Who Is Lucas Ryker O'Riley?

14. YOUNG . . . man

Still not quite fully awake, I dagged myself to the bathroom, turned the shower on and quickly washed off. Was I going to need to shower several times a day, now that we'd moved to the land of 100% humidity, I wondered to myself.

After rinsing off and drying up, I picked up my most comfortable sweat shorts and noticed my old favorite game jersey hanging out of a box of unsorted clothes, clothes I hadn't yet decided what I was going to do with.

Once I had pulled my sweat shorts all the way up, tying the waist cinch tight, I retrieved the jersey and put it on, pulling my head through the neck opening first, then putting each arm through their respective sleeves.

So far so good.

At one time, my jersey almost fit like a glove, but only while I was wearing my shoulder pads. This jersey was now over two years old and I had grown. As I tried pulling the rest of the too little, pliable jersey over my no longer proto-breasts, the material was forced to stretch in order to fit my new dimensions, conforming to the shape of my chest, as if it were a second skin. It emphasized my small, unbound breast mounds and made them totally obvious with the way by breasts held the jersey away from my abdoman, which was exposed for about two inches due to the jersey now being too short.

Looking into the mirror, my eyes widened and my mouth dropped agape. I saw a girl looking back at me who looked a lot like some of the girls in the posters my brother recently pinned up on his wall before we moved.

My heart pounded.

The one particular poster that I specifically thought of had a girl dressed only in a Raiders jersey, seductively filling it out, posing in a very sexy fashion.

Although I'm more of a Cowboys fan, I could definitely see why Dave chose to hang that poster on his wall. I had longingly stared at it numerous times, dreaming of having a girl just like her someday, not being one.

Snapping out of my momentary fantasy, my thoughts returned to my present situation.

Upon taking stock, I decided that it wouldn't be a good idea to go downstairs for breakfast with the family, dressed like one of my brother's fantasy poster pin-up girls. The shock they would experience from seeing me look so seductively feminine would give dad a heart attack and do 'only God knows what' to Mom and Dave. Besides, I had work to do.

The wireless network needed to be up and running today so that I could get started on my internet research project. Hopefully setting up the wireless network would satisfy my parents' demands that I help with today's unpacking chores, especially since neither of them knew nor cared to know how to set up a mesh network.

I reached into my dresser drawer where I had already sorted some of my oversized baggy t shirts. After struggling to adequately wrap my breasts as flat as I could with the ace bandage, I pulled on my new extra large Twenty One Pilots concert tee.

I had planned to go see them with Mandy when their tour stopped in L.A. next week and we had bought matching tees to wear. Unfortunately those plans was canceled since the move to Dallas now made it impossible.

Still feeling a trace of melancholy, I regained my concentration and walked down stairs to have breakfast with my family for the first time in our new residence.

Walking through the house, I felt almost like a stranger trespassing in these new surroundings.

Everything was completely unfamiliar. If I had to get up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water, I don't think I'd be able to make it without falling down the stairs and bumping into every wall between my room and the kitchen. I had a feeling that if I ever got comfortable here, it would still be a long time before I'd consider this 'home'.

Entering the kitchen, the smell of fresh sizzling bacon and the sound of the toaster oven timer ticking down helped to at least stir some feelings from home, since this is what we'd always done; sit down together every weekend and enjoy a pleasant, home-cooked family breakfast.

Mom placed bacon strips on plates, lined up on the counter, and Dave cut toast into triangle halves and placed avacado slices on them.

"How's unpacking going?" Mom asked as she began cracking eggs into the same skillet containing hot bacon grease.

Swallowing a bite of bacon I had stolen from one of the plates, I responded, "I think I've unpacked and put away most of the things I can still use. I guess a lot of my old clothes don't fit me very well anymore since my last, umm," I dropped my head, "growth spurt."

Mom looked over in my direction and scanned me from. head to toe, then replied, "Let me know when you'd like to go shopping. Maybe this weekend? We need to look into some clothes that fit and are better suited for dealing with this heat and humidity. We'll go, just you and I, and we can have that talk, you know. Besides, we need to get familiar with the shopping malls around here."

"What talk?" Dad asked, sitting his cup of coffee back on the table after taking a sip.

"The one he and I need to have."

"Oh, yeah," Dad replied in a regretful tone.

It sounded like he knew what she was talking about and wasn't exactly excited about it either, but how would he know . . . unless . . .

Mom told him!

Damn it, Mom told him what I said the other night.

Mom returned her attention to me while simultaneously turning each egg over. "So? What do you say?"

I hesitantly nodding in agreement when she looked over at me, then quickly changed the subject.

"Since I'm mostly done with my unpacking, do you need me for anything special today or can I get started setting up the wifi mesh and all the computers?"

Looking over at Dad first, Mom answered, "That would be wonderful if you can get the computers unpacked and the internet up and running today. The realtor said the line should already be hot, whatever that means. Do you want Dad or Dave to help you?"

Already halfway out of the kitchen I quickly shot back, "I'll be fine."

"What about breakfast," Mom called out.

I turned and ran back in. Grabbing two slices of California toast, I proceeded to once again run out of the kitchen.

"I'm good," I called out behind. "I wanna get started."

"Hold it right there, young . . . man," dad ordered.

I caught that he had hesitated before calling me a man.

"Have a seat. Weekend breakfast together has always been a family tradition and just because we're in a new home and things are changing, that doesn't mean this has to change too. You can get started after you sit together with us and enjoy your mother's lovingly prepared, delicious, and hardy breakfast."