Fingers danced over the two keyboards on both ends of the Internet connection.
"i saw a naif in a memry"
"Have you remember anything?"
"I think yes"
"That's what she, with her constant psychological attacks, makes you think. At some point, you believe that everything is true and you believe it yourself. It's like inertia."
Tom's eyes widened in front of the computer screen. Was he scared? No. He just had not understood anything he had barely read.
"I dont understand"
"Oh! Sorry cousin, sometimes I speak in a very complicated way for you."
"Ahhh"
"I just wanted to say that it was not a memory, that your mother wants you to see something that is not real."
"Ahhh"
And they stopped there.
38
"Before sss... sixty there is fuh... fifty."
Sitting on the bed, he scribbled something in a notebook filled with strange irregular patterns. The first sheets were full of deformed stripes crossing each new sheet. They were meaningless drawings, but in the last two days things had taken another direction. Drawings regained something coherent in their abstract form. Tom had managed to sketch out two predominant bumps on a smooth surface and some curves that could resemble the outline of a guitar. In the center, he had pressed the pencil to form a sort of dark triangle.
With his tongue playing between the corners of his lips and drool sliding down his chin, Tom was about to put the cherry on his drawing. A pair of irregular little balls on the two large lumps like mountains culminated his work of art.
In the end, he had made it.
Somehow he had done something coherent, but he knew that drawing could not be shown to momma. His bitch momma had told him that getting up with an erection was dirty and deserved punishment. And now the drawing was giving him an erection, and his small understanding told him that the drawing had to do with his erection and its consequences.
He had drawn what could be Samantha's naked body.
He smiled a little and pressed his pencil hard on the center.
The erection became stronger, and Tom grinned openly into the room, eyes sparkling.
He put his hand on his penis, over his underwear, and squeezed it gently. The touch of his hand over the cotton of his underwear gave him a sense of well-being. It was far superior to that produced by Sedum, and his penis had responded with an ethereal impulse, pointing towards the sky.
His eyes widened in their sockets and frolicked in the cavities as if they had suddenly lost their balance.
"I like this" he whispered into the silence as he stroked his virile member.
Outside, the wind began to slide through the curves and corners of houses, howling like cats at night, and Tom turned his head toward the window. It was just a slight wind. It would soon be extinguished in the nothingness, because they were not in storms season, although nothing is written about Mother Nature’s caprices.
"It's windy" he muttered under his breath as if someone would listen to him at the other end of the room.
Now Tom was initiating what would be a ritual of beautiful sensations. He put his hand under his underpants and reached for his member, gripping it tightly. It felt like a rod, and the more he squeezed it, the more joy and pleasure he felt. He was astonished, and his face lit up with an expression of wonder and joy. It felt as if you had suddenly won the lottery. He stroked his limb, and drool began to slide more intensely down his chin.
He set aside his notebook and pencil, forgotten at least for the moment. Now the clear, sharp image of Samantha's naked body was parading in his uncomprehending mind.
And those lumps.
The erection was irresistible, and he felt a tingling in the lower belly taking hold of him. He watched his belly, slightly frightened, and watched as the belly muscles contracted in an act of pleasure.
... Those bumps are the tits, my friend.
"What's happening to me?"
But there was no one in the room who could explain that what was happening to him was normal, that all that game was part of the sexual awakening of a child, a teenager, a man, into adult life. Tom Was a boy trapped in a man's body, and now he was discovering what most of the younger boys already knew. Tom woke up to "that" at eighteen years of age.
And now he did not know what to do with his member, throbbing in his hand as if suddenly it had become alive and acted on its own. All he knew was that it was pleasant and he liked it.
Downstairs, his mother was cursing at night, drunk as a skunk. She held the bottle of bourbon in one hand and a glass in the other, wandering around the house like a hysterical witch looking for her broom.
But now Tom did not give a damn about his mother's screams in the distance. He simply ignored her completely, since there were new things to discover.
He caressed his limb gently and noticed something, some kind of liquid, flowed inside as when he peeled, except that now it was more pleasant than taking a good piss. At the end, a white, almost opaque drop that gave off a strange smell appeared. He had never smelled this odor, and now it was there and almost scared him. However, the arousal was such that he kept stroking his cock because he liked it very much.
He liked it very, very, very much.
He gasped like a dog when the sperm, the first real ejaculation in his life, impregnated his hands with something thick and hot.
Under his chest, his heart began to throb wildly.
39
Justin was about to enter the scene. He was a mix of William, Charlie, and Jack. He also contributed something more. Something more horrible than death. An identity of a despicable, scabrous, fearful being and everything that the human mind could hold within.
Nights were hot, and Tom sweated the sheets every night, now with his multiple erections and ejaculations, and Samantha slept with her breasts in the air. Everyone was oblivious to what was coming soon. Something terrible. It happened so fast, that the Candralls would be marked forever.
However, Tom did not know about it.
40
"Before fiiiiiifty there is fo... fuh... forteee."
He liked a lot what he had discovered when he saw his new neighbor almost naked. He liked the drawings he made. He liked to touch his virile member and, of course, what happened next.
