Aiden ~ Book I

As expected, Aiden was in a pouty mood when he came down after his

shower. He was wearing nothing but briefs and socks.

 "Good morning, Aiden," Phil said looking up from the morning newspaper.

 "What's good about it?" the boy grumped.

 "It's going to be a warm sunny day, which we need to plan once we have

some breakfast food to feed our brains. You will need to put a shirt on,

however."

 "I don't got no brains so I don't want no breakfast. Since I don't wanna eat

breakfast, I don't need no shirt."

 "The world always looks better with breakfast. I believe your Uncle Larry is

cooking up pancakes. So, run upstairs and put on a shirt so you can enjoy

the feast."

 Aiden wanted to make Phil angry, but he wasn't succeeding. He still didn't

have the adolescent persistence when it came to driving the stake of

moodiness deep into an adult's heart. Besides, he was hungry while he

was taking his shower, and not eating wouldn't help the hunger problem.

He turned around and stomped up the stairs, making sure Phil knew he

didn't like what he was doing.

 When Aiden came back down, Larry and Phil were in the kitchen getting

breakfast ready. "Grab some glasses and set them on the table please,

Aiden," Phil ordered politely.

 Aiden didn't move. Losing the first battle because he was hungry was one

thing, but being asked to help set the table was a different issue altogether.

 "That was not a request, Aiden. That is what I expect you to do—as in right

now," Phil stated using a much firmer voice.

 "I want Horace."

 "Well, Horace isn't here. You might as well do something more productive

than stand around in a snit all morning, because that isn't going to find your

stuffed donkey. Please put glasses on the table."

 "You don't even care about Horace. You don't even care about me." Aiden

stood his ground.

 "Was yesterday's party about Uncle Phil and me not caring about you?"

Larry asked as he started flipping the pancakes on the griddle.

 

Aiden thought about one of the greatest afternoons of his life and relented.

He walked over to the cabinet, but couldn't quite reach up into it.

 "Hmm, it looks like we need to get you a stool," Phil chuckled. "I should

have had you set the silverware, instead. Sorry, son." Phil grabbed three

glasses out of the cabinet, but Aiden stood between him and the kitchen

table, pointing to the counter.

 Phil was confused by the boy's actions at first, then smiled and set the

glasses down on the counter. Aiden picked them up and put them in their

proper locations at the table.

 "Thank you, Aiden," Larry said.

 "You're going to call about Horace on Tuesday, right?"

 "Rest assured, the call will happen. I already called your Uncle Troy to

make sure that the box hadn't been misplaced at his house. He said he

brought all of the boxes he'd received."

 "You called Uncle Troy about Horace?" Aiden asked, as if to make sure

that was what really happened.

 "Yep."

 "Thank you," the boy whispered. His uncles kept showing him that they

were men of their word, which put them lightyears ahead of the other men

who had been in his life, including his father.

 As they ate breakfast, Phil and Larry discussed things they could do that

day. Swimming, water skiing, taking a ride up to the mountains, or getting

lessons on using his new laptop were among the things discussed. Aiden

was encouraged to take part, but he quietly concentrated on eating his

food.

 Aiden stopped feeding himself and nodded as if he'd made up his mind

about something. "I want to play catch," he informed his uncles.

 Surprisingly, for two baseball coaches, that was an option that hadn't been

mentioned. "Over all the other choices?"

 "Yep. I want to try my new glove that Marty got me." Even though the

baseball glove had been a combined effort between Larry, Phil, and Marty,

Aiden had made up his mind that Marty was the mastermind behind the

present.

 "Well, unfortunately, you won't be able to do that," Larry said.

 "Why not?" Aiden asked defiantly.

 "Because there are things you will need to do first to get it ready for use."

 "Like what?"

 Larry explained the process of oiling the glove and forming a pocket. "But,

we can still play catch, today. I have plenty of old gloves in the storeroom in

the garage. I don't know if any will fit you, but we can check it out. We'll

also work on your glove to get it into shape."

 "Do you think Marty can come over and play catch, too? We can have a

four-way game." Larry and Phil were enjoying Aiden's growing enthusiasm.

 "Call him up and ask him," Phil told him. "His phone number is in the

address book on the desk."

 "You don't got him on speed dial?"

