Date: Fri, 24 Jan 2025 00:23:35 -0800 From: Kris Reed Subject: My Boy, MY MAN - Chapter 1 Chapter 1 How We Got Here Sometimes it all goes to shit no matter how hard you try to do the right thing by everyone around you. Sometimes all the signs are there but you're so busy doing your job as a provider and protector (because that's supposed to be your job as a fucking MAN) that you miss all the signs... When Jenna got pregnant again after losing our first baby, she seemed happy enough but not having any clue just how a chick with my kid inside her belly is supposed to be feeling I guess I didn't notice just how not into the planning and preparation of it all she was. I had my 3rd tour to Iraq coming up and I blamed her seeming lack of enthusiasm on the fact that when my son was born I'd be eating sand in the middle of a desert with my platoon of 27 hardass battle bros with no clue as to how long I'd be there or how many original body parts I'd still have on me when I got back. I knew it was hard and I suppose in retrospect, we probably had little right to try and pretend we could function like any other normal family but Jenna seemed like she was doing her best to try and that's all I could really ask of her. Because I had a kid on the way, the Marines actually managed to get me home after 10 months so Killen was 5 months old when I got back home. I spent my entire teen life fantasizing about the day I'd have a wife and become a dad to a boy so I was absolutely beside myself, having feelings hard men like me are never supposed to tap into until that moment you have your own kid in your arms. It is that permission to become a human being again, to be vulnerable and to love without shame that is the true miracle and it took no time at all to realize that Jenna wasn't experiencing that same miracle right along with me. While I was deployed, Jenna's mother Carrie (who I got along well with) became practically a live-in nanny, spending all day caring for Killan and even staying over on many nights. I didn't begrudge Jenna the help she needed but I later found out from Carrie that Jenna's postpartum depression was so severe that at one point, she was unable to get out of bed to feed him. She could only ignore his cries for so long without eventually being forced to call her mother and admit to her what was going on. Jenna kept her illness from me in an effort to not burden me with a problem that I wasn't in any position to do anything about from a desert halfway around the world, but I could tell just from the sound of her voice on every phone or Skype call that something was seriously wrong. The woman I was speaking to was not the girl I fell in love with in high school and married between graduation and shipping off to boot camp. Every conversation I had with her gave off "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" vibes, making me feel like my wife had been replaced by some total stranger. I couldn't wait to get home and get to the bottom of Jen's problems and get her whatever help she needed to get past it. The psychotherapy sessions and medications did seem to help some, but her bond with Killan simply never developed as it should have and Carrie ended up being the one largely responsible for raising him. The cycle of long deployments, then coming home to deal with Jen's illness went on for 5 more years until I came home from my final deployment to find only Carrie and my son at home. Jenna had packed all her belongings and left, unwilling to face me in her decision. I was devastated. All I ever wanted to be in my life was to be a badass soldier, husband, and dad and now here I was, no longer a Marine or a husband. I wanted more than anything to extend my contract when my 8 years was up but with what was going on at home, I couldn't in good conscience continue to spend months away from my family, in no position to do my part in being there to fix things. My entire military career was about solving problems and yet, I couldn't do fuck all about the biggest problem in my life. My request for resignation was accepted given the circumstances and now here I was, an ex-Marine trying to not just figure out life as a civilian and... but as a single dad. Carrie did her best to support my transition by making herself as available as ever to watch Killan but, eventually, her loyalty to her daughter had to take precedence over her love for her grandchild (especially after the divorce was finalized) and her daily presence in our lives eventually faded away to the standard occasional weekend and the usual holidays. As Carrie's presence faded out my battle buddy and best friend Nick stepped in to take up his rightful place as my main guy, my best bro, my ride or die. The rest of our platoon called us "husbros" and we just shrugged it off as neither of us really disagreed. Nick had been "more than a friend but less than a wife" since high school and our emotional connection was no big secret to anyone who knew us and we didn't bother trying to analyze it too much. We were too straight to consider fucking each other so we were content to just be bros that loved each other in every possible way and that was that. Nick's retirement just a year after mine allowed him to move just a five-minute walk away from my house and from that point on, anyone who didn't know us who saw as at McDonald's or Dave and Busters would easily assume we were a gay married couple raising a kid. Killan grew into the kind of boy you would expect with two hardass Marines in his life. Between myself and "Uncle Nick", Kil was physically focused and years ahead of his peers in agility and speed making him the star player of his pee wee football and hockey leagues. At 10 years old he was just a hair under 5 feet tall but his typically pre-teen stick frame hid a level of strength and power that was actually kind of scary. We had to constantly remind him that he wasn't the same as other boys and he had to keep his "super power" in check to avoid seriously injuring his peers. He tried. He really did try but bloody