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DORM SERVANT TO THE ROTC – Chapter 4
The first thing Billy noticed when they stepped off the plane in San Diego was the blue sky. It was a shining contrast to the gunmetal grayness of the Midwestern winter they'd left behind, and so was the warmth. It was beyond idyllic, and his heart soared.
He forgot the misgivings he'd felt when Rick had told him he'd be spending the long semester break at his father's place in the countryside behind Camp Pendleton. In a phone call, his father had assured him that it would be okay to spend Christmas away from home, but it wasn't until their arrival at the airport that he lost his hesitancy about skipping the holidays with his family back home.
While they waited for their bags inside the terminal, Billy looked around and saw young Marines strutting around in their sharp uniforms. He began to get hard again, but the plastic cage made it uncomfortable. Then Billy's father walked up, wearing dress blues every bit as crisp as the recruiter's on the earlier flight.
They both saluted the colonel, and he reacted with surprise.
"I understand it with you, Rick, but what's this?" he asked, smiling and jerking a thumb sideways. "Since when are civilians saluting?"
"We met a few jarheads on the plane," Rick answered. "They gave him a junior Marine badge, so I told him he'd need to salute you."
Col. Jackson looked closely at Billy's sportcoat.
"Wings too, I see," he said. "So did you have a good flight, little fella?"
"Yes sir!" Billy replied, launching into an animated description of his first-ever airplane rides. "Dad says he'll take me to Disneyland and let me ride the roller coaster if I'm good!"
Rick chuckled.
"I said we'd see about it," he said, smiling his father's way. "Always got to keep an eye on this one. Give a little squirt an inch, and he'll take a mile!"
He put his arm around Billy's shoulder and gave him an affectionate squeeze, and talked to his father again.
"Billy behaved himself this morning," he said. "I had to remind him that a little fella always calls adults 'sir' and 'ma'am,' but he was just tired. I'm sure he'll remember from now on."
Billy turned red and looked at the floor.
"I sure will, dad," he said. "I won't forget again, sir!"
They visited the zoo together, and on the way to Fallbrook Rick asked his father how things were going. The colonel's wife had passed away the prior fall after a long battle with cancer, and it had taken a toll on him.
"I'd be lying if I told you everything was back to normal," his father said. "I'm not lacking for female companionship when I want it, but I'm keeping 'em at a distance for now. Biggest problem is the house. Place is still a mess, so be prepared."
The colonel had a 640-acre spread inherited from his family, and when they arrived he drove the Jeep on the gravel roads through the ranch.
"I lease out the pasture to a cattleman," he said, "but I still like to get out there and tend the fences and cut trees. Clears my head, especially lately."
Finally, they entered the house. There was plenty of cleaning to do.
"I thought I'd be able to do it, but I haven't had it in me," he said. "I'm thinking of hiring a housekeeper once I get around to it."
"Pops, we're going to be here for a month, so I'm sure Billy will get everything back into shape," Rick said. "At least he will if he wants that trip to Disneyland, won't you, son?"
"Yes sir!" he replied, as he realized the enormity of the task. But it didn't bother him; in fact it was the opposite. He saw the opportunity to show them what he could do.
"That would be most appreciated," the colonel said. "Maybe Billy can show me how he gets your boots so shined up too."
He had cut a Christmas tree, and it was standing in a corner, with strings of lights and boxes of ornaments next to it on the floor.
"Maybe Billy can get that decorated," the colonel said.
Christmas Day was bright, warm, and clear, something unfamiliar to Billy yet welcome. His father mailed a gift package, and the colonel had bought gifts too. While the colonel visited Smitty's to procure a set of boy's camos, Rick and Billy visited a different store in Oceanside and picked out a fancy knife for the colonel.
"Thank you, sir!" Billy said to the colonel when he opened his gift. "I'll get these starched, sir."
His father sent clothing, books, an envelope containing five crisp $20 bills, and a letter.
"Dear Son," it read. "I hope you enjoy what I have sent. We are proud of you, and I am happy to know that you are getting the watchful guidance that I did not give as you were growing older.
