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" 09 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Nick and Yves hung back on the sidelines, watching the fifteen boys toss Dougie about, above their shoulders, shouting cheers.
"I hope we're doing the right thing, Nick."
"Would you rather spend the next seven weeks and six days going through this, Yves?"
The twenty-seven year old counselor looked at his colleague. Yves Le Henaff came to the US this summer with more than employment on his minds. Sure, the money was good, but he figured if he could find a mate that his endeavors to emigrate permanently, would work out more smoother. Nick was pretty easy going. Yves figured that Nick would not be so tough a pushover, to pretend to like. Putting his plan into action, Yves thought, `no time like the present'.
Nicks eyes had been glued to one boy in particular, the one being tossed about, above shoulders of the rest of the Coyote and Buffalo campers. Little had he known whom Yves was scanning.
"Hey, Nick?"
"Yeah, Yves?" Nick answered, still attuned to the lodger's cheering.
"How about we take in a beer tonight after the boys are all nestled in their beds?"
"Um, I dunno," Nick broke his concentration. "It's the first night. I think I'll stick around camp, but don't let me stop you from going with the others into town."
"Yeah, sure." Yves, shotdown the first time.
He thought about the plenty of other opportunities available, being their first night at camp.
"Hey, we better get these party animals settled down," Nick told Yves, heading into the swarm of eighteen and nineteen year olds.
"Yeah," Yves agreed, still with his main issue on his mind.
"C'mon... c'mon, knock it off guys."
What a calamity, as Dougie came bouncing off of Chad's and Dario's shoulders, at Nick.
"Demerits, Dougie!" Chad joked.
All of the campers now mocked Dougie with the punishing demerits, as lay, faced down, on Nick, also scrawled out on the ground. Getting up, nobody noticed Dougie's smile.
Acting, so as not to let anything pass as flirting, Nick yelled, "Get me, slimeball!"
Nick didn't even know what a slimeball was, but it was the only thing he could think of, without threatening demerits.
Yves noticed something, though. Whereas Dougie had been standoffish, with his brash sense of animosity, he now grinned at Nick. Yves wondered why the sudden change, then brushed off the incident altogether. Even though he's known Nick for a day or so, he already formulated his opinion of the counselor as the go-by-the-rules, straightlaced model, at Timber Creek Fitness Camp. Why would he jeopardize his postion by making out with a camper? He laughed at himself for even thinking such a thing.
Still in their jovial display, after being informed of the off-the-record' rules about committing gay sex in the cabins, which Nick and Yves agreed to none', they suddenly grew quieted, when the administrator of T.C.F.C. came `round the side of Coyote Lodge.
With a loud, "Ahem!" from Nick, the boys lined up in their respective groupings, according to lodge.
"Oh there, Mark," Nick acknowledged.
That's another thing that Yves questioned. To him, Mark Leitner was `Mr.' Leitner. When did Nick become so buddy-buddy?
"Nick, how's it going?"
"Fine, just fine," Nick replied, looking over his troops, perfectly lined up, as if West Point cadets.
"I have your replacements here to meet."
It ran through Nick's mind that indeed, Reinken Michaelis wasn't coming back to co-rule the Buffalo Lodge, which gave him a great sigh of relief.
"Nick, meet Jack Thwaites..."
Before Mark Leitner could continue, Jack was around the director, shaking hands with Nick, "Howdy there, mate!"
Both camps of boys giggled, at the `Crocodile Dundee' mannerisms. Nick flashed them a nasty look. They dummied up real fast.
Right away, Jack settled in with, "Looks like we've got a nasty bunch of twits to shapen up!"
Nick couldn't almost hold his own humor!
"And Yves, welcome to the Coyote Lodge, Juan Luis Fernandez."
Yves had a change of mind about Nick, as he shook Juan's hand. Not at all robust, like Jack, more meek in fact, Juan nodded his head, upon being introduced to the Coyote clan, by Yves.
"How about a rematch on the volleyball courts, after lunch, Yves?"