 "It's you don't have him on speed dial. And yes, we have him there, but

right now it would be easier to look it up. But, he's in town for only a brief

time, so don't be surprised if he can't come."

 Aiden shrugged and made his phone call. Larry and Phil knew that Marty

had answered the call just by the way their nephew's face lit up. They

heard Aiden say hello and then his voice became conspiratorially quiet.

Then his face got even brighter as he let out a loud, "Yippee" and hung up.

 "He says he can make it by lunch time," Aiden announced. "And he said to

tell Uncle Phil that he wants one of his famous toasted cheese

sandwiches."

 "Oh he did, did he?" Phil asked with mock seriousness.

 "Yeah," Aiden giggled, certain his uncle was not really being serious. "And

he said for me to tell you that I want one, too. Marty says they're really

great."

 "Your Uncle Phil makes only the very best sandwiches and has since he

was eleven or twelve. They are so good, I think I will have one as well,"

Larry grinned.

 Phil threw both hands up in the air. "I surrender—it would appear I've been

trapped into making lunch."

 "I'll open up the pickle jar," Aiden offered.

 Phil ruffled the boy's thick blond hair. "Offer accepted. Every little bit of help

is appreciated."

 "Oh, and he said Rich isn't coming because he's helping his little brother."

Marty, Phil, and Larry knew that Rich's brother Mikey, who was not yet

eighteen, had been battling drug and alcohol issues since he was twelve.

Phil could relate to that after seeing the life of his own brother Keegan, who

was Aiden's father, unravel as the result of his addictions.

 Marty started fighting the battle when he was eleven. He was now clean

and sober and had been since he was fourteen. He attended AA meetings

regularly and was active in the Fellowship.

 "Now that we have today's main event figured out, how about we get out in

the boat tomorrow?"  Larry suggested. "This good boating weather won't

last much longer—Phil and I will be winterizing the boat soon. We'll have a

simple picnic on the deck after we finish."

 "I love going out in the boat. Can I see if Gordy can come?" Aiden pleaded.

Aiden did not attempt to remind his uncles about his hair appointment on

Monday. He was hoping they wouldn't remember. He liked his hair scruffy

and messy much more than he enjoyed getting it cut.

 "Back to the phone you go. Remember, his parents probably have plans for

tomorrow."

 "Then he can make new plans," Aiden said half-seriously as he dashed to

the phone. His face continued to stay lit up as he asked Larry or Phil to talk

to Gordy's mother. The proper arrangements were made between the

adults and Aiden let out another, "Yippee!"  With the kitchen area all

cleaned up, Aiden headed up the stairs to brush his teeth and attempt to

get some order to his hair.

 "It appears that enough good things are happening to take his mind off of

his missing his donkey," Larry observed.

 "At least for the moment," Phil agreed. "But Horace will be working his way

back into the forefront before the day is out."

 While waiting for lunch, Phil helped Aiden get his laptop set up. He made

sure to put all of the parental blocks on it, telling Aiden they were to places

he didn't need to see at his age.

 "That's because they have sex and things, right?" Aiden asked.

 "Exactly. As you get older we can open up some areas, but many of them

will wait until you're eighteen."

 "Or until I learn how to get to them," Aiden said with a mischievous grin.

He'd heard sex things from Parker and Tim in the foster home, and he'd

seen some kind of sex going on at his party when Sammy made stuff shoot

out of his prick. He wanted to say he was grownup enough not to have

things blocked, but he had already learned that this was a battle he wasn't

going to win.

 Aiden was told that on Tuesday, he would be dropped off at Gordy's house,

where the two of them would be staying with a high school girl who would

be babysitting them.

 "BOY-sitting," Aiden said emphatically. "And why does it have to be a girl?

Why can't Jeffrey do it? He wants to do it."

 "Because Shannon has been Gordon's BOY-sitter for a while now," Larry

said.

 "That's dumb," Aiden sulked.

 "Live with it, because it's not going to change."

 "I still think it's dumb." Just like he had with the parental blocks, he decided

not to fight a battle he couldn't win. Larry and Phil both knew that in a

couple of years Aiden would be a preadolescent hitting puberty and would

have no problem tilting at windmills.

  By 11:03, Aiden was parked on the chair at the front window, his body

angled so he could see the road and the driveway. He was impatiently

bouncing up-and-down on his butt as he waited for his older friend to arrive

and teach him about baseball and throwing and taking care of his new

glove. He seemed to have forgotten that his uncles were experienced,

successful baseball coaches and knew about how to break in a glove.

