said.
"Glad we ran into you so soon" my dad said. "You're mom's done."
"Are we going home now?" I said.
"Unless there's something you want to buy, yes" he said.
I was eager to get away from Donald so I took one of my mom's bags and said good bye to him and Tim.
"Did you guys buy anything today?" my dad said just as they were leaving.
"No" said Tim.
"Did you mean to buy something?" my dad asked.
"No" said Tim, frowning.
"Why don't you sit down, boys?" my dad said, pointing to a bench that was just a few feet away.
"Why?" said Donald.
"Because I asked you to" said my father, and his face had darkened. Now, I should say that at this point I should have clued in and completely fessed up. On some very instinctive level I knew that he somehow knew we had given in to Donald's dare and shoplifted, but my logical mind kept telling me that that just couldn't be true. So, instead of confessing and looking foolish in front of my friends I kept silent and tried to play innocent.
The three of us sat on the bench my dad had pointed to and he said, "I think that you boys have something to say to me."
"Like what?" said Tim.
"You're making me mad, son" replied my dad.
"_f_u_c_k_ this" said Donald, standing up.
"Sit down" my dad said, but Donald sneered at him and said, "You're not my dad" and pushed passed him. To my surprise, my dad didn't try to stop him.
Looking at me my dad said, "You're not to hang around with that boy again. Isn't he on your team?"
"Yes, sir" I said.
"I'll see what I can do about that" he said. "Now, you can dig yourselves in deeper, or we can get this over with quickly."
"What are you talking about?" said Tim.
"Ryan?" my dad said, looking at me expectantly.
"What?" I said, putting on my best innocent look.
"Are you telling me that you've paid for everything that's in your pockets right now?" he said.
"Of course!" I said, trying to sound convincing. My mother's eyes narrowed, then she looked away and brushed at them with the back of her hand.
My dad's face flushed red and I was suddenly very afraid. I shivered because I really did suddenly feel chilled when he said, "Do you want me to strap you right here in the middle of the mall, Ryan?" It was so embarrassing for him to say that in front of Tim, but it was Tim who suddenly sniffed loudly and said, "We're sorry! Please don't tell my dad, okay? We'll pay for them right now."
"Now why couldn't you have done that?" my dad said to me, nodding at Tim. I looked down at my feet, unsure what was going to happen next.
My dad held out his hand and said, "Give them to me" and we both reached into our pockets and pulled out the odd little figures. "Don't even think about getting up from that bench" he said, and then he turned and went into the store. He came back out a moment later with a small bag which he threw into the trash next to us. I assumed he had paid for the two figures (sea creatures?), though I didn't know how he had explained himself.
"I'm going to call your father when I get home, Tim, so I suggest you make some kind of confession before then" said my dad.
"Yes, sir" whispered Tim.
"Go on" said my father, and Time bolted off the bench and left us.
"Look at me" I heard him say, and I gulped and looked up at him with my head still down.
"How many times have you done this?" he said, and he looked so sad and so -- so distressed -- it brought tears to my eyes.
"Never" I said, which was the truth.
"Never?" he said, and the disbelief in his voice was clear.
"Dad, please?" I said. "Can we talk about this at home?"
"No, we cannot" he said.
"Can we just go outside then?" I asked, and had to wipe at my eyes.
"Ryan, I am so mad at you right now I could strike you!" he whispered fiercely.
"I'm sorry" I said, cringing.
"I think you should take your pants down" he said. That did make me start to cry quietly. It was a busy day at the mall and there were people all over the place. I found out years later that he had only said it to scare me, but at the time I totally thought he was serious.
"No, sir!" I said in a strangled voice, now even more afraid because I was being openly defiant.
"Get your ass out to the car and wait for me" he said, and I not only leaped off the bench, but I ran toward the nearest exit and walked the long way around the outside so that I didn't have to go through the mall.
