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 any state (21yo in Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Nebraska), or in most countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
Following, pages of this story contain adult material', intended for an adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your own risk.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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Giv2GeT 10
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
^o^
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LL wasn't the only one doing his homework, though Birch Gib had done some investigations before taking on the account for Camp Rufghup.
Long before Birch even heard of Camp Rufghup, he was more interested in keeping a low profile at the company, doing what young college guys do, leaving the nest and diving into a world which was either tabu, or too risky to mention on the home front.
Away from, what Birch would term home life, `prison', he dove right into what parents either didn't know about or hoped, if their college students ever fell into any of the circumstances confronting students, they would not fall victim to their own vices.
Cautious, Birch set foot on the campus of the college of his choice, not knowing a damned thing about anything, except how to use a library card, which first got him in the front door, but could be used for other things, like checking out books, viewing information, etc.
State of the art library, as it was billed, his first time there, he met up with Sebastian Rodgers.
"First time here?" the clerk at the desk asks.
This particular week, a first for many students at the college, the main desk, several library assistants available, matriculating students from different fields, working on graduate degrees or PhD's. Incorporated last year, it served in lieu of a topic needed for a paper, for the volunteering student.
For Birch, if he wasn't in control of himself, he could have gotten a reaction to the guy asking, "Yeah. I'm a freshman."
"Great," the upbeat dude answered, asking, "do you happen to have your class schedule on you?"
Thinking it a little weird, but not sure of much regarding college or the processes students go through to achieve success, "Matter of fact, I do."
Reading off the schedule, he says, "Birch Gib," turning right to Birch, "nice to meet you. I'm Sebastian."
Depending on what the guy showing up looked like, Sebastian would approach or not approach someone near the desk. The ratio, 4 assistants to the swarm of incoming freshmen, pick'n'choose was the name of the game for Sebastian. Once he chose a student, always male, from there he would think about how his own schedule would pan out.
"I have to admit, you're the first person I've met on campus," Birch informs, hoping he would be needing an overwhelming amount of research for his classes!
Sebastian only had seconds to make up his mind. Last year, the assistant program got his feet wet. He thought he could juggle 8 different freshmen needing help, because he couldn't make up his mind which one cuter, which one had the biggest cock, biggest balls, tightest ass, to him, all those things which would make college life exciting. A bonus if they were into kinky stuff!
"I hope I'm not the last!" Though, Sebastian was hoping, because the guy he picked out was drop-dead gorgeous, hoping all the other assets were equally exciting!
"So, how does this work?" Birch held up his library card.
"Stick with me and you'll get all the ins and outs!" Sebastian laughed.
Unsure of it, but because Sebastian was showing a lot of interest in him, where he came from, home life, what high school was like for him, thoughts about campus living, more than Birch could even get the chance to ask, he had this feeling and wanting to try out this thing guys referred to as `gaydar', asks, "Hey, you wouldn't happen to be gay?"
Putting on a stern face, Sebastian says, "Y'know, if I weren't, you could be in serious trouble, Birch?"
"Like maybe, dead?" Birch realizes it is not a question he should have posed to anyone, let alone the guy he just met, though he was so cute and really hot?
"Or close to it, but lucky for you I am gay and I'm not into violence, except maybe if you put a dent in my mustang?"
Smiling, Birch says, "And you have a good sense of humor."
"Cool," Sebastian thought it, extending more of that `good sense', "you want to have sex?"
Calling Sebastian's bluff, Birch shrugs both shoulders, "Sure!"
They didn't though, Sebastian suddenly quitting his volunteer `day job'.
"Aren't you going to get into trouble for walking out?" Birch asks, the two walking away from the library building.
Matter of fact, he didn't get into trouble. Very much a feather in Birch's cap, Sebastian was a good guy. Under the pretenses, both of them being straight, Sebastian was also an `all right' guy with his father.
He had to laugh, the day his father met Sebastian, his old man claiming `looks' is part of what made a man and that Sebastian was the epitome of how a Gib security man looked. What was humorous to Birch, around campus, Sebastian was a flaky guy and before Birch brought him around to meet his father, they had rehearsed his boyfriend being this macho, tough, no-nonsense straight guy!
It's the reason he was swimming for Sebastian, leaving Conan to his own vices. Birch had no interest in Joseph, except for an eyeful of earcandy!
When he caught up to him in the water, Sebastian asks, "So, what did you find out about him?"
Before they came to camp, the two had talked up some rumors heard about the remedial camp, Birch saying, "Nothing. I know to look at Joseph, he looks like this tough warmonger, but he wasn't like it, as far as I can tell."
Buoyant in the water, blowing small bubbles, Sebastian's cranberry pecs lay dull in the water, "I'm betting those stories are more than rumors," stories about Joseph using some unorthodox methods to command attention from the campers.
"So what if they are? Don't you think if someone knows what has happened here, the place would be out of business and under investigation, Seb?"
"Unless secrets were kept so secret, no one knew?" Sebastian says, still bubbles coasting over the lake, in his periods of silence.
"And what would be in it for you?"
Dead serious until now, Sebastian says, "You know how much my balls would be boiling, say if, that Joseph guy had a flogger in his hand and I was hanging by some ropes from a branch and...?"
Boyfriends, yes, but anything more, Birch had only hoped, saying, "I could never be that person for you, Seb."
