The Pulitzer

Another deviation from the feisty red head you're used to, but I think you'll like Tony. Occasionally, I get a few different ideas around similar story lines. The theme here may remind you of 'They Used to Call Me Mouse,' but this is a very different story.

All standard caveats apply, eighteen, etc. etc. Enjoy and please remember to leave me a comment when you're finished., and hang on, it's quite a ride.

***

There's an adage that says luck is where preparation meets opportunity. I guess that's true in a lot of cases, but for me, I was in the right place at the right time, doing what I always did, taking pictures of buildings. There was no way I could have prepared for what happened, and to call it an opportunity was a stretch.

My name's Toni Benet, no not that guy, first, he's a "he" and he's got two n's and two t's and sings like a songbird. Until not too long ago, I was probably best known for saying 'you want fries with that?' at the Burger King, not too far from my apartment. Oh, yeah, I won a Pulitzer Prize, too, but nobody knows it was me and for a long time, I needed it to stay that way.

The fifteen thousand dollars in prize money was nice. It's the recognition that came with it I can't afford, but that was a couple of years back. Now I try to keep a low profile while I build an entirely new life for myself.

Let me start at the beginning.

"Hah, you guys are stuck with 'Little Angie' again, Losers!" Eric was a captain on the football team and thought he ran the damned school; his dad owned a couple of construction type companies. Rumors circulated he was seriously connected, but nobody wanted to ask.

I was 'Little Angie' not just because I was the third, Angelo Vincenzo Romano, the third, to be exact; yeah, that was my full name. My grandfather was Angelo, my dad, Vinnie, and me. I was 'Little Angie'. Come on, I was all of 5-7 and 130 pounds soaking wet, and my grandfather insisted everyone call me 'Little Angie.' Yeah, I got my mom's height and good looks, too.

In the school's social pecking orders, If I did anything it was anchor it at the bottom.

Seriously, I looked just like my mom, big brown eyes, pretty face, the whole deal and my 'friends' at school loved to remind me of it every chance they got. If I had an athletic bone in my body, nobody knew where it was. I had more girlfriends than I could count, just none that wanted to date me. My friend zone was larger than most small cities.

We were choosing sides for softball and, as usual, I was the last one picked. It didn't matter, I would be stuck out in right field and never get a chance to see the ball. I didn't care. My only saving grace was a strike zone so small that I walked a lot, but usually got thrown out on my way to second because. I ran like a girl, too. No offense, ladies, but you know what I mean. Two more months of this hell and I would graduate, taking a job with my dad, probably in the stockroom at my grandfather's company. Hey, it was something, right?

It was a better game than we had played all year. I scored a run when Mikey Reynolds hit a home run right after one of my famous walks, and that was cool. Cool, except the part where he picked me up as he rounded third and carried me the last sixty feet, dropping me on my butt before he stepped on home plate. Even I had to admit, it was funny.

It was the last inning, and the wheels had come off. Yeah, there were two outs, but Eric's team had the bases loaded and he was up to bat. Our one run lead was about to disappear when he put the ball over the fence. We all knew it.

Mikey pitched the ball, and Eric swung his bat. I watched in terror as the ball went straight up in the air and came down right at me. In self-defense more than anything else, I put my hands up over my head and closed my eyes. By some miracle, the ball landed in my glove, and I caught it; for at least a little while, I was a hero and Eric was the Loser. I just had to be careful on my way home after school. Eric didn't like to lose.

Thursdays were my late days; I had photography club and usually spent some time with Mr. Anderson in the old dark room playing with developing pictures from old negatives. It was a dying art, but I found the things you could do with the old techniques intriguing. Mr. Anderson loved that someone was interested in learning what he had to teach.

What it also meant was that it was getting dark by the time I headed home and that meant I could indulge my passion. I loved taking pictures of light and dark, studying how the shadows and light played with each other. Even better was exploring the details of the pictures on my computer for interesting patterns. I had a wall covered with some of my favorites, all obscure and abstract, just patterns and reflections that nobody else seemed to care about.

The counselor at school I had seen a time or two, thought they reflected my depression. I didn't like that explanation, so I just never went back.

