Danny was an only child, so when he went away for college, his parents moved out of their big suburban home and into an age-restricted gated community (55+). The community consisted of hundreds of identical units — each one a charming little bungalow with a small yard and picket fence. It was the last hurrah of that generation's American Dream.
When Danny came to visit for the holidays following his first semester of college, he'd marveled at the uniquitous sameness. "How do you tell them apart??" He'd asked his mom.
"Honestly?" She said, laughing, "It's been 6 months and we still can't! Without Google Maps we'd be screwed." Ever-confident in his own sense of direction, Danny decided to make a point of navigating the old-fashioned way — it would be payback for all the times they'd teased him about never learning to read a map. And besides, in a gated community full of friendly old folks, what could go wrong?
So, after dinner that night, when Danny decided to go for a run, he left his phone at home. "Don't stay up for me!" He called to his parents as he headed out the door, planning on a long jog to burn off some calories from his mom's hearty cooking.
Of course, to no one's surprise but his own, Danny found himself completely lost less than half an hour into his run. Fortunately, right as that realization was setting in, he spotted an older gentleman up the street taking out his trash. "Excuse me, sir!" He called out, jogging over, "I left my phone at home — can you point me toward Woodlawn?"
The man looked up and chuckled goodnaturedly, "Afraid not, they all sound the same to me, too. But if you want to come in you can borrow my phone."
"That'd be awesome! Could I get a glass of water too?"
"You got it. You just in town for the holidays? Don't see too many boys like you around here."
Danny nodded, a little confused by what "boys like you" meant, but he chalked it up to generational differences and followed the man up the driveway.
Danny was fit (albeit short) and had a clear runner's build. This man, on the other hand, was big. Barrel-chested with a bit of a beer belly, he stood a solid head taller than Danny and had about a hundred pounds on him. Danny noted their size difference with a little trepidation, but followed the man up the driveway nonetheless.
With a grand gesture, the man opened the door and ushered Danny inside ahead of him. It was a narrow doorway, so he had to turn sideways to squeeze past.
"Shoes off, please," the man said, closing and locking the door behind him. Danny bent over to untie his shoes, and as soon as he did he felt a sharp smack on his ass. It would've knocked him over if the man hadn't followed the smack with a firm squeeze. "Goddamn, why couldn't my ex-wife be built like you?" He said with a laugh. Completely shocked and totally unsure what to do, Danny just laughed nervously and finished taking off his shoes. "Kitchen's this way," the man said, heading off down the hallway.
Danny followed shortly after, walking into the kitchen to find the man filling a glass at the faucet. He handed the glass to Danny, who took one sip and made a face, "This is like...lukewarm at best. Don't you have ice?"
The man stared at him, visibly offended. "Is this what you consider good manners?? You'll drink it as it is and you'll thank me for it, boy."
Taken aback, but not wanting to ruffle any feathers, Danny rolled his eyes and responded (somewhat sarcastically), "Okay, chill, thanks for the warm tap water. It's just what I wanted," before chugging the whole glass. "Happy now?"
"That attitude's going to get you hurt, boy. Clean that glass and get out of my house, you can find your own way home."
With a dramatic sigh of annoyance, Danny walked over to the dishwasher and tugged the door open.
"No, by hand," the man commanded.
"There is LITERALLY nothing in here," Danny replied, clearly exasperated.
"This is my house, and that's my glass, and you're going to clean it by hand."
"Or, hear me out, I'll go home, and you can go fuck yourself!" Danny shot back, flipping him off with both hands as he turned back toward the hallway.
He'd barely taken half a step when the man slapped him across the face, "I gave you a chance, but now you're gonna learn," he snarled, "Now clean."
Absolutely irate, Danny started, "I'm calling the —" but was interrupted by another slap across the face.
"I said clean, boy."
Danny wound up to throw a punch but the older man was faster, slapping him again, this time with enough force to spin him around. Before Danny could regain control, the man had grabbed the back of neck and bent him over the counter, pinning his face against the cold stone. The man held him down with one hand and yanked Danny's pants and boxers down to his knees, exposing his bare ass. Then, as Danny thrashed uselessly, the man slowly undid his belt. "Let me know when you've learned your lesson," he said, as he raised the belt above his head.
It only took three hits from the belt before Danny was in tears. "I've learned my lesson! I promise. I'll clean the stupid glass. Just let me go," he begged.
"That's a good boy," the man said, dropping the belt and gently rubbing the boy's ass. "But we are so. past. that." he continued, accentuated each word with a vicious slap on Danny's ass.
"Please just let me go," Danny pleaded, "I'll do anything."
