It's Not Easy Being a Tree
Chapter 6
When Jon entered the room, he walked over to me and popped me upside my
head. “Ouch!” I shouted as I got up and faced him.

“What was that for?” I balled my fist. He was much larger than me, but I wasn’t
in the mood for anymore of his shit.

He jabbed his finger in my chest. “Don’t ever embarrass me in front of my
friends again.”

I started to say something, but Ross walked up and grabbed my arm. “Come
downstairs with me, Woody.” He tugged on my arm more forcefully. “I’m
thirsty.  Do you have any Coke in the fridge?”

I stared into my brother’s angry face, but Ross tugged on my arm again. “Come
on, Woody.”

I stormed out of the room and headed downstairs with Ross tailing close behind
me. When I got to the kitchen, I turned. “Why does he always do this shit to
me?” I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

Ross shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s just an asshole, I guess.”

I grabbed two Cokes out of the refrigerator, handed one to Ross and went into
the den. I grabbed the remote and turned it to ESPN. There was a college
football game on. Normally, I never watched football on television, but since
Ross was nice enough to get me away from my brother, then I was willing to
make the sacrifice and watch something I knew he would like.

We sat on opposite ends of the sofa. When I toed off my shoes, he did the
same. He watched the game, while I kept trying to watch him watch the game.   
I knew when an exciting play was happening, because his eyes would light up as
he would sit up on the end of the sofa. He would shout and pump his fist into
the air if he liked a play. If he didn’t, he would groan and flop back on the sofa.  
I never knew a football game could be so interesting.

Occasionally, he would look over at me and smile. “Did you see that?” He’d ask
excitedly. I’d look over at the television, but the play would be over. Once in a
while, they would show an instant replay.

“Cool,” I would say. I was usually rewarded with a wide grin.

Everything was going fine until his cell phone rang. He looked to see who was
calling and started smiling.

“Hey, Shelby!” He said excitedly as he looked at me and winked. The enjoyable
time I was having with Ross abruptly ended. I knew who had called him. Shelby
was a football cheerleader.

I could hear a girl’s voice on the other end. She seemed giddy and excited. Ross
looked at his watch. “Now?” He looked at me and rolled his eyes.

My heart sank when I heard him say, “Okay, give me fifteen minutes.” He put
the phone in his pocket and looked over at me.

“It’s been fun, Woody,” he said as he rose from the sofa. “But I gotta go.”  He
looked back at the game on the television. “Let me know who wins, okay?” I
nodded my head as he walked over to the stairs.

“Connor?”

A few seconds later his brother hollered down, “Yeah?”

“If Mom calls,” Ross hollered upstairs, “Tell her I’m over at Shelby’s.”

“K,” responded Connor. “Have fun.” I followed him to the door and watched him
walk down the sidewalk. He turned when he got to the end and gave me a quick
wave. I closed the door, went back to the family room and turned on MTV.

I was asleep on the sofa when my parents, brother and sister returned from the
movie. Mom shook my shoulder, waking me up. “Have you eaten, Dear?”

I had to think for a minute before remembering I hadn’t eaten since being in the
food court with Jeff. “No,” I replied sleepily as I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

“We stopped and got Italian,” she said as she headed back toward the kitchen.
“Glenda   didn’t eat all hers so I’ll warm it up in the microwave.” I looked up at
the clock. It was almost nine.

Dad came into the room and sat down in his recliner. “Where’s Jon?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I dunno,” I replied sarcastically. “Not my time of the
month to watch him.”

Dad gave me a stern look, opened up his newspaper and mumbled, “Smart ass.”

I was going to say something, but I knew better. Jon could get away with telling
Dad off, but I couldn’t. I would probably end up with several weeks of
punishment if I did.

I went into the kitchen and sat down. Mom placed a small portion of spaghetti in
front of me. “How was your trip to the mall?”

“It was all right,” I replied as I shoved a forkful of spaghetti in my mouth. She
down across from me and watched me eat.

“Do you mind?” I laughed as she stared at me.

