You know the drill: The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
i Was a Teenaged CuB 02 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Uncle Mark! Oh shit!"
His hips sway forwards, like he was fuckin' some dude, but standing there like the Rock of Gibraltor, Michael curves his bod around, stretching his neck to where it's almost fully facing backwards. "What tha...." he exclaims, after feeling a full rear assault of something human-sized giving him a slam to his back. Michael stood there. The 'object' bounces off him from the back. Slightly turning, he sees a stunned bod lying there on the floor, reacting, "Hey, are you alright?"
Standing there, Mark cups an elbow in one hand, rubs his hairy chops with the other and sums up, "Now Jack, how many times have I told you, 'not' to barge in like...."
"I know, I know," Jack brushes it off, elevating his upper deck, propping his elbows up against the carpeting. "Is anybody going to, like, help me up?"
Mark smiled, reaching.
Jack followed through, but aimed for Michael's five digits!
"Thanks," Jack replies, opting to grab Michale's hand. Then he stood there, hand still attached to Michael, whom just helped catapult his ass up off the floor.
"No problem," Michael replies, still smiling at the shaggy, dark-haired dude.
Too, Jack wasn't in any hurry. And as his eyes dipped down to check out all that red, woofie fur, "Are you like applying for a trainer's job?"
Rather than get into any messy questions and answers, but to also return to the subject matter which brought Michael into his office in the first place, Mark bluntly says, "Michael is applying for a job."
"Really?" Jack says, dismay shown on his face. On his own behalf he inquires with suspicion, "How come last week when I asked, you said you didn't have any openings?"
The heat was on, Mark standing there trying to figure out how to get himself out of this situation.
Michael started putting his shirt on.
Jack watched, till the shirt enveloped up every bit of chest and stomach hair and skin.
"Well I... um, ah..." And rather than make two unhappy teenagers, he gnaws a little off the bottom line, "Actually," he perks up, "I happen to have two openings at this very minute."
"Really? Cool!" Jack replies, turning to Michael and saying, "I mean cool for both of us that is!"
"Yeah," Michael replies. It wasn't all Jack checking Michael out. For the past few years of high school, Michael had secretly lusted over more than one sport jock, but he knew he would never have a chance, even if he found one which was gay, of 'doing stuff' with him. The way Mark's nephew's eyes have been traveling up and down his frame, there was a good chance he was gay. Too, he wasn't at all like himself, more the 'high school jock' he always dreamed about calling his own.
And Michael didn't need to ask, Jack doing the bidding for both, "What's our job?"
Then Mark smiled. This was going to be easy. After all, for the past couple of years, almost every time he's handed Gregg his paycheck, he's gotten a 'song and dance act' about how he should be making twice as much pay for all the cleaning up he has to do.
So, as Mark escorted the two out of the office, they were happy making some loot for taking care keeping up the gym, making it shine like the White House!
Two minutes after he sends them out, Gregg is knocking on the door, announcing himself, allowing himself in and saying ecstatically, "I'm so fuckin' happy I cold almost...."
"Suck me?" Mark finishes off the sentence.
Gregg stood there for a moment. Over the course of ten years he has wanted to.... thrown sketchy hints, often used soft gestures, like a hand to Mark's shoulder when discussing something, but thinking Mark has finally come around, as he closes the door, Gregg says, "If you want, I'm willing!" His pearly white teeth showed his glee.
"So what is it you wanted to see me about, Gregg?" Mark says as if nothing just occured.
It sent all his theories to hell, figuring Mark was setting up some free time for him for himself... if left him a little peeved. All psyched up, Gregg replies, "I did come in here to thank you taking some of my duties away from me, by hiring the kids, and..."
"And what Gregg?" Mark asks as he rifles through some papers on his desk.
Gregg stood there, a hand on his hip, figuring if he paused, it might set his boss off in a different direction.
The bit of silence did act as a vehicle for Mark's attention, him saying, "If it's something important Gregg, I've got like five seconds before my meeting with the people from Powerfit?" Still nothing, Mark guesses, "If it's about your salary, I'm not cutting it, so you can put that worry away!"
He knew he could get fired for it, but a man could take only so much and eleven years worth was more than any man, Gregg figured. Approaching Mark, he forceably twirled him around in his swivel chair and plopped his ass down across his legs, barreling him into the leather seat and kisses him!
Breaking off, Mark nonchalantly asks, "Was there a reason for that?"
Not meant as aggression, but more frustration, Gregg gives him a little slap to the side of the face, springs up, saying, "You're pathetic!" He storms out of there.
Sitting at his desk, hand feeling up the warm place to the side of his face, looking at the slammed door, Mark says out loud, "He hit me!" After the serious repose, a smile makes Mark's face glimmer.