I was about halfway home when I saw it. The sun streaming through one of Eric's dad's half-built buildings. The light danced with the steel girders. Shadows created wonderful designs on the street and sidewalk, etching lines in the buildings across the street. It was a business district, so I was alone on the street. A few cars drove past. A truck somewhere nearby backfired, twice. I spent fifteen minutes taking pictures of all of it. I must have taken hundreds of pictures. It was just what I did; point at the design that caught my eye, focus, click, click, click.

If I only knew what I had really done.

My life was about to change in a big way.

I was swapping out my memory card when I saw this big burly guy coming at me from across the street. "Hey kid, what the fuck you doin? Gimme that camera, you piece of shit punk."

I froze. When he pulled a gun from his belt, I dropped the camera and ran. Fortunately, he was more interested in my camera than me. His stopping to pick up the camera and his massive size gave me enough of an advantage that he wouldn't catch me. The two smaller guys that came to join him, now they were going to be a problem.

The building I had been taking pictures of was only two blocks from the interstate. I went home this way every day and knew the shortest path home. Down a block, right through the alley behind the old hardware store. Out of the alley across the parking lot at the convenience store, under the underpass and three blocks down Elm, to my house and safety.

I had one big problem. Remember, I said I run like a girl. I barely got to the convenience store when I heard the two guys entering the other end of the alley. I'd be lucky to make it across the parking lot, much less home before they caught me.

Some guy was filling his truck, a nice double cab, Silverado. With no other options, I slipped inside while he wasn't looking and hid on the floor in the back seat, pulling an old blanket I found over the top of me.

"Hey, bud, you see a kid come through here? Yeah tall, black hair?" It was the guys chasing me.

"Sorry man. Haven't seen anybody since I pulled in."

"Fuck! Scaletti ain't gonna be happy. Go look inside. Check the bathrooms. I'll check over there."

When the guy pulled out of the parking lot, they were still looking. I was too scared to say anything. I mean, what if he took me back and gave me to Scaletti's men? They'd probably give him a reward or something.

"I think you're safe now. You can climb up here with me if you'd like." The guy whose truck I had hidden in had seen me and not said anything. Maybe he didn't know who Mr. Scaletti was. "I take it those guys weren't friends of yours."

I thought about home, but my name and address were on my camera, so Scaletti's men were probably going there first. Was it even safe for me to call? Hell, I didn't even know what I had done to make them chase me like that. I was just taking pictures of that building.

"I don't even know why those guys were after me, but if they work for Mr. Scaletti, it's not good. One of them pulled a gun on me." I climbed over the seat. "Thanks for not ratting me out."

"Is there somewhere you want me to take you?"

"I don't know. They have my address. It was with my camera. They're probably there already waiting for me." I gave him the address, anyway. He took a long route to make sure we weren't being followed. I guess my abject fear was obvious enough that he took it seriously.

The officer at the barricade at the end of my street made us turn around. I shuddered as I watched the paramedics bring the bodies out of my house, all in those black bag things I'd seen in cop shows on TV. The guy I was with just turned around and headed for the interstate. My whole life had just ended. I sat there in shock and just let him drive. I couldn't even cry.

At some point, I fell asleep, waking up in a motel somewhere by myself in a queen-sized bed that two people had slept in. My savior was nowhere to be found. Funking great.

With nothing else to do, I turned on the TV. It was on every channel. The gruesome murder of a family, my family. Pictures of my parents and grandparents flashed on the screen. Then pictures of the two smaller guys that had tried to catch me. Evidently, my dad and grandfather had put up a good fight, but I guess it wasn't enough.

Just like his son, Mr. Scaletti didn't like to lose either.

Next was a picture of me from my sophomore yearbook that my mom had hung on the wall in our family room. I hadn't grown much, but I also hadn't cut my hair since then. My own private rebellion for the way my mom babied me all the time.

I was called a 'person of interest.' Anyone that saw me was supposed to call an 800 number. Scaletti probably paid the guy that was answering the calls.

"Good, you're up. We need to talk."

No shit. What happened to my family had crushed my soul. My whole life was over, and some stranger was my only hope.

"To be honest with you. I haven't always been the best person in the world. I've done some things. In fact, I just got out of prison. Two years for burglary. But I know about Scaletti and what he can do. It was one of his guys that set me up, so I've got no love for him. Besides, they went after your family. You just don't do that."

