The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?'
"Buffalo Boys" 05 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
"What the fuck is happening here?"
Appearing at the head of the Buffalo Lodge's cue, a man whom looked to be in his late thirties, stately tramped down the path, tailed by another male.
"Plenty!" Dougie shot his mouth off, unafraid.
Marat rolled his eyes, again his grip on Dougie's rear belt.
Recognised by both Dav Khan and Reinken Michaelis, convinced Dougie that this had been a figure of authority above the two men's ranks. Of course, slighly behind Dougie, the man noticed Marat's gesture.
"Obviously," eyeing up the hand-to-belt touching, but overriding the campers' actions. "Taking matters into your own hands, gentlemen?"
Right off the bat, Dougie felt he could laugh his ass off, at the calling, but it wasn't that type of atmosphere for joking. Not when the Coyote lad's balls had been at stake!
"Friendly disagreement," Khan replied.
Reinken went along with it.
However, Dougie wasn't about to let it go.
"Khan here hauled off and kneed me in the balls."
"Is that so? What's this?"
Dougie figured he was about to get the shaft too, from this pencilneck, as he made reference to the four torn pieces of pink slip.
Figuring he was already doomed to discipline, at least he wasn't going to take the fall for Michaelis and Khan. Like he had reasoned with his fellow camp-mates, over Mieremet. If they hadn't worked things out then and there, they would have been slaves for the whole summer, to Mieremet's demands. He took his chances, hoping this new face would be more rationale... whatever...
"Mr. Tuffstuff Khan there, is us guys against his guys."
"Khan?"
Dougie was going out on a limb and for the moment, it seemed it was working. At least it swayed this guy's attention away from himself. He waited now, to see how it played out.
"Um... kids are way too loose these days and..."
Standing there, waiting to hear how it played out, Dougie also began to draw some other conclusions. None that had any to do with the situation, unraveling. As he watched the bearded figure of authority take in what bullshit Khan was handing him. Dougie wondered what the size chest of the tight pecs, the taut waist size, and lower, what size briefs held the rather large bulge. He almost missed the order given, not from Reinken, but the man dishing out the tongue-lashing.
"Well?"
A tug came at Dougie's side this time, Marat pulling at his arm.
Dougie then realized the head honcho was talking to him. The other counselor of the Coyote Lodge, was leading his troops alongside the Buffalo Lodge. Dougie also found the other male, that had entered the clearing, marching alongside his troop.
"Hey, who's he?" Dougie whispered to Marat, as he began walking too.
"If you had been paying attention, instead of eyeing up Leitner..."
"Leitner?"
"You better start paying attention, Dougie... Leitner, the bearded guy... camp director?"
"I knew that," He sarcastically threw off the blame.
"Don't bullshit me, Dougie. I saw how you scanned his bod."
"Yeah okay. I admit it, but who's this dude?"
"Leitner refered to him as `Nick'."
"Kind of cute."
"Dougie, haven't you gotten us into enough trouble today?"
"Me?"
"Not to mention your own balls bashed in?"
"Yeah, about that... I didn't know I was as tough as that."
"What are you talking about, Dougie?"
"My balls."
"What about them?"
"They don't even hurt now."
"You're kidding?"
"Not."
"I thought you would pass out after Khan rammed his kneed into you."
"Me too, but it didn't really last."
As the Coyote's marched onward, next to the Buffalo boys, they seemed to fall more into a pack, rather than a straight line, mingling.
"Hey, thanks guy."
"Huh?" Dougie said, looking over his shoulder.
"Thanks for saving my balls!"
"No problem," Dougie said, smiling, as he slowed his pace.
"Chad Seivers," the guy offered introductions.
"Dougie Hazard," was offered back, with a handshake, turning around.
"Yeah, well I'm awfully obliged for what you did for me back there."
"Wasn't me. If Leitner hadn't come along, I'm sure Reinken wouldn't have held back in tucking your sacs in."
"Still, you helped stall him. I sure as hell wasn't looking forward to it."
"Seems like you didn't object."
"Yeah, well you don't know Khan. It would have been a million times worse if I refused."
"Really?"
"Yeah. He through the fear into us all last night."
"What about the other guy?"
"Yves? He's really nice. Of course last night he was acting as Khan's puppet."
"I could see that. He didn't say much. Let Khan did all the talking."
"Your new guy seems okay."
"Do you think that is who he is?"
"Sure. I had a message that it was imperative that I call my dad. While up at the administration office, I overheard that they found the counselor of Buffalo Lodge stripped and tied to the whipping post."
"Oh? And what else did you hear?"
