Big Mike's Boy Read online

  Big Mike’s Boy

  by

  Richard Peter Johnson

  Kindle Edition

  This book is for sale to ADULT audiences only. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes which may be considered offensive by some readers. The following material is pseudo- incest between a father, his adopted son, and others, not related to either. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced with this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  1

  He’s named Mike, but most of his friends call him “Big Mike”. Some of them called him “Papa Bear”, which I really didn’t understand. The “Bear” part I get because he’s a big, hairy guy. But Papa? Whatever. Me? I just call him dad. He’s not my real father, or even my sperm donor A.K.A. the man that created me. No, but he’s definitely my dad. He raised me for most of my life and I love him dearly. He gave me a second chance. And I did the same for him. Sort of. Look, let me just tell you the story and you can figure it all out for yourself.

  Mike and I first crossed paths when I was about five. See, he’s a fireman and my house had caught fire. He’s the one that saved me. I got burned and still bear some scarring to prove it, but he saved my life. My mother wasn’t so lucky. She died of her wounds. But it was kind of a blessing. Mom and I were poor. We lived mostly on subsidies and donations, living in a tenement in the worst section of town. My grandmother had kicked my mom out when she ended up pregnant at 16 and wanted nothing to do with her or me. As far as my “real” father, I never met the guy. He isn’t even listed on my birth certificate, so I have no idea who he is. As far as I know, I had no other relatives, which is how I came to live with Mike. I’m not sure how a single man ended up adopting a 5 year old, but he must have had some friends in high places for it to happen.

  He treated me well. Like a real dad should and taught me all of the important things in life- respect for others, kindness matters, hard work gets the best results, self- reliance and fire safety. Lots and lots of fire safety. He took me fishing, camping, to baseball games, stuff like that. What can I say? I loved the guy and knew that he loved me.

  It wasn’t until I was about 13 that I realized he was gay. Of course, before then, I had no idea what being homosexual was. All I knew was that he had a lot of guy friends, some of whom would spend the night. No big deal, right? Like a sleepover. Sure I heard some weird noises coming from his room on those nights, but I never really thought about it. He wasn’t very blatant about his proclivities. I’m not sure that even the guys he worked with even knew. And if they did, what could they do? He’d probably be able to kick all of their asses.

  The reason he’s known as “Big Mike” was because… Well, he’s big. Huge. He stands at about 6 feet, 6 inches tall and weighs in at over 300 lbs. And not because he’s fat. Sure, he might have a bit of a belly on him, but most of what he has is all muscle. Not cut muscle, just bulky muscle. He can lift well over his body weight and he carries all of that firefighting equipment around as though it weighs nothing. I’ve seen him pick up and carry just about every guy in that firehouse. It was kind of a game for them- every new guy had to get lifted by my dad. He keeps his hair in the same high and tight he was issued in the Marine Corps. Of course he has the standard fireman mustache, big and bushy, auburn (but starting to gray) like his close- cropped hair and the fur that covers his body. His brown eyes usually look quite soulful, but can turn very serious and angry in a moment. Imagine what that must have looked like to a 5 year old like me? The dude was a giant. But a gentle giant, to be sure.

  That’s my dad. Me? Well, after looking at him, it’s pretty obvious that I came from a whole different gene pool. First off, my name is Noah. I have blonde hair, blue eyes and am a bit skinny. The day I turned 18 I was just under 6 feet tall and tipped the scales at a whopping 170 pounds. I was never good at sports- I tried them all, but nothing ever really worked out for me. I’m more of the cerebral type. Dad never forced me to try out for anything, but made sure that I at least stuck with it for a season.

  “A promise made must be kept,” he would say when I grew tired of the sport halfway through the season.

  But I did excel at things like debate, drama club and the Quiz Bowl team. We won the state championship in my senior year. Something I was quite proud of. But I think dad was even prouder. I graduated at the top 1% of my class and was the salutatorian. During my speech, he had to fight to keep the tears from rolling down his face. And he didn’t succeed very well at it.

  Anyway, I was about 16 when I realized that I was gay, just like my dad. Not that anything he did influenced it. He didn’t flaunt his naked body around the house and wag his cock in my face, or anything like that. It was just how I was wired. I had a few unsatisfying experiences with girls in my school. It wasn’t until I messed around with the guy that played Mercutio in our production of “Romeo and Juliet” (I was Tybalt), that a lightbulb went off in my head. Yup, I was gay, just like my dad. I wanted to come out to him so bad, but for some odd reason, I was afraid of what he’d say. Of course, he’d never come out to me, so we were even on that count. But I had thoughts. Thoughts that I tried to bury. Thoughts about my dad and I. Of being with him. They started before I really realized that I was gay, but they were there since puberty when my body started having those sexual desires that every teenaged boy has. Of course something like that would never happen. He was my dad, after all.

