MUSIC SCHOOL: THE CONCEPTION

Pacing back and forth in front of the record player, Jimmy’s mind was riding the violins until….

“Hey, dude,” Bobby said as he poked him. “When are you going to stop listening to the Ronettes and get to writing our songs?”

“When I rip your balls off,” he replied as he grabbed Bobby’s balls through his jeans.

“Whoa! Dude!” Bobby put his hands up. “OK, OK. I’m sorry.”

Jimmy released his balls, just to give them a quick slap. As Bobby grimaced, he said, “Now, you know that when I listen to Uncle Phil, I am pissed off. You know that, when I am pissed off, I could very well suspend your sex life for a good while.” Bobby nodded as he continued, “Now take your happy, or not so happy, ass over there and sit down.” As Bobby walked away, he motioned to Joey, “Get him a beer. He needs one.”

Bobby watched him pace from the couch. Noticing him, Jimmy kept pacing as the record faded out. Joey, bringing Bobby his beer, said, “That broad has a hell of a voice.”

“I know. That broad is Ronnie Spector. She has a name,” Jimmy responded.

“I think Bobby here should sing along with her. Play that record again.”



Bobby looked up. “But--"

“Come on, dude.”

“Ummm…”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said with an evil smile. “Come here, buddy.” He put the needle back on the record. “Now sing.”

Bobby’s off-key tenor voice created dissonance with Ronnie’s. Taking the needle off, Jimmy said, “Dude, do me a favor. Undo your pants.”

Grimacing, Bobby looked down to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans. “Don’t tell me--"

“More,” Jimmy commanded.

Unzipping his fly, Bobby looked at Jimmy. “I don’t know why I let you--" He stopped as Jimmy reached in the fly of his boxers and took his nuggets in his hand.

“Now, I don’t want to hurt you. You’re my cousin. But, you were volunteered to sing with Ronnie. So, I am going to help you reach her notes.”

“Jimmy, you are one sick--" He stopped, knowing it was too late when the needle hit the record. Yanking his sack down, holding and squeezing, Bobby’s voice climbed. Off came the needle, “Not enough.” Sweating, Bobby looking into Jimmy’s eyes plaintively. “No, no. You’re going to sing like Ronnie.”

“But--"

The needle hit the record. Adjusting his hand, he twisted them a bit. Bobby’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew. Out of Bobby came a voice an half an octave higher still. Off came the needle. “You’re not working with me, man.” Jimmy let go of Bobby’s plums. “You want to fuck for the rest of the month?”

Half bent over, Bobby said, “Shit, dude, you fucking squeezed my nads so hard that I am not sure I can fuck even now.”

“Keep it up, numb nuts,” Jimmy said sharply.

Bobby looked up. “Fuck you.”

“Jimmy--"

“Do you want to be the next volunteer, Joseph?”

“No. But--" Jimmy shot him a look.

Looking at Bobby, Jimmy flatly commanded, “Strip.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It will be easier to help you without your jeans and boxers.”

“How?”

“Just do it.”

Under his breath, he cursed Jimmy as he stripped. As he took off his boxers, he thought, What am I, a slave? I always have to take off my clothes. My fucking dick has been seen by the whole fucking world. Not that it is small, but, shit. “OK.”

“Good boy. Now, stand back and spread those legs.”

Bobby did as he was told, but kept his legs closer together to minimize the damage. Seeing this, Jimmy said, “More.”

Bobby spread his legs a little more. Jimmy shook his head. “No. I want your balls to hang and barely touch your thighs.”

Bobby’s eyes got big as he thought of his poor jewels. Haven’t they been through enough? Strangely, he couldn’t resist and did as he was told. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

Joey knew what was coming and looked away with horror across his face. Jimmy pulled his leg back and rammed his foot into Bobby’s babymakers flattening them against his pelvis. Bobby sucked in a lung-full of air for each and knelt. He slowly let out his breath.

Seemingly indifferent, Jimmy noted, “No voice. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Get up.”

Joey looked at Bobby then at Jimmy. “Holy fuck!”

Pointing at Bobby, Jimmy responded, “You wanted this. You volunteered him. Would you like to be his replacement?”

Without thinking, Joey said, “No.” This earned him a dirty look from Bobby.

“Alright, Robert, get up.”

Slowly, Bobby climbed to his feet and, without needing to be told, assumed the position. His balls were red and swollen. He prayed secretly to remain able to have children. Jimmy put the needle on the record. Bringing his foot back, he said, “Now, this time, give me some voice.” Jimmy’s foot crashed soundly into Bobby’s goody bag and flattened his testicles again against his pelvis. Bobby sang the first three words in a higher pitch than anyone had heard from him before dropping to his knees.

Looking at Joey, Jimmy said, “That is the voice I am looking for. See, you were right. He can sing like Ronnie.” Bobby collapsed on his side.

“I have an idea. Joey, do you still play drums?”

“Yes.”

Looking down at Bobby. “I taught you piano, but you are way out of practice.” Bobby whimpered and covered his nuts with his hands. “No, I shant crack your nuts for that. I should have kept up with you on it. Let’s see…Carol can play guitar. Eddie can play bass. Shit, we have Buffalo’s own Wrecking Crew.”

Whimpering in his now-squeaky voice, Bobby said, “D-d-do you h-h-have to s-squash my balls any-mo-more?”

“No. You know, I think Joey here should not go unpunished?”

“Punished for what?” Joey looked up.

“Well, look at Bobby here! Thanks to you, he’s a nearly paralyzed lump of flesh with an apple-red nutsack resembling a--”

“Hey!” Bobby managed to squeak. They looked down at him. “Make him suck your dick.”

Looking at Joey, Jimmy’s bulge began to grow. With as much manmeat as Jimmy packed, Joey’s jaw would be stretched for a few days. Jimmy approached Joey thinking of how much cum he would blow from his egg-shaped balls. Joey knelt in front of him, but Jimmy stopped him on a dime. “I am going to take a rain check on the blow job. I just had the most brilliant idea I have ever come up with.” Joey and Bobby looked up at him. “Let’s be a band. I mean, a real band. Carol, Eddie, you people, me…we could really be Buffalo’s Wrecking Crew.”

Throwing Bobby his boxers, Jimmy told him, “Get these on. You have work to do on the piano.” Bobby groaned.