It wasn’t a trip I wanted to be on by any measure, it was one that my dad had told me I was going to go on, and that was that. Family bonding and all of that nonsense. What confused me the most about the entire thing was the fact that my dad fucking hated his brother–my uncle. He trashed him all the fucking time as some backwoods hick fucker–told me that if I didn’t get into college, I’d end up just like him and my dumbass nephew. Of course, all things considered, my uncle wasn’t doing that poorly–he’d gone into the military, and now he worked as a consultant for a defense contractor–he flew out to DC for meetings every few months, and did a lot of stuff remotely, but it could afford him a good house out in the sticks–and also gave my nephew the ability to sit on his ass all fucking day long.
They’d had some big falling out, around the time my uncle had gone into the military, and my dad had been preparing to go off to college. I…don’t know any of the details, but I know my dad hadn’t seen my uncle since. They talked on the phone occasionally, usually around holidays. The conversations were always…tense, even if it didn’t sound like they were talking about anything much, and when my dad put me on to talk to him, he always supervised the conversation for whatever reason. Then, grandpa died, and everyone went out for the funeral…and apparently he and my dad buried the hatchet, because now, all he can fucking talk about is this fucking hunting trip.
My dad has never hunted in his life. Well, he probably did when he was a kid–I know my grandpa was a big hunter, and my uncle has mentioned hunting trips in the past that he went on with him, though I can’t remember if he ever said that my father had gone along. In any case, I’ve never gone hunting, nor have I ever desired to. If anything, I think it’s kind of fucked up, to go out into the woods just to kill a thing and mount it on your wall. Still, my dad refused to take no for an answer, so we’re all packed up and driving the four hours to my uncle’s cabin for what my dad is promising will be a “real treat.”
No wi-fi, probably not even a bathroom–what the fuck? We arrive, and to my surprise, the place is actually fit for human habitation. It only has two bedrooms, so I have to bunk with my cousin…which is a bit awkward. I mean, I barely know him at all, and it doesn’t help that he’s in his thirties, while I’m still in the middle of college. He’s big fellow–probably close to 300 pounds, and when I get there, his shit is already thrown all over the room…and it stinks, honestly, like he didn’t even bother to wash any of his clothes before he came. I shove his shit over to his side, and drop my bag on the bed–it’s pretty late at this point, the sun is setting, so my uncle suggests we have dinner and relax a while…and that’s when things start to get a bit odd–or odder, I suppose, since the whole thing is still strange.
My dad…he seems really tense, and yet he seems happy to be here all the same. My cousin breaks into the beer and starts chugging away while my uncle cooks on the grill–I don’t think he says two words the whole time, just belches and chugs. My uncle offers me a beer, and I refuse–my dad, always a stickler in most cases insists I take it and when my uncle offers my dad a cigar, he lights the thing up eagerly. My dad. The militant non-smoker. Smoking a cigar. I don’t know what to say, and so I don’t say anything. We all eat, and my uncle starts a fire in the pit as it gets dark, and we crowd around it.
I finish one beer slowly, only to have another pressed into my hand. My dad gets up and says he’s tired from the drive and wants to go to bed–I try to go with him, but he and my uncle say I should stay up a bit more and hang out with my family–I hardly know them, right? But as soon as my dad is inside, my uncle gives my cousin a…a look, and he heaves himself up and heads inside too, swaying a bit drunkenly as he does, leaving my uncle and I alone in the dark, beside each other at the fire.
I don’t know what to say, but my uncle fills the silence naturally. His words…they have a real easy rhythm, you know? I’m just looking at the fire, staring at the flames dancing, and he’s talking to me, murmuring in my ear, and I don’t even really know what he’s saying anymore. I just feel…tired. Really tired. So tired I want to shut my eyes, but I have to keep staring at the flame, right?
I try to say something, I try to say I want to go to bed…and that’s when I realize something is really wrong with me. I can’t. I can’t do anything. I’m slumped in that chair, completely relaxed, and my uncle starts rubbing his hand over my body, feeling me up, and I’m trying to flinch away, I’m trying to say no, but all I do is groan. I groan…because it feels good. Really good. His hand is slipping lower, down into my pants now, and I’m disgusted but at the same time I want him to touch me so badly. I feel my eyes finally slipping shut, and as I do, I shudder, my cock exploding in my uncle’s hand, and the last things I hear him say, before I slip under, are:
“That’s a good boy, we’re gonna be real happy together, just you wait.”
Bracken's Corner 