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From: HMS Victor Victorian <victorvictorian@hushunomail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.fan.prettyboy
Subject: Re: +*+*+*+ The Adventures of Stevie #49 "Talk with Kit" +*+*+*+
Date: Sun, 03 Oct 2010 10:06:39 -0600
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On 1 Oct 2010 20:13:01 -0500, " +Grant. " <+Grant@grant.grant> wrote:
>
>
>The Adventures of Stevie #49
>
>These stories were told to me by friends and other people. Some of them
>are true. Some of them are only partly true. Some of them should have
>been true. LOL
>
>My first post about Stevie ("Call me Stephen!") was when he was 12 and
>in summer camp and was told by another camper. This was from a time
>before computers would fit on a desk and when people communicated with
>friends in other countries by actual letters sent through the postal
>service. When children did this those friends were called "penpals".
>Carlos is Stevie's penpal in Argentina and knows English. This is a
>fictional contrivance to enable Stevie to tell us his stories because
>he isn't here in person. I think.
>All characters are fictitious, even if some of them might have names
>that belong to some actual people, or act like people we know.
>Stevie's school is for gifted children who don't fit in regular schools.
>The stories may not be posted in chronological order.
>Stevie is 12 in this story. It is Spring of year 2 of his special
>school.
>
>
>The Adventures of Stevie #49 "Talk with Kit"
>
>
>Dear Carlos,
>
>
> School will be ending for the year soon. I wanted to talk with Kit
>about some things. Before I tell you about that, I should tell you
>about the security we have in school. Every way into the building is
>locked and barred, and has alarms too. There are armed guards. Nobody
>can get in without a pass. That's what they think. What happens to your
>own security when you train geniuses in security? I think some of the
>guards suspect some students of doing some things we aren't supposed to
>do, which we don't tell them or the staff, but they won't tell unless
>they can't avoid it, because I asked them not to, after one of the
>other students asked me to. Some of the students, like Chad, and some
>of the staff, like Kit and Dr. Knot, know my father is on the Board,
>and know he is in charge of our security too. The guards are paid by
>the school, but father hires and fires them, and sometimes they work
>for him with different jobs outside the school. There is one more
>thing. The guards like me. Students and other staff are not supposed to
>talk to with the guards unless they have to. Their jobs are boring. I
>felt sorry for them. I talk with them whenever I want to, if nobody
>else is around to see it. I would talk to them anyway. I like people.
>All this is why they do whatever I want them to do, if it won't get
>them in too much trouble.
>
> I asked Kit to schedule a private talk with me. The next afternoon we
>went into a room we use for small groups. I asked the guard in the
>hallway to help us keep it private. I knew he would. I told Kit that.
>There is a couch in the room, and a conference table and chairs. I
>dragged him to the couch. We sat together. I hugged him and said, "I
>have a problem I need to talk to you about." He said "What is it?" I
>said "I want to be bisexual and I think I'm not going to be," and I
>cried and hugged him. My head was against his chest, so I didn't see
>how surprised his face must of looked, but showed in his voice when he
>said, "This is a first. I've never heard of anybody ever actually
>WANTING to be a bisexual. Why do you want to be one, and why do you
>think you won't be, and why does that make you cry?" I told him "A lot
>of my best friends are gay, and I love doing sexual things with them.
>It feels good, and it's fun, and I LOVE making them feel good and be
>happy, but I don't have gay feelings, just straight ones."
>
> He said "Tell me more about those feelings." I said "Looking at naked
>boys doesn't make me sexually excited except when I think about doing
>sexual things with him. When I just THINK of what girls look like, even
>if I don't see them, my monster practically busts my zipper. I can hug
>a boy and not stab him, no matter how nice he looks. A pretty girl is
>going to get severely poked. I know, from being with Debbie in camp. We
>wanted to dance close together, but my monster insisted on keeping us a
>little more apart than we wanted. Yes I know that's funny. You can
>laugh." He did a little. I said, "If I have to choose between being
>with Debbie, or another girl I feel the same way about, and Chad or the
>other boys I have loved for a long time, Debbie has to be my choice,
>even though I knew her only a few weeks. There has to be something
>wrong with me. I want to love boys sexually just as much as girls. Can
>you help? Do you know anybody who can help?"
>
> Kit hugged me tight. He said "I'm so sorry you have this kind of
>trouble. I'm more sorry to tell you there is nothing anyone can do
>about it. You are sexually who you are, and that's all there is to it.
>You can learn about it, and hopefully accept it, but you can't change
>it to be the way you want it to be." I said "I thought you would say
>that, but hearing it from you makes it more real, and being close to
>you at the same time makes me feel not so bad. I hope you won't be
>upset I used you." He laughed and said, "No problem. Use me like this
>anytime you need to. I love you, and this is what love is for." We
>snuggled.
>
> "Kit, I have another problem." He said "Oh?" I said "I want to have
>real sex with a girl, but my monster would kill any girl my age." He
>said, "That IS a problem," and poked my monster as if it were something
>he never saw before. We giggled a little. He said "There are 2
>possibilities I'm sure you have already thought of. You can wait until
>you are old enough so the girls your age, then, wouldn't be injured by
>your ahem, dangerous weapon, which still might happen, or you could
>find an older woman who has already had big lovers, who likes young
>boys too, to be your lover. I think that kind of woman is very rare,
>and would be VERY hard to find, without getting yourself slapped silly
>after asking them." I said sadly, "Right." He said, "So you have a new
>project to work on. It might be interesting research." He grabbed my
>monster gently, and shook it like IT was going to do the research, and
>I grabbed his monster too. We just sat there like that for a while. I
>said, "But I can still have good times with my friends. Sometimes I
>need to more than other times, when I feel bad. This is one of my need
>to times." He got the hint. We made each other, for the first time,
>feel very good. I really do love my friends.
>
>
>Your friend,
>
>Stephen
Hello, Grant.
Things have been relatively quiet here for you and your endeavours,
lately, so I would like to say I've enjoyed your serial stories of
Stephen (3s's!). My motivation in saying this is, in great part I
confess, selfish, insomuch as I have attempted to measure up to your
efforts with a little tale of my own, and equally hope for interest
and comment of others!
Putting that aside, in my first attempt at writing in more than some
thirty years, I am reminded again as to how emotionally and physically
draining the craft is ... for it is very much painting with words,
with a palette holding greater than two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand
hues of paint!
So, again, thank you for all your effort.
V
God Save the Queen.
God Bless the Prince of Wales.
God Preserve the Windsors.
Rule Britannia!
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