Out at the desk, Michael and Jack were making small talk, when Gregg picks up the blender and starts throwing stuff in it.
Knowing him better, what Michael thinks at least, he nudges Jack in the ribs.
Taking the hint, Jack asks, "So what's up Gregg?"
"Not me," Gregg replies in an absurd tone, "because if I was I'd fuck your uncle from here to China!"
The two eighteen year olds look at each other as the blender makes a loud ruckus, churning up the ingredients.
First Jack turns to Michael and in a soft whisper, "I thought Gregg was a bottom!"
Michael, not knowing either of the two, shrugs his shoulders.
When the blender is turned off, Jack asks, "Um, like you didn't get fired did you, Gregg?"
"Fired?" Gregg slaps the counter hard. "I wouldn't give your uncle the pleasure of firing me. I'd quit first!"
"You're not going to, are you?" Michael asks, tacking a little smile onto his reponse.
"No," Gregg replies, "but I am going to take the rest of the day off." And on the counter he piles a wad of keys and places a spiral bound book, saying 'WEST' on the cover. "Here's the keys to lock up and the recipes for making the protein shakes."
"What if Uncle Mark asks where you are?"
"Tell him I went home sick," Gregg says adamantly, grabbing his jacket and headed out.
"Hey, he didn't drink his shake," Michael says.
"Oh! One more thing!" Gregg bursts in through the double doors. Rounding the bar, he pours the blender into a tall plastic cup, sticks a straw in it and leaves, this time with no goodbyes.
Jack asks, "I wonder what got him so pissed off?"
Two minutes later 'the devil' himself walks out to the bar, asking, "Gregg around?"
Both at once answer, "He went home," Jack finishing out, "He's sick."
"I see." And wondering how the two perceived it, "What was wrong with him? He wasn't like barfing up all over the place?"
"Uncle Mark?"
"Yeah, Jack?"
"That's like fuckin' gross!"
As if his own son, Mark points a finger, saying, "Don't you use that type of language around here young man!"
Since Michael was his audience, Jack didn't want to cave in, but at the same time respect his elders, choosing middle-of-the-road, "Yeah, sure. Okay. No problem."
But neither of the boys said a thing when Jack's uncle, who is rifling through some papers under the counter, "Now where the hell is that fuckin' paper. I know Gregg said he put it under..." finding it, "Here it is!"
Before, Gregg had mentioned something about being truthful and since it worked out pretty well in Mark's office, several factors working out to his advantage, touching Mark's furry stomach, first time experience of having some guy suck on his nip, but especially finding a job, he thought speaking with honesty would help, "I think Gregg was pissed at something you might've said, because right after he came out of your office he stormed out of the place."
Jack stood there, tongue in cheek.
"What was that Michael?" Mark asks, taking a moment.
"Even thought Gregg said he was sick, he wasn't sick, like in barfing sick."
"Oh really?" Mark stops and leans on the counter right in front of Michael. "So you're playing doctor now? So what is your diagnosis?"
Since he had already dug himself into this ditch, Michael wasn't going to leave himself there to be buried in top soil, saying, "In my own opinion I think Gregg is 'love sick'!"
Jack stood there taking it all in.
"Is that so? Well, when I want your opinion I'll ask for it!" Mark grabs up his junk and leaves.
"You asked," Michael replies as Mark rounds the counter.
Before Mark hits the door, he warns, "Then maybe you should mind your own business!"
"Yeah," Jack says nastily, "mind your own business!" He instantly changes to a smile.
Turning to the businees, a patron requests a shake, which was great for the guys, setting themselves off for their first order of business.
After collaborating on the shake, they paired up to see if the patron thought it up to par. A styrofoam cup on the counter was targeting by two one-dollar bills.
After leaving, Jack discovers, "Hey, there's lots of loot in here," he dumps it out and starts counting up the bills.
"What should we do with it?" Michael asks, with Gregg in mind.
"He left the counter in charge to us... this is is part of the counter... it's ours!"
Michael laughs at the way Jack says it, agreeing.
He wasn't too prepared for the next question, Jack asking, "So what were you and my uncle doing in there?"
"Where?"
Jack nods down the hallway.
"Oh, you mean his office."
As a reminder, Jack says, "You both had your shirts off and... I thought, you both had your hands on each other?"
"Can I ask a question first?"
"Go for it," Jack replies.
"Are you gay?"
Answering a question with a question, Jack asks, "Why? You want to get it on with me after work?"
All smiles, Michael replies, "I guess that answers my question!"
"Yeah, but now you have two questions to answer for me!"
Forgetting the 'uncle' question, Michael couldn't believe this relatively slim guy was seeing something in him, looking beyond the chubby stomach and pecs, "For real, you want to hang with me after work?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"Because," Michael chose his words carefully, "I'm like chubby around the middle?"
