Cover image for Brandon Smiling, by MrM


Yeah…so its been like a week and I didn’t put anything down. Didn’t have much to talk about really.

Winter Break is kind of like a short summer and its funny, but, I often fall into a kind of routine when I’m on break. I feel better when I know what to expect, I guess. I’m not big on surprises. I actually am dreading the start of high school because of this. Its a new term and it scares me.

I am kind of weird, I guess, for a teenager. I get up at 6:00 AM. Shower and brush my teeth. Feed Chester (our cat), empty the dishwasher and put away the dishes. Sometimes I’ll fix some oatmeal for myself or get the eggs out for Dad if he left a note that he’ll want to cook breakfast.

I get up before my Dad does often just to see him off to work and help him with coffee and stuff.

Mundane things comfort me, I guess. They are….for sure….you know? I guess I’m just strange.

That doesn’t mean I don’t like to be adventurous. I just like to have a plan if I’m going somewhere. I help set up the itinerary with Dad when he takes us on his extended business trips. He goes to England and Germany a lot. So I fly over with him, help him get set up and stuff. I sightsee a bit and then we fly home. We stay as much as 2-4 weeks depending on my school schedule.

I kind of like England. Apparently that’s where my family came from originally way back. People kind of think and act like I do there. A little more reserved. Polite. Dependable. Not to say that their aren’t assholes because there are some GIANT ones I’ve butted heads with over there. But, for the most part, I get along really well there. Maybe I’ll move there when I’m older. Go to Cambridge or Oxford! Riiiiiight, Brandon. Just keep on dreaming!

I made a buddy over there by the name of Cedrick. I call him Rick for short (which he hates). He is the son of one of my father’s business associates in London. He and I hit it right off. He’s the one who introduced me to three things that I love a lot! Hammer Horror films from the 1960s, World of Warcraft, and…….piss warm beer!! Rick and I email and chat in-game all the time in WoW. I even joined his realm server in the European realms. We also communicate by Facebook, but WoW chat is better because he’s right there ‘with’ me in character. It’s like we aren’t 4000 miles apart at all!

A French gaming buddy I met in-game is even teaching me a little French! Mostly bad words, LOL….much to Rick’s chagrin since he ‘hates the bloody froggies’. LMAO Then he raids with François all night long. Hehehehe! Oh yeah…his name is François or Franc, as he likes to be called.

Franc is dying for me to visit Paris so he can meet me in person. I don’t know, but my Dad miiiight be getting a contract there, but it’s up in the air right now. I told Franc this and he’s like ‘Merde!’…which is basically shit in French. They say Frenchies don’t have a sense of humor, but I guess they’ve never met Franc before.

I think Francois might be sweet on me…I friended him on Facebook where I have pics of myself and Rick at a Pub. LOL….he’s like ‘oooo la la’ and stuff. Too funny. He’s pretty cute himself. I’m surprised he has any time for us kids. I’d figure him being French and all he’d be going to bed with a different girl every night! He’s about a couple of years older than Rick and I.

I think he might be ‘Funny’.

Well, all of that doesn’t seem very ‘mundane’ does it? But, well, I guess its what lends itself to my enjoying peace and quiet and mundane stuff during my times off. I do get to go to some exciting places sometimes and then there’s trips to my Uncle’s Ranch and stuff and to San Francisco to visit my Grandmas and Grandpas. They all live in the Big City.

But, regardless where we go, I have to be in on the decision making process and my Dad is all for it. It proves to him I have a serious mind and that I’m a problem solver….at least that’s what he says before un-muting the ads and going back to watching the game. ~chuckles~

Boy, I tend to blather don’t I?

Sooooo ~sigh~

I guess I should come clean about the whole JOEseph thing I keep ‘going on about like a focking mina bird’ as Rick would say. Hehehehe!

See, being an only child, it was hard for me to make friends in grade school. I was extremely shy and I guess, before my hormones hit full tilt over this past summer, I was pretty thin and spindly and kind of frail looking. Made me an ideal target for bullies.

I spent a lot of my waking hours outside of class in ‘safe’ places where a teacher or a librarian could keep an eye on things. It made me feel like they couldn’t get me. Of course, this only worked while I was in a room somewhere. Between classes and between me, my bike, and my house it was hunting season and they were hunting wabbits….wabbits named Brandon!

