Date: Fri, 4 Jan 2013 15:08:42 -0800 (PST)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: ON MY HONOR 11

This story is about sexual activity between boy scouts and a scoutmaster.
It is total fiction.  There is no Poconola, MS.  Any resemblance between
persons or events depicted and actual persons or events is purely
coincidental.

If you are offended by depictions of explicit homosexual activity, or if
you are underage, please do not read further.  Otherwise, the author
invites you to enjoy the story and to respond with comments or criticisms.
The author would especially appreciate responses from readers who have been
involved in scouting.  All email will be answered.  Please address
macoutmann@yahoo.com.

Also, please remember that nifty.org needs your support to keep this
service available to all.  Please donate what you can.


			     "ON MY HONOR..."

			      by Macout Mann


				Chapter 11
			 Strange How Things Happen



By Monday John Brent had calmed down and realized that kicking a
fourteen-year-old out of the house was not the wisest thing to do.  And
Michael had shown up to plead his friend's cause.  "I know how Sammy got
involved," the young Cajun said. "It happened to me too."

He detailed the wiles that Masters used to entice young scouts into his
circle, and he told Sammy's father that he knew his son did have feelings
for girls.  So Sammy was welcomed back into the Brent household, although
the already distant relationship between father and son would become even
more distant as time moved on.



Meanwhile, Rush Hammond was meeting with Bill Arnold.  In legal terms you
might say it was informal "discovery."  Arnold was in the catbird seat.  He
could go to trial and become a great hero.  Maybe even set the stage for a
congressional run.  Instead he urged Hammond to have his client plead
guilty.  "I'll waive any fines.  His wife can be left well off," he urged.
"Let's not have these kids dragged through the mud."

"I'll talk with Duane," was all Hammond could say.



Then Broderick Bellingrath rolled into town.

Roger Simms would have expected him to arrive in a Mercedes or at least a
Caddy, but Bellingrath had not become a Mississippi millionaire by adopting
the upper class airs of his Alabama forebears.  He arrived driving a
four-year-old Impala, dressed not in blue jeans but still in an open-collar
shirt and a sport coat that had seen better days.

"You need to hire local counsel," was the first thing he said to Simms.
"Locals won't cotton to me, unless I'm just here to help."

Simms' company lawyer was Mason Perryman.  He was most happy to sign on.

Bellingrath then visited the district attorney.  "Mr. Arnold," he began,
"I've been asked by Mr. Simms to come down and help my colleague,
Mr. Perryman, on this case.  But, you know, I don't know a whole lot about
what's going on."

Arnold was not stupid.  He did, however, tell Bellingrath the whole story.
No reason not to.  "Mr. Bellingrath," he concluded, "I wish it were not so,
but Mr. Masters and your client both are guilty.  We can prove it
conclusively.  A guilty plea would save us all a lot of pain.  And I've
already offered to waive monetary penalties.  I'm sure the judge will go
along with that."

Bellingrath next visited Rush Hammond, again saying that he was just in
town to help Perryman.  "By offering to waive fines," he suggested, "the
D.A. has already taken death off the table.  But both Masters and the Simms
boy, if convicted, will face mandatory life.  As far as our client is
concerned, can you imagine what life in prison for an eighteen-year-old
admitted queer would be like?  Or maybe you don't know what happens in our
`correctional institutions.'  Even two or three years would be bad enough.

"Let's get together.  We can both try to negotiate a guilty plea to the
lesser offense of Child Exploitation.  Your client might still get the
maximum forty years, but without a fine, and we could argue for a lesser
sentence for the Simms boy.  They would both be eligible for parole in
time.  That doesn't happen often when you're a lifer."

For Hammond, the logic was inescapable.  He presented the proposition to
Masters, who initially refused to even consider it.  "I got off before," he
said.  "We can do it again."

"You're dreaming, Duane," Hammond retorted.  "Before you convinced the jury
you hadn't done anything.  It seems you accomplished that by having our
witnesses lie on the witness stand.  This time the boys are going to tell
the truth, because they can be sent to prison too.