Coming down from out of the clouds, Sebastian broke out the reverie caused by an obsession, for some guy to take the tough individual he portray in normal life, to a place of fantasy and roleplay, out being punished for nothing in particular, only to satisfy what drove a man into getting a hardon and maintaining it, until both were driven over the edge, "I'm sorry I could never be the man you wanted me to be."
Smiling, Birch says, "That's not true. My father always said I was a loser, that I would never make any friends in college and look who I brought home for him to meet?"
"Oh really? Did I ever tell you how I hate playing the role of a straight guy?"
Birch remembers, them getting drunk afterwards, "Like, how you wanted to fuck my old man?"
"Hey, don't say anything bad about your old man. He really packs it in!"
Probably it couldn't be seen, Birch rolling his eyes over how Sebastian and his father had to use the mens room, later telling how Sebastian looked over to see his father's pee-shooter!
Joking about it now, Birch says, "Well, what really hurt is when you said `there' was something I didn't inherit from him?"
"I was saying you were bigger, doofus!"
Birch knew he was lying. It's partially how Birch knew he was gay, taking more than enough glances at both, his father and brother's cocks, whenever they were naked, like at a community pool, learning how to shower in a public place. From that first day, he never stopped stealing looks at guys at the swimming pool.
From his recollections, neither his father, nor brother had anything over on him, "I know."
Not touching on the subject, Birch asks, "So, who are all these other guys?"
As a result of not straying off topic, Birch introducing a new one, Sebastian's eyes light up, "Like oh my god, you should see this guy. He's the perfect man for you!"
Scanning the surface of the lake, Birch sees quite a few he would like to call his own, but left the mastery up to his former boy-friend.
"There!" Sebastian literally takes Birch's head in both hands and focuses his attention across the lake.
"Like, who?"
"I can't tell his hair color, but he's next to the tall Greek?" Sebastian hints, relaxing the grip on Birch's head.
Thinking it's who Sebastian has picked out for him, Birch says, "Stats?"
Campy attitude, Sebastian says, "Well, his name is Avery and he's a counselor at the camp. It's his first year, so he probably doesn't know much about what's happening. Maybe more than we do."
"You only found out his name?" Birch was doing his detective work, looking in particular for one solitary piece of information.
"Single, help?"
"Remind me to give you a raise when we get back to civilization!"
"On the end of your cock?"
"You had your chance and blew it, Seb."
"I told you I was sorry for standing you up. Now, are you ever going to forgive me?"
"I already have, but it doesn't mean my fat cock is up for grabs?"
Sebastian nods his head back and forth, saying, "That Avery is going to be one happy dude!"
In the meantime, LL and Tom had met near the raft in the middle of the lake. For a term there was a lot of horseplay, them getting in on it, but now they hovered in rest, Tom saying, "I told you Ed liked my idea!"
LL knew, suggesting to Tom last night, get word to Ed, have the new security force mingle with those already here, by having a morning swim party up by the lake, "Um, does that mean you owe me one?"
"At one time I could have, but instead you paired up with Gabe?"
"Yeah, right. Y'know, I can't believe, after talking with him, a real down to earth person, that he could be capable or responsible for how he conducted his life in the past?"
"If I wasn't a counselor here, I wouldn't know what you're talking about, but remember."
"I know about that confidentiality stuff," LL tells him, "but between you and me, does Gabe look like the violent type?"
"Do I look like the violent type?"
"I don't know," LL says, "are you or can you be?"
"You're asking me two different questions and expecting one answer," Tom replies.
Because of Joseph and some of the others, LL knows some of what has been going on at Camp Rufghup, which prompts him to say, "Are you going to be doing some of that master' and whippy' stuff?"
"I might. Jose is pretty cool with it," Tom says.
"Jose is more than cool with a lot of stuff. Do me a favor?"
"What?"
LL replies, "Watch out for him. Sometimes he's gotten in a little over his head!"
"And don't tell me, you have been his knight in shining armor?"
"That shine wasn't from the armor!"
Tom laughs, saying, "Jose tells me it felt like 110 degrees in the dungeon, when you came upon him, all trussed up like a pig ready to be slaughtered!"
"So much for vows of secrecy!" With a weird taste in his mouth, LL says, "I can't believe he likes getting pins stuck in his chest and stomach."
"Needles," Tom is precise. "And what would be `your' favorite little obsession, if you were in his place?"
"Um, like a dozen guys rubbing their hands and cocks over my tied down bod, trying to make me come?"
"Shit'n'you can take that?" Tom patronizes him. "Too much torture for me!"
"Hmm, I'll have to remember that for `the one I owe ya'!" LL laughs, but might just call in the debt sometime, not if, but when the moment strikes him!
Tom, mentioning it to Ed, about the mixing of men, Camp Rufghup's clients, counselors and the Gib crew, was a big hit, as far as those who had spent a good hour swimming, lounging around on the manmade beach, sunning on the float in the middle of the lake and for those who had segregated themselves, mainly Joseph, being led by the balls, a few feet into the forest.
Joseph had to admit it made him a little horny, but in thinking... Thinking how hot it would be getting even.
Conan Kelly had hoped so, after loosening his grip on Joseph's balls, at which time Conan got what he deserved, a little friendly work over.
However, the two were on excellent terms, walking back to Joseph's cabin. It wasn't without coercion, Conan tugging on Joseph's balls, telling him if he didn't follow through on working his fat belly over a little, he'd...
"You'll what?" Joseph says, leaning against a rock, with Conan's hand keeping his balls in traction.
"Um, let you do it anyway?"
