Black Fox - 3. Stranger Kids

I never vibed much with the whole Stranger Things hype. In case you don’t know it, it’s a Goonies-like teenage horror series happening in the ‘80s. I’m not saying it sucks or anything but for me, it was mediocre at best. The story was mostly placeholders without any real risks or consequences to the protagonists’ actions. The characters’ arcs were just an excuse and the plot had more holes in it than Swiss cheese. I’m guessing some people watch it for the '80s nostalgia but I hadn't been alive until the mid ‘00ths so I can’t relate.

But there were certain things I liked about it that helped me make it through all the seasons.

First, the setting and the scenography. Someone did their research and every episode felt really believable. The costumes, the language… I could go on forever. Secondly - acting. I’m not saying that everyone did a wonderful job but there were some really believable characters and memorable performances to enjoy (love Winona Ryder). Next, music. Maybe a bit cliche, but still very nice.

Last but not least, boys. Some of them. Most notably, I had a crush on the black Stranger Things kid, Lucas. I like all boys regardless of their race or nationality but he struck a note with me.

That’s why I was so happy that of all people it was him who saved me on that ill-fated day I got hit by a car. I was lying on the ground, barely conscious when Lucas came to the rescue and kissed me, giving me my life back. Then we made out and fucked passionately in his room all night. Sucking his long dick, I looked him in the eyes. It was my way of saying “thank you.”

Thank you for saving my life, Stranger Things kid. I will never forget it.

***

Except it was just a dream.

I woke up with a big fat boner in the hospital bed, my dad sitting on a chair next to me, reading something on his Kindle. Luckily, I was covered. I felt numb and there was a cast encasing my right arm. There was a cool-looking blue cover protecting the cast but it didn't make me feel any better. Not good, Mr. Drummer Boy, not good at all.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, feeling stinky stickiness in my mouth. It felt as if a rat died inside. A month ago, at least. Every part of my body ached.

“Oh hey Owen,” my dad turned to me, “how are you this morning?”

“I’ve been better,” I replied carefully and then added: “what year is it?”

“It’s 2089, son. We have flying cars now and emo haircuts are a thing again.” The bastard! He made me chuckle, though.

“Then just put me back to sleep, please.”

We shared a laugh but my dad got serious again. “You got hit by a car yesterday. The bad news is, your arm is broken. The good news is, that’s the only major injury and apart from a few bruises, you are fine.”

“Okay…” It took me a while to process the information. I was alive but my arm was broken. No more playing drums. For how long?

“How… how am I going to play on Friday?” I hoped my dad would come up with a magical solution.

“You’ll be lucky if they even let you out of here by then. And even if they do, you won’t be able to play for a while. I’m sorry.”

Now I was really bummed. What now? We had gigs almost every weekend planned ahead for the rest of the vacations. There was no way I could possibly miss out on that. Would they kick me out of the band? Dad saw me frown and placed his hand on my shoulder.

“It will be fine. I’ll tell the boys to come over tomorrow. I talked to them already and they said they will figure something out. Now, don’t think about it too much, try to rest, alright? I’ll call Mum now, the rest of the gang will want to come to visit.”

“And what about the driver who hit me?” I asked.

“I’m afraid it was a hit-and-run, Owen. The police are looking for him. There were no witnesses except a neighbour kid who called for an ambulance.”

So it was bad. Really bad. The only good side of it was that the whole Wayne-watching-me-wanking situation paled in comparison with my accident. But then I remembered the fox and a spike of fear went through my body. A black fox, really? Do they even exist? Was it friends with the puma monster we saw earlier?

Black Fox. Josh was the one to come up with the name for our band after being nameless for a good while. Or more accurately, he stole it from a 2019 anime film he’d seen. The rest of us thought the name was cool, so it stayed. Okay, it’s just a coincidence, Owen, don’t freak out.

I reached for my phone. It was on the night shelf next to my bed, charging. I was drugged but it still hurt to move. I opened Google and, with my left hand, typed black fox. Search for images. Okay, so they did exist, that was a relief. An extremely rare black fox spotted in North Yorkshire. After some extra research, I learned that they were rare but not mythical. There was a genetic mutation that sometimes could cause an animal's fur to become black instead of orange. Reading further, it turned out this was how polar bears came to be. A random mutation had brought the first polar bear to life. By pure chance, it gave him a camo advantage in snowy regions, allowing him and his offspring to hunt better and reproduce more, spreading the mutation. The more you know. Turns out there was no real advantage of being a black fox, so those never spread.

Fortified with scientific knowledge, I let out a sigh of relief. It was a crazy weekend but there was nothing unnatural about it. Just a series of unlikely events. Very unlikely events. But there were seven billion people in the world. One-out-of-billion coincidences must’ve been happening every day.