More interested in Juan, Yves acknowledged Nick's request. Nick wondered about Yves, having his hands all over Juan. Then he thought about his priority, his own troops.
"Back to Buffalo Lodge," Nick announced.
None of them expected Jack Thwaites to join in immediately, as he ordered, "Double-time!"
Starting off ahead of them, Jack started to jog. Nick smiled, not countermanding, following Jack's lead. With a quick look over his shoulder, Jack stopped dead in his tracks.
"What's this? Single file!"
For Nick, the eight boys kept jogging, forming a cue.
Dropping back, to join Nick, Jack comments, "Looks like we've got a lot of work to whip these boys into shape!"
"Yeah," Nick said, thinking that soon he'll have to start educating Jack!
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The `labor pains' began to build, as Bud rose up from Dav's back. By now, it felt like somebody had turned a hose on the bed. Both, sopped with sweat. Getting up, the ball of Bud's palm, pressing on Dav's back, made a skiing up the Pakistani's tanned back.
"Ooooooooooh!" Dav grunted, feeling the effects it had on drawing Bud's cock tighter, up his chute.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet!" Bud announced, reapplying his knees against Dav's legs, to spread them.
With a rewed effort, the young jock reached under Dav's thighs, using them as handles, to bring his body closer to his, in an effort to fit as much of himself into Dav's ass chambers as he could.
As for Dav, if began a new assault on his chest, as his nips rubbed to and fro against the bed, the clamps affixed to his pecs reliving the soreness.
Even though his wrists had been tethered to the head piece of the bed, Dav grabbed onto the bar, utilizing it as leverage to press his ass backwards. He also got pleasured by his elevated pubes, his eleven inch shaft scraping along the sheets.
It only took a few ins' and outs' of Bud's fucking tool, to build to the momentum of shooting his hot load up Dav's ass. At the same time, split second timing, he reached under the twenty-seven year olds chest and yanked on the chain.
"I've... always wanted to do that!" Bud cried out, with the six and seventh rope that shot out of his piss slit.
As Bud fell onto Dav's back, totally exhausted, Dav moaned, "I haven't cum..."
In Dav's ear, Bud sadistically replied, "Tough."
Dav whined, "You're wicked!"
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As soon as they got back to Buffalo Lodge, a messenger came into the ranks.
"Got a message here for a," the lad pronounced, looking at the communique, "Nick Creepopolo-is?"
"Kryriopoulos," Nick pronounced his name for the youth.
Right away, Jack barked, "What do you have to say for yourself, boy?" to the messenger.
"Um, sorry..."
Jack added, "Sorry, what?"
"Sorry, Mr. Cree-o-pop-o-lus," the youth mispronounced again.
Whipping out his demerits pad, Jack scribbled something on it, asking the youth, "What's your name, boy?"
Scared shit, the youth replied, "Logan Scott."
"Logan Scott, what?"
"Just Logan Scott, dah!"
Right in front of the Buffalo boys and Nick, Jack lashes out and slaps Logan across the face, which send the youth flying off his feet.
"Oh shit!" Some of the Buffalo boys gasp.
Nick holds his tongue and stance, allowing Jack to command his own respectful act.
"You're in deep shit, boy," Jack tells the youth. "You'll report after dinner mess, to this camp for punishment."
Tearing the top copy of the pink demerit slip off, he hands it to the youth.
"Twenty demerits?"
Taking it as a sign of insuboordination, to question it, Jack takes the pink slip back, scribbling some more. The youth's jaw drops down, looking at it again.
Back in the cabin, Dario says, "I can't believe Nick stood there and let Jack slap that guy around."
"What else could he do?"
The seven look at Dougie.
"Look," he rationalizes with them, "Nick's a nice guy. I think we all can agree on that, but he's got a position of authority to uphold here at Timber Creek."
"I guess I didn't think of that," Ron replied.
Dougie went on to say, "It looks like this Jack-guy is a real tough son-of-a-bitch, so we all have to watch our backs."