Marty played college baseball (as had his uncles) and was going to be

drafted by a major league team—plus Aiden had a major boy crush on the

twenty-one-year-old.

 Marty drove into the driveway at ten to twelve. Aiden was at his car before

Marty got his door open. As soon as Marty got out of his car, Aiden jumped

on him and gave him a big hug. Marty laughed and held the boy upside

down as he walked to the stairs as Aiden screamed and laughed, howling

unsuccessfully to be put down. Marty then flipped Aiden upright and set

him down on his feet. "I gotta get my glove, sport."

 "And some balls."

 Marty pulled a gym bag out of the car. "Your uncle has a case of baseballs

in the garage. Coaches are always loaded with used baseballs."

 Aiden grabbed his new glove and sat next to Marty on the living room

couch. "Uncle Larry says you know how to get gloves in shape."

 "It's something every ballplayer should know," Marty said.

 "He says I can't use it for a long time because we got to oil it."

 Marty looked over at Larry, who was sitting at the chair by the window, and

grinned. "There are five rules for getting a glove in shape. Rules one and

five are `play catch'".

 "So I can use it today?"

 "Once we do some pre-prepping. We're going to use my mallet to soften up

the pocket some, but we don't want to overdo it. Then, instead of oil, we're

going to use cream on it."

 "Cream?" Larry asked.

 "You might be the best coach in the state, and for sure the best coach I've

ever had, including college, but you don't know everything," Marty laughed.

"I have here some Gloveolium—just the stuff for helping get a pocket in

shape. Oil makes the leather heavy, but lanolin cream doesn't soak into the

leather. I'll leave this with Aiden—just make sure he doesn't overdo it." He

then explained about tying the glove around a baseball and putting it

between his mattress and the bed spring.

 "Just remember the Hans Christen Anderson story about the Princess and

the Pea—put it under the mattress in the guest room," Marty laughed.

 "Not under me?" Aiden asked.

 "Under you is fine if you're careful about where you place it."

 By the time Marty finished with the preliminaries lunch was served. After

eating and cleanup Marty, Aiden, Phil, and Larry were in the backyard,

shirtless and playing catch.

 Larry could see two things regarding Aiden. He had natural throwing ability,

and nobody had ever taught him throwing mechanics. He soon was holding

Aiden's arm and showing him proper throwing technique. Aiden looked

over to Marty for assistance.

 Marty knew exactly what was happening—it was a boy's natural resistance

to authority at work. "Kiddo, you have a master teacher showing you how to

throw. Listen to him and you can't go wrong. It worked for me."

 "Uncle Larry taught you how to throw?" Larry had to fight down laughter

over his nephew's naïve comment.

 "Like you, I kinda knew how to throw already, but after your uncle got

through with me in middle school I could make the peg from third to first

hard and on the money—and that's one of the toughest throws in baseball."

 "And in high school he was an All-State third baseman and had one of the

best third-base throwing arms in the state, at any level of play."

 "I owe it all to you, coach."

 "You were a good student."  Marty knew that Larry, or Coach Sanders to

him, was referring to his high school years, since he tended to be rather

hardheaded as a middle-school player.

 From that point Aiden took his uncle's corrections to heart, and he could

soon see improvement in his velocity and accuracy. "Now, you practice

your throws over and over and by spring you'll be the best thrower out

there. Your uncle will set up some things to help you practice your

throwing, right Coach?"

 "Absolutely," Larry agreed.

 Before Marty went home, Aiden asked if they could talk in his room. "Not a

problem, kid, let's go on upstairs."

 After the two disappeared Larry asked Phil what they might be talking

about. "Most likely, boy things," Phil grinned. "Kind of like me and Troy.

Sometimes there are things only a big brother can help with, and I think this

weekend saw Marty being anointed Aiden's big brother."

 Aiden sat on his bed and asked Marty to help him tie his glove and get it

under the guest room mattress. Marty placed the glove between the

mattress and the box spring. "You won't feel the glove if you place it right,"

Marty said. Before covering the glove, he had Aiden rub a small amount of

the lanolin cream into the pocket.

 "I know you wanted to talk about more than putting your glove under your

mattress," Marty said. "What's up, kid?"