My mum and my siblings came a bit later to say "hi". They looked worried but I was in high spirits, strangely agitated by this near-death experience. It lifted the overall mood and soon we just talked about unrelated topics. I caught Wayne’s eyes a few times and he still seemed abashed but also happy to see me.

Then they left me and I found myself alone in the hospital room. Praised be the technology. I spent the next few days playing games, reading books, watching YouTube videos and sometimes even porn. However, I could not masturbate. My left hand was alright but any rapid movements were causing pain stings in the other. Oh boy. Good thing I was on analgesics because they kept my hormones at bay for now.

On the second day, I got a visit from me mates. They didn’t care much about my condition and hugged me and poked me in different places - to see if I was alive, I reckon. They took a selfie with me to post in our social media. If my tragedy could get us some extra attention, then I didn’t mind. But when I saw the photo later, I almost regretted it. There were cuts and bruises all over my face. At least my grin was making up for it. And there were like a billion likes and “get well soon” comments that warmed my heart a little bit.

The boys said they found a substitute drummer for the next few shows but they were figuring out how to bring me back to action soon. That was sweet but I knew that the only thing I could do was to wait. At least they didn’t kick me out of the band then and there. They hung out with me for an hour or two and they left me to myself again.

***

On Thursday, I was discharged from the hospital with a long list of dos & don’ts and pills I had to take. With my right hand immobilized, I was looking for anything to do with my spare time. My parents were both at work until late afternoon. I sat on my drum set for a while but playing without my strong hand proved to be impossible. To make it worse, I was still battered and my body ached whenever I attempted a rapid move. I moved my eyes to my guitar. Nope. Bike? Nope! Damn, I couldn’t even roll a joint by myself now. I saw a video of a guy doing it one-handedly but it took him like forever. I sighed with frustration.

It was the second day of July and it was hot outside. I could really feel my smelly armpits, not to mention my privates. I decided I needed a shower and went to the bathroom, not thinking about it too much. I took off my pants and underwear when I realised I couldn’t take my shirt off. And I couldn’t just walk into the stall with my cast unprotected.

That was doctor’s rule number one - don’t get your cast wet, lad! It never occurred to me to ask him or anyone how to fucking wash myself. Unless they expected me to go for a month or more without showering.

It took me 3 minutes to Google for a solution and another 5 minutes to gain enough composure to do what had to be done. My shirt wasn’t long enough to cover my privates and I used my healthy hand to do just that. Eventually, I took a deep breath and stuck my head out of the bathroom.

As quietly as possible, hoping he'll be the only one who hears me, I finally managed "Wayne!” I waited a minute, and tried again,

“Waayyne!”

No sign of movement. I was too shy to go out and knock on his door. I went back to the bathroom and dialed his number, feeling embarrassed. Wayne didn’t pick up but just opened his door down the hall.

“Here,” I hissed.

“I’m guessing you need some help with that, Junior?” he smirked but only a little. I guess he figured I wasn’t in a mood for his mocking and that was a level of consideration I didn’t expect from him.

“Get a large plastic bag from the kitchen and bring it here,” I demanded.

He gave me a look but complied and after a minute was back with a large, white Tesco bag.

“Okay, I need you to do two things,” I took a deep breath again. To make it worse, my dick twitched in my hand and started growing a little when I thought of these things. “First, help me get out of this.” I raised my arm, losing my cover. I just wanted to get it over with at this point. Wayne looked at me and started slowly pulling off my shirt, trying not to hurt me. When he did, I practically grew a semi-hardon, especially when the shirt was covering my eyes. I didn’t think that Wayne noticed at first. But when my dick touched his thigh through his boxer shorts, he sure did notice.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, all red, “It’s been days since I last touched it.”

“Don’t sweat it, it’s normal. And you’ll get used to it.”

The fact was, I didn’t want to get used to it. I won’t lie, it was kind of exciting. Maybe even very exciting since I was a developing exhibitionist. Sure, it was awkward and embarrassing and eventually I would have to figure out how to do all this by myself.

I was standing there naked except for my cast and didn’t bother to cover myself anymore. My semi-hard 6 inches were impossible to be hidden just with one hand, anyway. Luckily, Wayne wasn’t staring. Because you can’t call occasional glances staring, right?

“Okay,” I said, “now take the bag and wrap it around my arm. And do tie it tightly.”

And so he did. The bag was large enough to cover my entire arm and soon I was ready to go.

“Do you need anything else or should I leave you?”

“Um, actually,“ I said getting inside the stall, “could you come back in five to help me get dressed? I promise I’ll figure out how to do it myself next time. Or you can just stay and wait.”

“Okay, I’ll wait,” he said as he rested on the washing machine to the sound of running water. “So, how do you feel?”