They were playing games, which Joseph, if he wasn't feeling something more than a pulsing cock, he'd be up on his feet, swinging Conan's fat belly up against a tree.
"Why are you playing these games, when you know you want it so bad?" Joseph tells him.
"Just checking," Conan replies.
"For?"
"To see how tough you are, Joseph."
"Oh, is that all?" Joseph replies, pulling his trump card, lifting leg up with force, right between Conan's knees.
"Ugh-h-h-h-h, oh-h-h-h-sh-h-h-hit!"
Before, Joseph show a little grieving, lying against the boulder. Now, he just smiled, hands behind head, flashing those dark-haired pits, watching Conan dance around, holding his family jewels, Joseph laughing his ass off.
Unlike some campers of the past, who came at Joseph with vengeance, unsuspecting of some more rough treatment, Conan fully surrenders, "Oh man, I've gotta have more of that!"
Casually, Joseph says, with mere worry, "I know."
"Do you think we can get some quality time in before breakfast?"
"Why go at all, when I can feed you right in my cabin!"
"Sounds creamy," Conan replies.
It would be the first time in his history at Camp Rufghup Joseph has freely walked a guy to his cabin. Other times it had been under restraint, hands roped behind the back, or stretched along a timber, which ran from wrist to wrist, arms entwined with rope, or getting creative, would work a guy, over till he couldn't stand and throw him over his shoulder, tied up in a bundle, as happened a couple of summers ago with a no-quit muscle head. Only thing edging on Joseph right now, other than first time he's worked over a dude with a fat gut, is the willingness and how much can the guy take.
On the way back to Joseph's cabin, he stops in front of another, "Hey wait a second. Gotta check on something."
Walking right into Orrin's cabin, Joseph wasn't at all concerned if Conan saw his colleague hung by his arms, masked, bod marked by the variety of pins on his chest and stomach. It was supposed to be a secret, but it was tough keeping them at camp, such a close community.
However, the cabin was blank. Not only was Orrin gone, but every thing used to make his life hell had disappeared.
"Hmm, I wonder where they took him?" Joseph rubs his morning stubble.
"Took who, where?" Conan questions.
No holds barred when it came to Orrin, whom Joseph didn't really get along with, because it seemed Orrin was stealing all of his ideas, when it came to dealing with a camper in the psychological sense. Of course, Orrin was much, much more into corporal punishment than Joseph. Worse than any of them was Declan. Joseph did wonder how much and how little damage was done to Zack's brother, knowing sometimes he and Orrin shared'. Regardless, now he had a question to answer, if he chose...'
"Nothing," Joseph let flit by, with his hand, like chasing a mosquito.
"Oh, this isn't your place?" Conan asks, them leaving.
"No, but they all look the same," Joseph replies.
The cabin they were in, after reaching Joseph's mancave, was totally different, as day and night.
"I thought you said the cabins were all the same?" Conan asks, walking over to where a planter sat near a window, flowers and greenery growing out of it.
"The layout is," Joseph replies, going right to the top drawer of his dresser. "How a counselor maintains his unit, that's another story."
"Oh," Conan says, picking up a pair of leather cuffs Joseph had tossed on the bed, "and are these part of your maintenance?"
"Do you want them to be?" Joseph lightly strikes a hand with the flogger he picked out.
"That's for me?" Conan asks, like Joseph had a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
"Depends on whether you put the cuffs on, or not!"
"You're not going to help me?"
He smirked. It's how it went in the past, though Joseph being more forceful, not giving a choice, which usually resulted in a fist fight, the camper always winding up in the designer bracelets.
Finding out something, Joseph says, as he approaches Conan, "I suppose you've never had any on you, so you wouldn't know how they are attached?"
"Not telling," the ginger cub played along.
"Oh?" Joseph, securing one cuff to wrist, "Then I suppose I will have to find out the hard way."
"Whatever gets you hard!"
Joseph noticed, he wasn't the only one feeling some lower bod zingers!
With both cuffs on, Joseph leads Conan to the mens room.
"Oh, we're showering first?"
"Nah. I always start off in here. Sometimes, the shock of discipline can cause a guy to pee down his leg. You would not believe how much time it saves me with clean up!"
Conan watches as Joseph loosens a chain, then his head zips up, looking at a hook, attached to a pulley descends upon them.
Since this wasn't a ward, in his charge, Joseph asks, "No going back, once I have those cuffs attached to the hook?"
He waited to make sure.
Conan was sure, because he wasn't hightailing it out of the place.
"Okay `slaveboy', time for interrogation!"
"I forgot," Conan says, watching his hands head up towards the ceiling, "what am I being interrogated for?"
"I forget," Joseph says. "I'll make it up as I go along."
Just to make sure, Conan asks, "I know this sounds weird," he holds his wrists up, the hooks in the cuff set inside a hook, "but, I want you to punch me in the stomach."
"No problem," Joseph says it, off the cuff, "and after working your fat stomach over, I'll warm up your back, until my hand gets tired of flogging, then I'll relax with a 20 or 30 more gutpunches."
Hearing Conan swallow, he says, "Um, like how many flogs makes your hand tired?"
"Oh, about 100 lashes, but Ill cut you some slack, since it's your first whipping and give you no more than 50."
Suddenly, with loss of power to do anything about it, barely on his toes, Conan says, "And gutpunches? 20 to 30 more, like how many do you start out with?"