It kind of killed my ability to make too many friends when it was obvious that the biggest and meanest kids in the school had it in for me. I never really understood why. I still don’t really.

“Faggot”, “Sissy Boy”, “Pussy”, “Skinny Bitch Boy”, “Commere and Suck Me Off, Punk”….some of their more favorite things to shout at me. ~shrugs~ I don’t get it? I don’t think I ever will get it. Maybe it’s just because….I don’t *want* to get it. ‘Course, these were things boys called each other all the time, usually in a joking fashion as they locked horns and pushed each other around.

But, in my case it was very, well, pointed, I guess would be the word.

These words were a build up of course. The way a bull has to scrape the ground with his front hoof before charging the matador.

Hmmmm…..I could totally see myself as a matador! Olé! ~brandishes cape….sticks out tush!~ Um…..


So that’s when the attack would come. The grabbing, the groping, the sick insults, and finally…..the punching and kicking.

Ok, so you might think ‘why didn’t you just fight back? Were you, in fact, really a pussy boy and too scared to stand up for yourself?’

Right. That’s me, all 100 pounds of me up against 5 guys each of whom outweighed me by about 10-15 pounds. A lot in boy weight! I’m not Batman ya know!

Despite my lack of Batman skills, the first time they came at me, to my credit, I did try to fight back. Who wouldn’t? But, mind you, these guys were fucking vicious. They knew how to incapacitate a lone guy real easy and there are no fight-fair referees on the street! They dropped me with a hard knee to the groin. Once I was down they had their way with me. Any further struggle on my part would be punished by a hard kick to my back, stomach, chest or butt. I mean, these guys meant business. They really didn’t like me at all. They….I’m pretty sure they would have delighted in killing me if they thought they could get away with it.

They never drew blood, but I’d got bruised pretty bad. Typical of abusive fuck-holes they didn’t do my face. Not for my benefit, mind you, but for theirs. It helped with their lies and it helped with their threat.

“Ok, Pussy Boy! Its been fun, but tell a fucking soul about this and we’ll come back with baseball bats! You fucking get me, Freak?!” Then I’d get a warning kick to the gut.

See…if the injuries were covered by my clothes then they figured if I kept my trap shut no one would know what they would do to me after school.

Fortunately for me this sort of thing didn’t go on for long. Maybe once or twice and, though at the time I was terrified of the prospect of their making good on their threat (which I could totally see with them) the truth did out, as it were.

Being stoopid assholes, they never considered my parents and the fact that at bathtime they hadn’t learned to give me my ‘adult space’ yet. I was still a baby to them at 10-11 and they would often march into the bathroom with me as I was getting undressed to wash.

My Mom walked in (yes…she had no shame then) while my back was turned. I’d forgotten to close the door so I didn’t have time to cover up with a towel.

All Mom did was call out to my Dad: “Brian!!” She only called him by name when she was distressed. I turned around slowly to see the both of them staring in horror at me. Why I felt so ashamed I don’t know to this day…maybe it was a misinterpretation of my Dad’s behavior.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Brandon!” He shouted at me. Mom visibly winced at that, but didn’t jump on him as per usual. She was….in tears.

So was I. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I couldn’t stop them.” It was pointless to lie and I am a terrible lier or at least I was back then before I had to start….hiding things.

His words and then his touch were salves to my broken soul right then. He reached for me and I automatically tensed up and flinched. His movement’s softened and I saw a tear in his eye as he hugged me close…careful not to touch the tender spots. I melted and began to sob. He’s not into ‘tough love’. My Dad can be stern and demanding of excellence, but he does not hold it against you if you are clearly a victim….and I was, God help me.

My Mom joined in the hug, but was like ‘How did this happen, Bran? Who did this to you!? Why didn’t you come to us??!’ She was the one that could get a little sharp at times.

My Dad was firm with her in a way I’d never seen. “Cheryl…not right now.” She looked at him confused, but didn’t argue. She kissed a bruise on my shoulder and then left the room. I could hear her crying a little harder.

My Dad looked into my eyes. There was an old understanding there. “Kid…its gonna be ok. Things like this happen all the time…and there are ways to deal with it.” I looked confused and was about to tell him not to get involved or things could get worse. The threat and all.

