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Subject: Bringing up Brendan, Part 1 (Revised) Bringing Up Brendan, Part 1 Toni Daring This is a work of fiction, and in no way endorses the conduct of the characters it portrays. Your feedback and suggestions are welcome. hoo I like to think I am a good parent. Certainly, since my wife passed away, it has been challenging. But part of what was able to get me through the tragedy was looking after my step-son, Brendan. Now, I know full well that at a certain age, teen boys need their privacy but, as I know full well from my job in information security, the Internet can be a dangerous place for a curious boy. So when Brendan asked for a webcam for his 15th birthday, I was a little wary. Privacy notwithstanding, I knew I had to snoop. Brendan has always been careless with passwords – he always uses the same one, “anakin9”, ever since he first saw “The Phantom Menace” when he was nine himself, and setting up his first Internet accounts (under my supervision) on kid’s game sites such. So it was no work at all to get on his laptop while he was at school, and from there, the same password made sure his logged chats and search histories were wide open. I guess I wasn’t entirely surprised at what I found. Obviously, he had been looking at porn. That it was porn of men doing things together was also only about what I guessed it would be. I mean, even as his step-dad, I had a pretty good inkling, and the evidence on his laptop only confirmed it. But what really caught my interest was finding among the more recent searches sites like “Twink Boys On Cam Live” and “Amateur Teen Jack-Off Stars” and “Buttslut Boys Take Monster Dildoes”. Once I found the email order invoice showing me how much of his lawn-mowing savings he had spent on a recent order of anal toys It was pretty clear what he wanted the webcam for. I noticed that the order was in my name – as he held his debit card from a joint account on which I was adult cosigner – and some items were out of stock, but if substitute items would be acceptable, the order was ready to ship. So of course, I knew I had to take steps, for his own good. First, I clicked through to the adult toy site Brendan had placed his order with, and looked at his cart. Two dildoes, each modestly thick six-inch “trainers”, one with naughty little bumps on the underside to tease the prostate, were back-ordered in that size. There were other sizes available, but smaller or much larger. I smiled to myself, and upsized both pieces to a thicker diameter, a nine and a half-inch and eleven-inch length, respectively. I chose baby-blue for one, and silky black for the other, upgrading the blue toy to a vibrating model, added three bottles of poppers and one of bubblegum-flavored lube, and confirmed the order, ticking the box for delivery notification by phone, giving my mobile number. Then, I set up a little program that would run invisibly in the background on his laptop, copying emails sent and received, logging instant messages, and keeping webcam recordings. Once a day, these would be sent to my own hard drive downstairs, where I would be able to retrieve them. That didn’t take me too long – I had lots of bits of code like that to work from, as I usually created systems to prevent that sort of thing for work. Next, I researched ataköy escort the reviews of the current crop of webcams and supporting software, making sure to select one vulnerable to the spyware I had on Brendan’s machine, but that would otherwise work well, with high res imaging and a good track record for durability, eventually settling on a Taiwanese knock-off of a popular model, with just the security flaws I was looking for. I ordered it right then, to be shipped to me at work (not unusual, as I frequently ordered hardware for stress-testing), making sure it would arrive by Brendan’s 15th birthday. Phase Two of my plan would take longer to set up, but I had some notions of where to begin. The first would have to wait until my next visit to the gym, but the more long-range end I could get a start on now, looking up local private schools for one with just the right bent. It didn’t take too long to find a few that looked promising, and then I hit the jackpot. Gordon-Magnus Academy for Boys had all the right buzz-words: “free expression”, “peer leadership”, “problem students” and “rigorous athletics”. I recalled having seen the name in the papers, and did a quick web search to refresh my memory. There it was – some 2 years back there had been a serious hazing scandal involving a coach and older students with an openly gay freshman boy. But it turned out that the headmaster was a friend of the state Attorney General and the matter had been settled out of court for an undisclosed monetary settlement. Interestingly, it seems that not only did the student remain enrolled, but the coach was still on the faculty. Next visit was to the school’s website. I bookmarked the admissions application page, taking note of provisions made for last minute enrollment – Gordon-Magnus took students other schools wouldn’t, so they were willing to be flexible. I didn’t want Brendan to interview there until I’d gotten him ready for it, but I didn’t anticipate any difficulty. For the main part of my plan, I knew that I’d need a special kind of help, and I thought I knew where I could get it. I belonged to a health club not far from where I worked downtown, on the edge of the business district. Not entirely by chance, the neighborhood on just the other side was a formerly run-down neighborhood that had attracted investors eager to restore it’s low-cost real-estate, much of which had gone up in the 1920s in a high Art-Deco style. It had swiftly become something of a gay ghetto. And that’s how Jace happened to live near my gym. Now, I have known plenty of gay guys who are plain, ordinary Joes with none of the mincing, queeny mannerisms that are stereotypical, who dress reasonably, rather than for vulgar, suggestive display, but Jace wasn’t one of them. Jace was a nelly and sassy and brash little muscle-queen with something of a reputation for haunting the steam room and lockers, and even the public toilets in the park. And although he was the only regular at my club, he had a seemingly endless, rotating roster of similar friends who he’d bring in on his memership to work out with him from time to time. That was the crowd I needed for what I had in mind. I found Jace loitering around the showers as usual. He was, thankfully, merter escort clothed – as far as that ever counted with Jace: a pair of skimpy. super-low rise shorts of some fabric so