"Nothing much else. Something about the counselor not wanting to talk about it, handing in his resignation. Why? You know anything?"
Dougie laughed, telling Chad, "If I do, you'll be the first to know."
Without either Reinken Michaelis or Dav Khan, the two troops seemed much more aloof from the pressure of the forced discipline.
Tardy, as they approached the mess hall, it had been apparent the two leagues of troopers missed out on the beginning of the breakfast hour.
"Well, might as well get this over with guys," Chad led his group.
"Yep," One of the others replied, following Chad with unbuttoning their shirts.
"What are you doing?" Dougie asked, with Marat and the other Buffalo lads holding up.
"Taking our demerits."
Dario came over and asked, "Demerits?"
Holding up a pink slip of paper, Chad impressed upon them, "Yeah. Dammit, got a whole slew of offenses here."
Of course, Dougie, Marat, Dario and the rest of the Buffalo Lodge didn't mind taking in the view of the seven Coyote boys stripped to the waist, plus Chad's unbuttoned and open shirt.
"Is that what this means?" Dario asks, holding up his pink slip.
Chad reports, "Lucky you. Eight demerits."
"Lucky? What do you mean?"
"Damn, I have to take twelve lashes."
In a jiffy, Dougie had his shirt stripped, turning his back towards Chad, then uttering, "Been there already."
"Shit! That must hurt!" Chad replied, eyeing up the crisscrossing lines.
"Took twenty yesterday." Then, holding up the four corners of the pink slip, announces, "Got another fifteen on top of that, coming at me now. Strange thing, though."
"What's that, Dougie?"
By now, the Buffalo Lodge members had lost interest in breakfast, taking on the spectator's view of the stripped-to-the-waist Coyote Lodge teens. Finally removing his shirt, Chad stood there with Dougie and Marat, chatting.
"C'mon, we better get on line."
Forming one long line, the eight Coyote's and three Buffalo's formed their own cue, as each one worked off their penalties.
"Khan made sure that each of us would break some kind of rule last night."
"Like Michaelis this morning. If your lodge didn't come along, I swear that he would have an offense for each of us."
Marat spoke up, "Then again, he's been gunning for Dougie since yesterday."
"How does that go?" Chad wondered.
"He let that animal whip Dougie's hide yesterday, but we showed him, didn't we Dougie?"
"Marat?"
"Oops!"
Chad let out a roar of laughter.
"You wouldn't tell anybody, will you?" Marat asked, humbled.
"Was that you that plowed his ass?" Chad asked Dougie.
"I think you eavesdropped on more than what you told me, Chad!"
"Yeah, well...."
However, before Chad had a chance to reckon further explanation, he was directed to advance to the whipping post. Taking his shirt, the `punisher' took Chad's shirt and hung it over a railing. Another helped fasten leather cuffs to Chad's wrists, then hang them above his head, to a hook.
Dougie yelled over, "Break a leg," to Chad.
Taking it in stride, he gave Dougie the thumb's up, grinning, then losing his humor, as his tormentor stood behind him, leather strap in hand.
Marat and Dougie cringed with each stroke of the leather against Chad's pristine back, til it became stripped with twelve strokes, turning a bright crimson.
"I'm scared, Dougie."
"Be brave. Pain is like there for the moment, but afterwards you only feel it a little. If you want, I'll go first."
"No. I don't want to be last."
Dougie thought it fortunate that the same discipliner that whipped Chad, hadn't been assigned to Marat's dermerits. The leather strap seemed to land across his shoulders with less magnitude. Still, he knew it killed Marat to feel it's sting. Seemed to Dougie, that with each stroke of the leather strap across his buddie's white skin, turning it a bright pink, it was as if it crossed his own back. He sensed he really cared for the nineteen year old Frenchman.
Apparently, they weren't the only campers experiencing disciplining that day. Every table had at least four or five pink slips sitting on trays. During the commentary, it had become part of the introduction, incorporating the disciplinary code of Timber Creek Fitness Camp.
Coyote Lodge butted ends with the table of Buffalo Lodge, so Chad was able to sit next to Dougie.
"I don't know, about you, but my pa is going to be pissed when he finds out about their discipline system here."
Chad looked at Dougie, not sure he wanted to mention something. But Dougie saw the questioning that bothered him.
"Okay, out with it."
"What?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Chad."
Then, looking his left, Dougie sensed the same confounded attitude with Marat.
Throwing his forkful of eggs onto his metal dinner plate, Dougie grills Marat, as well.
"My best bud keeping stuff from me?"
"My dad knew about the corporal punishment," Chad spared Marat from offering it first.
Being brave, Marat then gave it up.
"Mine, too."
"Fuck!"