He was standing at Conan's back, eyeing up his canvas to paint his flogger over, coming around front, "Oh, well, this stomach looks like it needs a lot of work," Joseph paws over the swirl of ginger hair.
"I've never really been punched in the stomach, on purpose," Conan says, with a quiver in his voice.
"No, I wasn't talking about gutpunches. What I was thinking, no pun intended, but to work all this flab away, whittle all this fat down to your abs, it's going to take a lotta, lotta work!"
Testing, Conan insinuates, "I don't know if I can do it on my own?"
"Oh good. I was wondering who was going to give me a challenge this summer!"
"What?!" Conan exclaims in horror.
Laughing, Joseph says, "Yeah, a real challenge for you. If you don't lose ten pounds this week, you get 100 lashes and 50 gutpunches?" he waited.
"Sounds like a lot?" Conan found the offer interesting.
"If it doesn't hurt enough, what's going to make you work harder to lose weight?" Joseph puts it to him.
"I see what you mean, but still... you know I'm going to like getting whipped and punched?"
"Let me put it this way, have you ever been whipped or punched in the stomach?"
He had him, Conan never really having either done, for the punching, on purpose, but had wished so hard for a friend to do it with, "Not really. Some bully punched me in the stomach in eighth grade, but he moved. From then on, I did internet searches. Every time I viewed guys getting tied up and worked over, man, I hungered for those captive guys to be me. Am I a sick fuck or what?"
It tickled Joseph, thinking on it, "We're all a bunch of sick fucks, Conan. Ready to get going on that diet?"
Conan was under the impression he was about to be cut down and off to breakfast, "I suppose."
Walking around Conan, Joseph allowed the flogger to drape over the 26-year old's butt, "I don't like your enthusiasm, boy!"
"Oh-shit!" Conan gasps, feeling the fronds of Joseph's leather flogger flow down his butt cheeks.
Standing back, Joseph was ready to deliver the harshest punishment Conan would ever feel.
"Yikes!" Conan calls out, feeling the flogger caress his upper back.
He knew what he was doing. A guy who has never experienced any lacerating of the back, a slight dusting of the whipping blades of leather would have the impact of a heavy beating.
"1 down, 99 to go!"
"I thought you said 50? Oh shit!" Conan arches his back, squints his eyes, feeling something 10 times worse than the last lash.
"Was 50, until you opened your mouth and started sassing me, boy!"
He knew some of the jargon, Conan saying, "Sorry, sir!"
"98!"
"Argh-h!"
"That's the thanks I get? 97!"
"Akah-h-h-h-h!"
"Not thanking me yet, boy? 96!"
It's not that Conan wasn't thanking him for making his life hell right now, he just wasn't getting it, not remember all of those zany, gay websites, which catered to guys into sadism and masochism...
"95!"
"Uk-ah-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h, shit, Joseph!"
"Hey, guess what?" Joseph asks, grinning.
"What?" Conan asks, still feeling the sting.
"I hate to tell you this, but there's piss running down your leg!"
It wasn't really running down his leg, but an expression. Consequently, the more dramatic things got, Conan's emotions had caused himself to get rather large above the balls. When he clammed up in pain, the excitement made him let loose, squirting out a stream, which eventually, with loss of fluids, had trickled to dripping off his hairy balls.
"I didn't even realize..." he realizes, trying to look over his beefy belly.
Chancing to get the flogger, dirty, Joseph trumps up charges, "Hate it when a boy makes a mess!" he delivers the flogger right between the legs!
After howling out a loud cry, feeling something so awesome, than anything in his life, Conan says, "Shit, Joseph!"
Like, it wasn't any scene, something dramatically bizarre he would play out to intimidate a new camper, saying, "Oh, I could so much more, given the leeway?"
Tables turned this time, Joseph surprised the fuck out of himself, reaching a hand to the back of Conan's head, kissing his lips, saying, "I can't wait till I have you down to a size 32!"
"Like, will I be able to go to a nude beach without clothes on?"
"You think I want to be embarrassed, taking a tiger to the beach?"
The kiss tasted good, but lowering Conan's bod, a position which Joseph well knew, in order to slide himself in, with no imposition to himself, he claimed this was the tightest he's ever experienced. A habitual user of cliches, Joseph surprised himself, thinking of the clever line, but really feeling truth about it!
Funny thing is, unlike other campers in Joseph's heyday, when they dressed, Conan finding his uniform outside Ed's office, and reported for breakfast, took such an interest in losing his gut, he pestered Joseph, asking him what he should and should not eat.
Across the way, Birch is telling Sebastian, "Looks like Conan is stealing your man?"
Chuckling, Sebastian says, "A man like that? He can use more than one guy in his lair!"
"Have you a plan?" Birch asks.
"Yeah. When I get him alone, I'm going to pick a fight with him, show him how tough I am and then... oh man is it going to be a big turn on feeling his fist in my gut!"
"What I want to know is, Seb, how come you never shared this glorified passion with me?"
"No disrespect intended, but I have this like, picture in my mind of the perfect guy for me and..." he knew this was going to hurt, "it wasn't exactly you?"
"You don't like your job at Gib very much, do you Seb?"
"Like, I've got tuition on my credit card to pay off yet?"
Laughing, Birch casually says, "I know. How else have I gotten you to bed in the past?"
"It wasn't the money and you know it!" Sebastian claims.
Softly giggling, the 26-year old says, "I know, but I was just thinking how tough it is going to be, getting such a good cocksucker?"
