Wiggle

Chapter 3
Chapter Three

Charles groaned as the light that poured in through his window finally moved deep enough into his room to pierce his eyelids and disturb his slumber. He rolled away from the sun, curled beneath the blankets…and then shot upright, jolted by the sudden realization that he had never gone to bed last night. As he pulled back the veils of sleep the young man furiously searched through the previous evening’s events to try and find out how he had ended up in his room, but try as he might, he couldn’t remember anything that happened after he sat down on the couch. What’s more, his normally sharp mind was having a hard time bringing together even what he could recall. His thoughts seemed to move through a fog of sorts, a thick cloud of confusion that welled at the corners of his consciousness and prevented him from completely focusing on the task at hand. That’s not to say that the young man felt ill or off in anyway - as a matter of fact, all the young man could think about as he furrowed his brow and stretched out his arms was that he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this good. The young man chalked it up to his oversleeping - an indulgence he never allowed himself - as he pulled back the covers and put his feet on the ground, receiving a mild shock when he felt the floor beneath his toes. Charles stared at them in bewilderment as he tried without success to remember when he had lost his shoes. With growing confusion he stood and walked out of the room, ignoring how nice the plush carpet felt as it gave way beneath his weight.

A quick search suggested that there wasn’t anyone in the house, a theory that Charles confirmed when he opened the door and was immediately assaulted by the giddy screams of Ollie and JJ playing in the yard.

“Well, look who’s up!”

Charles turned to see Hank and Joanne sitting on the porch, both smiling in his direction, Hank looking at the young man over his newspaper while Joanne bounced Christine on his lap.

“You’ve already missed lunch.” Joanne declared with a laugh. “Not that I’m surprised - you were so tired last night that we had to practically drag you to bed. We thought you’d be out the whole day.”

“Uh, yeah.” The young man said, managing a hollow chuckle. “I was wondering if either of you knew where my shoes were?”

Hank and Joanne looked at each other and then turned back to their guest.

“Can’t say I do.” Hank said with a frown. “You should ask the boys - they just love to hide things. Once I couldn’t find my keys for three days.”

The couple shared a laugh at the memory as Charles turned to the yard. Ollie was holding an oversized plastic bat and making clumsy swings at a Wiffle Ball elevated on a rubber tee. Every once in a while he actually managed to make contact, sending the white sphere whistling through the air, and when that would happen JJ would shout and chase after it in an ambling gallop, beaming with pride as he brought it back to his big brother and - with every bit of his concentration - managed to balance it back on the tee. Both were already naked. Their bare genitalia dangled freely between their legs, brushing against smooth thighs, bouncing and bobbing with every step. At one point JJ started to urinate and continued rambling along as though nothing were out of the ordinary, continuing to gleefully chase after the ball as the golden liquid splashed over his legs and feet and the grass before him. The familiar revulsion welled up within Charles as he watched this unfold, but buried with the disgust was something new, some unfamiliar twinge that caused his face to darken in confusion, a tiny shiver of emotion that felt something like longing.

“Could, uh…” The young man muttered as he turned away, “Could you ask them?”

Hank frowned.

“Well, I could…” He began, “But I think it’s important for your research that you interact with them on your own. You know, see how they react to an outsider and all that.”

As much as he tried the young man couldn’t find fault with Hank’s logic, and his desire to get his shoes back just barely outweighed the aversion and fear that reared its ugly head when he thought about speaking to the boys alone. With a deep breath he stepped off the porch and into the yard…and at once felt his fears disappear. He couldn’t quite explain it, but there was something about walking across the yard in his bare feet - having the fresh dewy grass tickle his soles, the soft sweet air waft between his toes, the gentle afternoon sun warm him inside and out - that made his worries fade away with every step. Charles felt a smile creep across his lips and was on the verge of giggling with joy when he found himself standing in front of the boys. He was frozen with self-consciousness. Neither Ollie nor JJ had seemed to forget the way he had lashed out at them yesterday, both of them staring at him in wide-eyed suspicion, Ollie cradling his bat against his chest while JJ absently chewed on his fingers. Charles swallowed and put on as wide a smile as he could manage.