My mother is a gentle woman. I think I got some of my meekness from her. She
is also, how can I say this kindly? Rotund? Is that a good word?

She didn’t use to be large. I can remember as a little boy, her taking me in her
small lap and holding me. Then after the twins were born, it was as if she  
couldn’t control her weight any more, or she just didn’t care. She does,
however, have the perfect lap for the children at her school. Several times I’ve
seen a small child come into the office in tears. My mother will rush over, take
them in her arms, sit them on her lap, and rock them until they stop crying.

Dad likes her big. He’s jokingly said many times as he comes up from behind
and wraps his arms around her, “I’m getting more for my money.” Sometimes I
look at her and wonder if I’ll balloon up like that someday. I want to grow, just
not THAT much.

She smiled wistfully. “You’re growing up right before my eyes.” Oh, no. Not the
sentimental mother shit again. I had watched her doing it to Jon lately. Usually,
she would leave the room crying when she talked about him going off to college
when he graduated.

I tried to ignore her as I ate, but she wouldn’t stop staring at me. “What?”

“Nothing,” she sighed as she got up and walked over to the sink.

“Is there any milk?” She walked over to the refrigerator, opened it and poured
me a glass. She sat back down and set it in front of me. I ate as she looked
over and smiled.

“What?”

I wasn’t prepared for her next question. “Are you happy, Dear?”

“What?” I asked excitedly. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

She reached across the table and patted my hand. “I don’t know,” she replied
as she smiled sympathetically at me. “Sometimes I get the feeling you’re not
very happy.”

I wiped spaghetti sauce off my mouth with a napkin. “I’m okay, all right.  
Nothing’s wrong with me.”

A concerned look appeared on her face. “You’d tell me if there was, wouldn’t
you?”

I smiled and laughed. “Probably not.”

She reached over and grasped my hands. “Sometimes it’s tough being young.
Jon never seemed to have a problem growing up.”

I pushed myself away from the table and looked angrily at my mother. “Why
does everyone have to compare me to Jon?”

“I’m not comparing you to your brother,” she said apologetically. “I’m just
trying to help.”

“I’m all right,” I said rather loudly. “I don’t need your help.” I stormed out of the
kitchen and went upstairs to my room.

Is there a big fucking sign on my back that says something is wrong with me?
Of course there is, but am I sending out signals or something? First, Kate asked
me if I was all right and then figures out I’m gay. This morning Jeff asked me if I
was all right, telling me he would listen if I had a problem. Now Mom asks me if   
I’m happy.  I stood in front of the mirror and turned to see if a sign was on my
back.

I sat down at my computer and opened it to the chat room. I was hoping that
Indyboi91 would be on, or at least have left me a message. He wasn’t in the
chat room, and the only email I had was ads for Viagra and penis extensions-
whatever they are.

There were only twenty-two men in the room. None were near my age. I guess
all the young guys were out on a Saturday night. I felt like such a loser sitting
at home in a chat room with twenty-two old men who probably had nothing
better to do than watch other guys jack off.

I was startled when I saw my name appear on the screen:

Bidad36: Elmer Fudd, u there?

I quickly hit his profile before responding. It said he was from my city. He was
38, married and bisexual. I immediately wondered if his wife knew what he was
doing on a Saturday night.

His profile pics were hot, though. He was very fit. He had a hairy chest. I found
that rather exciting, since most of the guys I’d ever looked at online were
smooth. He also had a huge cock laying limp on a nice set of balls. He had a lot
of pubic hair, but not so much that it looked gross or anything.

I kind of got aroused looking at his pics. He didn’t have a face pic, though, so I
couldn’t tell if his face looked as good as his body.

I couldn’t believe my cock was getting hard over some guy who is as old as my
father. I jumped again when my name appeared on the screen:

Bidad36: Elmer, you there?

I hesitated a moment before responding. I had never chatted with anyone other
than Indyboi91, and that was only briefly.

Elmer Fudd:  im here

Bidad36: hey buddy how’s things?