No one heard, Sebastian saying, "Uh, remember the little secrets we're keeping?"
"Do me one favor?"
"What?" Sebastian asks.
"Keep in touch?"
After playing each other up, the two settled to staring eye to eye across the table.
After lunch, Ed thought it best, of course, at Tom's suggestion, it would be better if Gib security dressed the same as counselors, which were pea-green fatigues; shirts, briefs, pants, socks, boots and baseball caps, which read C.R. on the front, often misconstrued as, `Camp Rough'.
When the tallies came in, it was found almost all of the previous Camp Rufghup crew had defected or disappeared into thin air. Only one who was still on camp grounds, but unfounded, to assume his responsibilities, was Orrin. Whenever his name came up, Ed changed the subject, knowing he was somewhere on the grounds, but not sure, especially after hearing of it from Joseph. But Ed had a hunch, thinking of all those renovations up in the corner pocket not going to waste.
So it went, returning counselors were Joseph and Arch, but now the latter was on kitchen duty. Hired for the season, Avery had been waiting about, for things to get started.
Keeping to himself, Guy Weck hadn't even known about the switch in security, was ready to kick himself, having missed out on the swim party' this morning, but when addressed by Ed, lost the not caring' attitude, when Ed asks him where he's been and what's he been up to?
"Had a little cold, I suppose that's why I've been sleeping?" Guy responds.
Pressed for those who could still wield power of young men, Ed didn't press it, thinking Guy must've snuck out and had some entertainment on the side. It's how it's gone, meeting up with someone from the outside, having seen Guy at a bar or check into the motel.
"Sounds like you might be coming down with something. Take care of yourself."
"I will," Guy grabbed his crotch and fell in with the others.
Outside the mess hall, several long tables were set up, with uniforms, those involved with supervision responsibilities, picking out sizes which fit.
Feeding Tom information all along, LL tells him, "You might want to mention to Ed, how most of this clothing will be unsuitable for the course and to expect 2 things."
"What's that?" Tom was ready to write it down on his mind and hop right over to Ed.
"Don't be surprised to see men running around with little or nothing on, especially when it's shower time and make sure there's plenty of soap available to wash clothes. Oh, and you might make it sound interesting by asking him to have wash basins for clothes. Add a little responsibility to the drill."
"Okay, but no more. You're overloading my brain as it is!"
"Hey, when you're explaining about the `no clothes', think like a porn movie!" LL winks!
While Tom walks off, LL checks on Gabe, who turns from the shirt table, asking, "How does it look?"
LL smiles, saying, "I love how your nips pop through the fabric!"
"It's the only size that fits," Gabe says.
"You could always be sexy and leave the first 3 buttons unfastened?"
Gabe smiles, "For you or for everyone?"
He was so cute, LL couldn't resist, grabbing the shirt, causing it to be tighter as leaned in for...
"Hey, guess what?"
LL rolled his eyes, thinking of Tom right at his back.
Turning, Tom had to step back, "Ed liked all my ideas. Matter of fact, whatever I think should be, I don't have to go to him anymore. I guess we pulled it off. He thinks I'm a trainer after all!"
"Great!" LL says, "Stop by tonight and pay me back, by giving Gabe and me some lip service!"
"With pleasure!"
LL was a little worried though, Tom smiling right over his shoulder, staring at Gabe!
As it went, campers were assembled in town and brought to camp on one of the town's school buses. There wasn't any air conditioning and on a sunny day, it could become like cooking sardines, pretty ripe stuff!
Something which grabbed many of their attentions, when the bus pulled through the gates of Camp Rufghup, some jumped to attentive poses, Ed, Guy, Joseph and because he felt like an official camp rep, Avery, as if being encroached by the military elite.
"On your toes, counselors!" Ed calls out.
Tom was in charge of the warriors program, so all the rest hung back by him. Gib security guys, whom looked no different than the others now, in their green fatigues, stood, mingling with the trees and shrubs. Ed had informed Birch, possibility of a camper or two getting a whiff of what's in store and making a run for it. Though, if it wasn't a run for the front gate, they would be caught, reading an electric fence warning!
According, Guy and Joseph looked like the stone pillars, ready to squash any immediate rebellion. Not wearing any protective gear, nor weapons, their looks were enough to intimidate.
50 minutes prior to what would be a monumental event in some of the lives of those already at camp and those on their way to setting foot on the premises, those on the bus had met each other for the first time, arriving at the depot in town. As the wheels on the bus turn round and round, they felt each other out.
Hired by one of the local school bus drivers, Bryce Dyer, at 37-years old, took the school bus driving position almost right out of high school, skipping out on the college scene. It had put a dent in his parents' high hopes for him, Harvard, when he told them he liked driving and wanted to try out `transportation' as a career move.
Landing a job, driving a golf cart, didn't suit him, so at 19-years old, he wangled his way into driving a school bus, picking up and delivering elementary school students. After a few years, the kiddies bored him, so he moved on up to the high school crowd. Bryce loved the job, especially confronted by unruly high school boys, which he learned, if he didn't step on them the first day, he would be harassed through the rest of the school year.
Used to riffraff students, some behaving themselves, others needing to learn how to behave themselves, Bryce fit right into the summer position, picking up a few extra dollars, providing Camp Rufghup transportation as needed.
He knew how to read people, having been an avid reader, studying up on psychology his latter days of high school and good at other skills. It's why his parents were very disappointed in Bryce's decision to wait it out, convinced by him it was never too late to seek a college education.