"What about what Nick just told us about the relaxed sex rules?" Maclyn inquires, for anybody's input.
It looks to be that Dougie has become the spokesperson for the group.
"I don't know about that. We'll have to play it by ear."
Next thing they hear if a quick knock on the screen door of the cabin, followed by Nick barging in. Right away they can detect something terribly wrong.
"What is it Nick?" Dougie asks.
"Sorry guys, but I've gotta leave."
Devastation follows.
"Leave?"
"You just got here."
"Why, Nick?"
Putting his hands up, Nick quiets them.
"It's temporary. My sister is real sick and I have to go be with her. I assure you that I'll only be gone for five days, at the most. Sorry, but I've got to leave right away."
Dead silence fills the room.
It's Dougie that gets up and tries to spark some life back into the lot, saying, "Hey, we better get moving. After lunch mess we've got a game to play!"
Some hit the jon, others mope about.
"Dougie, I'm worried."
"About what Marat?"
"This new guy and now not having Nick around."
"Yeah, well you're not the only one. Until Nick comes back, we all have to be on our guard."
Next thing they know, Jack is standing there amoungst them.
"What tha?" Dario says, pushing himself up as Gil falls back, in the same bed.
"Inspection!" Jack yells out, before spotting the two boys in bed together. "What the fuck is this?"
Dario almost says something about Nick's laxed rules, but Dougie steps in.
"Temptation," Dougie makes up. "Gets the best of us. It's the first day. Why don't you give them a break?"
Dougie winds up on the floor, huddled over, holding his stomach.
"What the fuck you do that for?" Dario says, jumping up from the bed.
Reaching down, Jack grabs his nuts.
"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkoooooohakkkkkkstoooooopakkkkk!" Dario screams out, as Jack pulls on Dario's ballsacs, jerking them around.
Soon Dougie is in deeper shit, as he jumps up and punches Jack in the jaw. At least it relieved the pressure on Dario's balls. Gil goes to console his bedfellow. Acting like it didn't phase him, Jack responds to Dougie's fist action. With the other's watching, a circle forms. Dougie to one side, looks at Jack, who motions with his hands to `come and get him'.
"Come on... come on... show me what you got, kid!"
With fists ready, Dougie charges at him. Jack bends low, holding his fist out. Jack doesn't let the nineteen year old stay bent over, holding his crotch. No, that's not enough punishment for Dougie. Stepping up behind, he puts Dougie in a full nelson, stretching his whole body upwards. Releasing one hand, he forms a fist and punches Dougie in the lower back. Swinging him around, he plants his fist in Dougie's stomach. Then with speed, uses his gut for a punching bag. After swift punch number three, Marat surprises Jack by jumping on his back. Flipping right over him, as if a juggling act, Marat lands on one of the beds. As with Dario, Jack goes for the balls, twisting them. Screaming in pain and for help, somebody else, Maclyn responds. Seeing that tackling won't work, he goes for the gold. Bending down behind Jack, he balls his fist and hits with a vengeance.
Maybe Jack had fast moves, but Maclyn's heaving fist between his legs gave him the surprise of his life. But, it didn't keep him down. The Irish jock now saw himself in jeopardy. With Dougie faced down on the floor, moaning in pain, near passed out, Maclyn thought of himself as the leader of the pack. The boys cheered him on, when Jack got faked out by one of Maclyn's moves.
Gloating, Maclyn yelled out, "Ain't gonna be so easy putting this Irish boy down!"
They managaed to go a couple of rounds before Jack caught him in the gut and then like Dougie, he got his belly bashed in. But Jack didn't stop with the gut punching. Catching Maclyn up against one of the cabin posts, he held the eighteen year old in one hand, his shirt balled up in his hand, while he backhanded the Irishman. Some of the weaker ones, like Ron, tried to pry him away, but got an elbow in the stomach. As a last resort, Miguel and Jason tried ganging up on him. Sure, they detached Jack from Maclyn's beating, but it didn't do any good for themselves. In no time, they coughed, breathed hard, as they wound up as mounds on the floor, their bellies aching. Looking around, Jack himself breathing hard, stood at the door.