"I want you to know that I did that out of a desire to treat you and your brother equally. But I now see that I was mistaken. You needed a closer and different kind of attention that I did not provide, and I hope that Rick will bring you along and prepare you for adulthood over time.
"I have included some of your favorite Tom Swift books, a few of your favorite cowboy stories, a Bible, and your Cub Scout and Boy Scout handbooks and uniforms. I want you to pay special attention to God's instruction to honor your father and your mother. Rick is acting as your father, and you must be as obedient and trustworthy with him as you were with us. He has your best interests in mind. He has my full confidence and authority, and you must follow any rules he sets down for you. The Scout manuals should help you in applying the Bible's instruction in your daily life.
"Show him this letter, and give him the money I have sent you so he can treat it as your allowance. Be as good a boy with him as you were with us, and be thankful that he agreed to take on a challenging position as your father in place. I am sure you will do well. I remember how much you loved Scouting and especially your Scout uniforms, so maybe he'll let you wear them again."
Billy handed the envelope and the letter to Rick, and watched as he read it. He raised his eyebrows and smiled, and handed it to the colonel.
"I never knew you were a Scout," Rick said. "I was too. Liked it a lot for as long as I lasted."
The colonel burst out laughing.
"Yeah, until you and Tommy Flanagan got kicked out," he said. "Damn good thing I was able to keep the scoutmaster from killing you guys."
"Sir, can I ask what you did?" Billy asked.
"We were 15 years old, and on one of the campouts we discovered that the Girl Scouts were a mile away," Rick said, chuckling. "Got one of them in the tent, fed her bourbon and after a while the scoutmaster walks into the tent and sees Tommy's dick in her snatch and my dick in her mouth."
"You were kicked out for that, sir?" Billy asked.
"It was the scoutmaster's daughter," Rick said. "We never knew. Remember how I told you about the guy who'd lick my balls while I screwed a girl? Tommy was the guy, and the girl was the scoutmaster's daughter. We kept at it after we got kicked out, but we were just more careful."
"Howdy, Tommy!" Rick said when he walked into the house his old high school buddy was sharing with the two Marines. It was the day after Christmas. "Been a while!"
No one would suspect anything about Thomas Flanagan by looking at him or talking to him. He was lean, muscular, and masculine, standing just shy of 6 feet tall, with a handsome face that drew second glances from the girls around Oceanside who chased after young Marines.
It was mid-afternoon, and Tommy was wrapping up his chores. He had advanced to lance corporal, but his roommates were now corporal and staff sergeant, still outranking him. On this beautiful Saturday, they had gone out while Tommy cleaned the small house that the three of them shared. They would be back at 6 p.m., and would expect a clean dwelling and dinner.
He'd been told Rick would stop by, but Tommy was not quite prepared for the sight of his old chum, who'd grown by a couple inches and 20 pounds since they'd messed around in high school. Rick towered above him, his olive drab T-shirt stretching tightly over thick muscles, the creases of his camouflage fatigues razor sharp. The cock ring he wore enhanced what was already a substantial bulge, and the shine on his boots was almost blinding.
"I'm glad you could make it over, sir!" Tommy said. "Can I get you a beer?"
He accepted the offer, and chatted with Tommy when he brought the beer.
"I've been liking your letters," Rick said, as he relaxed on a recliner in the living room and used a remote control to turn on a college football game. "It seems like you are being trained right."
"Yes sir," Tommy replied. "It was hard at first, but I got used to it, sir."
"The cage and the buttplug?" Rick asked.
"Yes sir," he said. "I couldn't understand it, because I never got hardons with any guys. The drill instructor never cared, sir. All he ever wanted was to get sucked off, but these guys decided they wanted to take my dick away."
Rick finished his beer, and had Tommy get him another one.
"After I read your letters, I decided to get hold of these guys you're living with," he said to Tommy who had taken a seat on the floor in front of the chair. "I told 'em all about what you did in high school, and said they should cage you and train you with that buttplug."
"But why, sir?" he asked.
"There are a bunch of angles to it, but it's basically to get your mind right," Rick replied. "You needed to get un-confused about yourself. Whether or not you're a queer and what that means."
He explained that he had talked with some others about it, and then recommended that his roommates try it out for a couple months.