  Another thing that you need to know is that, as I grew up, I was sort of a mascot for the whole firehouse. They didn’t have a Dalmatian, so I would have to do. I spent countless days and nights hanging around, doing odd jobs and generally keeping all of them entertained the best I could. Most of them were single and didn’t have much family, so they sort of all became my “uncles”. Of course, pretty much all of them were big and beefy like my dad, so I found almost very attractive and had late night thoughts about them, as well. Anyway, I tell you this so you will understand why my 18th birthday party was held at the firehouse.

  They were all there, wishing me a happy birthday and all that stuff. Then the call came in for a fire. I’d often asked my dad if I could join them on one of their calls, but he always told me no, saying I would have to wait until I was an adult, for safety’s sake. Well, I was an adult now, so I asked again.

  “Dad, can I come?”

  “Too dangerous,” he said. “You’ve got to wait-”

  “As of today, I’m an adult, dad,” I cut him off, knowing what he was going to say.

  “Huh. Guess you’re right,” he said. He dug in an empty locker and pulled out some turnouts, a helmet and some boots for me. “But you’re to stay back, okay? No playing hero.”

  “Got it,” I said and climbed onto the firetruck as it pulled out of the station.

  This was the closest I’d ever gotten to a fire since I was a kid. And I have to admit, there was a smidgen of fear when I saw the blazing house. But I steeled myself against it. Time to be brave. I helped the guys get the
hoses set up and even got to turn on the hydrant. I loved it. I watched with pride as my dad and uncles fought the fire. They were all so brave. So strong. So sexy.

  “We got a kid trapped!” one of them yelled.

  A group of them ran over to try and help, myself included. I knew what it was like, being a trapped child while your house burned around you. I watched as they did everything to clear the debris that was between them and where the kid was stuck. They could only make a small opening, too small for any of them to get through. In time, they could have made a bigger one, but time was short. The kid was going to die unless someone got in there to help her. I watched as all of these large men tried to force their way through the small hole.

  “Just no use,” one of them said. “It’s not big enough. None of us can fit.”

  “I can,” I said a bit weakly. They all turned to me.

  “No. Too dangerous,” my dad said.

  “I can do it, dad.”

  “Let the kid try.”

  “Shut up! He’s my kid, not yours and I say it’s too dangerous.”

  “Please, dad, let me try. If I don’t then that poor girl is going to die in there. Please,” I said, practically begging. My dad’s displeasure was plain as day.

  “Fine. But no heroics, got it? You get to her if you can. If not, you turn around and come back out, got it?”

  I nodded. I wiggled my way through the opening and was instantly overcome with fear. The fire raged all around me. I could taste the soot in the air. My lungs burned from all of the smoke. It was hot. It was dark. And I was once again just a little boy trapped in a burning house. I froze on the spot, overcome with the memories of that day.

  “Help!” I heard a voice say. “Please help me!”

  Her cries brought me back to reality. She needed me. I couldn’t let myself be overwhelmed. I had to act. It wasn’t easy and I’m sure my dad would have been mad about some of the risks I took, but I was able to get to the little girl and carry her back to the place I’d come in. I pushed her out of the hole and slithered my way back through. There was my dad, grabbing my hand and pulling hard to get me out. Seconds later, the roof collapsed, sending glowing embers and roaring flames into the night sky. If I’d been in there…

  The dragged me and the little girl over to the E.M.T.’s to be checked out. As I sat there huffing oxygen, the little girl snuggled up to me.

  “Thank you,” she said in a raspy voice.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied.

  Her parents showed up and snatched her up in their arms, all three of them crying. Her mother looked down at me and grabbed me, wrapping her arms around me tightly.

  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she said over and over again in between sobs.

  “You’re welcome,” I coughed out. The dad, still holding the little girl joined in the embrace and I was being hugged by all three of them. Hell, even I started crying.

  Eventually they flames were smothered and we climbed back onto the fire truck, heading for the station. I was cleared by the E.M.T.’s, suffering only from some mild smoke inhalation. Then, like any group of sweaty, dirty guys would do, we all headed to the showers to clean up.

  I was surrounded by a wall of hunky, naked, wet guys- each one just as enticing as the last. Their muscles bulged and gleamed as they washed the soot and perspiration from their beefy bodies. And let me add that none of them were short changed downstairs. Quite the opposite, in fact. They were all packing guns that would have made Dirty Harry and several porn stars jealous. And of course, true to form, my dad’s matched his giant body, hanging lower than any of the others. I tried not to openly gawk at all of them, but I don’t think I succeeded. I was just glad for the water cascading over me- it helped cover up the drooling I was doing. What made it even worse was the fact that many of them came over and patted me on the back or ruffled my hair, telling me that “I did good.” That meant that their junk was mere inches from me. I’d barely have to lift a finger in order to touch them. I don’t know how I managed to not get fully hard, but miracles sometimes do happen.

