THE LAW OF BEASTS BOOK 1

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Chapter 36: THE SUBMISSIVE ONE

The very instant one of the lovers, one of the fathers to the sons that played possum and pretended to be asleep, so they could explore Ђe Great Outdoors, slid his endowment inside the fleshy anus of the §ubmissive One, the sons opened their eyes, snatched the covers from their dressed bodies and carefully unzipped the tent door, grabbed each others hands and ran off into the call of the darkness, where knowledge and danger awaits.

Ђe moans of their discreet (well, not so discreet) fathers burned heavily on their minds, vengeance growing in one son, and anger and embarrassment in the other.

No wonder we were born like this, they figured, and turned to kiss each other before deciding to go over by the rocky cliffs with huge boulders of all sizes there to greet them, before the threshold of death.

Only it looked like a silhouette of an untold, undiscovered paradise. It was appeasing to their eyes, that grew wide as the starry night, and was a breathtaking sight to see, one they would tell their kids one day if they decided to have them with a woman, or if they shun the idea to love in the shadows as recycled versions of their fathers.

One of the sons, the Aggressive Top, even though they were still virgins, but knew what roles they wanted to play (opposite the role their father’s played, polarization, the opposite of their father’s dilemma unmatched inside their own existence), wished he was born a woman and detested being a man, his father shared the same sentiment, only his feminine acting ways was starting to overshadow the once masculine man that publicly chased women and used recorded videos to boost his ego and male friend count, and having sex with them before meeting and falling in love with his lover, one of the son’s fathers.

He kept up the charade to keep off suspicion, even dating a §outh American girl, a banker, and treating her like filth…

Both men, making love in the wilderness while their sons went off to look for lizards and critters, and to search for the birds and the bees and see if bees were with bees, or if bees were with the birds, or alone all together.

“I love ye!” said one of the lovers, one of the son’s fathers, the §ubmissive One, the Feminine One, the One that wanted to be born of a woman, as a woman, the One that felt God robbed him by giving him a penis, and being stuck on another male’s penis was the irony and the insult.

“I love ye, too,” said the Aggressive Top, the dictator, the one that hath to have it his way or no way, requires the §ubmissive One to wear dresses around the house and put on fancy wigs and make up when he violates the anal territory with no lube.

Domestic violence at its finest, with the §ubmissive One too afraid to leave, and keeps up the act, pretending to be happy so he doesn’t scare his son, crying himself to sleep, wondering was suicide the only way out of a terrible situation.

They were trapped in the wrong kind of love, a toxic love. A love with one ruler, a love that was one sided, one of them was alone in love, the other loved out of fear of his life, and he loved the covering up of his real intention, to one day leave him and take his son with him.

He already promised to kill the §ubmissive One if he ever stepped outside the relationship, or if he came home and dinner wasn’t cooked and the house wasn’t cleaned and the boys weren’t tended to.

Ђere have been times he beat the §ubmissive One in front of the boys with a cold heart, because the §ubmissive One was himself, being himself, and not ashamed of himself.

Ђe Aggressive One was ashamed of himself, hated being gay, and wanted the cancer out of him, he actually considered the way he was born, my point of view, I might add, if it’s worth anything or anything at all, and it is worth something, for ye read this account with hungry eyes and skeptical minds, but you’re intrigued, nonetheless…

Ђe Aggressive One hath tried numerous times to leave, to cut off his lover, to ignore him and his calls, to shun him in public but his son loved his lover like another father, and they were good together as a big family. Σveryone wanted the big Family, except the Aggressive One, that wasn’t fully out of the closet with his son, but he knew his son had an idea, if he hadn’t figured it out already and he figured that was all the talk needed, and offered to remain silent.

If he didn’t ask he wouldn’t say. He wanted Out, but wanted his lover’s buttocks even more that that, and justifying it with the act of sex being the deciding factor in anything they did together, even outside of sex thoughts of sex ruled their decision making. If the §ubmissive One said, “No, not tonight,” there would be hell to pay later.

Ђe Aggressive One was bound to the relationship only to get his rocks off; the §ubmissive One was to be a fling, a momentary silence in his masculine, straight way of life.

But the One Night §tand hath turned into a full blown love affair, and he’s stuck in the middle because his son loved him, and he loved his son enough to spare his heart of any heartbreak, being without his mother for the rest of his life was heartbreaking enough.

And he lived with the pain of loss, and the pain of losing his wife, now his ex, now that he’s a widow in mourning, still

He used Ђe §ubmissive One to drown out the pain.

