Chapter 1

I have an older brother and two younger sisters. Mother is divorced, and my few memories of my father aren't so memorable. He left us while mom was pregnant with Shelley. I forgot about him by the time I learned to jerk off. Once when I was nine years old, I interrupted Rodney masturbating in the john. Of course anything he could do I had to ape. His face burned red, and I though he was angry with me, but he was just embarrassed. He tried to tell me it was no big deal, but his voice quivered like I'd caught him flushing a loved but dead pet. The rest of my sexual education I picked up from mom and school. When I asked her a question, mother would answer briefly but reasonably. Long before puberty turned my life into a freak show, I had seen no less than five 'serious' films about it. Mother answered my other questions, but I was shy about asking. That's not surprising, considering my older brother's embarrassment, my mother's terseness, school's antiseptic treatment, and American culture's manic-depressive sexual lifestyle. Since puberty, I've made some changes, but the world isn't yet the sex positive heaven I'm fucking to create.

Puberty bloomed late in my life. My dick spurted cum for the first time when I was fourteen. The rest of my adult changes also arrived slowly. Sediment grows faster than the hair on my face, groin, and armpits. I may be a little short at 5' 7", but my penis isn't. It was lucky to get a couple extra inches over the national average, and I'm glad it's not bigger. Most of my younger 'friends' don't enjoy getting their cervixes pounded. At fourteen, I was pretty anxious about the fact I hadn't developed, and I took a lot of teasing.

I remember being ill on my first day of manhood, very ill. Fever's sweat soaked me, and I thrashed upon my bed from hallucinations. I dreamed about witches and curses. They flew on Snoopy dog-house Sopwith Camels, buzzing all around me. The witches kept sucking me into their dog house entrances. For a moment I'd be cold, huddled in darkness, shivering, trying to shake my fear. I held my cock for warmth. Then a spark of frustration leapt within my heart. It erupted into fire, and I burned my way out of the dog house with flaming piss.

The witch would fall from the sky in a smoking, roaring spiral. I heard her curse me. I heard them all curse me, until every flying witch had been burned out of the sky. It was the same curse, each time. "Mind yourself child, or you'll grow up minding others!"

"You'll grow up minding others!"

"You'll grow up minding others!"

... all the way down, until they hit the ground and burst into dust.

I burst somewhere between my legs. I was wrapped in blankets. My senses reeled, overloaded and confused. Mother, hovering close, pressed cold compresses to my forehead, trying to soothe me.

"They're just bad dreams, honey. They'll go away. Can you hear me?"

I saw her. At least, what I saw was mostly composed of her features. She didn't look like a witch. She was beautiful, extra beautiful, lovelier than sunsets on tropical islands, lovelier than street lamps in fog, lovelier than the moon over a mountain camp.

"I love you mother!" I spoke wildly.

"Oh, baby. You'll get better." She hugged me through the blankets.

I kept shivering. The wetness between my legs was cooling. I thought I had peed on myself. I was suddenly so embarrassed. When you're fourteen, there's nothing like wetting your bed in front of your mother to chill a fever.

"Oh shit!" I shouted, and immediately was more embarrassed.

"What's the matter?"

"Mommy, oh mommy... I-I uh, I think I..." I gulped. "I'm so cold!" My vision remained blurry. I couldn't tell if the blankets were as wet on the outside as they felt on the inside. They kept crawling over my body.

For a second, I imagined mom crawling under the covers with me. Then I imagined she was a cow standing in the room, chewing on my Godzilla doll. My head wasn't in the clear yet. I blacked out.

I woke again to the sound of splashing. I was splashing in the tub. It was full of ice! I was freezing, and my head felt like a rock. I looked around the bathroom gripping the edge of the tub ready to execute a hasty escape.

Rodney laughed. "Brother, stay right were you are. If you start raving about butt fucking tele-evangelists again, I'll drive you to one of them and let them drive the devil out of you."

My brother watched too much television.

"I'm freezing! Let me out of here." I tried to get up, but he was a good two years older, and HIS puberty was a distant memory. He held me in the tub with one hand.

"MOM! I think his fever broke." Rodney yelled at the top of his lungs.

She had been waiting outside the door. She opened it and shuffled in. Averting her eyes from my body, she held out a thick towel. "Get him up and help dry him. I'll get a blanket to wrap him." She left.

I managed to stand and step out of the tub by myself, but my arms were weak. I could barely hold the towel. Rodney didn't seem embarrassed at all about drying my scrawny, naked self.

"Your fever isn't all that broke, eh Jules?" He grinned at me.

I was hugging myself and shivered. "Huh?"

He toweled me efficiently. "... but did you have to do it in front of mother?" Rodney laughed then.

"Oh crud, you aren't going to tell anyone, are you? I haven't wet my bed since I was a toddler."

He suddenly laughed harder. "You thought it was pee?"

"Of course, I..." I shut up.

Rodney smiled big and looked at me in a way I hadn't seen before. "Welcome to the club."

"Oh GOD, mother saw THAT?" My jaw hung low.

"I'm not sure. When she told me to haul your ass into the bathtub, she might not have seen the stain down your pajama bottoms. She probably couldn't tell cum stains from sweat. You might get away clean... at least with her." Big brother got way too serious then.