"And Duane, the fact that the scouts were willing participants isn't
extenuating.  The fact that you...and Manly Simms...penetrated and were
penetrated by these kids is prima facie evidence that you committed
statutory rape.  Parker Braswell and Mr. Lincoln will both swear that they
saw you do it.  And Lincoln will testify that he took pictures of you doing
it.  And Bill Arnold will introduce the pictures as further proof.  And you
can't do anything to rebut their testimony.

"Face it, man.  You're going to prison.  It can be for forty years or it
can be for life."



At the same time, Perryman and Bellingrath were presenting the facts to
Manly.  He was even more intransigent.  He believed absolutely that he
could convince people that he and the other scouts were engaged in
consensual sex, and that that would make it all right.  "Hell, Eric and I
have been fucking each other for over four years.  I was only sixteen when
Sammy and me first got together," he said.  "And as for Jake, shit, he'll
let anybody that has a dick fuck him."

Bellingrath finally lost patience.  "Look, sonny!" he screamed, "get this
through your thick head.  Your ass is going to wind up in the joint.  You
can do it our way, and maybe get out in two to four years, or you can spend
the rest of your lousy life behind bars.  It's your fucking choice!"

Later Bellingrath and Perryman confronted Manly's father.  "Mr. Simms,"
Bellingrath said, "for now I am withdrawing from the case.  If you and
Mr. Perryman can talk some sense into your son's head, I will be happy to
come back.  I think I can convince Mr. Arnold not to pursue the perjury
charge as a part of the plea negotiation.  But it all depends on your son."

Bellingrath headed back to Jackson.



Hammond still didn't have an agreement from Masters, but he went ahead and
met with Arnold.  Arnold agreed to the reduced charge and maximum penalty
and said that he was sure that would be agreeable to Judge Stern, once
Masters signed on.  It had been a long day.



Chester Maynard was working that night at the jail.  One of the two guards
on duty.  Chester was small, skinny, beak nosed.  Like a lot of guys like
him, however, he had a massive dick, over six inches around and extending
an inch or so beyond his navel when hard.

He unlocked Manly's cell and walked in, locking the gate behind him.
Manly, shirtless as usual, in his baggy white jailhouse pants was lying on
his cot contemplating the mess he was in.  Didn't even pay any attention to
his visitor until Chester spoke.

"So you the queerboy?" Chester asked.

Manly didn't respond.

Chester opened his fly and pulled out his huge tool.  It was already at
full mast.  "Sit up and suck on this thing," he commanded.

"Fuck you!"  Manly responded.

Chester answered with a punch to the boy's groin.  "You're the one's goanna
be fucked!" he said.  He grabbed the top of Manly's britches and pulled him
up.  "I know you want this big dick," he cried, "so take it!  Or else
you're goanna have the shit beat outta you.  And I'll say you attacked me,
sonofabitch!"

Chester rammed his tool into Manly's mouth.  Manly could hardly get his
lips around it, and it rubbed the back of his throat when it was fully
inserted.  Chester fucked the boy's face unmercifully, until he shot his
joyjuice down the prisoner's throat.  "Yeah, you liked it, didn't ya?"
Chester crowed.  "A lot of you queerboys can't take it all.

"I'll be back later to sample your ass."

He slammed the cell gate as he left.

It was a good thing Manly didn't have to appear the next day.  He could
hardly stand up, his ass was so sore.  Chester came back twice to roughly
use Manly's well-plowed anus.  He applied no lube and was interested only
in his own satisfaction.  When he finished his cum was mixed with Manly's
blood.



Hammond visited his client one last time before the arraignment.  "I can
offer no defense," he told Masters.  "You can find another attorney, if you
want.  But I'm sorry, Duane.  You're going to face life, or right now you
can plead to the lesser offense and I'll try to get you less than forty.
But, goddamit, man, forty's better than life."


The court did accept Master's plea of guilty to Child Exploitation and set
a date for sentencing.



Copyright 2012 by Macout Mann.  All rights reserved.