I was becoming nervous. He seemed nice enough, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to
talk to someone his age. I had heard about sexual predators on the internet, so
I had to be careful. A girl in my class last year started chatting with a guy in
Arkansas. From the rumors, she chatted with him for almost three months.
Then one day she agreed to meet him. He told her he was nineteen, but when
he showed up, she said he was in his fifties. He had driven all the way to meet
her. Lucky for her, she was to meet him at a McDonalds. She was sitting in her
car waiting for him. When he pulled up and got out, she quickly left. Of course,
she told a girlfriend, who told someone else. By the next day, the story was all
over school.

Bidad36: u there elmer?

Elmer Fudd: yah

Bidad36: Im camming if you want to see

The text was moving so fast as several other guys were trying to chat. Four or
five were commenting on how big a cock Bidad36 had.

Dreemluvr: stroke that cock bidad  
lets see a load of cum

Mightytasty: yeah bidad shot that hot load

My hand shook as I hit the icon for his cam. My eyes widened when he
appeared. He was stroking a hard eight-inch cock. I couldn’t see his face, but
his hairy body was on display for everyone to see.

Bidad36: well, elmer. u like?

For the first time I realized I was rubbing my own erection. Bidad36 was on the
screen masturbating for me. He was already oozing a lot of cum and it appeared
he was ready to explode at any minute.

I crept my hands inside my shorts and starting jacking off. I was afraid to take
my dick out because I wasn’t sure when Jon might return home. Dad and Mom
always knock and ask permission to enter, so I wasn’t worried about them.
Occasionally, Glenn will barge in, but I could hear him if he came running
upstairs. Besides, since it was late, he and Glenda were probably asleep in the
family room. They would whine on Friday and Saturday nights to stay up late,
but they would usually fall asleep and Dad would have to carry them to their
bedrooms.

Dreemluvr: do u like his big cock elmer?

I nervously typed, “yah”

Bidad36: I like young boys like you sucking my cock

He started to really pound it. More cum appeared at his head. He would stroke it
several times and then swirl his fingers around the head. I think he was
imagining me on my knees in front of him sucking his big dick.

I started mimicking what he was doing. I let out a moan and had to stop. If I did
it any longer, I would cum in my underwear.

Bidad36: want to cum suck me elmer?

Dreemluvr: hell, bidad ill suck it for you if elmer don’t

BigCarl: hell, so will I bidad

Bidad36: any pics elmer? Id love to see that young body of urs

ElmerFudd: no not yet

Bidad36: cam?

ElmerFudd: its not hooked up yet

I lied, but he wouldn’t know. If I ever got up the nerve to show my dick on cam,
it would be for Indyboi91, not some older guy. Although, watching bidad stroke
his wet, hard cock was tempting for me to turn on my cam.

Bidad36: k maybe some other time

ElmerFudd: k

I continued to watch him for several more minutes. The texts were scrolling so
quickly, I could hardly keep up with what was being written. Most were from the
other guys encouraging Bidad to shoot a big load. I had my hands in my shorts
feverishly stroking myself as I listened for someone to come upstairs.

Suddenly a text appeared from bidad36:

Bidad36: damn elmer this ones for u

He arched his back and a huge load shot out over his chest. He kept pumping
that enormous cock. Without warning, I felt myself ready to cum. I let out a low
moan, gave a couple of jerks and exploded inside my shorts.

I leaned back, closed my eyes and reveled in the rush I had just received. It was
unlike any other time I’d cum, and I had been masturbating at least twice a day
since I was thirteen.

I caught my breath and looked back at the screen. Bidad36 had written me.

Bidad36: you like that one elmer

I smiled, leaned forward and with cum still on my fingers I typed:

ElmerFudd:  hell, yah

Bidad36: gtg take care

His screen then went blank. I got up and went into the bathroom to wash up. I
wet a washrag and wiped the cum from my soaked underwear. Since they were
too sticky to wear, I took them off and pulled my shorts back on. Just as I was
finishing, I heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Shit!” I muttered. Jon and Connor were probably returning and I couldn’t
remember if I had minimized my computer screen. I hurried across the hall and
into the bedroom. Jon was sitting on his bed, but Connor was standing about
three feet from my computer desk. I glanced behind him and saw nothing on my
screen. I let out a sigh of relief.