“Uh, hi guys.” He said in what he hoped was an encouraging tone. “I was wondering if…”

The young man paused and furrowed his brow. He knew there was something he had wanted to ask them but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it was. Charles tried to focus, but the fog crept in on his mind again…and before he could remember he was interrupted by Ollie stepping forward and offering the bat to the young man as though it were a ceremonial sword.

“Wanna pway?”

His voice was shy, quiet, dripping with the sweet innocence that only very young children can pull off. Suddenly Charles’ concerns seemed very unimportant in the face of the tremendous courage the boy had mustered up to extend an olive branch to the stranger who had yelled at him not twenty-four hours ago. He raised his hands and gave Ollie a warm smile.

“I’d love to.” He said. “But why don’t you hold onto the bat? I’ll throw you the ball to you and it’ll be like real baseball. How does that sound?”

The boy beamed.

“Okay!”

With that he fetched the ball for Charles, thrust it into his hands, and then hopped a few feet away so as to put some proper distance between himself and the pitcher. The young man grinned at Ollie’s awkward stance for a moment before launching into a windup far too exaggerated and dramatic for the soft underhanded toss it produced. The boy took a mighty swing and miraculously made contact, the ball’s whistle piercing the air as it flew though the yard.

“You gotta run the bases!” Charles chuckled as Ollie stared slack-jawed at what he had done. The boy cried out and dropped the bat as he took off on a crude circuit of an imaginary basepath, laughing with every step. Charles grinned and jogged after the ball.

“Hurry up or I’m gonna get you out!”

Ollie screamed in mock terror as the young man picked the ball up and chased after the boy, holding it right above his shoulder as though it were a stalking ghoul, telling him over and over that he was going to tag him out. Suddenly the boy dove for an imaginary plate, rolled onto his back - grass stains all over his body - and stared up at Charles with wide, expectant eyes. The young man regarded him with utmost seriousness for a moment before crouching and spreading his arms out.

“Safe!” He bellowed. “It’s a home run!”

The smile on Ollie’s face was so bright it could have guided ships in from sea.

“Home wun!” He shouted as he jumped to his feet and hopped up and down. “Home wun! Home wun!”

Charles smiled and put his hands on his hips as he watched the boy celebrate his achievement, never before having borne witness to such pure, uncompromised joy. The young man was surprised at how badly he wanted to join in the boy’s jubilation - and that surprise turned to concern when the yearning transformed into a brief but painful stab of jealousy. Charles shook off the feeling and looked over at JJ, who was grinning from ear-to-ear and bouncing on his bottom as he awkwardly clapped his hands together to applaud his big brother. A moment passed before he noticed that Charles was looking at him, at which point the boy stopped, looked down, and popped his thumb back in his mouth, raising his head only occasionally to give the young man the briefest of glances. As the afternoon wore on Charles tried to engage him in their play but the boy kept withdrawing from the young man’s advances, seemingly not won over as easily as his big brother. JJ appeared content to simply toddle over to a spot a little way away from wherever Ollie and Charles played, plop on his bottom, and watch them with spellbound eyes as he sucked his thumb and idly played with himself. The young man felt bad about not being able to include the boy but he was having too much fun with Ollie to give it much thought. So caught up was he in the boy’s simple games and infectious energy that he lost all track of time, genuinely surprised when Joanne called them in for dinner and he realized that the sun had started to dip beneath the distant smoky horizon.

Ollie’s attempt to garner a little more playtime was shot down, causing the boy to mope for a moment before he challenged his little brother to a race, the two of them shouting and giggling as they rumbled back to the house. Charles laughed at their antics as he came in at a more leisurely pace, his hosts already inside as he approached the porch. The young man stepped onto the aged, creaking wood and immediately froze, his body going rigid at the feel of the unforgiving surface beneath his foot. His chest tightened as he was struck with the realization that he had spent all afternoon playing barefoot like some dumb little kid, that he was hardly any better than Ollie or JJ, that he had completely forgotten to find out what had happened to his shoes. The young man swallowed and turned his foot towards his face, his eyes widening when he saw that his soles had turned the color of rust thanks to the dirt he had spent the day scampering around in. But there was something that frightened Charles far more than dirty soles or missing shoes, something that raised goosebumps on the young man’s skin and made his heart pound painfully in his chest.