As with years past, this year was no different, except for one minor detail. Having been provided a file, Bryce, who was up to date on electronic equipment, had embedded those camp statistics on a laptop he carried on the bus, whimsically titling the file, `ruffians'. When each showed, some with parents, some accompanied by lawyers, other campers standing there with their limo drivers, Bryce's mind immediately started ticking.
From the itinerary, which included the same information Ed Farley had handed out at the initial staff meeting, Bryce first arranged names in alphabetical order. A stickler for not only detail, but neatness and a system to keep track of persons, he would often cross-reference, which usually amounted to keeping 2 complete files.
After the initial, alphabetical by first name, not too fussy which came first, nor last, Bryce had correlated names, pictures to fit the names, whatever stats regarding physical features and just why these young men were faced with 8 weeks of... the camp called it remedial transformation, but Bryce knew otherwise; Chad Perry, Eddie Raleigh, Giuseppe Malta, Jeff Laird, Jerry Wilson, Jordan Hoolihan, Michael Gooding, Richard Smith and Scott Tanner.
As soon as the bus pulled up to the town depot, Bryce had earmarked which men he would be having a problem with. Not only their picture, but by their infractions, the bus driver had already chosen Jerry, Scott and Chad as wiseguys, which would be the first three in confrontation. Possibilities, maybe fitting this category, Jeff and Richard. Giuseppe, he could try to flimflam his way out of attending camp altogether, but with Bryce, that wasn't going to happen. Regarding Eddie, Jordan and Michael, they hadn't really had a crime to fit the punishment, other than family differences.
Bryce smiled, looking upon the campers, some with neatly packed suitcases, noticing they came from well-to-do families. Chad Perry, Bryce just knew, from the flask in his hand, in his file picture, there would be more than packed clothes in his suitcase.
Perusing the crowd, every guy in his file was there, except for a youth, standing near a sign. No visible form of transportation to the bus depot was evident. His detective side kicking in, Bryce notices all the youth's worldly goods on his back, much like one of his high school pickups dressed for an ordinary school day. Lifting open his laptop, Bryce had already assembled a desktop screen, picturing all of the men, having previously copied, pasted and cut-to-fit. Doing the math, he knew either Ed had slipped up, or... why would a guy in right mind want to infiltrate Camp Rufghup, unless he didn't have a clue what he was getting himself into?
Closing it, Bryce pondered this. Of course, possibility, the dude was there waiting to catch the next public bus? Then again, he tilted his shades often, looking around at the other guys who synced with his file of photos, like `what was going on.'
Not to mention, the guy very cute, with the shades, Bryce couldn't take the suspense any longer, hopping down the three steps of his yellow school bus. His, because he's been driving the same bus for 18 years and knew how it purred, when its stomach was upset, needing new tires, etc. It was Bryce's baby. It's also why he made sure no one better mess with the insides or outside of `his' bus!
"Hey, you getting on this bus?" Bryce asks, after slowly walking over to the youth, not wanting it to seem he had his periscope up.
Probably, if the kid was checking out the bus, he most likely eyed up who was going to be behind the wheel, "Sure. I mean, I was hoping to. I'm supposed to," he changed his story several times.
"Got a ticket?" Bryce played with him, immediately knowing he was acting fishy, but also this dude was not on his itinerary list and no picture to match the personality.
"Do I need one?" he throws back at Bryce.
"Of course. You take a trip on a bus, you've got to pay?"
"It's a school bus," he argues with Bryce, not in an upsetting way, but with a little attitude.
Figuring the drama could go on for a while, time something Bryce not having tons of, "Y'know, usually boys are trying to escape out from' Camp Rufghup, not trying to escape in'?"
Realizing he wasn't going to be able to talk his way onto the bus, AJ says, "I need to see my father."
Bryce had already summed up the physical features, stylish glasses over his eyes, clean-shaven, short-styled hair, tee shirt hanging off the pecs, which could have meant a tight midsection, but to gaze any further would not have been appropriate, asks, "You have a name?"
"I'm AJ. It's short for Alex John. Alex John Lowe. My father is Gabe Lowe. They told me he is at the camp."
Quite the surrender of information, Bryce was sure it was only the tip of the iceberg, "Did your father ask you to come, `Alex John'?"
"Uh," it stumped AJ, not sure, which made him hastily survey the bus drive from neck to navel, "no, but my father's attorney told me he was here and..."
And then there was no more time to listen, hearing one of, whom he already knew would be an asshole, Wilson, `Scott', whistling first, calling out, "Hey, driver, let's get this tin can on the road!"
First thing to rub Bryce the wrong way, was calling his bus a `tin can'. Not immune to what seemed to be the backpack kid's plight, "You from around these parts, AJ?"
"No," AJ replies, "Kentucky," and if it would help his cause, "my father's attorney gave me bus fare to get here."
He knew he was being played, Bryce figuring, he could always drive the twenty-something guy back to town, if Ed didn't see the story as explained to him, which he knew some details were left out, "Okay. Look, for now I'll take you out to camp, but if things don't turn out the way you think they are going to go, I'm bringing your ass right back here."
"Thank you for trusting me, sir."
Sir!' Bryce thought, now that is rare!' "My name's Bryce Dyer."
"Nice to meet you Mr. Dyer."
Glancing back over his shoulder, as he's walking towards the yellow tin can, the driver says, "You can call me Bryce," venting, "I could be getting in a lot of trouble for doing this, you know?"