noses and minor fractures seemed to become more and more frequent topics of conversation as the years went on and the only small comfort was that both of Kil's chosen sports required full padding and helmets. Nick and I both wondered about the possible carnage if he ever chose to get into anything like wrestling or, God forbid, boxing. Nick and I decided to consolidate our home gyms into one complete gym, and since Kil was no longer using the basement as his personal playroom, we completely renovated it into a badass full gym that was so complete with every weight, rack, machine and even a shower that we could have sold memberships. Kil immediately wanted to turn his occasional workouts into daily rituals just like his dad and uncle and there was no stopping or discouraging him. We had no choice but to become his personal trainers as neither one of us was willing to let a ten-year-old run amok in a potential personal injury playground alone. Kil's workouts were infused with the same Zen-like laser focus he used on the playing field. I knew that he inherited at least some of his focus from me, (I wasn't a top ranked Marine Expert Marksman for nothing) but I also knew that the rest of it was his way of dealing with the pain of his mother abandoning him. Behind every every consistent A and B on his report card, every pass he caught and ran to a goal, every slap shot into the net, and every drop of sweat he mustered up as he racked up another ball busting set was another moment that he didn't have to think about it. Those moments and the temporary peace they provided him became addictive. Kil's therapist had warned me for years that his abandonment issues would manifest themselves in one way or another and if this was to be how, then so be it. As a dad, I could think of a dozen more destructive things he could become addicted to or unhealthy ways he could act out and Nick agreed with me so we both did our best to give him all the support and encouragement he needed. In just three years, Killan had transformed from a skinny little kid to a 5 feet 9 inch Alpha with 140 lbs of muscle packed onto a body that looked like it belonged to a porn star. He was about to start high school as one very hot-looking kid with all the privileges and perks that would go along with that. Speaking of porn, my pussy hound redneck hilbilly dad never once made sex an awkward subject for me and we enjoyed a healthy and open relationship with sex as soon as I was old enough to comprehend it. Even if we hadn't, 8 years in the Marines will strip you of any remaining reservations about your body or sex that you may have had left anyway so I made it a point to raise Kil the same way. Treating anything to do with sex as shameful or embarrassing is how you end up raising a little beta bitch and not a true Alpha. I knew Kil already had a very healthy relationship with his left hand for a couple of years now which Nick and I thoroughly encouraged but we felt he was ready to take his bate to the next level which is why he got an assortment of pocket pussies and a giant bottle of lube under the tree last Christmas and he was as giddy as a 5-year-old with a new Transformers playset. I was a single guy with an insatiable sex drive and Nick was every bit as bad and neither of us saw any reason to pretend to Killan that we weren't slamming pussy at every possible opportunity. Kil knew the score and I was happy to fuel his bate sesh's by leaving the porn Nick and I had just busted to running on the big screen tv for him to bust one to when he got home from practice or the non-stop parade of prime pussy he was getting an eyeful of in an out of my bedroom. I know he was getting an helluva earful too as he heard me fucking like a goddamn jackrabbit through the thin walls of my room right next to his and on many occasions, I knew he had his dick in his fist, timing his nut bust right along with mine and it made me cum all that much harder knowing my boy was getting off busting it like a champion right along with his dad. A boy built to breed like Kil should technically already be drowning in a sea of pussy all his own, dick barely getting a chance to dry in between breeding sessions and talking/texting girls every moment in between and deep into the wee hours but he was strictly focused on nothing but grades and sports. Nick and I encouraged him to attend parties and socialize at every opportunity (and between the football/hockey parties there were plenty of opportunities) but he showed a remarkable lack of interest in the actual pursuit of the opposite sex despite the fact that he was fully capable of talking to girls (and adults) as I had fully coached him to have player game from a young age. Kil was throughly capable of some of the most masterful flirting you ever saw from anyone his age when the rare occasion arose. As the son of a Marine he was all "Yes sir" and "No ma'am" so he was admired not just by his peers but adults alike. Despite all the positive attention, he remained socially reclusive, with his uncle Nick and his best (and technically only) friend, Branch Nolan, his team's quarterback as the only other people besides myself that he would spend what little social time outside of school and sports he allowed himself. Summer was winding down, Kil had just celebrated his 13th birthday, high school was right around the corner and I was determined that my boy was going to start school with a legendary reputation as a master cocksman like his dad. I didn't know how exactly I was going to break Sleeping Beauty out of his spell but between Nick and myself, I was confident we'd be able to come up with a plan to finally get my boy's dick wet and bust his little stud cherry into oblivion. Coming up next: The Best Laid Plans Readers: Nifty provides a service that no one else provides and has done so with tireless dedication for years at no cost to its fans. If you enjoyed this story and others from this amazing archive, PLEASE consider a donation to keep Nifty going strong! Questions? Comments? dipperkris@gmail.com