He was fully, undeniably, achingly erect.

The young man felt his skin grow flush as he was overcome with mortification, shame and confusion bubbling within him as he closed his eyes and willed his erection to wither. It took a few moments and all his willpower but eventually the young man returned to flaccidity, taking a deep breath in an effort to calm himself down and gather his thoughts. The creeping fog emerged once more but this time Charles powered through it, his face stern and his focus clear as he stormed into the house. The family had already gathered in the dining room, Joanne cutting the boys’ meals into manageable pieces while Hank sat Christie down and tied a bib around the babbling girl’s neck.

“Hank.” Charles said as he strode up to his host. “I need to talk to you for a minute. In private.”

The man looked up at his guest and smiled.

“Well, sure. But the family’s sitting down for dinner right now, so I’m afraid it’ll have to wait.”

“No.” Charles insisted, his eyes narrowing. “I need to talk to you right now.”

Hank paused for a moment, his eyes boring into Charles’, the young man squirming as his host rose to his full height and put a hand on his guest’s shoulder. Charles’ heart fell into his stomach as he squirmed beneath the man’s touch.

“Whatever it is, it can wait until after dinner.”

His grip tightened.

“Right?”

Charles cowered and averted his eyes.

“Right.”

Hank’s face brightened immediately.

“Have a seat.” He said as he patted the young man’s shoulder.

Charles did as he was told and tenuously picked at his dinner, keeping his head down and his eyes away from his company, afraid and ashamed at how easily he had buckled beneath Hank’s gaze, confused as to how the man had gained such power over him in such a short time. The rest of the table seemed to content to let the young man eat in silence, the boys laughing and wrestling with their colorful plastic silverware while the grownups alternated between indulging their silliness and prodding them to finish their meals. The only time it seemed that they even noticed Charles’ presence was when Ollie told the family of all the fun the two of them had had that day, looking to the young man every so often for confirmation of his stories. When this would occur Charles would simply look up, offer the party a feeble smile, and return to his meal, which was seemingly fine with Ollie as he had already moved on to another topic. When dinner drew to a close Joanne rose to her feet and started to clear the table.

“You boys go play in the living room for a little while.” She instructed her sons. “As soon as I finish with the dishes it’s bath time, okay?”

“Okay, momma.”

“’Kay momma.”

As the boys scampered out of their chairs and into the living room Charles rose to his feet and started to slink away from the table, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his thoughts for a moment. But his escape was cut off when Hank came up from him and put an arm around his shoulder, the young man jumping in surprise at the sudden contact.

“Now…” Hank said with a grin. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Sweat prickled across Charles’ forehead.

“It was nothing.” He mumbled. “Forget I said anything.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. Sit with me for a moment.”

Hank led the young man into the living room and as much as Charles wanted to break away from the contact his legs refused to follow his orders, walking in lockstep with his host as he was led over to the couch.

“That’s better.” Hank said as the two of them lay back on the couch. “What’s on your mind, Charles?”

The young man cleared his throat and gathered his courage. If he was going to find out what was happening to him he couldn’t afford to be fearful of his host - he had to confront Hank and tackle this problem head on.

“Well - ”

“Daddy!”

Before Charles could even get a second word out the young man was interrupted by Ollie’s shouting, the boy bounding to his feet and standing in front of his father with his back hunched and both hands pressed against his penis. Hank chuckled and leaned forward.

“What is it, buddy?” He asked. “Do you have to potty?”

“Uh huh!” The boy confirmed, the urgency of his pee-pee dance increasing by the second. “Weal bad!”

Hank turned to Charles and smiled.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

The man rose from the couch, strode over to where the boys’ toys were held and pulled out a bright red plastic potty chair, setting it down in the middle of the room. Ollie immediately plopped onto it - his grown body balanced absurdly on a device designed for toddlers - and grabbed both sides of the chair as his father gently tucked his penis beneath the splash guard. Silence hung in the air for a moment before the drumming of liquid against plastic filled the room, relief flooding Ollie’s face as the pressure dissipated within him. Hank smiled and rubbed his son’s back.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding!” He laughed. “What a big boy you are, holding all of that in for the potty. Daddy’s very proud of you.”

