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.
THe HaRDee BoYs 07 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"You've got 'some' moves!" Jared says to Dobie, after glancing at him dancing behind the turntables.
"You too," Dobie says, after his uncle returns from the 'back room' once more to keep hips swaying, arms in the air, swooping around and bods on the dance floor.
"Me?" Jared replies.
Giggling, Dobie tells, "Yeah, I caught you spilling a drink over some dude's shoulder, right down his chest, when you turned to check if I was still at the turntables?"
"Oh that," Jared says sheepishly.
"A muscle jock like him should have punched your lights out," Dobie sought information, from being positioned on the other side of the dancing crowd.
"Actually," Jared confesses, "he didn't mind it at all, said to spill as many drinks down his front as I wanted... as long as I didn't mind cleaning him up with my tongue!"
They both cackled, Dobie picking up the slack, "Maybe you should try it on me?"
"Hey, anytime," Jared replies, "but I'd do you without the drink!"
Staring at each other with some dumb smile on their faces, they are interrupted as Heinrich yells, "Hey, you waitin' tables or what Jared?"
Normally, he would have adhered to Heinrick's call, but being he was enjoying the conversation with Dobie, he screams back, "Keep your shirt on, okay?" He did a double take, then reporting to Dobie, "He's got his shirt on backwards!"
"Oh yeah," Dobie checks out Heinrick, busy, taking up Jared's slack.
Backing down from his loud outburst and perhaps some of his macho ego, Heinrich replies, "Uh, sure. No problem." He goes back to his bartending, switching off to a table where a patron has summoned him for another round of drinks for him and his buddies.
"I'm proud of you, Jared."
"For what?"
"Not allowing Heinrich to push you around?" Dobie asks.
"Oh that was nothing. Most of the time we get along," Jared brushes it off.
"So, what are you doing after work?"
"After work?" Jared scratches his head. "You mean after I finish washing glasses, sweeping the floor and cleaning up for tomorrow, which would be around four in the morning? Crashing my head into a pillow!"
Stepping in a little closer, Dobie asks, "How about crashing into 'my' pillow?"
"Day-mn! You're not shy, are you?"
"Like Uncle Sylv has taught me..."
Cutting him off, Jared says in a sly manner, "Sylvester. I forgot about that," he giggles over such, transformed from the professional calling of 'DJ Rock deRock Rickman'.
"I wouldn't mention it to him if I were you?"
"Why not?"
"Because," Dobie puts it to him with sincerity, placing a hand on Jared's shoulder, "first of all... Uncle Sylv has a might heavy fist. And secondly," he lifts Jared's tee shirt, "I don't think it would make a good match for these washed-out abs?" He gives Jared a poke.
"Oh yeah," Jared flushes his shirt immediately down over his 'chubby' abs, "I've been meaning to do something about that."
"We could work out together?"
"Um, how would you mean that?" Jared thinking of lying in bed, keeping his abs taut as he pulls his thighs up.
"Both ways," Dobie replies, on the same wavelength, yet leaving room for the true way of thinking.
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It had been hours since Rick and John had been left with the 'gourmet' dog bowl food. For about an hour they talked about John at college, right up to where he met up with Rick. After the conversation waned, they shifted to Luke, then catching up to present day.
"Oh, by the way you talked, I thought you and Luke were blood-brothers?"
"Nah. I happened upon Art Welcher's farm after leaving my own home. The place I left, they didn't care if I were there or not, so I figured there's got to be a better place, somewhere I could be loved and accepted. At first, things were as I sought out, but after Luke's mother died, things changed."
There wasn't anything else to do to pass the time, so Rick asks, "So, because you weren't brothers, you and Luke 'experimented'?"
"Somewhat, but it was me who came out, probably a mistake."
"Things happen," Rick says, reverting to the situation they were in, "like the fix we're in and how are we going to get out of it?"
Suddenly they heard a noise at the door, someone trying to gain entry.
John says of it, "Probably Luke coming to fetch the bowls."
Getting up, bumping his head on the slightly short crawlspace, Rick says, "Our ticket out of here!"
"No!" John contradicts. "If Art finds out he'll be punished too!"
"Punished? Why should we be punished for being who we are?"
"I know," John sides with Rick on this fact, "but..."
