Magnificent Pretense

Magnificent Pretense

By Keegan Kennedy

Published by Kennedy-Empire Media

Copyright 2013

Edited by J. Sami Harvey

Email Sami at jsamiharvey@gmail.com

Smashwords Edition

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No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher or author.

This book is a work of fiction. Places, events, and situations in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

The opinions and comments made by the characters are not necessarily indicative of those of the author, Keegan Kennedy, the publisher, Kennedy-Empire Media or the e-Book platform from which this work was published.

Table of Contents

Part One

Part Two

Other Titles from Keegan Kennedy

About the Author

Part One

Dr. Kirk Livingston had been my doctor for as long as I could remember.

Although I’d been told that he wasn’t the physician who delivered me, Dr. Livingston was a recurring authority figure and a very close family friend throughout all of my eighteen years. Being my father’s lifelong best friend and our family physician made him a constant in the lives of my father, my mom, my four brothers and me. In fact, we were all so close that most of the time I called him Uncle Kirk instead of Dr. Livingston.

My very first memory of Uncle Kirk was when he was wearing his Dr. Livingston hat in his role as our family physician. I was three years old, and he had given me a shot. My childish mind had sworn to hate him forever—and I did for a while. At the time, he was a mustached, mean ogre, who got off on sticking kids with needles and making them cry.

When I was five years old, I changed my viewpoint of Uncle Kirk forever…

It was one of the first Halloweens that I could remember well. Since my father was obsessed with baseball, my two older brothers, Brett and Conley, my younger twin brothers, Tripp and Trent, and I were all born with baseball bats and baseball gloves in our hands. So, naturally, the five of us had gone as our favorite baseball players on that fateful Halloween.

When Mom had announced that Dr. Livingston would be bringing his three daughters to go trick-or-treating with our brood, I was not a happy camper. Even though I liked his three daughters, who were like cousins to me, he was never a welcome sight.

Because he was the evil man who gave me shots!

My father was five-foot, eight-inches tall with dark blond hair, but Dr. Livingston stood at six-foot-seven with big blue eyes and dark brown hair. My father was clean-shaven, while at that time, Uncle Kirk had a bristly mustache. In my eyes, my dad and Uncle Kirk, the two boyhood best friends, were exact opposites.

When he’d shown up dressed in a Superman costume––complete with red boots, tights, the codpiece, skin-tight top and cape––I was fascinated and flabbergasted.

And things changed for me forever… I had a true hero standing before me, and I was smitten.

Not realizing the depth of my feelings, the doctor noticed my immediate change in demeanor toward him, and my newfound enthrallment with him, so Uncle Kirk let me perform an innocent tactile inspection of his costume.

I was even more amazed that the huge man had needed absolutely no padding for the muscles in his Superman costume; it was all him!

Upon this realization, I immediately threw my little arms around his neck and exclaimed, I love you, Superman!

He gave me a huge smile and replied. "I love you too, Son."

I blushed, and from that day forward, I was the only one of my brothers that he ever referred to as son––a term of endearment that he still used toward me today.

When my old man heard his five-year-old, middle son tell an adult male that he loved him, he’d grabbed me by the arm and pulled me off of the man that I called uncle.

Little boys don’t love other boys, Ryder, he informed me sternly. Obviously, my innocent display of emotion toward Uncle Kirk embarrassed him.

Can’t I love Superman? I asked thoroughly confused, pointing to the smiling family doctor.

My father’s face turned red, but Uncle Kirk put his hand on my father’s shoulder.

It’s okay, Bryan, he assured my father in his deep, gravelly voice. Our little slugger here can love Superman as much as he wants.

And with a simple wink from the benevolent face of Dr. Kirk Livingston, I’d been in love with the man and worshipped the ground that he walked on for the last thirteen years...

Being only five years old, I had no clue what love or sex was, so my crush on him was completely pure and innocent. At that time, all I knew was that I had an extreme affection for my Uncle Kirk. As time progressed, I never had a crush on any little girls... It’d always been only him. Of course, being that young, I saw no problem with my feelings, so at times, I wasn’t too discreet. At gatherings, during my younger days—no matter the occasion—I always ran to him and jumped into his arms, telling him that I loved him…much to my father’s chagrin.