"I appreciate what you're doing for me, Mr. Dyer and no disrespect intended, sir, but you look like you can handle yourself."
"Oh?" Bryce was used to used to the intent to flatter, "and what would make you think that?" he had turned, confronted AJ on the issue.
With a strong desire to see his father, having thought he was being fair and cordial, AJ says, "I can see I'm being a big bother to you," walking away from the `delivery man', "I'll walk there."
Not often backed down on, Bryce says, "It's a long walk. When you get there, there's no one to let you in?"
Walking diagonally away, AJ says, "I'll have to take my chances someone will."
Thinking along the lines of students who have passed through the yellow doors of his bus, some bold, some brazen, others shy and mellow, for a calm, mannerly boy, it was nice for a change coming across a young man who thought of not only himself, "Okay. You can ride on the bus."
Walking back the twenty feet, AJ says, "I don't want you to get into any trouble, because of me, Mr. Dyer?"
Dwelling on AJ's own words, "I can take care of myself, but if you don't stop calling me mister' and instead Bryce', I'm going to have to kick you off the bus!"
Bad time to be gentle, having known the clientele who would be setting foot on camp grounds, Bryce coughs, like he's choking up the niceness. He made AJ wait until all the others had entered the bus, ushering him to a front seat.
Naturally, as he summed it up, the ruffians' took to the back seats. It was the same as his high school students, only these weren't only teens, most guys in their early twenties. Yet, right off, it was as if the normal school year had started off, him giving them the drill, "This is my' bus and if any one or you as much as sneezes on it, I'll..."
Giving warning, they hear one of the guys make the sound of coughing up his cud, like he had a heavy mucous cold or swallowed too much cum...
They all looked upon him. At 6'2, wide-shouldered, even in the buttoned uniform, tan, khaki, but without any affiliation to a bus company, Bryce looked bulked out, wearing his hair short, it looking good with the balding top, close-cropped, full ginger beard, looked tough as a drill sergeant, "Go ahead. Make my day!"
None of them made a move.
Ten minutes down the road, after leaving the small town, Bryce got hit in the back of the head with a spitball!
`Like, oh my god!' AJ saw it bounce off the short-cropped head, wondering if Bryce was going to do anything about it.
Right in his thinking, Bryce's foot jumps on the brake.
"Oh shit! I think I broke my nose!" Giuseppe exclaims, his face having bounced off the black-cushioned seat in front of him, holding his nose with both hands.
Laughing his ass off, Chad says to Giuseppe, "Hey, I think it fuckin' straightened out your face, dude!"
"Yeah," Jerry mocks, "now you don't have that guinea hook!" he slanders his Italian looks.
Scott, playing it cool, could have joined in, but allowed Chad and Jerry to take the fall for his spitball!
The others, sat there and observed the unfolding drama, as Bryce stood, opened the door and orders, "Everyone out!"
"Fuck that shit!" Jerry yells out.
Better than a bird's eye view, AJ watches as Bryce barrels down the aisle, grabs Jerry by the shirt, hearing the tee shirt tear, literally pulling him towards the front of the bus.
"Get your fuckin' hands off me, faggot!" and other obscenities and slurs escaped Jerry's mouth in protest. "Shit! I think you broke my leg!"
Even though his bus window was sealed shut, AJ could hear Jerry yell, after Bryce had tossed him down the three steps, landing on his ass, on the shoulder of the unkept roadway.
Fortunately there was tall grass to break his fall, but like, it wouldn't be the first time Bryce had to stop the bus on the way to Camp Rufghup, "If you can't behave on my bus, you'll walk!"
Coming down the stairs of the bus, a rope in his hand, Jerry took off. Expert rodeo man, a lasso captures the would be runaway!
"What the fuck is this?" Jerry looks down upon himself, noticing the tear in the collar of his Hollister shirt, most importantly, the rope snagged around the bottom of his muscled pecs.
"The fuck is," Bryce gives a hefty pull, landing Jerry on his ass, "in my book, if you don't have respect, you earn it!"
It was pretty much quiet for the rest of the trip, Bryce hearing whispers, but no more spitballs.
As for Scott, he smiled, thinking what a smart man he was, keeping his mouth shut, instead of provoking disorder, like Jerry, who now, with his hands tied in front of him, the other end hitched to the bumper of the bus, hiked behind them, all the way to camp.
Wondering, after 20 minutes of the slow dirge, AJ asks, "How much further do we have, Bryce?"
Bryce smiled, a breakthrough in trust with AJ, "Another 2 or 3 miles."
Concerned, which also was to Bryce's liking, AJ pops the question, "Do you think he's going to make it?"
"He'll make it," Bryce again brakes, civilly this time, "mind if I borrow your cap?"
It was a cap, no special affiliation, other than Levi's, "Sure."
Throwing the doors open, it did occur to some in the back, would be nice hijacking it, but instead their attention was drawn to the windows, watching the driver walk all the way to the back.
He fought, but could not shake Bryce's intentions of placing the baseball cap on his head, lid shading the back of his neck.
Returning to the bus, Bryce says to AJ, "I'll make sure you get it back, in good condition."
It was nice he could help out, AJ thought, but not about helping Jerry out, rather Bryce. In Bryce he could see two personalities, the brash attitude, much like his father, but the nice, calm, caring person, someone he had always wanted as a father. It just sat with him right. Other than that, often AJ would steal a glance in Michael's direction. Much like himself, Michael kept quiet and didn't say a word. Also, in AJ's opinion, Michael was quite good looking, wearing a buttoned down, blue dress shirt, like his parents probably made him dress that way to make a good impression.