Several of the boys from neighboring tables turned to look at Dougie.
"Your dad had to know," Chad quipped.
"The bastard!"
Marat replied, "I was under the impression that you and your dad got along."
"We did and we didn't. I mean, our home isn't exactly `the Brady Bunch'!"
Chad looked at Marat, whom looked back.
"What's it like?" Chad cared to ask.
"Okay, so my pa prolly wouldn't care. In fact, he probably wouldn't give a damn if they whipped me a hundred times!"
Marat and Chad exchanged eyes again, as Dougie looked at his bacon and eggs, pushing them around on his platter.
At first, Chad placed his hand on the back of Dougie's shirt, until he winced, "Owwwwch!"
"Oh sorry. I didn't mean to cause you discomfort, Dougie."
Both Dougie and Marat could see that was the case, as Chad showed the look on his face.
With his fork, Dougie signaled, `forget it'.
A bell rang. The Buffalo gang didn't know what to do, but followed the Coyote's lead, in picking up their tray and getting on line, heading for the kitchen opening.
Chad cued them in, "You have to throw away the paper stuff and place only your dishes on the moving belt. The tray gets piled up. Follow me."
After eyeing up Chad's physique, upon stripping his shirt for the punishment, he wanted to follow him, with no sweat!
%
Arriving back at their cabin, their new couselor, so Dougie believed what he heard, had them stand in a straight line.
"In case you didn't get the whole gist of what our director said, my name is Nick Kyriopoulos, but you can refer to me as Nick."
Unlike Reinken, Nick seemed to run things with `cool'.
"I like a tight ship. I run things firm, but fairly. It's up to you gentlemen whether the ocean remains calm or we face stormy seas. Some of you have had the taste of the lash this morning. Even though I am not am advocate of corporal punishment, I will follow the rules and not hesitate to punish where punishment is due. Do I make myself clear?"
He waited til he was sure he heard every voice, or at least saw lips move that represented an affirmative.
"I asked a question, mister?" He questioned Dougie.
"Um, sure. Yeah. I understand."
Marat was sure Dougie would be destined for another slam in the main artery. However, Nick was cool with Dougie's answer.
"Well, alright. Now, you all have a half hour of free time. After that period, I'd like every man out here in the yard, in shorts and tee shirts, lined up. Dismissed!"
"Seems like a pretty cool guy. What do you think?" Ron Hasting asked of his fellow mates.
"Yeah."
Still being a downer, Dougie replies, "Yeah, but he's not scared of using his strap!"
Surprisingly, Marat spoke up, saying, "Dougie, we deserved to be punished."
Dario, who's back show the wrath of eight lashes, agreed, "Marat's right, Dougie. We've gotta start protecting ourselves."
"From Nick? He's a little weasel."
"Like you said, Dougie, he's got the power to use the strap and I don't think he's reluctant to use it, if he has to," Maclyn tells them, pulling his shorts up.
"Maybe," Dougie replies, throwing a tee shirt over his head.
Lifting the tee shirt he's just flung over his head, fed his arms through, Jason lifts up the back, inquiring, "Hurt?"
"It's a little stingy."
"I've got something for it."
Reaching in his shaving bag, Jason produces a little tube.
"Here, catch!" He says to Marat.
Yesterday some of the boys paired off. It's obvious to whom bonded.
"Take the shirt off."
"I just put it on," Dougie told him, sitting there, looking up at him. Then, giving in, "Oh, alright."
Peeling it forwards, he lets it hang in front of him, over his chest.
"All the way?"
Hemming and hawing, Dougie removes it.
"Lay down on your belly."
Dougie does what he's told.
After Marat squeezes out a generous amount, Gil says, "Here, toss that over here." Then, turning to Dario says, "Strip off your shirt."
Dario doesn't hesitate, saying, "Make sure you get it real low on my back!"
"What happened to the infamous `top'?"
"I dunno. Kinda like having my ass massaged."
Maclyn picks up on the comment, throwing his own in, "I'll give it a nice `hard' massage, Dario!"
Grabbing his crotch, made the guys laugh their asses off.
"Oh no, Mac. You keep that weapon away from me!"
After a half hour massage, Dario's erection, rubbing faced down against the mattress, caused him to have to change his underwear. The seven of them, plus Nick, had to wait a fraction of a minute for him to report.
"Sorry about that, Nick. Had a little `accident' to clean up."
"I'll let it go this time, but from now on I expect every man to be out in the yard in the precise time alloted. Do I make myself clear?"
This time Nick didn't have to prod for another round of answers.
"This morning, on your behalf I have accepted the challenge of a volleyball game with Coyote Lodge. For this morning's warmup, um... Ron, you'll be the leader. Come up in front of the group, please."