Crawling over near the door, Rick says, "Besides, how can blame be put on Luke, if he escapes with us?"
John went to protest, but already Luke was inside, Rick explaining the three were going to escape together.
"No way!" Luke was adamant about it. "Didn't John tell you..."
"I tried," John replies to Luke, about their father relaxing out back in a chair, shotgun over his lap.
By the time he was 'going to', Rick was outside the door.
However, tonight Art Welcher wasn't reclining in relaxation, but rather entertaining a friend from town.
As Rick let himself out the backdoor of the barn basement, he was met by a light shining down from atop the barn and two figures.
One of them wearing a blue uniform, patches on the shoulders reading, 'police', Rick speaks before thinking, "Great! Officer, we need your help here. He's," Rick nods to Art Welcher, "holding me and John hostage in the barn and...."
"Is that so?" The police officer says.
"Yeah. You gotta do something about it... arrest him!" Rick orders.
"Oh I'll do something about it," the officer says, loosening his police baton from his belt. Pulling it back, he hauls it into Rick's midsection.
"I tried to warn him," John protested.
But Luke, deciding to play hero, says, "It's now or never John!"
The police officer, busying himself with up-righting Rick, only to tuck his gut in once more, freed up space for John and Luke. But Luke, attending towards overcoming his father, met with the butt end of the rifle.
Right behind him, John believed this to be their only chance, so set upon Art as well.
"Yeah, come on," Art said.
He was no match for the man he called 'father' all these years and wound up on the ground, Art a much better fighter than himself.
"You gonna show me how that milk machine works?" Deputy Mark Workman asks, looking at the three college-aged boys on the ground.
Rick sat there on his knees, doubled over, his gut aching. Luke lay flat out on his back, John lying on top of him, but rolling over onto his front, covering Luke's crotch area.
"Yeah, but we got one problem. The set up only works for one cock at a time?" Art says.
"I think I can work out a remedy for this."
While Art trained his rifle on Rick, Mark got the other two boys to their feet and hustled them back into the basement of the barn, incarcerating them behind the locked, wooden door.
The whole time, Rick conferred with Art, threatening him with never being able to get away with this. And when Mark grabbed Rick at the elbows, hurting him as he lifted his ass up off the ground, Rick yells at him, "Consider your career over!"
Laughing it off, Mark tells him, as he forces Rick over to where Art has the milking machine set up, "I have to agree with you boy, with only one flaw..."
Art finishes explaining, "Yeah, nobody's gonna find out anything, if there aren't any witnesses to tell!"
Rick gulped, thinking the unthinkable, 'they planned on killing him' after having their fun? He thrashed about, literally fighting for dear life, which earned him another belt in the stomach.
"You'll learn, boy!" Mark said, leading Rick inside an old shed.
It was dark, but soon illuminated, when Art flicked a switch. Rick got his first glimpse of the set up, a large canister of sorts, sets of dials and gauges at the top. From the side a hose protruded, looking much like a filling station gas pump. The end of a hose was capped with a long, tubular container. Right before this whole setup, Rick was being bound, his arms above his head, spread out wide. He saw Art set the rifle down, but for now it was of no use to him, his plan to grab it and take control, useless, with his wrists tied to the corner of the makeshift frame.
Walking around the front of Rick, Art says, "Now, why don't we see what we've got up top here?"
With fear in his eyes, leftover from eyeing up and down the apparatus for milking him, he looked down upon himself, watching Art grab at his tee shirt collar and rip it down the middle, taking several grabs of the fabric.
After taking a chug of the beer bottle he had in his hand, the deputy says, "Looks like our boy here has missed a few trips to the gym."
Yeah, Rick was nowhere near what would be called a 'gym-bod', but at the same time, not obese. From viewing, one couldn't tell how thick the covering was over his abs, unless felt, which is exactly what Mark was doing at the moment.
"Hell yeah!" Mark exclaimed, darting his fingers in and out of Rick's hairy stomach. "I've always wanted to workout with a 'live' punching bag," he laughs, holding his fist up to Rick's stomach and leaning in.
"You're insane... both of ya's!" Rick protested.