sheer his jockstrap was visible beneah it, and a thin, faded, tattered tee-shirt, cropped to show off his heavy nipple-rings (and, to be fair, stellar pecs and abs). I smiled, greeted him and asked if he could maybe help with something. “Why, sure, sexy!” he said in his affected, queeny drawl. “What is it you need? Got a big, stiff muscle that needs a good rub-down, maybe?” He looked me over hopefully, idly rubbling the bulge in his shorts. “No, sorry,” I said quickly. “Flattered, but no. It’s my kid, my teenage stepson. You see, I found out he is gay, and it’s him I need help with.” “Ooh! I bet he’s cute! Do you have any pictures?” Jace got over his initial disappointment as of my turn-down as soon as he heard what I wanted. “Um, yeah… one sec.” I unlocked my locker, took out my phone, and handed it to Jace showing the photo I had chosen, expecting to be asked just this. “That’s him – that’s Brendy.” Actually, he had gone by Brendan since he was twelve and decided that “Brendy” sounded too girly, like Wendy. But I thought if he’s going to be the kind of gay kid that plays with dildoes on internet porn sites, he should sound the part. And look the part, and not get any ideas that he was good enough to tease men on camera, but too good to put out in person. That’s what Jace and his friends would help with, and why I’d picked the photo I showed Jace now. It showed Brendan at the pool in a wet swimsuit, lying on a towel, looking up through a fall of curly, light brown hair with a slightly dopey grin, the pink tip of his tongue just peeking over his full lower lip. His white swimsuit hugged his backside snugly, transparently cupped each rosy-tan cheek, and showed just an accidental inch or two of his crack as well. It was a photo that had embarassed Brendan deeply, and he had refused to let me put in our album. Jace, of course, loved it. “Ooh! He is a little hottie! Just look at him work that ass! I bet you he’s just total butt-slut boy-bottom trash! I can always tell!” He was delighted. “Well, Jace, I think he very well might be, and I thought if he were, Brendy might need a more …experienced adult he could talk to. Someone who is gay himself, and can introduce him to other gay friends – to the community – and give him some support and affection through the high school years. I know it’s a lot to ask…” “Oh, honey, I hear you!” Jace was endearingly sympathetic. “High school isn’t as bad as middle school if you’re out, but it can be rough. How can little old Jasie help?” “Well, I want him to be confident in his sexuality. I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, and I think you would set a very good example in that regard.” “Oh, honey, you ain’t telling no lies! That is the truth! Miss Jacie doesn’t take any shit! You really want me to help?” He flattered, and eager. “I’d be more grateful than I can say. Obviously, Brendan is too young for gay bars, but I thought maybe you and your crowd had a daytime place you met up sometimes? After curfew, especially on school nights, it would have to be somewhere private, bahçeşehir escort of course. But I was thinking of getting him out in public, in the daytime, to start.” I already knew that they had something of the sort – they were locally notorious for it. “Ooh! I know just the thing! Every Saturday and Sunday, a bunch of us meet for brunch at the 9th Street Diner, to gossip and tell tales about who had the best Friday and Saturday nights. And after we eat, the ones who aren’t too hung over for daylight go down to the park to watch the college boys play frisbee, all shirtless and oiled up with suntan lotion. Or if they aren’t there, there’s the Latin boys playing basketball, instead. Discreetly, of course! From a distance, girlfriend. We do not need that hassle on a Sunday.” The notion of Jace being discreet was a novel one, but I let it pass. “I don’t mind what you all talk about – in fact, the more frank and honest, the better. I want Brendy to know all the facts,” I said as seriously as I could. “And of course, I don’t expect him to want it to stop at just talk. I don’t mind if he experiments,” I explained, “in fact, I think it would build his self-esteem. But he’s only about to turn fifteen so, except for you, and friends you think will take good care of him in bed, it’s hands-off until he’s of legal age.” “Ooh, honey, of course!” Jace ran a fingertip over the photo he still held, tracing the shadow of the cleft of my gay step-son’s ass. “No, no – don’t you worry! Jacie will keep even the nastiest hawks in line, you will see! But believe it, if he’s even half the cum-hungry little cock-slut I’m betting he is, once he’s sixteen, watch out! Just as soon as he gets a chance, he’ll be on his hands and knees in a gas station john with one cock in his mouth and one up that cute little ass and a line of big, hairy, horny and hung truckers blocking the urinals waiting their turn!” I knew that sixteen was age of legal consent in our state, and wasn’t surprised that Jace did, as well. And I also knew that with the kind of attention he’d be likely to get, there wouldn’t be any point in trying to prevent him from acting on it, if he chose to. “Once he’s of age, that’s up to him, of course,” I agreed. “But in the meantime, just to be sure he’s ready for all that, maybe you can also help him with what to wear, a cool haircut, the current slang – you’d know better than I do – how he can present, so he’s never embarassed by having anyone ever think he might be straight.” “Ooh, you can just bet that I can! And how to show off every inch of that foxy little boy-bod, too! You just leave it with Miss Jacie, and no one will ever have to think twice about what your sexy little boyslut wants or just where that cock-hungry teenage cum-dump needs it! Mm-hmm!” He was still staring at the picture, and I could see he was hard in his shorts. “That sounds perfect, Jace, thank you. Can I get your number, so we can set things up for Sunday? I’ll send you the picture.” He seemed reluctant to hand my phone back, until I offered. “I’m sure Brendy can’t wait to meet you.” At lunch the next day, I received a notice that my web order had been upgraded to next-day delivery in apology for having to change my order. I checked the box to receive product suggestions by phone, entering Brendan’s number. Then, I called the office and told them I was taking the rest of the afternoon off, and got home in time to intercept the parcel shipped in my name and opened it on the coffee table. As soon as he got home from school, it would be time to have a very serious talk with Brendan.

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