The words never left me. He was like “I know they threatened you. Bullies always do. That’s how they control you. But…it will get worse anyway unless we nip this in the bud now. They can’t do this and they have to be stopped. I’m pulling you from school until I can talk to your Principal about this.” I didn’t know he could do that. In those days (and to some extent still) I felt that school was all powerful and that what they said everyone had to do and extended absences from school, called Truency, was punished severely especially at the grade school level.

So I asked, “Won’t the school punish me for not coming to class when I’m not sick?”

My Dad assured ‘They won’t do a thing, Brandon. They can’t afford one of their best students to be hurt like this. It makes them look bad.’ My Dad wasn’t naïve about Government types like public schools and he didn’t just say schools are our friends and just want the best for us. He never lied to me like that, but he always made sure that if they did anything that I didn’t think I deserved that I talk to him about it and he’d set the situation straight.

If it was my fault, he allowed the correction and added some of his own. If, which was often the case, something was NOT my fault he got in their shit. He was a familiar face down there and when he would show up the Principal’s office knew trouble was heading their way.

He makes me so proud to be his son sometimes!

Anyways, the school let me take coursework at home and my teacher at the time, Mr. Rohr, would come by the house each evening to check on me. He was a great teacher. Probably the best I ever had! As I look back, I think he looked out for me special. I think he was ‘funny’ too!

When I was finally allowed back, the little bastards who fucked me up were nowhere to be seen. It seems that they’d been transferred to other schools in the district. I never saw them again!

But, it didn’t end there, but in a positive way. My Dad saw a missing spot in my education. Not at school, but in other areas. He announced one evening soon after I’d healed up ‘Bran, you’re going to be graduating from elementary school this year. Its 6th grade and next year you’ll start Middle School. Things are going to be bigger there and they can be rougher too. You need to learn something about self-defense. I think you’ll like what I have in store. I know I had fun and I think you will too. Tomorrow, we’re going to meet my friend Sensei Toshiro Yamada. He runs a Martial Arts school downtown.’ I must have looked utterly confused and skeptical.

My Dad chuckled, “What a look, Kid. Trust me! You’ll love it! Toshi is great people. He’ll teach you a lot you’ll never learn from school. I know he taught me a lot of stuff in the Marines.”

“What will I be learning?” I asked cautiously.

“Jiujitsu.” He said simply.

“Jew what??” LOL

“Jew-Jit-Soo” He said slower.

“Oh….Ok?” Boy I was dumb back then.

Next day we drove down to a nice storefront location with glass windows painted with Japanese characters and under them Dojo Yamada in English words. I knew who Yamada was. Din’t know what a ‘Dojo’ was.

Sensei Yamada was one giant smile for my Dad. Hugs and back pats and a quick handshake for me. Then….it got all business. Sensei got rather stern and talked to me about having a ‘serious mind’ and stuff and that I had to agree to commit to the art…etc. I agreed if for no other reason than to make my Dad smile and look giddy about it. LOL

Anyways, I took his classes and learned a LOT. Sensei really took me through the paces and finally teamed me up with a partner….and that’s when I met Joseph Tanner.

Yes, I know its been a long and winding road to get here finally but I’m twisty like that. Hehehehe

We became instant best friends. He was also the first boy I’d ever had any kind of intimate contact with though not sexy per-say….though it kind of was when I think back on it a bit.

Jujitsu is kind of almost like wrestling, but with throwing and tripping too. So often Joseph and I would find ourselves in rather embarrassing positions as we learned the forms and different throws and pulls and locks…

No defense against boners though…LOL

So…as per usual with certain guys…ideas, ya know and that strange attraction that these guys develop for me. JOEseph (I never knew why he emphasized the front of his name) I found liked a particular maneuver where he got my arms locked around my back and then he’d have to lay on my back to hold me down. This is the kind of thing Police use to get handcuffs on struggling idiots during an arrest. Joe (my new name for JOEseph) had to press his pelvis into my butt and lock his legs around mine to immobilize me. That was the form we had to learn, but Joe liked it a lot.

A very lot. I felt how much through the seat of my training uniform. It always made him grin and then he’d give me a peck on the cheek just before releasing me which made him laugh coz I’d blush.

Though I thought it was weird I just took it in stride. Joe was becoming a very good friend and I knew he was going to go to Garden Middle School with me when school started back up. So, I had somebody to go to the new school with and not be alone. Whatever made him happy was whatever as long he held true to being a companion in that strange new place I was going to.