They all couldn't believe how cool and calm Nick could be. Totally the opposite of Reinken's barking orders. But it also occurred to them that things could change, if and when he returned to the lodge.
"Um, what do I do?"
"Can someone lend Ron a hand?"
"Sure," Dougie replied.
Advancing to the front of the group, he reached out and took hold of Ron's balls. His fellow lodgers laughed.
"A word, Mr. Hazard," the directive, not request came from Nick.
Quickly, their hyena outburst quelled, as Dougie was singled out. In a minute's time, Dougie stood before the group.
"Yeah, um. Look guys, sorry for my stupid, tasteless joke here. Um, we're supposed to be here to learn stuff, so sorry I tried making it look funny. Truth is, I don't know how to do a warmup. In fact, I don't know anything about exercising." Admitting a little more than he had to, Dougie divulged, "My ole man sent me here to get rid of me for the summer, so... well, that's the truth, so if somebody else could come up here and help Ron?"
Dougie walked back to where he was standing. Standing next to him, Marat patted Dougie on the shoulder.
Nick suggested, "A volunteer?"
Skinny Gil stepped forward. The Canadian, standing at five feet, eleven inches and weighing a hundred and sixty pounds, delved into some stretching exercises.
As he moved about, he explained, "My dad was in the Navy Seals."
Maclyn asked, "He wasn't Canadian?"
"No. My mom is Canadian. He's American, but anyway, he showed me these cool stretching exercises. This one is called a tricep stretch."
They watched as Gil placed both arms up and over his head, almost like his palms touching the top of his shoulders. It was a pleasure watching Gil, as his tee shirt hiked up, revealing his tight, defined treasure trail, pouring out of his deep navel. His shorts, provided by Timber Creek Fitness Camp, the camp logo at the base of his left thigh, hiked down, showing off the fringe of his dark pubes. He wasn't the only one on display, as the others looked around to take in like views.
"Next?" Nick called out, adding, "Before we all start to bulge?"
Nick allowed the laughter to permeate the cabin grounds, himself smiling.
After maintaining the left and right positions for thirty seconds each, Gil dropped his hands.
"Next, the shoulder stretch."
Less revealing, Gil brought his right arm across his chest. He placed his right elbow in the inside joint of his left arm, then reached across and grabbed his left shoulder.
"Okay, now squeeze and elevate your elbow like this," Gil instructed them in a highly professional manner, elevating his right elbow, continuing, "and we hold it for 15.. 14.. 13..12..11..10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..1.. and flex."
The guys shook out their arms.
"This is tough," Dougie commented.
Marat quipped, "Unlike fucking, you're not used to it!"
Nick instructed, not really caring about the joke, "Can we keep on target, boys?"
Marat apologized, not really meaning it. He thought it a fair stab at comic relief.
"Next, we pair up for the two-person chest stretch."
Gil's next Navy Seal stretching exercise presented a problem. With Scott missing, it reduced the ranks to an odd number.
Marat and Dougie paired off. Gil went to stand next to Dario. Ron and Maclyn paired, leaving Jason solo. Nick could sense he felt awkward.
"I guess that leaves you with me, buddy!"
"Sure, if you don't mind?" The eighteen year old replied, upbeat, to the counselor that looked to be about five or six years older.
After standing in the vicinity of Jason, Nick asks, "What do we do, Gil?"
Instead of belittling, something Reinken would have done, Gil felt ten feet tall, as he gave out the two-man instruction.
"My dad and I used to do this. The guy in front, me.. um, I place my palms facing straight out, like this. The guy behind, Dario, places his hands on my wrists."
So no one but Gil can hear, yet the others suspect some comment, Dario whispers, "I'd rather be placing them elsewhere!"
They snicker at Gil rolling his eyes at Dario.
However, Gil continues, "Your partner brings your wrists back and holds the position for fifteen seconds."
Gil did the countdown, still thinking about what Dario repeated to him. He hoped the guys didn't pickup on the twitching in his shorts.
As Nick held Jason's wrists behind his back, he was cautious to ask, "Feel okay? I'm not hurting you, am I?"
"No. Fine, Nick."
At the conclusion of the countdown, they switched places.
Suddenly, the leader of the Coyote Lodge appeared with his team in tow, announcing straight away, "Ready to get your pants beaten off of ya's?"
Nick answered for the Buffalo boys, "Hmm... why, so we can fuck you boys over?"
Humor filled both camps, as they headed off towards the volleyball court.
%
05 Continued....
Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.
"The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness!"
T. Chase McPhee... circa 2005