"Five minutes and I want everybody lined up in the yard."
Gil, still tending to Dario's red balls, ask, "What about lunch mess?"
"In the yard... five minutes. Any man not present, a hundred demerits!"
In five minutes they all stood there in the yard, in their uniforms. Maclyn still sported a slightly bloody cut on his lip. All became shocked out of their gourds, where out from the counselor's cabin Jack exited.
"What tha?" Dougie said, hardly audile.
Unlike themselves, the twenty-eight year old counselor strolled out, wearing a most unusual get up. Stretched across the frame of his chest, several leather straps extended. Around his hips, tightly stretched, a pair of black leather chaps dropped to his ankles. Black boots clothed his feet. In his right hand he had a wide, leather strap, coiled up. In his left hand, he toted his pink pad. Nonstop, going down the line, he tore off a sheet of the pink demerit pad. Each one gasped at what was written down, as their punishment.
"A... a hundred demerits?" Maclyn Darragh gasped.
"Fifty?" Dougie followed with.
All the others, traded off their punishments, stating twenty-five demerits.
"Alphabetical order. First one up to the whipping post and don't make me wait or I'll double your punishments!"
Looking at each other, they discovered Maclyn was first up.
"I can't take a hundred lashes!"
"Belly up to the pole before I double it, boy!"
When Jack ran out of room to deliver more lashes on Maclyn's back, without untying his hands, he flipped him forwards. All the boys felt for him, as Jack's heavy strap crisscrossed his chest, then stomach.
Slicing through Maclyn's bindings, he let the eighteen year old fall to ground, pushing him away from the whipping post with his boot.
"Next!"
They all looked Gil Eliot. Slowly he removed his shirt and headed for the whipping post. He bent down to console Maclyn.
"Leave him. Worry about yourself, boy!"
Soon Gil's arms stretched above his head. Within a matter of eight minutes, it was all over. Fortunately Gil was stronger than he thought he could be. His body didn't lay on the ground, feeling Jack's toed boot push his away.
So, it went, Ron Hastings taking twenty-five lashes, Dougie Hazard accruing fifty lashes, the rest twenty-five lashes each across their backs; Marat Saint-Marc, Cario Parisi, Miguel Rojos and lastly, Jason Wragg III.
"Punishment served. Two hours break and assemble in the yard for fitness training."
All the boys assembled around Maclyn, lifting him jointly, to take him into the cabin. Dougie, from his second whipping, knew how to deal with the welts. Taking Maclyn into the jon, Marat and Gil held him up while Dario sprayed cool water over him.
"Seems like you took it okay, Dougie," Marat acknowledged, watching him and the others stripped and bathing under the other jets.
"Yeah. Surprised myself. How many has it been today?" Dougie asks.
He hasn't kept track.
"Ninety-seven," Marat answers.
"How are we going to take this for five day?" Gil questions the guys.
"We've gotta get Nick back."
Dario says, "We got rid of Mieremet. How come we can't do the same with Jack?"
Except for the sound of water splashing off of bodies, the room remains silent.
"Or," Dougie states, "if we took care of him until Nick got back?"
"What would that prove. Wouldn't Nick get in trouble, too?"
"I guess it does leave things sketchy."
For an hour they bathe under the cool jets, then emerge, drying off.
"How you feeling Mac?"
"Like my body is on fire, from that bastard's whipping."
Marat jokes, "I always thought you had a hot bod, Mac!"
They boo-ed him.
"So, you come up with any bright ideas, Dougie?" Dario asks.
"Me? What about you guys? You make it look like I've got all the smarts or something."
Silence befalls the lodge, seven boys staring at Dougie.
Walking up to Dougie, strutting his stuff, Marat replies, "What can we say, babe? You've got it all. Good looks, hot bod, um, why shouldn't you have brains, too?"
