Bitten is your typical 15 year old boy.
He has many hobbies, most of which consist of masturbating.

My mother and sister had gone shopping in Portland and I supposedly had the house to myself until evening. "I was reclining naked on my bed, the pink panties were still within easy reaching distance. The bed was scattered with pictures I'd clipped from magazines I'd found in the back of the garage - the previous owner's stash of Penthouse and Gallery magazines, very likely. I heard a car come crunching into the driveway. Peg had come down with some sort of flu bug and started vomiting out the window. They'd gotten as far as Poland Springs and turned around.

I looked at the pictures scattered all over the bed, my clothes scattered all over the floor, and the foam of pink rayon in my left hand. I remember how the strength flowed out of my body, and the terrible sense of lassitude that came in its place. My mother was yelling for me - "Scott, Scott, come down and help me with your sister, she's sick" - and I remember thinking, "What's the use? I'm caught. I might as well accept it, I'm caught and this is the first thing they'll think of when they think about me for the rest of my life. Scott, the jerk-off artist."

But more often than not a kind of survival overdrive kicks in as such moments. That's what happened to me. I might go down, I decided but I wouldn't do so without at least an effort to save my dignity. I threw the pictures and the panties under the bed. Then I jumped into my clothes, moving with numb but sure-fingered speed, all the time thinking of this crazy old game show I used to watch, Beat The Clock.

I can remember how my mother touched my flushed cheek when I got downstairs, and then thoughtful conern in her eyes, "Maybe you're getting sick, too," she said.

"Maybe I am," I said, and gladly enough. It was half an hour before I discovered I'd forgotten to zip my fly. Luckily, neither Peg nor my mother noticed, although on any other occasion one or both would have asked me if I had a license to sell hot dogs (this is what passed for wit in the house where I grew up). The day one of them was too sick and the other was too worried to be witty. So I got a total pass.

Lucky me.

Credits

Profile by Integrity
Overlay by raichu
Bitten is a collaboration of the SBB group

A huge thanks to User not found: mbif for her help and input on Bitten's story.

Story is an excerpt from Stephen King's Just After Sunset
From the short story The Things They Left Behind

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