I got to the car at about the same time as my parents, and as they walked up I said, "I'm sorry, dad, okay? I've never -- "
"Just be quiet right now" he said as he unlocked the car.
"Dad -- "
He suddenly grabbed the front of my shirt, flung open the door to the back seat and threw me roughly in. I banged my elbow painfully on the door and yelped as he shouted, "I don't want to hear anything out of you until we get home!"
The drive home was miserable. The day had started out so nicely, and we had been having such a good time. The closer we got to home the more my dread increased. As we pulled into the driveway and stopped I got out of the car and started walking toward the house.
"Hold it" my dad said, and I stopped and turned around. He pulled out his pocketknife and snipped off a long-stemmed rose that was all wilted, and then he snapped the flower part off. I had no idea what he was doing. He handed it to me and I carefully held it, mindful of the thorns. He handed me his pocketknife and said, "You cut the thorns off that and then come into the livingroom. You're going to learn the hard way what we do with thieves."
That really hurt my feelings and tears stung my eyes. They both turned and walked into the house before I had a chance to say anything, and I forced my tears down and started cutting the thorns off the switch. I had seen a friend of mine get switched across the back of his legs by his grandmother when I was in the second or third grade. He had hopped around and howled a lot, and then as well as now I wondered how it could possibly hurt so much.
I was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and sandals, and when I had cleaned off the thorns I tentatively flicked the switch across the back of my left leg. An instant later I felt the sting and a new kind of dread sunk into me. I hadn't even hit it that hard and the sting from that one slash was still smarting.
I walked up to the house and in through the front door. My mom and dad were sitting on the couch, both looking very serious.
"I'm going to ask you something, Ryan, and I _d_a_m_n_ well better get an honest answer out of you."
"Yes, sir" I said, not wanting to complicate my punishment any further.
"How many times have you done this kind of thing before?"
"Never!" I said, indignantly.
My dad wiped his hand over his face and said, "See, that's the problem. Thieves are generally also liars, so what am I supposed to do?"
I burst into tears then and said, "Stop calling me that."
"What am I supposed to call you?" he said, scowling at me. I looked to my mom for support, but she looked down at her lap.
"I'm not a thief!" I barely managed to squeak.
"Your behavior today says that you are, Ryan. I don't think I've ever been this -- this -- this dismayed in my whole life. I can't believe you'd do something like that!"
"I never have" I whispered, desperately wanting -- needing him to believe me.
"I want to believe you, son" he said. "I really do, but how can I?"
"You can" I said, trying hard to control myself.
"I want -- I wish I could believe that" he said. I felt so, so, so bad just then. I had had no idea when I gave into that stupid dare that things were going to turn out like this.
I held out the switch to him and said, "I'm sorry! All right? Dad, I'm sorry! You have to believe me! I've never, never, ever stolen anything! I swear to God!" I was crying hard now both from shame and fear.
My dad walked over to me and plucked the switch out of my hand. "Get your pants down" he said, and I quickly undid my shorts and let them fall to the ground. As I stepped out of them he said, "Those, too" and nodded at my briefs.
"Dad" I barely whispered, and looked over at my mother.
"Hold that thought" she said and got up and walked out of the room, which brought me some minor relief. I yanked my jockeys down and stood there in just my t-shirt and sandals. My dad pulled me by my arm over to our small love seat and bent me over the back of it. I was already gritting my teeth when he took both my arms and pinned them behind my back in his one large hand.
I wasn't prepared for what came next. The switch landed across my butt and I yelped in pain. It hurt so much more than what I had tried out on the back of my leg. Again it landed on my butt. Again, and again, and again. Lines of fire crisscrossed my ass and then started to stripe across the back of my thighs. I was dancing back and forth from one foot to the other and I started to howl as he brought the switch across the back of my thighs.