 "Can I trust you not to tell anybody what I'm gonna tell you?"

 "Think of me as your big brother. What's said in this room stays in the

room, just like we're family. How's that bro?"

 Aiden flashed his wide grin. "You called me bro instead of kid or kiddo."

 "I'll call you any of those and maybe more, but the one that means the most

to me, will be bro."

 "Do you have any real brothers?"

 "I have two. I have John who is a year older than me and is finishing up his

senior year in college, and I have a half-brother, Drew, who is a little infant.

Jeffrey is just like a real brother and more to me, and Sammy is one too,

since I live in their extra house. As far as I'm concerned, from this day on,

you're a real brother to me, just like they are."

 "Does that mean Jeffrey and Sammy are my brothers, too?"

 "If you want them to be." Aiden scooted down the mattress and sat against

Marty, placing his head against his shoulder. Marty put his arm around him

and squeezed him lightly against his side. "Now, tell me what's bugging

you."

 "Sammy was weird at the party yesterday. He said he was really horny or

something and then he, you know, he...um..."

 "...He jerked off and blew his wad," Marty finished.

 "Does that mean he made stuff shoot out?"

 "That is exactly what it means." Marty went on to explain masturbation, and

why boys did it, and what semen, or cum, was all about.

 "That sounds gross," Aiden said. "Parker and Tim did that at my foster

home, but I never saw them do it. I could hear Tim making noise in his bed,

so I think he was doing it then."

 "Most likely he was," Marty agreed.

 "It feels good when I play with my wiener, but I don't think I would ever jerk

off and make a mess and cuss and stuff like Sammy did."

 "Bro, if you want to sound grown up, and I know you do, then start calling it

a cock, a dick, a prick, or even a penis. But wieners are for little kids who

are embarrassed to say the grown up words."

 Aiden grinned. "Okay, it feels good when I play with my cock."

 "Trust me, little bro, before you know it, you'll be playing with your cock and

having some kick ass orgasms."

 "But not in front of everybody like Sammy does. I bet you never did it in

front of everybody."

 For the time being, Marty elected not to confess to how many times he'd

jerked off in the school showers, on a school bus, in a baseball dugout, or

even in class in order to gain attention. He simply nodded and gave his

new brother a brotherly squeeze.

 "But it gets tiring if you keep doing it," Aiden said.

 "Just keep doing it—it's worth the effort."

 Aiden nodded and then went silent, leaning against his new big brother,

enjoying the feel of his hard, muscular torso, wishing Marty would take off

his shirt so he could feel his bare skin and the hairs on his chest. He should

have been really happy, but he kept thinking about Horace.

 "Did that answer your question?" Marty asked.

 "I guess,"

 "Then what are you looking so sad about?"

 "Nothing, I guess."

 "I'm your big brother now, Aiden." Marty ruffled his hair. Aiden felt like he'd

had his hair ruffled more in his first week in Mayfield than in his entire life.

"You can tell me anything you want...most of the time it helps to talk things

out." Marty knew that intimately from his own experience. "I might not have

any answers, but I'll always be a good listener."

 Aiden kept himself tight against Marty. He felt the tears start to flow. I keep

crying on Marty, he thought, and if I keep doing it he's going to hate me and

want to quit being my brother. He sniffled hard in an unsuccessful attempt

to stem the tears.

 "Come on, bro, tell me."

 Aiden released his grip on Marty, grabbed one of his pillows, and lay on his

back lengthwise on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, his legs draped

over Marty's. He patted the space next him, inviting Marty to lie beside him.

Marty pulled his legs out from under Aiden's, shifted, grabbed a pillow, and

lay next to the little boy. He put his arm around Aiden's shoulder and they

snuggled next to each other.

 "Did you ever have a teddy bear or a stuffed animal or something?" Aiden

asked.

 "I had a teddy bear and I still do," Marty confessed.

 "You still have your teddy bear?" 

"Yep."

"But you're in college and you play baseball in college."

 "That doesn't mean a person should abandon his best friends. Mortimer

sits on an honored perch on one of the bookshelves in my room at school."

 "He's your friend?"

"He sure is. His name is Mortimer. I can't imagine my life without him."

Aiden kept looking up, soaking in this new information. He was certain

Marty was going to laugh at him when he talked about Horace—instead,

they had something in common.