"Hey, can I tell you something and you won't think I'm weird?"
"Never," Michael replies.
"I'm gay, your gay and around school, there's like lots of gay dudes with my build," Jack explains, "but because of peer pressure I had to be cautious with even looking at a fat dude."
However, it went right over his head, the fact of Jack's infatuation with the other fat dudes, Michael's attention on himself, in relation to where Jack was going with all this, especially since his uncle had made such a big deal about it, his reaction to all the 'red hair', when he unveiled his front to the uncle and later Jack's by chance catching an eyeful, "So you like chubby guys with red hair?"
Jack chuckled.
Michael wondered 'why'?
"According to Uncle Mark's circle of friends, you would be comparable to an Incan 'god'!"
"Huh?"
He figured Michael wouldn't get it, because until he happened upon Uncle Mark's get together of friends, he didn't believe it himself, "I kept bugging Uncle Mark to let me go with him some night to the 'Cub Club'..."
"Cub Club?" Michael digs for info. "Like what's that about?"
"Sh-h-h a minute! I'd hear him talk about it here and there to guys around the gym, saying stuff like, 'I'll see ya Saturday night' or some stuff about the weekend at camp and then I finally got the lowdown, hanging out in the lockerroom, or taking a crap in the stall and hearing all this stuff about..."
"Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"Cub Club?" Michael presses for info.
"Oh yeah, the Cub Club. I kinda got carried away, huh?"
But Michael couldn't be mad at Jack. He was as cute as a button and up until he set foot into the gym, somebody who accepted him even though he had a slightly rounded stomach and hefty pecs. But his curiosity would need to be prolonged, the college swim team entering.
Some players headed to the lockerroom, a few hitting the machines and 'one' sole member requesting, "Hi Jack. Hey, what are 'you' doing behind the counter? What happened to Gregg?"
The way Michael's thinking went, he figures this swim-dude number one man now for Jack's immediate attention being, he's older and like himself, 'red-haired'! What a surprise though, when he gets noticed, standing there almost shoulder-to-shouder to Jack.
"Hey, who's this?"
Rather than single Michael out, Jack replies, "Michael and me will be helping Gregg out around here." Then he keys Michael in, "This is Patrick Gilhooly, almost the best swimmer on the college team."
"Almost?" Patrick jokes, holding a fist over his heart, "Now what hurt, Jack!" He laughs.
Good thing Michael was behind the counter, because he was feeling more than laughter, though he did lend towards making more laughs, the merrier!
Jack butts out, cleaning the blender, getting it ready for Patrick's 'usual', but keeping tabs on the conversation.
"I hope I'm not offering offense here, but it's not often a... um..." Patrick tries working around the word 'chub', "we have big guy like yourself around here?"
If Patrick only knew 'how big' Michael was feeling right how, feasting his eyes on the shoulders, which true to Patrick's sport, was deemed 'swimmers build' in his mind, but also the still wet head of red hair, which made it darker. "I first was here to work out, then got this job."
Hyper, Patrick replies, "Oh man, that's so fantastically cool! Then maybe we can work out together... if you want to?"
'Me work out with him?' Michael thought to himself. 'Why?' he wondered, since there were quite a few able-bodied men available for the choosing.
Thinking Michael reluctant for a certain reason, Patrick says, "If it's because I'm a college dude and you're in high school..."
Michael jumps in with, "I gratuated high school last June."
If you knew somebody who knew any of the college athletes, it was good to know that guy and since it seemed Michael was hitting it off with Patrick, Jack wanted Patrick to know he and Michael were good buds, so walks over, puts his arm over Michael's shoulders and says, "Michael and I are going to be starting Charter in a few weeks."
Smiling, Michael asks, "Yeah and do you know if the swim team needs a good cannonballer?"
However, instead of going along with Michael's joke, Patrick reinforces his offer, "I bet if you and me work out together, in no time you would be in shape for the swimming team?"
Probably Jack was thinking the same thing, Patrick really pushing it.
Too, it went unsaid, yet Michael wasn't afraid to come out and ask a dude, "You wouldn't happen to be gay, would you?" He looked down, seeing, right after feeling, Jack's foot putting pressure on his toe. Immediately he thinks he didn't do the right thing in the asking!
"You wanna hear something funny?"
Dreading it, Jack says, "You're not gay and..." and thinking Patrick is ready to punch their lights out for accusing him, backs away from his co-worker, "I really don't know Michael... we just met this afternoon and..."
"What a fuckin' shame," Patrick says, leaning both elbows on the counter.
Seeing it coming any second, Jack grabs at some paper towels, all ready to clean up the bloody aftermath.
Recollecting Marks words from before, Michael tells, "The management doesn't look kindly on people using profanity, Patrick!"
"Oh really?"
'That's it!' Jack thought, the first punch coming.