On the computer, at Google, he typed "things" because he was unable to write "tits" since he simply did not know the name of those lumps that excited him so much.
"Cousin what are the things wumen hav in ther chest?"
"Tits, Tom. They are called tits. Why do you ask?"
"Nothin"
Then, typed the word "wumen" in Google...
The interlude
Jack
41
Although Jack's identity had long since appeared with his obsession to see blood running and hatred of people, their neighbors, it would not be long before he appeared again. But this time, in his own house.
Charlie stopped pinning cats on the neighbors' doors. Now he would have a new scenario, and Tom's mom would be the main victim of his rebellious character. Then, momma would understand everything the psychiatrist told her. A new round of visits to the shrink without Tom would begin. But it would not be the only identity that momma would see in her son Tom. William, Sue, Jack, Danny, and Charlie: everyone was there, and every time Tom came back, he barely remembered anything. Did not he really remember anything? Sometimes Tom saw flashes of images that passed before his eyes like devilishly fast slides.
But Justin was missing. Not yet. The moment had not yet come.
42
"Doctor, I'm afraid."
"Call me Donald, Mrs. Stella."
"Okay." There was a long silence during which even the psychiatrist Donald had raised an eyebrow while his chin was sunk between his clenched fists and elbows on the table. “My son sometimes speaks correctly. Suddenly, the stutter disappears, and he speaks in a lower tone. And he doesn't act as Tom normally does. It�
�s like he's someone else..."
"Dissociative identity disorder" the psychiatrist interrupted, opening his arms. "I've told you that on more than one occasion. It seems that your son is already showing those changes characteristic of this disease."
"But I'm afraid."
"Yes, it may frighten you at first, because you see another identity in him." He paused to move his hands and continued. "But don't be afraid; it's only a symptom of this rare disease. Normally they only change their identity, but there's nothing more in these changes suffered by these patients."
"It scares me."
"Why?"
"Well, because he adopts bad people's identities." Stella suddenly felt her mouth dry and wanted to drink a sip of bourbon.
"What makes you think they're bad?"
"Everything he says. The way he behaves. Everything. I see it in his eyes." Stella's eyes widened in an act of sudden fear that rose from her gut. She turned pale. She remembered events of the past few days, both strange and disturbing.
"You must explain it all better" the psychiatrist suggested as he settled into his chair. And then Stella lectured him.
43
In the next three weeks, the Candralls had settled completely in their new house. The sun kept coming out every day, and now that it was the end of August, it threw its endless heat on Road House like a gigantic blaze. At dusk, it hid again behind the red mountains, giving way to a full and petty moon. However, the heat was still there, sheltered in a damp sheet. Summer season was like this.
Nights were unbearable.
Except for Tom.
44
Samantha displayed her slender body on the bed again, her breasts slightly overflowing to either side. Sweat was caressing what Tom wanted. He was watching from his window and bringing his hand to his trousers. She wore white cotton panties (color never changed) and lay limp on the bed, eyes closed oblivious to Tom's intense gaze, her neighbor, from the other end of the garden.
Her nipples were relaxed into a rather large pink areola. When it was cold, those same nipples would have hardened and turned purple. But now it was summer, and they were just the opposite. This excited Tom.
Justin was about to come.
Tom slipped his hand into his underpants and rummaged in. Slowly, his hand moved gently beneath his underpants.
45
Chumy jumped on top of Samantha's bed, waking her up from a soft, dreamy state. Suddenly, she straightened up on the bed, and her breasts danced like balls in all directions.
"Ahhh!"
Tom had already finished ejaculating from the other end, in the distance, covering both windows. Suddenly, Samantha noticed that someone was leaning out of the window across the street. She turned her head to the huge, dark figure.
"What? Dammit!" At last he saw him.
Tom stepped aside, leaving the hollow of the window in the dark.
46
"He has also started mastur..." She cut the sentence dryly, unable to finish it out of shame. On the other side of the table, the psychiatrist was waiting for her with a curious grimace drawn on his face.
"What were you saying, Mrs. Stella?" The psychiatrist's voice was soft, almost like a whisper, and he played with his hair.
"Well, you know. That thing boys do when they're men" Stella said with a faint smile on her lips. She was ashamed! For God's sake, Stella was the most foul-mouthed woman in the whole neighborhood. But not now. Now she blushed.
"Masturbate? Is that what you mean?" Donald asked, narrowing his eyes.
Stella nodded and by God she needed a drink right now.
"It's normal for a boy his age. He is of age; he should have started earlier with the task, but the treatment delays such need." The psychiatrist's eyes fixed on her rosy face before continuing. "Is he taking all the treatment?"
Stella answered with a nod.
"Well, it's weird..."
"He always has Sedum on hand, and the other pills on time" Stella said now, freed from blush.
"Yes, Sedum is important, but the rest of the treatment is also necessary in order to be able to control his manias, impulses, oddities, visions, voices, you know." Donald moved his hands like blades on an old mill with a ballpoint pen between his fingers on his right hand.
"He takes all the treatment" Stella said again, this time with a rictus drawn on her lips.
"I believe you, I do."
"But he's getting weirder."