“Awful, man,” I replied, clumsily shampooing my hair,” I can’t do anything without this hand. No drums, no games, no bike, nothing.”

“It sucks bro, but it will pass. Remember when I had my leg broken a few years back?”

“Yeah but not having a hand is way worse. I literally can’t do anything!”

“Guess you’re right. It will pass all the same, though. If you need me for anything, just let me know, okay?”

I went silent for a moment and smiled, “well, if you can roll me a fatty from time to time, I would appreciate it.”

“Sure Junior, anytime,” he chuckled and paused for a little. “Look, I’m sorry for walking on you the other day, the door was open and I heard some noises. I should have known better.”

I went a little red, “that’s okay Wayne. At least it was you and not Sarah or Mum.”

“Now that would suck, alright. Um, we’re pretty much the same down there if it makes you feel any better.”

“Oh stop it! T.M.I!” I’ve gone even redder and splashed him with some shower water.

“Alright, chill! Anyway, we could go to the park later and smoke a little if you want. You know, some medicinal marijuana?”

“Sure.” I was up for it but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go near the park anytime soon. I managed to rationalize everything that happened over there but deep down I still felt uneasy. Maybe we could find another spot or something.

After I was done, Wayne helped me dry myself and get dressed. He said he had a basketball game in 30 minutes and to call him if I needed anything. I thanked him and took the plastic Tesco bag with me to practice tying it up by myself later.

Back in my room, I lay on my back on the bed and started throwing a tennis ball upwards and catching it again. So that’s how you have fun when you only have one hand at your disposal. Vintage. After a few minutes, I failed to catch it and it bounced away. It made me feel more helpless than ever and I felt tears of frustration coming to my eyes.

Well, I haven’t had a proper cry since the accident. Maybe I should just let it go for once.

But then I heard the doorbell. I froze, listening for any movement in the house but it seemed like I was alone.

It rang again. I carefully made my way downstairs and opened the door.

I was gobsmacked. Right here on my porch was the black Stranger Things kid - Lucas.

***

“Hey, I’m Ryan, do you remember me?” He asked me with a beautiful smile. At that point, I was pretty sure I was losing it. Lucas from Stranger Things was at my doorway, saying his name is Ryan. I swore to God that I’ll never smoke another joint in my life. I was clearly going crazy.

“Do I remember…” I muttered, “uh… you’re the Stranger Things kid?” Of course it isn’t him, you idiot, what are you talking about? But he was really similar, I’ll give him that.

He laughed out loud when he heard me say it, showing me his even, white teeth.

“Man, did you hurt your head, too? Do me a favour and stop riding your bike without your helmet, okay?” I went red on my face. Maybe I really did take a hit to my head. He nudged me gently, “come on, I’m teasing you. I get that a lot. You know, the Stranger Things bullcrap. I’m Ryan, though. Ryan Fawkes. I’m 14.

He did look like 14 and like if he was doing sports every day. He was just a little shorter than me and slim. But like, basketball slim.

“Oh hey, I’m Owen. Owen Davies, I’m 15. Almost 16.” I extended my hand and he gave me a homie handshake. Complex calculations went through my head and a moment later the puzzle fell into place. “Um, you’re the boy who called an ambulance?”

“That’s me! No need to thank me though. I came by to check how bad you look.” I was in my darkest hour but his smile was contagious; he was nuts. He inspected me from my head down to my toes and said with a melodic voice: “Man, I expected much worse than that. Looking good!” Then he nodded at my cast, “So, is it broken?”

“Um, yeah, quite badly, too. Luckily, no damage to the other parts.”

I swear he looked at my crotch and said, “Now that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?”

I just laughed and added, “So, you wanna come in? We just moved to this place this week.”

“Sure!”

“Do you live nearby?” I asked when we stepped into the living room.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking around, “down the street, close to the park where you almost got flattened. Nice house, mate. Where’s your room?” He was straight to the point, wasn’t he?

“Um, upstairs, come on.” I didn’t feel quite ready to show him into my room but he was a good distraction from my other problems. I showed him up the stairs and examined him for a while. Damn, he was fit! I couldn’t help but undress him in my mind.

“Nice place!” He exclaimed, jumping on my bed. “You got it all to yourself?”

“Yes. And my older brother Wayne has a room on the other side of the corridor.”

Ryan couldn’t sit in one place for long. He jumped to my electronic drum set and started playing with his hands clumsily. It obviously didn’t bother him that it was unplugged. He looked at me, grinning from ear to ear, performing fake drum fills.

“You play drums?” he asked.

“Yeah, a little.” Duh.

“How do I turn it on?”

I turned on the set and the speakers for him. Soon, Ryan was lost playing like a maniac, not making any sense but clearly enjoying himself. I was slightly amused, too. Then, as quickly as he got into it, he stood up and went back to exploring my room.