Mark smiled, saying to Art, "Why don't we see what we've got hiding below here." Before Mark's hand began preparing Rick's pubic area for the milking machine, he guzzled the rest of the bottle of beer. Smiling at Rick, he tossed the bottle around so the neck was in his hand, drew it back and shoved into Rick's gut.
"Hough-h-h-h-h-h!" Rick shouted out, cursing the man who delivered the gut-punch.
Again, laughing, Mark replies as he holds the same beer bottle up, "While Art is working you up for an orgasm, I'm gonna be working this up yer ass!"
Saving his comments, Rick knew he was saving himself from the deputy's extending arm. He dreaded the words used in conjunction with his ass, but provoking him seemed a good thing not to do.
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"Hello-o-o-o-o boys! Got room for two more?"
It was an understatement, Denis having tiptoed across the lawn, carrying two crystal flutes in one hand, two in the other, prancing along the good-sized pool, decked out in his pink speedo, which fit 'most' of his bod!
Jason jokes, to the good, "I didn't know pink elephants wore tights!"
"Good one," Sikandar put it. One arm already cradled Jason to his bod, the other hand pressed somewhere mid-chest, in exclaiming the thrill of someone putting it over on Denis.
"Don't bother getting up," Denis said in a flamboyant manner, meaning for the two to stay put in the chest-high water.
The two laughed their asses off at Denis, after setting the glasses down poolside, went through the techs of wanting to make an Olympic dive into the pool, at the last split second, changing it to a cannonball. However, underwater, he was quite a good swimmer, making a beeline for the two in the pool.
"What would you call what you tried to pull off, Denis?"
Denis directs, "Such disrespect, Sikandar?"
Jason tries his luck, "To me, it looks like you were going to perform something highly theatrical, in the vein of an Olympic diver..."
"Why thank you, Jason," Denis took it as a compliment.
And finishing his opinion, "But wimped out?"
Denis' mouth dropped open.
Sikandar laughed, waiting for Jason to get his due.
Composing himself, Denis replies, "You're so right. I know I need 'so' much more practice?"
Smiling, Jason knew Denis was trying to see threw the wavy water, much like Superman x-raying some dude's bod, all the way down to his pubes.
Startling them all out of the three-way conversation, Sam appears, "Anybody up for a glass of bubbly?"
Smart, Sikandar led Jason out of the pool so Denis only caught a glimpse of their asses. He watches as they then walk towards the pile of towels, Sikandar handing Jason one, the two forming them around their waists.
As they walk towards Sikandar's father, with outstretched arms of glass offerings, Jason turns to Denis, still in the pool, "Are you coming, your royal pinkness?"
Responding in a fresh manner, Denis, after exiting the pool and joining them for drinks, says, "You know your boyfriend has one helluva a nerve?"
Sam, offering Denis a glass of champagne, addresses his lover, "Get over it Denise!"
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While Jared cleaned up, Dobie hung around talking. When Jared left to go to the back, he followed.
"I might as well be helping you," Dobie said as he watched Jared fill the dishwasher.
"Cool! Can you go out front and see if there's any loose glasses hanging around?"
"You owe me!" Dobie said, leaving.
Not going back to work just yet, Jared hung on the words of 'owing' Dobie. In a pleasant day dream, in the early morning hours, he pictured himself making sweet love to him, first by....
"Found only two," Dobie replied, handing Jared the two glasses.
"Thanks," he replied. He still had some thoughts on his mind.
"What?" Dobie asks.
"Nothing. I was just thinking," Jared said, then went to work filling up the dishwasher.
"Thinking of what?" Dobie stands back, parking his ass on a counter.
And then it just came out, "What would you think about dating me?"
Smiling, Dobie replies, "Would tonight count as our first date?"
"Is that a yes?"
"Hey," Dobie's uncle shows his face, "Heinrich wants to know if you're almost done. He wants to lock the place up."
Closing the front of the dishwasher down, Jared gives a knob a turn and replies, "All done," and then dares himself, "Sylvester!"
With a stare to Dobie, Dobie replies, "I warned him, Sylv."
Walking right up to Jared, like he was going to pound him into the ground, Sylv rubs one fist over the other.
"Um, sorry there Rock-de-rock? Uh, Uncle Rock? Mr. Rickman? I was only joking," Jared tried buying time, backing up.