I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded.

"You're all over the place, so we've got to fix that." He dumped a bag of clothes on the bed next to me. That made sense. What he said next, not so much. "In the bathroom now, get your hair wet."

I just looked at him, not moving.

"Now!"

When he was done, I was a strawberry blonde.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because Scaletti wants you bad, and that means you can hurt him. That's reason enough for me. Now get dressed. I had to guess at your sizes, but I think I got close."

I didn't like it, but he was right, and he didn't even have to explain. They were looking for an eighteen-year-old boy with short black hair. Long blonde hair, panties, short shorts I had to fight to get into, and a T-shirt that hung off my shoulder and didn't quite cover my stomach. Yeah, I didn't look anything like an eighteen-year-old boy.

"Your name is Toni, Toni Benet, got it?" He handed me an ID card with a young blonde girl's picture on it. It was a few years out of date, but a sixteen-year-old girl didn't have much use for an ID, anyway. "She was my little sister. Died in a car wreck with my parents a few years back. Now she's you. At least until we get Scaletti."

I sat down on the bed and let it all sink in. What choice did I have? I could call the cops, but which ones? A man like Mr. Scaletti probably had the FBI in his pocket.

"So, what do I call you?"

"Sorry about that. I'm Mike." He smiled. It occurred to me; it had been a while since I saw anybody in my life smile at me. "You hungry?"

I nodded. I was famished. "But what about my clothes and stuff?" I pointed to the pile on the floor.

"Dumpster out back. You can't keep any of it. It will tie you back to the old you and you can't be him anymore."

What was this, witness protection? I guess it was, or a home-grown version of it.

Mike bundled up my stuff and turned toward the door.

"Wait." I grabbed my jeans and dug the memory card from my camera from the small watch pocket of the jeans, putting it in the pocket of my shorts. "Just pictures of buildings and stuff."

I'd lost everything. Mike didn't begrudge me that one small memento of my past. It also had the pictures I was taking when Scaletti's men came after me on it, and after what happened to my family, I wanted to look at those pictures.

The Silverado was gone. In its place was an old Jeep. What choice did I have? I climbed in next to Mike.

I Hop and then Walmart where Mike bought me more clothes, all girl stuff, but girl stuff that fit and was actually comfortable. Mostly just underwear, jeans and tops, a purse to put all my nothing in, basic stuff. He wanted me to get one or two dresses and a pair of short heels. He was paying, so I agreed. It would take some convincing to get me into them, but at least I had them, I guess.

All the time we shopped, I was nervous as hell, afraid someone was going to recognize me. Almost worse, someone was going to recognize me for what I was, a boy in girl's clothes.

"My little sister has had a rough couple of days." Mike was talking to the girl behind the cash register. "Can you recommend someplace I can take her to get pampered a little? You know, mani-pedi, maybe a little makeover, all that girly stuff." He smiled. I cringed, but I also understood. The more like a girl we could make me, the less the chance I'd get found.

The pedicure was the best part. Piercing my ears and fricking belly button, absolutely the worst. I had to admit, when they were done, I couldn't see 'Little Angie' anywhere in the mirror.

Sad eyes and a comment about how my mom never got the chance to teach me, got me a free lesson on how to do my own simple makeup. Mike smiled, and I felt a little boost of confidence. Maybe this would work.

I didn't know where we were going, and I didn't really care. It was away from my past, and that was all I cared about. The more I thought about my family, the more my confusion turned to anger, then rage, then a silent determination to make them pay. If I had to be a girl to get that chance, I'd be the best damned girl on the planet. Maybe Mike wouldn't have to coerce me too hard to get me into those dresses after all.

I kicked my shoes off and put my feet on the dash, admiring the pink on my toes. Holding my hands out, I smiled at the same color on my nails. I looked in the mirror, admiring the pretty girl looking back at me. It wasn't so bad. Maybe she'd do better at navigating high school than I had. Based on my math, I'd get to be a junior all over again. Fun.

We hit Wendy's for lunch somewhere along the interstate and then pulled into Motel 6 next door to a small truck stop. It was a step up from the place I had woken up in the morning, but not by much.