"That tube in your dick keeps you from getting hard, and buttgasms make you want it even more," he said. "I told 'em that if it wasn't working then they should stick to having you suck 'em off like you were doing with the drill sergeant. But if it did work, everyone would be happier. Your latest letters told me it worked."
"Yes sir, I guess it did," Tommy answered.
"These guys aren't queer for your ass," Rick said, "but they're big into the control. And so are you. You might be queer for them, but one way or another you're learning a queer's place. And they're learning how to treat one. I told 'em to be steady and firm but not to put you down. They've been keeping up that end of the bargain?"
"Yes sir," he said. "They've been a lot better than the drill sergeant was."
"My pops is the colonel who's come over here a couple times to screw you," he said. "When I was growing up, he told me that the drill instructors don't have much more free time than the recruits, so I bet that guy didn't have much time to do anything but get blowjobs. Lots of hassles in that job, so he was probably getting his ya-yas off. Easier to have you do it than to pick up some girl in a bar."
The game was in the third quarter, and Rick finished his second beer and requested a third, along with some pretzels. When Tommy returned and sat on the floor between his legs, Rick had him unbutton the fly of his fatigues and put his dick in his mouth.
"That's right, you swallow that," he said gently as he pissed in Tommy's throat, his soft, thick dick carrying a steady stream.
"I should've let you suck on me back in high school, but I didn't want another girlfriend chasing my pecker," he said as he pissed. "I didn't know how to manage a queer, so I went the other way."
After he was finished pissing, Rick leaned the recliner backwards and told Tommy to keep his mouth on his dick while he watched the game. He was careful to keep his dick soft, and pissed twice more before the game ended in victory for his preferred team.
"Regardless of how you turn out, the next couple years will be good for you," Rick said after releasing Tommy to sit on the floor between his legs while the post-game wrapup recounted the highlights of the contests, and of other college games being played that day.
"Even if you don't wind up being a full-on queer for the rest of your life, you still have a need to do things for Men," he said. "Am I right that the cage and the plug cleared things up that way?"
"Yes sir, it makes sense the way you explain it," Tommy said.
"I think too many queers don't know their place," he continued. "It's not really as much about taking away your dick as it is about keeping it in check so you can concentrate on the ones that matter. For the time being, you're full queer, and their dicks need to be something they don't think about. It's selfish for a queer to put his own dick ahead of a Man's dick, or even to think he's equal."
"Damn, you Jacksons got rocket launchers between your legs!" the sergeant exclaimed. "Your pops wasn't joking about yours being even bigger than his, buddy!"
Jake Angler certainly didn't have anything to be embarrassed about, but his 8 inches looked ordinary next to Rick, whose massive tool, stiffened and lengthened by the cock ring, jutted nearly 10 inches through the open fly of his fatigues, as he lubricated it and prepared for entry.
"He gets screwed every few weeks, and we let him out of his cage for that," the Marine said, smiling and pointing to Tommy, who was naked on all fours on the bed, his dick throbbing and erect, 5-1/2 inches long. "He didn't get to touch it, but we didn't want to leave any doubt about what he is."
Rick stood at the edge of the bed and paused.
He snapped his fingers and ordered Tommy to lose his hardon within 15 seconds, knowing it wouldn't happen. When Tommy stayed erect, he reached around with one hand and tightly squeezed the tip of his dick and used the other hand to slap his balls sharply, causing Tommy to yelp and go soft.
"It made sense to let him get hard for a while, but now's the time to step it up," Rick said, now holding the cage. "Put the cage on, but when he's getting drained don't put the tube in. He'll learn quick not to get hard because the cage doesn't have enough room. It's only three inches long, so he'll have to learn."
He eased his way into Tommy's ass while Jake knelt in front of him and the other Marine roommate, "Spider" McGinn, sat in a chair off to the side, watching. He talked some more as he pumped slowly and Jake entered Tommy's mouth.
"Eventually, he'll get hard if you tell him he can, and when you snap your fingers he'll get soft," Rick explained. "You can't have a queer controlling his dick. That's your job. When you're not around, have the tube in, but other times leave the tube out and control his dick through commands. It won't happen right away, but he'll come around."