  After the shower, it was time for my dad and I to go home. He was oddly silent as he drove us back to our house. But I was too caught up in the memory of what I’d done that day to really notice. I felt happy and proud of myself. Not only that, I felt alive. Sure, I was coming down from the adrenaline that had been coursing through my body earlier, but I could still feel its effects. As we entered the house, my dad told me to sit down at the kitchen table. He went to the fridge and pulled out two beers. He sat down across from me and opened one, placing it in front of me. I gave him a puzzled look as he opened the other and took a swig from it. I did the same, not really enjoying the slightly bitter taste.

  “You did good. You deserve that,” he said, indicating the beer.

  “Thanks, dad,” I said.

  “And I never want to see you do anything like that ever again, you got me?” he said, rather loudly and in a very stern voice.

  “But, dad-”

  “You could have been killed!”

  “But I wasn’t.”

  “You got lucky.”

  “Like you did when you saved me?”

  “That’s different. I’m a trained firefighter. You’re not.”

  “Oh, please. I grew up in that firehouse. I know that place backwards and forwards. I’ve read all of the manuals. Hell, I probably even know things about that engine that you don’t,” I said defensively.

  “Yeah, which means you’re smart. And I hope you’re smart enough to not want to ever do anything like that again.”

  “But, dad-”

  “I almost lost you, damn it! If that roof had come down even 10 seconds sooner…” As he said these words, I heard his voice crack. I looked up at him and saw tears in his eyes. “I can’t… I can’t risk it. I can’t risk losing you, son. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

  “Oh, come on, dad.”

  “I’m serious, Noah,” he said, leaving me no doubt of his sincerity.

  “It wasn’t that big of a deal,” I said.

  “It was a huge deal, son. I watched you crawl though that hole and felt scared for the first time in a long time. I was afraid that I’d never see you again.”

  “Well, here I am, dad. I’m fine. I’m safe. Everything is okay.”

  “Yeah,” he said and took another swig of his beer. “Just promise me that you don’t want to follow in my footsteps. You’re too smart for this kind of job. I want you to do something… safer. Something where you can use your brains.”

  “Okay, dad. I promise,” I said. I was actually a little disappointed. After what had happened, I was giving serious thought to being a firefighter. I knew I wasn’t really built for the job, but was sure that with some hard work and determination, I could do it.

  “Now, about the other thing,” he said. I was confused.

  “What other thing?” I asked.

  “The shower.”

  “What about the shower?” I asked.

  “I saw the way you were looking at us.”

  “And…?”

  “Are you gay, son?”

  His words caught me off guard. I was silent for a moment, considering my response. But what could I say? My dad saw me staring at all of the naked beefcake in the shower room. He probably even saw my cock start to plump up. I thought I’d hidden that well, but apparently not well enough. I figured honesty was the best policy.

  “Yes I am.” It was such a relief to say those words. I was no longer hiding it, keeping a secret from my dad.

  “I figured,” he replied.

  “And…?”

  “And you really shouldn’t make it so obvious that you’re staring at other men’s junk, is all,” he responded.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “What about me?”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Come on, dad. I just came out to you. Don’t you think I deserve
the same kind of honesty?”

  “What? That I’m gay, too? I thought you’d figured that out by now,” he said, nonchalantly.

  “Well, yeah, I did. But you never told me.”

  “Didn’t think I’d have to. You’re a smart kid. I knew you’d figure it out. I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, is all,” he said.

  “Oh. Does the crew know?”

  “Yeah, but it’s no big deal. Most of them are gay, too.”

  “WHAT?!?!?”

  “Yeah. Thought you would have figured that out for yourself too.”

  “I had no idea,” I said, completely floored by his words.

  “Yup. So see? No big deal.”

  “Which ones?”

  “Don’t worry about that. It’s not important. What is important is that now you know about me and I know about you,” he said.

  “And what are you going to do with that knowledge?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Just good to know,” he replied.

  “Oh.”

  2

  Not much changed between my dad and I after that night. Well, not really. The only difference between the next day and all of the other days that had come before it was that, after my birthday, my dad started walking around the house nude. Before then, he’d always worn shorts, or at least his underwear. But that next day, I walked downstairs to find my dad sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast without a stitch of clothing on. I stood there, transfixed, staring at his manhood as it dangled from between his spread legs while he read the newspaper.

  “Uh… dad?” I said, hesitantly. He lowered the paper and looked up at me.

  “You made it in,” he said, as though him sitting there in the nude was a daily occurrence.

  “What?” I asked, as confused by his words as I was by the fact that he was naked.

  “The paper. You made it into the paper. Come here and look,” he said and flattened the newspaper out on the table. He pointed to an article about the fire from the day before. And there it was, my name, plain as day, saying that I was the one that had rescued the little girl. “You know what that means?”