Driving Jared on, till his back is up against the wall, Rickman states, "I don't like punks making fun of me..."
Dobie throws in, "Uncle Sylv, Jared and I are going to be dating. Isn't that cool?"
With a sour puss put on, Sylv replies, as he eyes Jared up and down, "Dating my nephew, is it?"
Scared shit, Jared replies, "Uh, yeah, um, with your permission of course, sir?"
"You're lucky I like you kid," Sylv replies. And making like he's going to throw a punch, he mellows out, takes Jared by the back of the neck and kisses him!
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"Hell yeah!" Art calls out, watching Rick secrete his third load.
"He's a fuckin' cum-machine!" Mark yells out.
Along with Art, the two stare at the glass jar at the side of the milking machine, collecting the grayish fluid as it is sucked out of Rick's cock, travels the hose and is deposited with the results from his last two ejaculations.
"Oh-h-h-hh!" Rick sighs, his hips slowing down. His bod a mass of sweat, Rick determined for himself, after the first time the cow-milking machine brought him to climax, this wasn't such a bad set up. In fact, as a result of his acceptance of the cock and ball torture, it seemed like three friends having 'fun'.
"You ready to give me another load, Ricky?" Mark asks, pushing Rick's sweat-soaked mane out of his face.
"I think..." Rick breathes heavy, "I'm done for right now."
"Nonsense," the twenty-eight year old deputy replies. Reaching down between Rick's legs, he massages his balls, saying, "Your balls are boiling with cum. Tell ya what Ricky, you give me one more hot orgasm and I'll forget about shoving a beer bottle up your ass?" Of course, if it wasn't the beer bottle, it would be Rick's ass sucking Mark's tube!
"I dunno," Rick replies.
Turning around, Mark, who by this time had given in to the humid condition of the aluminum-lined shed, had stripped down. To Art, who still was dressed and dozing, he says, "Art!"
"Yeah?" Art jumps to attention.
"Why don't you head off to bed? I got things pretty much under control here."
Looking at his watch, Art exclaims, "Three-thirty? Damn! I've got to get to the bank in the morning."
"It 'is' morning!"
Upon hearing the conversation, three-thirty in the morning, Rick wondered when and if Jared would find him gone missing. So far, going into his fourth orgasm, he wasn't considering any of this as mistreatment, beyond the deputy's initial gut-punching. Even though he wasn't sure of it, he thought it might be a possibility his horny genes could pull off a fourth orgasm. The only thing which irked him at the moment was what hidden agenda Mark had.
Picking up his rifle, Art says, "As much as I'd like to stick around and watch you feed this boy his own cum, I suppose tomorrow is another day!"
'Drink my own cum?' Rick thought, his stomach suddenly feeling more than the residue from the gut-punching.
"Like you said, Art, there will be another day!" Mark replies as he closes the door behind Art, latching the hook. Then, to Rick, "Well it's you and me, Ricky!"
"Um, you're not going to like... make me drink my own cum, are you?"
"Tell ya what, Ricky," Mark planes his hand down Rick's sweaty chest and stomach, his hand circling Rick's cock, "you give me one more cup of cum and then we'll both sit down and share it over a bottle of beer!"
Rick didn't say anything. To him, it sounded like an ounce of trust off of Mark's lips. For now he would play on it, perhaps adding some of his own bargaining, "I really feel like I can do this."
"Good!" Mark replies, flicking the switch on.
One of the guys he fucks in the dorm, had him play with his nips while they engaged in some heavy sex, so he asks, "Hey Mark, do me a favor?"
It really threw Mark out of the loop, him reacting as he stood in front of Rick. He did stop to look down, at Rick starting to gyrate his torso. "Yeah?"
"I think I could get a little more into it if you pinched my nips?"
"Hell yeah!" He then snaps his fingers, "Wait a minute!" Mark goes over to his clothes piled up, picks up his pants and rifles through the pockets. "Damn it! Left home without the nip clamps!"
Rick was actually relieved. First off, he didn't know how he was going to like having his nips squeezed with fingers and thumbs, let alone any toys. Secondly, he hoped he could convince the deputy he was enjoying having his nips teased, rather than feeling the pangs of torture.
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Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`THe HaRDee BoYs' 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.....