"Maybe I can talk to Yves about this."
As if a gift from above has fallen into the room, the Buffalo gang breaks out in cheers, agreeing that possibly Yves could lend them some assistance. In no time, Marat and Dario are watching out for Jack, as Dougie sneaks away.
Running to the Coyote Lodge, Dougie finds the place deserted.
"Rats!" He comments to himself, hightailing it next to mess hall. As he remembers, Jack prohibited them from eating lunch. The hall was deserted.
Back at Buffalo Lodge, Jack stood out in the yard, waiting for the boys.
"What are we gonna do, Marat? Dougie's not back," Dario asks.
"I don't know. Give me a minute."
"That's about all we have, Marat," Gil starts to freak out.
"Let's get our hiking fatigues on. Maybe Dougie will come back before we have to leave."
The clock ticks on and soon it's do or die.
"Let's go guys."
"But what do we tell him about Dougie?" Jason whines.
"Nothing. Don't anybody say anything. Maybe Jack won't notice."
Dario hangs on Marat's shoulder, saying, "Marat, you come up with some good ideas from time to time, but this ain't one of them!"
Patting him on the back, Dario heads towards the screen door.
As they pile out, Maclyn makes all kinds of painful sounds, reflecting the whipping of his back, ass and chest.
"You gonna make it, Mac?" Ron asks, holding his arm.
"I don't know. I still feel stingy."
"And where are your backpacks?" Jack asks, with an evil grin following.
Parading back inside the cabin, the jocks emerge, packs attached to their backs.
"Over here," Jack calls.
Moving over to the side of the clearing, not far from the whipping post, Jack holds up a hefty piece of firewood. Ron is the first to reach Jack. Unzipping the top of the backpack, Jack lets the plank of wood drop in. It almost makes the five foot, nine inch teen fall backwards. Same happens to Miguel and Jason. All Jack does it laugh his ass off. When he drops the wood into Maclyn's backpack, it scraps his already raw back.
"Akkkkkkkkkkoooooooooh!" Maclyn screams, falling to his knees and arching his back.
"Get up!" Jack yells at him, kicking the back of the pack, unleashing more pain on the Irish eighteen year old.
Rolling over onto his stomach, he next gets a boot kick in the side. Returning from his fruitless search, Dougie sees the second kick to Maclyn's ribs. Taking a running jump, he lands on Jack's back, taking him to the ground.
"What tha fuck?" Jack yells out.
The boys never saw a man move so quick. Rolling over, he first pinned Dougie to the ground. Righting himself, Jack punches Dougie square in the gut.
Marat says to Dario and Gil, standing next to him, "Well I'm not going to stand here and let Jack beat the shit outta him!"
Gil and Dario look at each other, shrug their shoulders and then join in on the melee. Seeing those two run towards Dario, ready to pounce on Jack, Miguel and Jason get brave and help out. Lastly, Ron hops on board. Soon they are wrestling Jack to the ground.
Marat yells out, "Get something to tie him with!"
His belly ground into the dirt, a guy on each limb, Ron kneeling on Jack's back, Dario pulls his own belt from his hiking pants.
"Here we go."
"Cool," Marat says, binding one wrist, then wrapping the belt around the other.
"Now what do we do with him?"
Jack, livid, yells out, "You fuckin' better let me go! All of you are in deep shit!"
Dougie, rubbing his belly, stand there, then comments, "Good job, guys."
Marat inquired, "What did..." almost ready to name names, he switches to, "You know... say?"
"Tell ya later. Let's get him into his bunk."
Getting the counselor to his feet, they forced him to walk into his own quarters.
"Heeeey! What did you do with Nick's things?"
Looking around, everything Dougie saw that Nick had out, was gone. Most noticeable was the picture Nick had of his ex-lover.
Pointing to the dresser top, Dougie demanded, "What did you do with the picture?"
"What picture?" Marat asked.
Jack, whom they had wrestled onto the second cot in the room, yells out, "I don't know what picture you're talking about!"
