Fur, Feathers, and Claws

Chapter 2-3

Roy walked Tucker all the way to the door, close enough to hide the erection, but far enough away—thankfully—not to brush against it. “Hit the shower, man,” he advised. “Make it a cold one or take care of things another way. I’ll stand guard, dig?”

Junior year was the first time students got to—or had to—shower after gym class. Tucker’s first shower ever was a cold one, which having Roy McKenna so close made rather counterproductive. Tucker didn’t think too much about why he was reacting to Roy the way he was, he just tried to stop, and though the cold jolt didn’t do its trick right off, it did make Tucker squeal every time he stepped beneath it.

“Keep it down, clown.” Roy said, coming inside, too close for comfort. What if Tucker had been ‘taking care of things a different way’? He was right next to the shower. “You’re supposed to be ralphing.” He chuckled and he touched him, over the shoulder-high wall. He possibly even stole a glance. Tucker’s lower half was toward the wall, the front of him. Who cared if Roy saw his backside? Though tomorrow, Tucker thought, we’ll all be doing this together.

Eventually, Tucker got control of his organ that day. And the next day, and several after, so maybe nerves and anxiety counteracted stimulation. Tucker showered and swam without incident. Roy became a good buddy, and within a week, Tucker found himself part of the popular crowd, sitting with the cool boys at lunch, in the back of the bus beside Roy, and once in a while, taking a drag off his cigarette. That would give him a b***r, which his pants fortunately, were tight enough to suppress from showing too much.

The metamorphosis had begun when Tucker cleared a path to the washing machine somewhere between m**********g and playing with himself. He’d gone through box after box of clothes before the start of that school year, picked out some stuff that could pass as late-sixties high-school high fashion, and washed and dried them all. Tight, bellbottomed pants, a plaid button-down shirt one day, dark denims and a formfitting turtle neck that showed off the hunky, seventeen-year-old physique the next.

“Nice threads,” Roy commented on day four, as Tucker got back into them with his back turned, after his now-daily shower.

A short while later, Tucker joined the track team at Roy’s behest. That meant two showers a day, one after gym, and one after practices or meets. One day, in the library, Savanna leaned over during study hall. “You smell good,” she told ‘Skunker.’

“Thanks.” Tucker smiled. His father’s hoard included deodorant and cologne—several scents and brands—that he used on a rotating basis.

“I’d like to draw you.” Savannah was into art.

“Oh. Okay,” Tucker said.

Then the librarian interrupted. “Ssh!” She scolded them loudly, and both stifled giggles as they smiled at each other.

More confident than ever, Tucker auditioned for the winter musical. He won the role of Fagin in the school’s production of Oliver! Soon, he was popular with two crowds. He hung out with Roy and the “jocks” sometimes, and others, he hung out with the “overachievers:” the kids who got straight A’s and were also in band, chorus, drama, and sports like tennis. Now, Tucker was one of them.

“He was even elected junior prom king! His date, Savannah, was his beautiful queen.”

Olivia was still deep into her tale, Tucker noted, glancing back through a curtain of rain, keeping RJ in his sights out of the corner of one eye.

Penny fluttered her lashes. “Did Tucker and Savannah live happily ever after?”

Paul huffed. “I’m guessing Savannah wasn’t the only queen in the deck.”

“Paul!” Olivia scolded, just like the librarian way back when.

“Besides,” Paul continued in spite of it. “The lady said Tucker was bummed when he came here. That don’t sound so happy-ending to me.”

“Well…” Olivia touched her throat, as if clutching pearls. “Things were not quite that black and white.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with black and white?” Big Zeb complained. “They’re actually pretty happenin’ colors.”

The others would laugh at that in Tucker’s version of things, then Penny would insist on hearing what happened next.

“Tell us the rest. What happened with Savannah? What happened with Roy?”

Tucker turned from the others. He was sure they sensed something was amiss, but also knew for certain that he’d protect them, no matter what it took. He shook his head to clear the memories of the past, the ones he imagined Olivia sharing. Everything that happened back then meant nothing in the present. “You mean nothing,” Tucker said under his breath, zeroing in on the intruder. “Whatever we had…it won’t stop me hurting you. Let’s just consider it payback.”