"Weirder?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me something I don't know?"
"Sometimes he's someone else."
"I already explained the reason in a previous consultation, Mrs. Stella. That must be the presence of the symptoms of his identity disorder."
"Oh, right!"
And once again, Tom did not go to the appointment. It was so like him.
47
"Daddy! The neighbor next door was spying on me!!!" Samantha's voice steadily rose like a siren as she leaned against the doorframe. Before, she had closed the curtain of her window.
"What's going on?" A voice called from far away. It was Louis' voice.
"I'm sure he saw my tits!"
"I told you not to sleep without a bra or a T-shirt!" Another voice said. It was Eillen's, her mother.
"It's hot!" Samantha complained as she made her way down the hall to her parents' room. "I've already put it on" she said, pinching the fabric of her shirt. Now she was at the door of her parents' room, who were sitting on the bed. Dad was in underpants and mom in a pair of panties and a T-shirt.
"Wait till I buy a fan tomorrow" Daddy said, his arms folded around his knees, leaning against his bulging belly, sitting like a child.
"OK!" Samantha snorted as she turned away. “Oh! And I want you to pass the complaints to your neighbor or that old rickety woman tomorrow!"
"All right" Louis said, waving at his stump.
Chumy tangled itself in Samantha's feet, pointing its tail at the ceiling.
48
Stella, oblivious to the whole scene, was lying on the floor, holding the almost empty bottle of bourbon. She was on the ground floor, on the linoleum, by the sofa. And upstairs, Tom was still breathing rather quickly, and his cock had deflated, as Tom thought.
With a slow movement he pulled up his underpants, which now had a huge, dark damp spot on the genital area, and headed for his bed, where he dropped heavily into a blunt plaf. He saw on the ceiling dozens of tangled shadows drawing strange shapes, which were the product of the projection of moonlight through the branches of the tree right next to the window.
Oh, I feel so good, Tom thought, his eyes sneaking shut, drenched in sweat.
49
The next day dawned splendid, as was usual in that hot summer in Road House, one of the worst in the last ten years. Samantha reminded her dad to report about last night. Louis had nodded reluctantly. Samantha looked at him with a frown.
"All right, I'll go and complain" Louis explained as he chewed on a piece of bacon wet in a scrambled egg. His cheeks swelled spontaneously, and a large ball of food wandered around the sides until he swallowed it.
Tony, the youngest son, was playing with a biscuit in his glass of milk, splashing the table.
Eillen was washing the dishes in the silence, under the first rays of the sun of what would be a new day of heat and light. A lot of light.
50
The door opened with a squeak of hinges, like the door in the Monster family mansion. Louis raised his eyebrows. A yellow face, eyes half closed, skin tense and wrinkled at the same time, with a dry mouth asked.
"What's up?"
Louis leaned back slightly, seeing that image. The voice sounded rough and hoarse.
"Mrs. Stella. I don't mean to disturb you, but my daughter..."
"Your daughter?" Stella's face was a shadow at the door, imperceptibly raised.
"I want to tell you last night..."
"Well!" Stella's voice cut him dry. She drew her face further from the imaginary line of
the door, leaving behind her hunched body .Louis was frightened to see her with tangled hair, like a witch. Her turtle-like skin was yellowish, as well as her eyes.
"Last night, your son" Louis continued softly, almost in a whisper.
"Yes, my son!" Stella's voice cut again. “My son what?"
You're hangover, damned old hag, but you know what I'm going to tell you.
"My daughter says your son was peering at her from the window last night."
"So what?"
"Well, my daughter was not fully dressed" Louis managed to say.
"Why is that my business?" Stella asked casually and slammed the door. Suddenly, that yellow face disappeared behind the door, passing first through the shadow.
Louis stood stunned in front of the door during an excessive time during which he wondered several things. But then he returned home to tell everything.
51
"Fuck! Fuck!" Louis was excited.
"What's wrong dear?" Eillen asked, who had finished scrubbing the dishes and storing them in their cupboard, as well as the glasses.
"That woman..." Louis paused, indicating with his stump what he seemed to want to show, the house next door. "She has no manners. She seems to be sick, her color, her smell..."
"You could not complain" Samantha said as she put her arm around her father's shoulder.
"She seems to be alcoholic" Louis said in a dubious whisper. "Yes, I think she drinks."
Eillen looked at him sideways.
Louis stared at her.
"Do you remember my mother?" He asked his wife.
Eillen nodded as she headed for the other end of the kitchen.
"Well, she's the same."
Eillen frowned first and then thought the world was collapsing again. Had that woman been battling until she died victim of liver cancer? Had they suffered? A lot. Countless memories came to her head like slides projected onto the wall, one after another. The woman holding a full glass of Whiskey in one hand and burping a belch. The woman lying on the floor amidst her vomit. The woman almost always hospitalized for an alcoholic coma. She could see more images of her, before she kicked the bucket and finally peace and calm came to the Candrall family's home.
"That woman reminded me of my mother. A rickety alcoholic" Louis said as if he'd discovered something interesting. As if he had found blood in a sticky mucus.
Tom´s Story Page 9