And nothing more.

But he would never say, he’ll just continue to string him along, making him fall deeper in love, and suppress the potential fall out if it all came to light.

Ђe beatings, yes I watched those, too! And what spectacles they art!

Ђe §ubmissive One was beaten one day with the Aggressive One’s fist, a boxer when he was in college, but quickly snubbed when he discovered his love of business and switched majors, for cooking dinner an hour later than usual.

Ђe §ubmissive One was wearing his lover’s ex-wife’s, his dead ex-wife’s floral maternity dress and heels and his lover’s ex-wife’s panties, the pair she wore when she went into labor with his son; dried on them was still the blood and wetness, reduced to a mild stench that turned up his nose, years old, never washed, and wig and make up, and her perfume, and her sapphires! Ah! And real diamonds on his tennis bracelet and the diamond choker on his neck, a gift he once bought his ex-wife on their 3rd Anniversary, the night she was caught sleeping with the hired help.

I remember Ђe §ubmissive One slowly stood up in the dress and wig and heels, confusion and fear coloring his eyes.

He looked at his son and his son turned his head. His son was angry because he allowed somebody to degrade him and if his father wasn’t man enough to shun a dress and stand up for himself and grab his balls, then he wasn’t about to grab another man’s balls for him.

He’d stay out of it.

He’d remain mute. And the silence tore through the §ubmissive One’s heart with a hot poker, and the love he had for his son died when something inside his very soul brandished itself, and left his nostrils, circulating in the air when he exhaled.

Σver since catching his ex-wife cheating on him the Aggressive One made a complete 360 degree turn and screwed the first hot looking man he saw at a local club, pretended he put on a rubber after getting the man drunk, and pounded the alarm in his rectum till the sun came up.

When the man came to the Aggressive One was gone, leaving behind for the man gonorrhea, burned from his wife, and hadn’t a clue till he tried to urinate and his penis hole was closed up, with discharge greeting him at its peak.

He hath been playing for the other team since.

I see that time now, back when the §ubmissive One was beaten in the dress, and the way his son looked, and the way his boyfriend’s son looked, with a smirk on his face, in his mind he told himself, one of those long self-talks, that he was going to treat his potential lover, when they became adults (they were 8 years of age), the same way his father treated his lover.

And he vowed it on his soul, taking his friend’s hand and squeezing. While the Aggressive whipped the §ubmissive One, with a belt, the Aggressive §on looked at the §ubmissive §on and smiled, saying, “Take a good look at thy future. Ђat will be ye if ye don’t do what I say, ye got that?”

Ђe §ubmissive §on lowered his eyes, thought, Damn it Daddy now I can’t stand up for myself, because thy weak example rubbed off on me!, and said, “Yes, I got it.”

“Good.”

He released his hand.

“Get thy ass away from me.”

And the §ubmissive §on left, retreating to the room, the Aggressive One’s room, and lay on a blanket and pillow on the floor, by the closet door, weeping.

“I’m heartsick without ye,” he whispered, thinking of the Aggressive One. “I love ye, and I don’t want to be like this.”

But he still wanted to be born a woman, and believed it with every particle of his being.

I watched all this.

Heartbroken, yes; but I wasn’t sympathetic.

I was a vampire and nothing that I experienced, first hand, changes that.

I still thirst.

I wanted to kill the men and spare the children!

But I didn’t, it was all too blood-curdling to ignore.

Watching a family broken with lies and deceit, and mask it as Love, and convinced themselves that that’s what they have, they couldn’t be further from the truth, was my addiction.

I lay with the child and let him fall into sleep, pulling his long black hair from his face, my fangs glowing in the moonlight, and I said, “Ђis doesn’t have to be thy life; it’s only what ye make it.”

I jumped up with a shocking expression, covering my mouth, my eyes welling with tears; it was sudden, like an explosion, my back pressed against the wall, my heart hammering.

Had I just shewed sympathy to a mortal?

Was it because kids art like pups and cubs and baby kangaroos, innocent in the Design of Life, only knowing the way One shows them, and the Way isn’t always good.

I should kill for animals, and children, I briefly thought, and quickly withdrew the suggestion.

To fight for them would mean to say I love mortals, and defeats the purpose of who I was.

I was in their bathroom in an instant, turning on the water and grabbing the soap, scrubbing myself, trying to get the human’s scent off me.

It felt as if my skin crawled like ants, and a bloody tear fell from my right eye, and a trace of blood from my nose, and I was petrified.