Thinking on it, he thought it much like himself for the past year, being taken out of his father's care, a year after the divorce and into his mother's home, which she shared with a guy who was only 5 years older than him. She put on a good show for the courts, but 6 months later, her and her boyfriend were busted for drugs. Having made contact with his father's attorney, the counselor gave him shelter and set him up with a job in his group office, until AJ could get himself together. By law, the attorney could not give details on where AJ's father was, but `accidentally' left his father's folder out on his desk, knowing AJ would be in to clean at night!
Reaching Camp Rufghup, Jerry was about to drop. Dirty, dusty, breathing hard, he caved in when the bus came to a halt in the small conclave housing Ed's office, the mess hall and a post standing upright in the ground, which many thought was a flagpole.
Watching them get off the bus, Ed says, "I see you had a little problem, Bryce?"
"Two. The one tied to the back of the bus was a cinch to deal with, but we have another little problem," which, by the smile on Bryce's face, Ed took it as the opposite.
He would have addressed AJ, but it was Ed's job to do the check.
As it went year after year, Joseph and Guy drew straws to see who would make the first impression, Joseph stepping in to firm up the cue, "Asses to the bus!"
A change in Joseph's attitude, LL says, "I feel a sudden change in the weather," he looked to the clear, blue sky.
Giggling, Tom says, "Yeah. Now we get to see Joseph in action!"
Before they exited the bus, except AJ with his backpack, Bryce had instructed them to leave their gear in the seats.
Slowly, they made there way down the bus steps, like they didn't have any place to go and nothing to do, careless to whatever else was happening outside their own little worlds.
"Hustle it up!" Joseph manhandled Chad, with a shove to the shoulder.
"Watch the fuckin' hands, boss!"
"Oh shit!" Jose says, watching from the distance, having picked up a little conversation, seeing Joseph rush to seize the camper, pull him by the shirt over to a tree, shove his stomach right up to it and continuing the rough, eardrum-breaking drawl, a tongue lashing!
LL observes, "I take it they don't play by any set of rules?"
"But their own," Gabe replies, knowing how it could go, having run his son's world by `his' own code of conduct. Regardless, his vision suddenly shifts, looking towards the bus driver, "It can't be," he freezes in place.
"What can't be what?" LL asks.
Taking both fists, Gabe scrubs the disbelief from his eyes, "AJ?"
Having heard Gabe mention it, LL says, "Your son?"
"That's him!"
They were supposed to look official, stand at some sort of attention, but not being soldiers, nor drilled in tactics of looking like armed guards, their formation was broken by Gabe running across the courtyard, yelling, "AJ!" Waving his hands, the father looked quite the attention getter, "Son, it's me!"
"Dad?" AJ simply said, freezing in place, since he hadn't prepared himself for the first meet up.
Ed, realizing a stranger among the lot, walks over to Bryce, asking, "Where the hell did he come from?"
Nervous reaction, a part of Bryce's persona, even though his 6'2, muscled build could intimidate any confrontation, levels with Ed, "Whether he caught a ride on the bus, or walked here himself, he would have sooner or later met up with his father?"
Pounding his finger into Bryce's muscled chest, Ed says, "Well, mister, I don't have any room for uninvited guests, so I'm making him `your' responsibility!"
No ifs, buts, or maybes, Ed walked away, leaving Bryce to play uncle, rubbing the middle of his chest from the impalement, saying to himself, out of it not being such a tough consolation prize, "If you say so."
After all, Bryce would be on call, which means, when he wasn't, he would only be goofing off, hiking the woods, going to the gym or making nature his glorified athletic arena. Though, someone tagging along wasn't part of the plan, he did wonder if AJ would eventually head back to Kentucky.
With the hugging petered out, Bryce makes a shrill whistle, calling AJ's attention, which faltered, him calling everyone to look at him. "No, no, no, no, no," he said, waving both hands to signify, `never mind'.
Though, AJ picked up on it and together, with his father walked the short distance to where Bryce stood, next to his `yellow trash can', "Hey, this is my father. I haven't seen him in a whole year! Dad, this is Bryce. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have made it out to see you!"
Ready for busting chops, the accolades softened his heart, extending a hardy handshake, "Hey. Nice kid you got here."
Smiling, Gabe says, "I have so much to be thankful for, starting with you. It means a lot to me, seeing my boy."
Bryce knows that. At the depot, backpack pulling on the shirt, cool shades, everything was perfect, painting a picture of a hot man, Bryce cooling his thoughts, "It's the least I could do, for a person in need."
Right behind Gabe, LL breaks up the happy little reunion, "Um, you're a wanted man, Gabe."
"I got to go," Gabe says. "See you at lunch," he gives AJ a hug with one arm, saying to Bryce, "Thanks again."
Feeling in limbo, AJ asks, "Um, like, what did that guy, Ed, have to say to you? Like, is he kicking me out?"
"Yeah. Kicking you out and right into my lap!"
Smiling, AJ says, "Like, how would you mean that?"
"How about doing some fishing and we can think on that later?" Bryce proposes.
"Cool!"
Though, as they boarded the bus, Bryce wasnt' sure if cool' meant the fishing or later'!
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Copyright 2013 T. Chase McPhee
`Giv2GeT', and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.