“Ah man, you have Playstation! Let’s play some,” he exclaimed and before I could protest, he sat on the floor and loaded Soul Calibur. He handed me the other controller,“ Come on!”

I gave him a blank look and his smile disappeared for the first time.

“Sorry mate, I forgot. I can get very enthusiastic sometimes; in case you didn’t notice.”

“Don’t worry Ryan, I’m not used to being a cripple myself, yet. And I’m sorry if I’m being a downer, there are just so many things I used to do every day and now all I can do is look at my phone the whole day.” I paused, considering making a suggestion and finally added: “Damn it, I haven’t been able to give myself a proper wank since the accident. This sucks so much!”

Ryan smiled at my remark and hopped onto the bed next to me.

“So, there’s nobody home now?” He asked.

“Yeah, everyone is out, why?” Oh god, oh god. Oh god.

“Want me to help you out?” He looked at my crotch suggestively and I felt a twitch inside my sweatpants.

Yes, please, do it! And if you add a little tongue from time to time, I’ll fucking owe you man! I wanted to say it, I really did but I had to keep up my straight act for now.

“Would you really do it?”

“Sure, no big deal. We’re both boys, aren’t we? And I would’ve gone mad if I couldn’t do it at least once a day. Nobody deserves it!”

I was being a little manipulative here. It’s true that I haven’t had a release since Saturday. Five days. That’s my all-time record ever since I started doing that at the innocent age of twelve. But I knew I could do myself if I’d only focused and took my time. However, it wouldn’t be a wise thing to mention now that I was about to get my first handjob ever. A handjob from a stranger boy who helped me get to the hospital and now acted like we had known each other forever. Was he really just trying to help or was he gay like me? There was no time to think now, that’s for sure!

“That’s crazy man, but alright, I really need to cum.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about. Now lay there and relax.”

I was a tiny bit shaky when I laid back on my bed, careful not to strain my right hand. Ryan sat by my hip, smiled at me and placed his hand on my crotch, feeling my dick through my sweatpants. The feeling of someone else touching it was something completely new and I was semi-hard in seconds.

“You alright there?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I was more than alright, to tell the truth.

Ryan wasted no time and slid my sweatpants down to my knees, revealing my white undies. I guess I was expecting a little more foreplay - or at least some foreplay - but the undies followed right after and my cock sprang to life.

“Now look at you, you’re so big! For a white boy, I mean” he gave me his smile and I grinned back, not believing how lucky I was. Before I could comment, he took my rod in his hand and I gasped. So this is how it feels, oh god this is amazing. I loved how Ryan’s dark skin contrasted with mine. Being a boy himself, he definitely knew what to do and stroked me at a moderate pace; not too fast, not too slow.

I appreciated the way he was doing it. It must’ve been what a straight handjob feels like, if you know what I mean. I didn’t know it until much later, but there is a huge difference between a straight handjob and a gay handjob. A gay handjob is seductive and involves a lot of tempo changes as much as the optical adoration of the penis. Not forgetting an obligatory balls massage.

A straight handjob is, well, straight to the point, practical and professional with none of that gay bullcrap. I think that both types can be fun if done right, but at that particular moment, I prayed for Ryan to turn out straight. Sometimes you just need that friend to mess around with, no deep feelings involved.

I really wished I could last longer than I did but when I came, it was amazing. The 5-days’ worth of cum was launched into the air in about seven jets and landed on my t-shirt, finally oozing on Ryan’s fist.

"Theeere you go," Ryan said, watching me squirt.

I was curling my toes and panting, overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Is it better now?” Ryan asked, his voice full of concern.

“Uh, thanks... It was amazing. I didn’t know how much I needed it. You are a real friend for helping me out.”

“Don’t mention it, it’s just a handjob. You deserve a break after all the shitty luck. Do you have any napkins? I need to clean you up. And let’s get you a new t-shirt.”

And that’s what happened. Ryan cleaned my dick and helped me put on a new shirt. I felt like something between a little baby and an old geezer but in a way, it was hot as fuck!

“I have to go home for dinner,” Ryan said, “let’s hang out sometimes, okay?”

I was still feeling unreal. This was my first sexual experience with anybody but Ryan didn't seem to think too much about it.

“Sure mate, let’s exchange numbers,” I replied and gave him mine; then he called me and I saved his.

“See you later. I’ll help myself out, don’t get up.” He was already closing the door behind himself when he stuck his head back through. “You should come over to my place next time. I have a Nintendo Wii.” He looked at me and when I didn’t react, he added: “You can play it with just one hand.” He gave me another cute smile and disappeared.

What do you know? At first, he seemed like he was all over the place. Turns out he could be caring and thoughtful, too.