"Does Rich like Mortimer?"

"He does. He knows how important the bear has been for me."  Marty

thought about his days as a pre-teen and young teenager when, despite his

athletic ability and intelligence, he felt so alone and left out. He thought

about his then mentally abusive alcoholic father. He thought about his own

alcoholism and how often he lay drunk on his bed as a preteen and young

teen, holding his bear, convinced that Mortimer was the only "living" thing

who loved him. He even thought of the number of times he rubbed off on

him making his fur sticky with his youthful cum. He had a moment of

gratitude to the mother of a friend who saw to it that the bear was cleaned

and repaired.

 "Did Mortimer help you when you were sad?"

 "Always. And he helped me when I was happy, too." He thought about the

AA talk he'd given a couple of years ago to a young person's group when

he'd taken the bear with him to the podium to tell how important something

like a stuffed animal could be to one's serenity and well-being. Along with

his friend Eric, Mortimer saved his life more than once when he started to

think that life was no longer worth living.

 "Did you ever lose him?"

 "No, but I had to hide him more than once. My dad thought I was too old to

have a teddy bear and wanted to throw him away to make a man out of me.

There was no way I was losing Mortimer." Marty ran his fingers along

Aiden's smooth cheek in a gesture of love. "There's a reason you're asking

me all of this, so let me hear it."

 "Horace is lost," Aiden whispered.

 "Horace is your teddy bear?"

 "No, he's my donkey."

 Marty smiled. "Ah, so you have a stuffed donkey."

 Aiden nodded. "He's gray, and he's big, and I love him, and he keeps me

from getting lonely, and I can talk to him about anything."

 "I have an old teammate who you would love to meet," Marty chuckled. "His

name is Mike, but he insisted he was a Donkey, and we not only went

along with it, but we half-way believed it. He's now a teacher and lives near

Seattle, but he's still The Donkey." Marty quit stroking Aiden's cheek and

rubbed his chest through the t-shirt, having an obvious calming effect on

the boy. Aiden was almost purring. "How did your donkey get lost?"

 "After my mom died they sent me to this foster home until they could find

my uncles and they put my stuff in boxes and stored them. I didn't get

Horace back—all I got was his hat." Aiden pointed to the Mariners cap on

his nightstand.

 "Those must have been the boxes at your birthday party."

 "Yeah."

 "And now you miss your donkey terribly."

 "Big time." Aiden started sniffling again. "I'm no baby, but Horace was my

only friend sometimes and I want him back."

 "You are definitely not a baby, Aiden. No way you're a baby. You're a big

boy with a special friend. I understand that perfectly."

 "I wasn't going to tell you, but I'm glad I told you, because you're not a baby

either and you still have your teddy bear."

 "There were times when I was a boy, that he was my only friend, too."

 "Did you move around a lot like I did?"

 "Nope, I've lived in Mayfield my whole life.  But I didn't do a very good job

of living life, even for a kid in puberty."

 "Oh." Aiden wasn't sure he understood. What he did understand was that

he and his new brother had bonded in many ways. He wished Marty wasn't

going away, because being with Marty made him feel really good inside.

 "I hope you get him back. I like it when you're happy."

 "My uncles said they were going to call and find out about Horace. But you

made me happy, because now I know I can love Horace and still be a big

boy."

 Marty stopped rubbing Aiden's chest and sat up. "It's time for me to go.

Rich and I are going out for dinner in Centralia at the Steak House. We're

hoping an old friend of ours will be our waiter."

 "Peter," Aiden stated.

 "Yep, Peter it is."

 "It felt good when you rubbed my chest. It made me know you loved me

and you're my big brother for the rest of my life."

 Marty smiled, ruffled Aiden's tangled hair, and the two headed downstairs.

Aiden announced to his uncles that he and Marty were now brothers.

 "Well then, it would appear we have a new nephew," Larry grinned.

 "And you guys have graduated from being my ex-coaches to being my

uncles," Marty informed Larry and Phil.

 Aiden and Marty hugged long and hard outside of Marty's car. Aiden

watched Marty back out and stood at the end of the driveway until the car

went around the curve. The young boy walked up the steps to the house

with an understanding of how wonderful it was to be loved by somebody as

special as Marty Carlson.

 Next: Skinny Dipping.

 Emails are always welcomed. Write me at thehakaanen@hotmail.com