“What is happening to me?” I asked, looking in the mirror and seeing nothing look back. Was I that empty inside?

Yes, maybe.

Maybe not.

Death meant the end.

Nothing.

§o I guess the mirror reflected back, for my eyes to see, what I will never be, like the room in the reflection, in existence, and I am a foreigner, a supernatural being in a realistic dilemma.

§howing emotions to mortals.

It will never happen again.

But the night of the camping trip, the night their lies and deceit unraveled, and prices had to be paid, debts to the darkness come for payment for services rendered, everything changed, changing the life of two men, of two lovers, forever.

Incarcerated inside an already trapped situation, cementing that Union once and for all, making all other options outside of that Union, automatically, null and void, vetoed before it hit the §enate Floor, tying them together, bound by the very lies they made up.

Unfortunately, two lives and the blood associated with it were on their hands that a bar of soap couldn’t erase, two young lives, two eight year old lives, gone….

Ђe §ubmissive §on stood up the Aggressive §on when he wanted to go back to the tent and sleep.

He was tired, and didn’t want his father finding out they were gone, and the spanking that would come next he put out of his mind.

His father never hurt him, but didn’t spare the rod, spare the child.

Ђe Aggressor was so enraged he slapped the §ubmissive §on, and he fell back into a boulder, a huge wave crashing below.

“§o ye start early?”

“Leave me alone!” Ђe §ubmissive §on was scared, shaking all over, but finding it in himself to stand up for himself, in a way his father should, in a way he wished his father could have, then maybe he’d face adversity head on, instead of finding an easy way out, a mean’s to an end.

“Ye belongeth to me, just like thy father belongs to mine. We run ye! My father is indirectly showing me how it’s done!”

“I won’t ever let ye reduce me to a slave, I’m not my father!”

“§o you’re tough?”

“No, but…”

“But what ye little dweeb!”

Ђe Aggressor flung his open palm at the §ubmissive One’s face but the §ubmissive One caught his hand and pushed him back, and pointed at him.

“I have enough anger in me to burn §outh America to the ground.”

Ђe Aggressor slowly approached him.

Ђey tousled, fighting, falling on the ground and they started to kiss, their tongues exploring open mouths like their fathers had; like they’d seen their fathers doing. Retaliating, they provoked the bear, and nearly lost their lives had the bear gotten ahold of them, enraged over the theft of his honeycomb, all he wanted in the peace of things.

“No!”

Ђe §ubmissive One jumped up, ran the back of his hand over his tainted mouth, smelling of the other son, and ran off into the woods, his nature rising and embarrassed that it had.

“Dad!” Ђe §ubmissive One ran with all his might, trying to get away from his friend, his ex-friend.

Hot tears fell down his eyes, and he wasn’t gonna be punished for another person’s mother’s death.

His mother died giving birth to him, and it affects him on a level even his father hadn’t and didn’t realize, but the son, the §ubmissive §on, knows of it because Ђe Aggressor wanted to punish him for it, because he knew his mother and had pictures of his mother and father in it, holding the §ubmissive §on with smiles, a mother that ran off with an older man and abandoned her son and her husband, and a quick and speedy divorce summed it all up.

His high school sweetheart, gone.

Σxchanged life with him and his son for the life with another, and one with a lot more money than he had.

Ђe §ubmissive §on’s feet beat at the earth, crushing braches and noisy dead leaves sounding in his ears.

I’m going to grab my dad in a bear hug and let him know just how much I love him! I don’t care if he’s gay, so what! §o am I, so what am I really saying? I love my daddy! And I am going to tell him about me, and about my friend threatening me, but never really hurting me, except for tonight, when he slapped me. He’s never slapped me before, and I’m gonna stop it before it escalates to abuse!

Nooooo!”

Ђe §ubmissive One turned back and saw the Aggressor tripping over his footing, and falling towards the cliff, flinging his arms trying to catch ahold of something, anything, his eyes wide with the greatest fear he’s ever known.

Ђe §ubmissive One turned, thoughts of his father vindicated, as if he never thought of him, and thought of his request to begin with, and he ran towards Ђe Aggressive §on, reaching out his arms…

Grabbing him, just above the elbow, before he fell over saved him, and what a relief.

“Help me!”

“I got ye!” Ђe §ubmissive One looked over yonder, down through the rows and rows and dizzying rows of trees of all kinds, and plant life of all kinds, and saw a discreet Chapel, about two hundred feet down, and one hundred feet North of where they were on the cliff.

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