Trevor's Transformation.
This is work of gay erotic fiction that involves individuals over the age of 18. If this is not your thing, please move on without reading any further. Otherwise, enjoy, and feel free to contact me with your feedback! Thanks! Austin T. Charles, email: austintc@aol.com
Please consider supporting Nifty.org, as without your generosity authors like me would not be able to share our stories with you! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Thank you!
Chapter One There are a few things in life that I can say I am passionate about. One of them is landscape design, which has become my career. The other, we'll discuss later. So it should come as no surprise that keeping my yard beautiful is a priority and passion of mine. While I do not live in an expensive house in the most expensive part of town, I do have a nice house in an established neighborhood, and suffice it to say, the best looking yard on my street. The combination of annuals, perennials, flowering shrubs, coniferous and deciduous trees has transformed my yard into a park-like setting that rivals some of the most expensive and beautiful landscapes in town. The flower beds I designed and planted this summer rank near the top of any of my plantings. The variety of colors and height of the plantings resemble fireworks; the colorful palette seems to explode as one gazes upon the bed from the road. Having already won "lawn of the month" for the month of July, coming home to see this brilliant display after a hard day's work at the office makes everything seem worthwhile. So one could most certainly understand the utter horror and anger the overcame me a couple of weeks ago after I returned home from spending a weekend with a "friend" shall we say at an inn a few hundred miles away. After spending a relaxing time away from work and life, my batteries recharged, I drove home feeling happy and calm after dropping my friend off at his house. When I pulled in the driveway, much to my surprise I noticed a section of the flower bed on the west side of my front yard flattened! The once proud and glorious arrangements of flowers now ripped to shreds; the blossoms withered and tattered ? with two very visible tire tracks leading from the edge of the bed, through my weed free lawn, to my concrete driveway, black tire marks fading into nothing as the vehicle exited out onto the street. I could feel my blood boiling as I got of my SUV and walked over to the bed to survey the damage. Judging by the direction of the tire tracks, I knew the vehicle had to come from one direction: the neighbor's house to the west of my house. This meant it more than likely had to be one person, an assumption that was confirmed when the car pulled in their driveway, and stopped just far enough away that I was able to still see the mangled heads of my beloved yellow daisies and purple coneflowers stuck in the grill of the car. As the car door opened and the kid with the long straight blonde hair emerged from the driver's side door of the car, a petite girl with streaked highlights in her brown hair got out of the passenger's door. She was wearing skin tight cut off blue jeans, and a tight white t-shirt; her pouty breasts visible. The two joined hands and quickly went in the house. Sick of seeing the damage in the flower bed, I walked back to the SUV, drove the rest of the way into the garage, went in the house and thought of my next step to deal with this kid. A couple of hours later, I looked out the window to see the two get back in the car. The boy looked visibly upset, as did the girl with the pouty breasts. They left in a rush. Shortly after that, the mother, or whom I thought was the mother, came home. It was time to meet my new neighbors. Turns out Heather, the mother, and her two sons Connor and Trevor, moved into the house which was once owned by Heather's grandfather. I knew the grandfather had passed away a year ago and was wondering as to whether or not the house would soon be sold. But with no for sale sign, I assumed the house was still going through probate. So when the moving van showed up a couple of weeks prior, I was somewhat surprised and fearful that the single mother and two teenaged sons might eventually spell trouble. Heather had been divorced from her husband for nearly seven years now. She got tired of dealing with his bullshit, and has not seen him since the divorce. This meant she is now a single mother of two very unhappy and angry boys. The oldest son Trevor, 19, constantly has been as she called him a "pain in her ass", and Connor, 14, learns from Trevor. She obviously is a mother who is in great danger of losing control of two very frustrated boys. All the while she is telling me about her story, I couldn't help but think to myself that this woman is going to burst when I tell her that I'm going to call the cops on her son for demolishing my flowers. I'm also sure she has no clue, so what I'm about to reveal to her could put her over the edge, and the last thing I want on my hands is a pissed off, sobbing single mother. I must tread lightly. Just then Trevor's car pulls in the driveway again, pulling right up to the back of his mom's car. The music inside the car is blaring, some of that rap music crap that I never did care for, nor will I ever like. The door opens and as Trevor shuts the door to the car, I'm finally able to get a good close look at this boy as he walks up the driveway toward me. Taking a last drag from a cigarette, he tosses the butt in the direction of my flower bed, located not six feet from the edge of the drive. I can hear Heather cringe as he walks by me without looking at me or speaking to me. Walking up to his mother, in a sarcastic tone of voice he tells her "Hey old lady, what's for dinner??" I feel my blood start to boil to a new level. This kid needs to be knocked down a peg or two, right here and now. "Um, excuse me?" I speak loudly just before Trevor goes in the house. "I believe you and I have something to discuss, young man."
"Um, I don?t think so, old man! he replied in a mocking tone of voice. "Who are you anyway?"
"My name is John, but you can call me SIR. You have some explaining to do as to just why you felt compelled to drive through my flowerbeds and my yard, destroying my property. And if you cannot tell me why this occurred, I will let you explain it to the cops when they get here!"
"Well, John I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't really care about your fucking flowers. Flowers are for faggots anyway!" His mother now looked at him and back to me with a horrified, yet defeated look on her face. "Trevor! You do not talk to our new neighbor like this! Now you apologize!" She looked to be on the verge of tears, and as totally pissed off as I was, I still felt sorry for this woman. "Fuck apologizing ma, now let me in so I can go eat." Trevor replied, as he brushed his hair out of his face.
"You know what, Heather, Trevor? Since there is not going to be a civil way of handling this, we'll let the police take care of this. I know some of the local boys who'd be more than happy to take care of your son, and based on the extent of the damage to my yard, my flowers and my driveway, I'm thinking we could get Mr. Trevor out of your hair for a while and let him learn the hard way in the joint downtown." Suddenly Trevor's demeanor did a 180 degree turn around. Just like that his once hard-ass exterior melted and he was on the verge of tears. "Mom, Joh- I mean sir, please, perhaps we can uh, work, um something out. I don't want to go back there again!" Aha! I had him. The cocky boy had already done time, and found out just how bad time in the joint really was on a pretty boy like himself. "So sir, is there something I can do to make it right with you?"
I had him. This would be fun, I thought to myself as I explained my plan to Heather and Trevor.
Most of the plan, that is.