"Well I suppose I'll need to really watch myself when I come in here from now on."
Then, Michael and Jack really got a kick out of Patrick, when one of the team members approach the protein bar, saying, "Hey Pat, what the hell'r ya doing? We thought you were gonna..."
'Slap'! Tony felt the burning on his cheek, Patrick overpowering him with, "What's the matter with you Tony, using foul language in an establishment such as this?"
It was only a light slap, which left Tony's already tanned, Italian skin, slightly flushed. None of the swim team cared much, knowing it was Patrick's way to give a little slap here or there.
"But Pat... none of us gave a damn of how we talked before and..."
"Tony, let me give you a message and you can pass it along to the other guys," he allowed Patrick to place his arm over his shoulders and like a caring brother, he led Tony over to where the rest of the team worked out.
Michael and Jack followed out of sheer curiosity.
"Hey guys! Listen up!" Patrick shouted.
A couple of guys sported iPods, so wound up getting the buds ripped out of their ears.
Before he spoke, Patrick saw the two counter-dudes standing there, so partitions Michael off from Jack, saying, "Hey guys, Mark has a new manager working here and there's a bunch of new rules to follow."
One swimmer says, "New rules? I'm not taking my cue from some little fat punk!"
Over time, Patrick had become a sort of father figure for the team. After all, he was the most muscular and any member knew not to go up against him. But also, they were a fun-loving group and weren't reluctant to reject another team member's opinion, in the name of fun.
Walking over to the swim-dude, Patrick asks, "How'd you like spend ten minutes hanging by your balls from the lat bar, Frank?"
Unlike other times, instead of full of fun, it was said with such seriousness, Frank's humor drained from his face as he retorts, "No... no... I was kidding Pat!"
"Me too," Patricks says, with a forced smile.
Too, there was that gentle slap, to Frank's balls, Frank crying out like it was a punch, "Ow.. ow..."
"Shut up Frank. You know I didn't do nothin'... except maybe turn you on?"
As the two watched, Michael was thinking he'd like to have Patrick touch his balls, but in a way different manner!
Walking back to the protein bar, Michael informs, "Patrick, I'm not the manager. Gregg still works here."
He giggles, saying, "Don't tell the guys. They'll never know the difference. But hey, if any one of them give you a hard time, I want you to come to me!"
"Okay," Michael agrees.
Then the two lingered there at the end of the counter, staring and smiling, till they both said at the same time, "You have nice green..." and then one after the other, "eyes... eyes..."
Michael then figured it a definite, Patrick liking guys, which brought him to the question, "So you want to work out with me because you're gay?"
Patrick smiles.
Michael states, "You can tell me like it is."
Thinking it was good Jack was busy, Patrick quietly directs at Michael, "I'd really like to see what that red moss covering your balls tastes like?" A big grin follows.
"So," Michael doesn't change his reaction, "you want to workout with me so you can get in my pants?"
"You tricked me!"
"Trick you Patrick? I didn't trick you," Michael pleads. "How did I trick you?"
"Well, you give me this big speech about telling you like it is, but when I tell you like it is, you put on this big huffy attitude and right away think that because I asked you to work out me, I want to plug your fuckin' ass or something?"
"You just cursed," Michael reminds.
"Yeah and I'll do it again to get it through your head I'm not into doing any of the stuff you think and in fact, if anybody is going to be doing the ass-plowin' it's not me!"
With no sweat, Michael replies, "Well that's good, because if it came to you doing me, I would have to put a stop to us starting any kind of relationship, because I'm not into taking it up the ass."
Patrick smirked, thinking Michael a no-nonsense guy, telling it like it is, like he told it like it is right this minute. Calmed, Patrick says, "Well that would suit me just fine and I like what you said."
Michael says, "Oh, so you're okay with what I said about taking it up the ass?"
"And, about starting a relationship?"
For a minute, Michael had to refocus on the words which just spouted out of his mouth. Realizing he did mention the courtship status, "If you want to date or something."
"How about we talk about it tonight?"
"Um, okay, but we can't go to my place. I live with my aunt and uncle and my uncle is not too good with me being gay."
Joking, Patrick says, "Maybe we should bring him down to the gym, tie his balls to the lat bar and let him watch the swim team make out!" He laughs.
Knowing Patrick was joking, Michael smiles, saying, "That just might do it!" But now that Patrick mentioned it, Michael inquires, "Is every guy on the swim team gay?"
"Most, but some of the straight guys are coming around!"
"Really?" Michael asks with sincerity.
"Not really, but they don't mind getting a blowjob now and then. Straight guys like oral."
It was on Michael's mind and since he wasn't reluctant to ask, "Do they like... fuck any other guys?"
Patrick jokes, "Ooh-h-h you just cursed!"
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Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`i Was a Teenaged CuB' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....