"Dad, please! I'm sorry! I'M SORRY!!!" I arched my back and struggled to get away from him, but I was pinned there. I had never been in this much pain in my whole life! He finally stopped, but instead of patting my back or comforting me as I cried myself out he yanked me to my feet and barked at me to stand in the corner.
I ran across the room and stood there in just my t-shirt and sandals, crying hard. "God, dad!" I said through my tears. "It hurts!"
"It's supposed to hurt" he said
"It hurts so bad!" I blubbered.
"Thieves get punished in this house, young man. Don't you ever forget that." No matter how many times he said that, it just about crushed my feelings like it was the first time. I leaned my head against the corner and bawled, not even trying to hold back.
He made me stand there long after I had cried myself out. So long that I was getting really tired of just standing. Eventually I heard my mother say, "You can go to your room now, Ryan" and I whirled around and yanked my t-shirt down with both hands to cover myself.
"Get your pants" she said, nodding toward my clothes and looking away from me. I quickly put them on and ran up to my room. I knew without being told that I was supposed to stay there for the rest of the night. A couple of hours later my mom brought me some maccaroni and cheese and a soda for dinner.
"Where's dad?" I asked. It was starting to get less uncomfortable to sit, but I still put a pillow under my butt as I sat at my desk and ate.
"He's pretty mad" she said, running her hand through my hair.
"I'm NOT a thief" I said, resenting his earlier statements.
"I hope not" my mom said, and without any warning more tears sprang to my eyes.
I jumped out of my chair and said, "You HOPE not? Mom!!!"
She looked at the floor and said, "Honey, I want to believe you. I really do, but what would you think if you were in my shoes?"
I cried hard then (I didn't think I had any more tears in me, but I was wrong). "Mom" I whispered. "Please believe me. Please! I'm not like that. Not at all! It was Donald Courtland, not me!"
"I hope so" she said, looking at the floor and ducking out of my room backward.
"God!" I said, throwing the pillow at my bed. I flopped down on top of it, not at all hungry.
The next day I got the silent treatment from my dad at breakfast, and then more of the same at lunch. I began to worry that he didn't want to be my dad anymore. I began to worry that maybe he didn't love me anymore. All kinds of crazy things were going through my head by the time my mom said that dinner was almost ready.
"I'll go get dad" I said, knowing that he was in the garage.
When I went out and told him that dinner was ready he just looked at me, and then looked back down at what he was doing and started to put his tools away.
"Dad?" I ventured, but he ignored me. "All right, fine" I said. "Then just listen. I'm not a thief, okay? I've never done anything like that" my voice broke as I finished, "and I never will again, okay? It was a stupid dare, that's all." Without saying anything he started to push passed me and, taking my life into my hands, I put my hands on his chest and shoved him back into the garage hard.
"No, sir!" I said. "You talk to me!" and I started to cry hard again.
His face flushed angrily, and my whole body slouched and my shoulders slumped and I whispered, "Please, dad. I can't take this anymore. Please." I sat down then on the edge of the drive way near the garage and put my head in my hands and just bawled my head off.
A moment later I felt my dad sit down next to me, and when I felt his arm on my shoulders I leaned over to him and cried harder still.
"I need to be able to trust you, son" he said.
"You can!" I whispered as loud as I could.
"All right" he said, stroking and scratching the back of my head. I quickly regained my composure and hiccoughed quietly as we sat next to each other in the grass.
I didn't know how to say what was on my mind just then, but something deep inside me compelled me even though I was desperately afraid of what he might say. "Do you still love me?" I asked.
He quickly pulled me to him and hugged me tightly and said, "I can't stop loving you, Ryan. I can get awfully mad at you, but I can never stop loving you. Do you understand that? You don't ever need to ask me that again."
"Yes, sir" I said, and shuddered as we both stood and I put my arms around him.
He held me tightly like that for a long time, and he didn't let go until I let go first. We went into the house and then my mom hugged me for a long time, too, and then we sat down to dinner. I never did even think of stealing something again after that day.