When my mother would bring me in to see him for routine check-ups or to cure the sniffles, if I wasn’t telling him that I loved him, I would sometimes be blushing and hiding my face. My mom had found it inexplicable and cute and chalked it up to being a boyhood quirk. Dr. Livingston, being the incredible man that he was, rolled with whatever mood I was in, calling me son or slugger. Apparently, he thought my little shows of affection were adorable.

He was also the doctor who had given me every single one of my sports physicals for baseball. At age eight, Uncle Kirk gave me my little league physical. At age twelve, he gave me my junior high baseball team physical. At age fourteen, he gave me the same inspection for the high school baseball team.

During the last baseball physical, the experience was a bit embarrassing. By fourteen, I had grown out of my public declarations of love for Uncle Kirk, but my feelings had only grown stronger for him, especially when puberty hit me at age twelve... But this examination had been the first one that my mom had not accompanied me on. It was actually the first time that the good doctor and I had ever really been alone for an extended period of time. Although I could control my show of emotions and what I said around Dr. Livingston, I was unable to control my body...

Even though I’d been jerking off to boyish, erotic fantasies about Uncle Kirk for two years, I didn’t realize what a major problem that I was going to have being nude and vulnerable in front of him. As soon as my jockstrap came off, my six-inch bone got very hard in front of him. Unfortunately, my arousal didn’t go away... Of course, being fourteen and naked in front of the object of all of my fantasies, I was helpless to the desires flowing through me. Despite his kind words and reassurances that it was a normal response for a teenage boy to get hard during these types of exams, I was totally mortified. My cheeks stayed red and my cock hard for the duration of the entire exam. Naturally, I wanted him to feel me up or make me suck his cock, but he kept it one-hundred percent professional––damnit.

A boy could dream, though, and I continued to do so over the years.

One thing that really impressed me about that whole humiliating ordeal was Dr. Livingston’s discretion. He promised not to tell my father or anyone else that I’d sprung wood during my physical, and he never told a soul.

Dr. Kirk Livingston was definitely a man of his word.

Since my two passions were baseball and Dr. Kirk, I came to see these examinations as rites of passages and tradition.

Now, I was here for what was probably my final baseball physical with Uncle Kirk, and I supposed that it had made me a little nostalgic. This final examination with Dr. Livingston was a complete physical to determine my eligibility to play baseball at Queen’s Landing University, for which I had a full, four-year baseball scholarship.

Sitting alone in the waiting room of his small practice, I was discreetly scoping out Uncle Kirk’s Facebook pictures on his profile via my iPhone. Some would see it as odd that I would have my doctor and my father’s best friend as a Facebook friend, but our relationship transcended the normal physician and patient connection.

Like I mentioned, Kirk Livingston and my father, Bryan, had gone to high school together and were best friends since childhood. Uncle Kirk had even been my father’s best man at my parent’s wedding. Before my parents divorced and my father moved to Atlanta six months prior, Dr. Livingston and my father had also worked out together and had been golfing buddies.

My brothers and I spent many years growing up around his daughters. We’d taken family vacations together, had many get-togethers and cookouts, and were in each other’s lives for as long as I could remember. I had been in the same grade with Uncle Kirk’s middle daughter, Kasey, until Dr. Livingston and his wife, Deanna, suddenly divorced two years ago. After their split, Deanna took their three daughters to live in Jackson, Mississippi.

Last year, Uncle Kirk became further ingrained into my family when he started dating my mother’s sister, my snooty Aunt Kimberly. Although he had not proposed, my aunt was counting on it happening any day. So, there was a high probability that my Uncle Kirk could actually become my Uncle Kirk.

I had to admit that I was a little jealous of my aunt and Uncle Kirk’s relationship, but what could I do? If I couldn’t have him for myself, he would at least make an awesome addition to my family—ensuring that he’d always be in my life. Besides, I had zero indication that he had any other interest in me aside from being my father’s best friend and the primary care physician to my four brothers and me.

It was now May and about two weeks prior to my high school graduation from Westport High.

Regardless of my impending graduation, high school baseball season was still in full swing, so I showed up for my 4:00 p.m. appointment in my practice gear––a black Under Armour practice shirt, some loose gray running shorts, a jockstrap underneath the shorts, red Under Armour athletic socks that were over the calf with gray and white stripes and my size twelve, black Nike cleats.

Although I usually spiked my hair, my short brown cut was flat on top since I’d forgotten to pack my gel in my duffle that day. With blue