Also, well, Joe was pretty cute too. He had brownish-blonde curly hair, hazel yellow eyes as opposed to my hazel green eyes and he was quite tan. He had been going to Sensei Yamada’s classes for a while so he’d gotten some good muscle tone for a 12 year old. His butt was nice and firm and I didn’t know at the time why I liked that so much…but I did. I kind of felt it up a lot more than I thought I would any boy’s because so many moves required pivoting that part of the body as a center of gravity.

We ended up doing a lot of things outside of practice. Lunch. Movies. Games at the arcade. He even shot hoops with me at home. He wasn’t much competition because he was much shorter than me, but he’d get one of those Jujitsu moves on me and totally foul me out so he could steal to ball. LOL

~sigh~ Oh well….those were good times. They got even better when we started at the middle school. He introduced me to some of his other friends and they were real cool. I found out Joe was pretty popular back at his grammar school, Lincoln Elementary School. It was nice to be accepted so readily into such a network. I suddenly liked Middle School MUCH better than elementary school!

By association I became kind of popular too…..for a while.

Then, the summer of my 7th grade year, Joe decided he wanted to have a sleepover with me and our buddies. Only, it turned out that none of our buddies could make it so it was just Joe and I. We watched movies (no scary ones unfortunately coz they gave Joe nightmares), played some games and some music. We could play it as loud as we wanted too because his mom was still working and his dad had split the scene before Joe was 3.

I met his sister…Emma. She was about 10 and seemed to be instantly and hopelessly in love with me particularly when she caught me in just my underwear getting ready for bed. It was cute…but made me blush and nervous.

So we settled in for the night. Joe had a small twin bed so he decided to sleep ‘camping style’ and set up a big air mattress he had on the floor so we could both be comfortable. Little did I know about the ulterior motives…


So like….I was sleeping, right? But I was awakened to a very strange, scary, and extremely exciting situation that I just didn’t know how to handle at ALL.

I had been sleeping on my back sawing them off so my junk was facing up, of course. Well…lets just say it made for easy access, Ok?

I woke up to JOEseph’s face pretty much buried into my crotch. He was….er….licking me and my stupid body was responding like a champ. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he’d taken my cock out yet, but that was next…and….well…I was already close, you know?

Well…all my ‘WRONG’ alarms went off in my head and I did one of the most unnatural things a teenage boy could do when getting sucked off and almost there…I jumped out of bed and shouted in fear like a little girl.

All my Catholic Guilt just flooded through me and I was literally holding the blanket in front of my rock hard cock looking in horror at Joe.

Joe was like all “Shhhhhush! You’ll wake the whole house up! Now get back here so I can finish!” and he smirked at me.

I….uh….said no and kind of…..went and pretended to sleep on the couch. I couldn’t really sleep after that. Joe just seemed a little disappointed with me….but nothing more.

Little did I know….

My first inkling something was wrong was that I suddenly had a new Jujitsu partner. Marty…who sucked…but I mean not like Joe does. Marty was just terrible at Jujitsu. I didn’t see Joe at practice anymore. I asked Sensei about him and he said that Joseph had changed classes to the one’s later in the evening.


Sooooo…..First day of 8th grade I went looking for Joe, and Elmer, and Raphael who were the core of our little click. I found them at the lunch benches and sat down like always…but they wouldn’t talk to me at all. I was totally shunned.

Finally, at gym class which I shared with Joe, he didn’t pick me for his pick up team….nobody did. The Coach had to assign me to a team. I was humiliated.

Joe never returned my calls either. Finally….he just let me have it. Saying ‘Get the fuck out of here you loser. Don’t hang around us no more!’

~sniff~ and that was that.

For the rest of the time at Gardner Middle School I had no friends and only enemies. Nobody messed with me physically because they knew I knew martial arts. But, it was back to ‘Sissy Boy’, ‘Faggot’, and a new one ‘Cocksucker’. I never got picked for teams and that meant the Coaches regarded me as a ‘Goal-bricker’ and a loser too. So…no Junior Basketball tournaments or anything. My Dad didn’t understand. I couldn’t tell him why. Not ever.

I took up residence in the Library and pretty much read every book in there. Even the Librarian wouldn’t talk to me. So…I became very closed.

…..and I still am.


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