Ollie beamed and squirmed at his father’s praise as the flow slowed to a trickle and then stopped altogether. The envy on JJ’s face was obvious as he toddled up to his father and tugged on his shirt.

“I potty now!” He cried. Hank chuckled and stroked the boy’s arm.

“Okay champ, hold on a second.”

The man pulled a tissue from a receptacle on the side, dabbed away the lingering drops from Ollie’s penis, and then gently sat JJ on the chair. His face twisted in determination as his body tightened, the boy dedicating seemingly every ounce of his effort to…

Splash.

JJ may as well have just climbed a mountain for the look of sheer accomplishment on his face.

“Poopy!” He declared, turning to his father with bright eyes and a slack-jawed smile. “Made poopy!”

“You sure did.” Hank said as he nuzzled his son, drawing an elated giggle from the boy. “Way to go, buddy. Daddy’s extra proud of his special little man.”

Were Charles not disgusted enough by the sight of a grown man defecating just a few feet away from him - and the fact that his father was rewarding his efforts - the smell that had begun to waft his way was enough to send him over the edge. With a hand over his mouth the young man rose from the couch and made for the hall only to Hank to cut him off before he could get there.

“Whoa there, partner.” He chuckled as he grabbed Charles by the shoulder, stopping the young man where he stood. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I, I can’t…” He shook his head and mumbled, his words verging on babble. “I can’t watch this. I can’t do it.”

“Now, that doesn’t sound like something an intelligent young man like yourself should be saying.” Hank gently chided his guest as he turned him back toward the living room. “How are you ever going to be able to write a complete report if you run away whenever you get a little uncomfortable?”

“I don’t care.” Charles whimpered, on the verge of tears. “I don’t care anymore. I just want to go home. Please let me go.”

Hank shook his head and started stroking the boy’s hair. Charles initially winced at the contact but with each stroke melted more and more beneath the man’s touch until every bit of his resistance had been soothed away.

“Shhh. Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

With one hand Hank gently lifted Charles’ chin so that his eyes were on JJ, who was still sitting on the potty, clear by the resolute expression on his face that he was convinced he could make poopy again for his daddy.

“I just had a thought.” Hank said in the voice that resonated deep within Charles’ mind. “Maybe you’re not an intelligent young man after all. Maybe you’re just a silly little boy like JJ here.”

Charles staggered as his stomach turned in revulsion.

“No.” He moaned. “I’m not like him. I’m not.”

“Why does the idea frighten you so much?” Hank asked. “Wouldn’t it be nice if could just forget about this dumb ‘ol project? If you could just let go of all your silly grown-up worries? I know you had fun playing today. Imagine what it would be like if you could do that every day.”

The man leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Imagine how wonderful it must be to be able to run around without a shred of clothing on, to feel the breeze on your body and the sun on your back, just playing the day away without a care in the world. Wouldn’t you like to try that? Doesn’t that sound like the best thing in the whole wide world?”

The thoughts within Charles’ mind whirled so violently that he felt on the verge of passing out. A tiny voice inside his head screamed at Charles to tell Hank that he was wrong, that being like Ollie and JJ was the last thing he wanted, that he was a mature, responsible young man and had absolutely no interest in such childish activities. But when he opened his mouth to try and say just that the only thing that came out was a low, pathetic moan, the young man’s words swallowed by the despair that clogged his throat and filled his sinuses to the brim. Fat tears escaped his eyes, streaking halfway down his cheeks before Hank gently wiped them away.

“I know it’s hard, buddy.” He said as he rubbed the young man’s back. “Do you want it to be over?”

Charles felt himself nod. Hank smiled.

“Look at JJ’s feet.”

The young man’s gaze drifted to JJ’s bare tootsies, to the toes that wiggled against the soft carpet underneath. Shivers broke out over his skin and his body went numb as he felt the great black blanket of unconsciousness sweep over his mind.

“Look at his little toes wiggle. Isn’t that a silly word? A silly word for a silly little boy. Wiggle. Wiggle. Wiggle.”

Charles’ eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp. The last thing he felt before surrendering himself to unconsciousness was the sensation of Hank catching him as he fell and holding him against his chest, stroking the young man’s hair as he told him that everything would be okay, that he would make everything all better.

 

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