Rick and Jake knew it would take 10 or 15 minutes before the cum would ooze out of the end of the cage, and they kept chatting.
"He likes getting screwed," Jake said, "and he's good at giving blowjobs. Between that and what you told us about liking our piss, I'd say we know what we've got here."
Rick chuckled as he moved in and out, his gigantic dick thrusting deep inside, stimulating Tommy's prostate and stimulating him to become as erect as the cage would let him. The pain from the enclosure forced him to shut off his dick and stay as soft as he could.
"This just takes it another step further," Rick said, now penetrating the second ring deep inside Tommy's ass while he sucked on Jake at the other end. "Makes it so the only dicks he will think about are the ones inside him."
Rick rubbed his hand on Tommy's back as he stood screwing him and spoke gently.
"Move back and forth on the stiff dicks, buddy boy," he said, his voice smooth. "Fuck yourself now. Nice and slow."
Tommy was disappointed that his dick would no longer be free when he was being screwed, because unlike being milked in other ways, he'd managed to achieve strong orgasms. But he realized that Rick was correct about the effect of keeping him caged while being screwed.
"So have you ever screwed anyone's ass, male or female?" Jake asked.
"Tried it once with a girl and it didn't go well," Rick answered, with a chuckle. "But they tell me a queer guy loves it. Tommy here seems to, anyway."
He'd been slowly screwing Tommy for almost 20 minutes. By now, his steel was rammed in to the hilt, and he stopped Tommy's rocking and moved in and out only slightly. He felt Tommy's rectum begin to contract and squeeze, and he knew the end was close.
"I haven't been real interested in sticking my dick into any guys, but this ain't too bad," Rick said. "He's tight and loose at the same time. I guess it's my reward for doing my duty, huh?"
Jake laughed gently.
"Just like you told us," he said. "Butt plug two days, then hold in water for two days, off and on. Keeps it tight enough but loose enough."
Tommy had almost immediately learned to keep himself from becoming painfully erect in the cage, and concentrated on the mounting buttgasm seconds away.
"That's right, squeeze," Rick said, letting himself squirt deep into Tommy, whose dick was now leaking cum through the end of the cage as vibrations coursed through his body. Jake came too, and Tommy felt the spasms on his tongue and his mouth fill up as he swallowed the thick fluid.
Afterwards, they sat in the living room, with Tommy rising to fetch beers when requested. The three of them wore their starched fatigues and sat on chairs and a couch, while Tommy sat on the floor in front of Spider, wearing a pair of olive-drab satin exercise shorts and a t-shirt, his buttplug re-inserted. They didn't hide what had happened, but they treated Tommy kindly.
"You did good there. Took those guys like a champ," the corporal said, rubbing Tommy's shoulder as the four of them sat watching TV. Spider McGinn felt Tommy relax a bit, his neck resting a little deeper between the corporal's thick, hard legs. At only 5' 9", McGinn was the shortest Man in the room, but at 190 pounds of solid muscle, he was powerfully built as if out of a block of concrete, and with more than 8 inches of thick, uncut dick to go with it.
"Why don't you sit on my boot for a while," Spider whispered. "I know you like to do that after you get milked."
The prostate orgasms – the "buttgasms" – were different, taking longer to achieve and the effects lingering. Tommy was eager, and climbed onto Spider's boot and rocked slowly as he built up again. To Tommy, he was the more masculine of his roommates. Unlike Jake, who reveled in screwing and blowjobs, Spider never showed any interest in it, and his dick would remain soft while he pissed in his throat.
"That's right, drink it on down," Spider said to Tommy, who'd now turned sideways and fished out Spider's dick from his fatigues. He felt another prostate orgasm push what was left of his cum into his underwear as Spider ruffled his crewcut.
The evening was over, and it was time for Rick to leave. Jake and Spider walked him to the Jeep, and they spoke.
"So how was it to pop a fella for the first time?" Jake asked, chuckling. "Was it everything you'd ever hoped and dreamed?"
Rick laughed.
"I don't know about that," he replied, "but I could get used to it."