It was obvious we were on a budget and that Mike was paying cash for everything. Dinner was at the truck stop and then back to the room. At least the shower was hot. I slipped into some clean panties, found some shorts and a T-shirt, and climbed into bed. For sitting in a car all day doing nothing, I was tired.

Mike came out of the bathroom naked. I couldn't tell if it was just what he did or if he was trying to get a reaction. Of course, I checked him out. Guys just do that sometimes. It wasn't sexual. It was curiosity. He didn't have anything to be ashamed of.

He dug out a pair of clean boxers and plopped down next to me. "You don't mind if I watch a little TV, do you?"

"You're paying. Your rules." I shrugged and grinned at him. What I didn't expect was for him to choose the adult channel and select a porno, or for him to pull his cock out and start stroking as the movie started.

"Sorry, it's been a while." There was no apology in his voice.

What the hell? I fluffed up my pillow and watched the movie with him, slipping my hand into my shorts and doing the same thing he was doing.

"Take your shirt off and pull your shorts down. I want to see." That was the last thing I wanted to hear any man say to me. Just like the rest of me, my manhood was significantly below average.

"Please." At least he was asking politely, and he had saved my life.

Fuck me. I sighed and did what he asked, letting him see my meager cock as I massaged my balls and rubbed it between my thumb and index finger.

I couldn't tell you why, but I started watching him, too. The movie drifted into the background. I came first. Little spurts of sticky mess shooting onto my stomach.

"Nice. Now me." Mike took my hand from my little cock and moved it to his. Why didn't I resist? The pink on my nails looked so hot sliding up and down his shaft.

I looked into his eyes, and he smiled. "Yeah, just like that. You'll need to know how to dol that for your boyfriends. MMMmmm..." he let out a long moan.

I glanced at the TV. The girl in the movie was getting pounded from both ends by two men with massive cocks.

"Yeah, just like that. Maybe a little faster." Mike's voice was soft and smooth.

I could feel his body tensing next to me. His hand found the back of my head and pushed gently. I tried to resist, but the more he moaned, the less resistance I had. I was so confused. It was so close to my face. I licked it, then I kissed; soft, kind of spongy. Closing my yes, I let it slip between my lips.

"Oh, fuck yeah." He cried as my lips closed around the head of his cock and he let loose, filling my mouth with his cum. "That's it Toni, take it all, swallow for me." I did. He pulled me close, letting me rest my head on his shoulder as the tremors running through his body slowly faded. My hand was still on his cock.

"Go clean up." He patted me on the butt, using his other hand to pull his boxers off and toss them on the floor. I got up and went to clean the mess off my stomach.

"Don't worry about those." Mike smiled at me and pulled back the covers on the bed as I came out of the bathroom and picked up my clothes. Dammit, he was hard again.

I felt trapped. What choice did I have? I dropped my clothes and climbed in next to him.

"Why?" I was trying not to cry.

"Because it's been over two years since I've been with anybody, and you make a very convincing girl."

"Is this what you expect from me? Did you rescue me and buy me all this stuff just so you could abuse me like this?"

"Listen, I'm sorry, ok. It's just been a long time, and you're here, and with all I've spent on your clothes and stuff, I can't afford a hooker. I'm just desperate." I could see the need in his eyes.

"And you can't just jerk off like I did? You have to make me do what I did?"

"I can't explain it, but jerking off just makes it worse, in some ways. Please."

At least he was asking. Licking my lips, I swallowed again. A faint voice was screaming in my head.

"It wasn't so bad, was it? Be honest."

"Not really, I guess." Especially considering my other option was to be out there somewhere on my own.

"Would you like to try again?"

"Hell NO!" the voice in my head screamed. I slowly realized that it could have been so much worse, and Mike was at least being polite about it.

"Ok." I whimpered, pulling the covers down and sliding down to take him back into my mouth. He came twice more and by the second time, I had taken him all the way down my throat. I was a cocksucker, and just like everything else in my life right now, there was nothing I could do about it.

Once again, I was alone in the room when I woke up. At least I didn't have to take care of Mike's morning wood. I took another shower and took my time getting dressed and doing my makeup. It wasn't as good as the girl at the salon did, but it wasn't too bad. I'd get better with more practice.