Connor sat down beside my brother and I casually walked over to my computer.
I needed to delete my history without my brother noticing what I was doing. I
swung my chair so he couldn’t see the screen. When I maximized the page, it
was still in the chat room. I quickly left the site and deleted my history. When I
turned to see if anyone had seen me, Connor was standing behind me.

“Wanna play a video game?” He sat down beside me. I looked over, wondering if
he had seen what I had done. If he did notice, his face didn’t show it. He
reached out, grabbed a handful of my video games and read through them.

“How about a game of Space Invaders?”

Jon walked up behind us. “Space Invaders?” He started to laugh. “That’s so
middle school.” He reached out and picked up a game. “Now here’s a good one.”
He handed Connor the game, Fallout. He grabbed my shirt collar and lifted me
up. “Get up, Runt,” he snapped as he tossed me off to the side and sat down.

Connor looked up sympathetically at me. “Maybe next time, huh?” I shrugged
my shoulders and started to leave the room.

I heard Jon ask Connor, “Why you want to play with the Runt for?” I didn’t wait
to hear Connor’s answer.


Mom came into my room around nine on Sunday morning and tried to get me to
get up and go to church with her. “Mom,” I groaned as she attempted to pull
my covers off me.

“Come on, Woody,” she insisted. “Your father won’t get up and the kids are still
in bed.”

“I’m still in bed,” I mumbled as I curled myself deeper under my covers. “Get  
Jon to go with you.”

“He’s knocked out in the family room with Connor.” I looked over at his empty
bed. Usually when Connor spends the night on a weekend, they stay up all
night watching movies. After Connor leaves, he’ll crawl in his bed and remain
there the rest of the day. She tugged at my covers again.

“All right,” I groaned as I sat up. I realized I had morning woody and couldn’t
get out of bed until she left. “Let me take a shower and I’ll be downstairs in
about a half hour.”

She leaned down and kissed me on my cheek. “You’re a sweetheart,” she said
as she turned and left the room. I crawled out of bed, went into the bathroom
and turned on the shower.

I hate church, and the only reason I go is because..well, I’m going to go to hell
for saying this, but…the minister’s son is really cute. We attend the First Church
of Christ and Reverend Sparks has been the pastor for about four years. Mom
would take me to church with her when Dad wouldn’t go. Then one day
Reverend Sparks’s son started singing in the choir. He’s my age and he has a
beautiful tenor voice. I get all emotional when he stands onstage and sings a
solo. It’s almost like listening to an angel sing.

I was almost asleep in the pew with my head on my mother’s shoulder the first
time I heard him. I woke up thinking I had died and gone to heaven when I
heard this beautiful voice singing, His Eye Is on the Sparrow. I looked up
onstage and saw this young boy with long brown hair and brilliant brown eyes
shimmering with tears as he sang so melodiously. I couldn’t take my eyes off
him.

I have watched him grow a lot over the past four years since I first saw him. He
is no longer the small, young boy with a tenor voice. His voice has deepened
considerably, but it has lost none of it melodic richness. He has also grown taller
and his body has transformed into a man’s. He still looks angelic, however.

He is also extremely shy. I don’t know how he manages to get up before the
congregation and sing. I’ve tried to speak to him a few times, but he just smiles
politely and walks away. On Sundays, I can stare at him without feeling guilty. If
God only knew what I was thinking as I watched him, he would strike me dead.

Mom was sitting alone in the kitchen when I entered. She looked up and smiled.
“Good morning, Dear.” She got up and poured me a glass of orange juice. She
then placed a bowl of Apple Jacks in front of me.

“I talked to Vivian Lancaster yesterday,” Mom said as she took a sip of coffee.
“She says that Louise Sparks told her that her husband has prepared a very
special sermon this morning.”

“Nice,” I mumbled. I usually fall asleep when Reverend Sparks begins to preach.
Most of his sermons are about the same thing: love your fellow man. Lately, he
has been telling us how we should feel sorry for people in the world who are
less fortunate than we are. Last week I almost started crying when he showed
pictures on an overhead screen of people in the Sudan. I noticed that Mom put
in a larger donation than usual when they passed around a basket after the
sermon.