However, on the other side of the room, on top of Jack's dresser, is the same exact picture frame, a different man's picture encased in it.
"You... you stole Nick's picture frame! What'd you do with the picture?"
"Told you, boy. I don't know what you're talking about. That's mine!"
Dario says, "This could be a coincidence, Dougie. There could be two picture frames that look the same."
"Oh no. Nick's lover was an artist. He custom made this frame before giving it to Nick."
"Maybe he makes them and sells them," Gil suggested.
"No," Dougie replied. "He did it as a hobby. Besides he's dead."
"Dead?" Marat questioned.
Jack, picking up on the term, yelled out, "Yer all gonna be dead when I get out of these ropes!"
Weaving a rope, down, over Jack's right shoulder, between his right pit and bod, behind his back, then back through the other pit, up his left shoulder, Miguel was fastening the other end to the left side of the metal headboard of the bed.
"Cool! Where did you learn how to tie a rope like that, Miguel?"
Feeling proud of himself, he smiled, saying, "My papi. He work as a cowboy on a ranch. I help him."
"Good job!" His peers commended him, some patting him on the back.
"Watch it guys," Gil thought about the effects from the whipping.
Miguel responded, "I'm okay. Getting whipped don't bother me."
They wondered what that meant, but this wasn't the time or the place to ask questions.
Before long, Miguel had Jack tied to the frame of the bed, better than a cow hogtied. While the boys fussed over the job, Dougie snooped around.
First thing he found, was Nick's ex-lover's picture, torn in half, in the trash. He retreived it.
"Fuckin' liar! Look at this guys!"
"Dougie was right!" Marat reported.
"I wonder what other stuff we'll find."
Jack couldn't do anything but make muffled sounds, what with the sock stuffed in his mouth.
"Oh now. Look at this. Isn't this interesting!"
"What is it Dougie?"
Miguel did a super job with the ropes. If Jack moved to much, the rope, tied around his balls, right through his pants, would cause a strangling effect.
Turning to Miguel, Jason asked, "How'd you learn that trick?"
"Rodeo. My papi."
"Well, what happened?"
Seemingly unpleasant, Miguel was reluctant to hand over anymore information.
With his arm around Miguel's girth, Jason whispered, "That's okay. You don't have to tell me," giving him a little peck on the cheek before withdrawing.
By now, the others had spread out on the dresser top newspaper clippings.
"Hey, look at this one guys."
"What's it say, Gil?"
"It's Jack's picture, but the name underneath says Roger Burke. It says here that he beat up a guy, leaving him for dead," Gil dramtically read the highlights of the newspaper clipping.
"This here one," Dougie reports, "hmm... from over a year ago, tells of how Roger Burke, our `Jack' here, eluded the police yet again."
Dario announces, "Looks like we got ourselves a convict here!"
"I don't think he made it that far," Gil tells them. "You have to be tried and sentenced, to become a convict."
"You know what I mean, `brainiac'!" Dario tells Gil.
Marat puts forth, "Oooh, lover's first quarrel?"
"We're not lovers!" Dario stresses.
However, Gil has other ideas about their relationship, responding with disappointment, "We're not?"
"Um, we could be," he switches his opinion.
"Can we talk about the birds and the bees later, guys?"
"Dougie's right," Marat agrees, "What are we going to do with Jack?"
"Nothing," Dougie replies.
"We can't leave him here til Nick gets back."
"Do we have much of a choice, Marat?"
"I suppose not," the nineteen year old sees it their way.
Whispering, Marat asks Dougie, "What did Yves say?"
"I couldn't find him. He and the Coyotes must be off on a hike."
"Did you check the lake?"
"Yeah and some of those boys from those other lodges are real hotties!"
"I was talking about looking for Yves, doofus!"
"Oh.. I knew that," Dougie replied.
It still didn't get him off the hook!
For now, they left Jack tightly in bondage, in the counselor's quarters.
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09 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