"It's not what I ever expected to see or do," Spider said. "I wasn't sure if Tommy was a queer until I saw him hard while Jake fucked him. And then there was that letter you told us about where he said he likes to swallow my piss. I figure why not? We've got a guy who likes dick and who knows his place, and who takes care of the house and our stuff. I'd be stupid to turn that down."
"Just remember, guys, firm but gentle," Rick said. "He likes how you're treating him because you're not putting him down. And if you keep him caged all the time it'll be even better for all of you."
Spider smiled.
"Yeah, the cage all the time is right," he said. "Did you see how he came over and sat on my boot? He's only done that when he's in the cage. Sometimes he'll get three buttgasms in a night."
Rick enjoyed screwing his old high school chum, and especially liked the effect it had on him. He'd watched him with Spider, and thought his level of control over Tommy was something he'd like to have over Billy. He told himself to spend more time with he and his roommates to figure out how he'd proceed. He knew he'd have to reconcile Billy's physical maturity with his psychological regression, but in the meantime he'd focus on the latter. The airplane ride had made a big impact on Billy, and it showed.
"Dad, would you and the colonel mind if I wore my old Cub Scout uniform around the house?" he asked, sheepishly.
"Reminds you of back then, huh?" Rick replied.
"Yes sir, that why," Billy said. "I was a Cub Scout from when I was 9 until I left eighth grade. I was supposed to move to Boy Scouts after seventh grade but they allowed me to stay for another year. I really liked those years, sir."
"I'll tell you what," Rick said, smiling. "You can wear it at dinner and afterwards, and if Sea World has a Scout day you can wear it there too."
"It's been too long since I did this because everyone was so busy with final exams," Rick said to his father. "I usually try to drain the little fella every week and measure him once a month, but I haven't measured him in five weeks."
He explained the cage to the colonel, and how the shrinker version worked. The idea was to reduce Billy's hardons to below 2-1/2 inches, and his soft dick below two inches. At that point, there'd be no need to measure him more than every six months. He attached the scalp massager to the back of his hand and used it to make Billy erect.
"He's already down to 2-5/8, and his balls have shrunk," Rick said as Billy stood in front of them. The same chemical that shrunk his dick kept any hair from growing back around his genitals, under his armpits, or on his face, making his skin smooth and soft. Rick had Billy put his cage back on, donned a rubber glove, and had Billy lie on the bed. He inserted two lubricated fingers in Billy's rectum and massaged his prostate while pressing his thumb below the boy's balls.
"He's 12 in his head but his body is 18, so he still needs to clear the pipes," Rick said. As the vibrations coursed through Billy's body, they chatted about the colonel's ranch while the pressure built up. After ten or 15 minutes minutes, cum oozed out. After having Billy wipe it off his belly with a washcloth and waiting for him to lose his erection, Rick took another measurement.
"Looks like 2 inches soft," Rick said gently. "You're coming along faster than expected. I think we'll have you just where you oughtta be in a week. As always, the buttgasm had done nothing to relieve his horniness, and in fact had done the opposite.
Billy settled into his routine at the ranch, cleaning the rooms one per day, and doing the cooking and laundry. A couple days later, the colonel announced a surprise.
"I arranged to have a gal over here on New Year's Eve," the colonel said as they sat in the den watching a local TV station that specialized in reruns of family shows: Westerns, detective shows, domestic comedies like "Father Knows Best" and "Leave It To Beaver."
"Billy here's a pretty damn good cook, so maybe he could make us dinner that night," he said. "What do you say, Scout?"
"Yes sir, colonel!" he replied, beaming.
"Trust me, son," the colonel said to Rick, "we're gonna have a good time. No shortage of gals who'll do anything for a pair of good-lookin' Marines in a sharp set of dress blues."
"Both of us, pops?" Rick asked, incredulous.
"Pamela's been known for her spit-roast," the colonel replied, chuckling.
"Okey doke, pops!" Rick replied, laughing before turning to Billy. "There's a Scout jamboree at one of the beaches on New Year's Day," Rick said. "If you can pull it off with the gal, I'll take you down there."
Four days later, Pamela Morgan arrived for New Year's Eve. She was a classic surfer chick, in her 20s, blonde, tanned, extremely attractive, and thrilled to be there.