After eating, I followed Mom outside to the car. She was wearing a bright floral
dress and I started giggling as I trailed behind her. She looked like a garden
with various colored roses.

Sunday worship begins at eleven. We arrived around 10:30. She immediately
noticed Mrs. Lancaster, walked over, and started to talk to her. I walked away. I
hated standing beside her while she gossiped about members of the church.
She does it week after week and I find it,  I don’t know, not very religious. Mom
likes to sit in the third row, so I knew where to find her.

I roamed around and smiled at some people, but most of the members of our
church are old. There are very few people my age, except for Lucas. There are a
few girls, but they never notice me. I looked at my watch and I had about ten
minutes before the service would begin. I headed downstairs to use the
bathroom. Church members frown upon people getting up and going to the
restroom once the organist starts to play.

As I entered, Mr. Dewberry, my biology teacher at school was leaving. It is kind
of weird running into your teacher outside of class, but I’ve seen him in church
since I was a little boy. He teaches Sunday school, and I was in his class when I
was ten. In a way I’m glad I know him because biology is a difficult subject for
me. I think he has been generous in grading me because we do attend the same
church.

He is married with a beautiful wife. She has been the object of gossip by my
mother and others because of her petite, slim figure. I think they are just
jealous of her. He also has two young daughters. One is ten and the other is
around six.

“Good morning, Woody.” He smiles as he holds the door open for me.

“Hi, Mr. Dewberry,” I responded. I have to look up because he is rather tall.

He frowned at me. “I’ve told you that you can call me Nathan outside of the
classroom.”

‘I’d rather not, Mr. Dewberry,” I replied as I entered the restroom.

He has been trying to get me to call him by his first name since I was fourteen
and attended a summer church camp. He was my cottage counselor. Mr.
Dewberry is old. He must be at least thirty-five. Most of the other counselors
were young, only a few years older than the rest of the boys. I didn’t mind
calling them by their first name. However, I could never bring myself to call
someone so old, Nathan.

I like Mr. Dewberry as a teacher, though. He is kind of cool. He likes to tell jokes
and keep us entertained while he teaches. He doesn’t just stand in front of the
class and lecture. A few months ago, he told us how if you mix Mentos and diet
Coke together, they would explode. He warned us never to try it, but you know
how high school kids are. Ben Dawson and Jenna Casey decided they would try
it. Unfortunately for them, it was in the cafeteria on a Friday. It spewed
everywhere. Someone set off the fire alarm and the fire department arrived. As
a result, Ben and Jenna were suspended for five days.

As I was standing before the urinal, the stall door opened and Lucas peered
around before walking out. He stopped suddenly, looked briefly at me and then
dropped his head and walked over to the sink. I looked back to see what he was
doing when he turned his head and saw me looking him.

I zipped my pants up, walked over to the sink, and stood beside him. “Hi,
Lucas,” I said nervously as I looked at his image in the mirror.

“Hi, Woody,” he responded sheepishly as he reached for the paper towel
dispenser, pulled off a couple of sheets and began wiping his hands dry.

I looked at his beautiful face in the mirror. It had been a while since I had seen
him up close. Usually, I admired him from the third row of the church pew. His
eyes still had that sparkle in them the first time I watched him sing.

I cleared my throat and hoped it wouldn’t crack from nervousness. It was the
first time I had actually ever had a chance to speak to him. “Are you singing
today?”

He looked at me in the mirror and smiled. “Yeah,” he responded. “I’m singing a
song that will go along with Dad’s sermon.”

“Cool,” I said. “What is it?”

His eyes lit up with a mischievous glimmer. “You’ll see.” He finished drying his
hands, turned and left the restroom. I followed him up the stairs and headed to
where my mother was seated.

The organist was beginning to play when I sat down. I watched as Lucas
entered the stage with the rest of the choir. He looked down at me and smiled.


Chapter 7                                Return to TMJ