"That's such a cute Scout uniform!" she said to Billy. "I had such a crush on Bobby Simpson when he wore his to school! Just wait until you're older. The girls will run after you!"
Billy was excited that his disguise was credible, and launched into an explanation of his merit badges and Scouting, based on his memories from six years earlier. He was proudest of three: cooking, textiles, and home repair.
"When my step mother got in her car accident, I had to run the house, ma'am," he said, careful to remember what Rick had told him about addressing adults. "She had a nurse, but I had to do the cooking, cleaning, laundry, maintenance, and even the sewing," he said.
"What about your step father?" she asked.
"He's a truck driver so he's gone most of the time, ma'am," Billy replied, sheepishly.
"That must be hard," she said.
"It is pretty hard at times, and especially after the accident," Billy said. "It seems like I hardly ever see him. But my brother Rick is going to college in the same town where we live, and we see each other a lot. He might as well be my Dad."
Rick had prepared to drive Billy into rebellion, and now it was time. They'd both arranged to have their semester grades and course catalog and registration forms sent to the ranch. After they arrived, Rick sat down with Billy.
"Looks like you did pretty well," he said. "I see As in accounting and statistics, and A minus in history, and a B in psychology. You'll get a chance to bring up your psychology grade, because we're going to take the follow-on class together. Same professor, and he's going to want you to write about what's happening."
Billy did a double-take.
"So he knows too?" he said, angrily spitting his words out. "No way am I going to write about this! No way! That's not fair!"
The colonel was in the living room while they talked, and raised his eyebrows at Billy's outburst.
"It looks like you've got a situation," he said to Rick, who was staring coldly. "I'll go outside and have a smoke while you take care of it."
After his father left, Rick looked at his charge.
"You will obey me, squirt," he said. "This 'no way' stuff ain't gonna fly with me."
Billy looked at the floor, knowing he was in trouble.
"But ..." he said.
"But nothing!" Rick said. "You didn't want to be a Man, and you wanted me to make the rules and the decisions. And now you're going to argue?"
"I'm sorry, sir," Billy replied softly. "I just ... "
"Get up," Rick said. "Follow me."
Billy followed Rick into the bedroom they were using. It was large, outfitted with two double beds, nightstands, and a dresser.
"Stand with your nose against that wall and stay there," Rick said, pointing toward a corner of the room. "I'll be back in a while."
He walked back into the living room and the colonel was sitting on the couch, smiling.
"I've got him standing against the wall," Rick told his father.
"Did you hit him?" the colonel asked.
"Nope," Rick answered. "Don't want to do that when you're pissed off."
"But you know you're going to have to, right?" the colonel asked.
"Yeah, I'm going to go back in there in a while and strap him with my belt," Rick replied. "And then I'd like to have him serve us dinner in nothing but his t-shirt, What do you think?"
"Perfect," the colonel said. "Perfect, son."
Rick ordered Billy to lean against the edge of his bed.
"I knew this would eventually happen, Billy," he said. "I hoped it wouldn't, but the colonel who teaches those psych classes told me it would."
He strapped Billy a dozen times, hitting hard through the boys' fatigues he'd received for Christmas. When it was over, and after Billy's tears and sniffling had subsided, he spoke gently.
"Being obedient and trustworthy are required," he said. "I always have reasons for my decisions, whatever they are. A boy cannot defy his father or the Man who has a father's authority. You can ask me why I have decided something, and usually I will tell you. But I don't have to."
"Yes sir," Billy replied, sniffling. "I just didn't think other people would know, sir."
"Not many will," Rick said. "The professor has been helpful in managing you, and I probably never would have agreed to any of this without advice from him and my pops. Now, you're going to take that class and you will write that term paper about yourself under my care. And you will think about your place. Understood?"
"Yes sir," he said, chastened.
"A Man does not answer to a boy," Rick said. "Other way around. I am responsible for you, and it's a big job. And you are responsible to me. You asked for this, and not just once. We both know that you need it, and we know that you are capable."
That evening, neither Rick nor the colonel commented further about Billy's offense as he served the dinner he had cooked that day and kept warm, clad only in a shirt and flip flops, his cage enclosing his shrinking dick. He would do better, he told himself, and trust his de facto father to make the right decisions.