Date: Tue, 21 Mar 2006 02:39:59 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Buffalo Boys 05

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to
accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or
governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a
sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships
offends you, then you should not read this story.
Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in
most state and countries, you are not allowed to read
this story by law. Check with your local laws
regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is
fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?'

"Buffalo Boys" 05
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"What the fuck is happening here?"

Appearing at the head of the Buffalo Lodge's cue, a
man whom looked to be in his late thirties, stately
tramped down the path, tailed by another male.

"Plenty!" Dougie shot his mouth off, unafraid.

Marat rolled his eyes, again his grip on Dougie's rear
belt.

Recognised by both Dav Khan and Reinken Michaelis,
convinced Dougie that this had been a figure of
authority above the two men's ranks. Of course,
slighly behind Dougie, the man noticed Marat's
gesture.

"Obviously," eyeing up the hand-to-belt touching, but
overriding the campers' actions. "Taking matters into
your own hands, gentlemen?"

Right off the bat, Dougie felt he could laugh his ass
off, at the calling, but it wasn't that type of
atmosphere for joking. Not when the Coyote lad's balls
had been at stake!

"Friendly disagreement," Khan replied.

Reinken went along with it.

However, Dougie wasn't about to let it go.

"Khan here hauled off and kneed me in the balls."

"Is that so? What's this?"

Dougie figured he was about to get the shaft too, from
this pencilneck, as he made reference to the four torn
pieces of pink slip.

Figuring he was already doomed to discipline, at least
he wasn't going to take the fall for Michaelis and
Khan. Like he had reasoned with his fellow camp-mates,
over Mieremet. If they hadn't worked things out then
and there, they would have been slaves for the whole
summer, to Mieremet's demands. He took his chances,
hoping this new face would be more rationale...
whatever...

"Mr. Tuffstuff Khan there, is us guys against his
guys."

"Khan?"

Dougie was going out on a limb and for the moment, it
seemed it was working. At least it swayed this guy's
attention away from himself. He waited now, to see how
it played out.

"Um... kids are way too loose these days and..."

Standing there, waiting to hear how it played out,
Dougie also began to draw some other conclusions. None
that had any to do with the situation, unraveling. As
he watched the bearded figure of authority take in
what bullshit Khan was handing him. Dougie wondered
what the size chest of the tight pecs, the taut waist
size, and lower, what size briefs held the rather
large bulge. He almost missed the order given, not
from Reinken, but the man dishing out the
tongue-lashing.

"Well?"

A tug came at Dougie's side this time, Marat pulling
at his arm.

Dougie then realized the head honcho was talking to
him. The other counselor of the Coyote Lodge, was
leading his troops alongside the Buffalo Lodge. Dougie
also found the other male, that had entered the
clearing, marching alongside his troop.

"Hey, who's he?" Dougie whispered to Marat, as he
began walking too.

"If you had been paying attention, instead of eyeing
up Leitner..."

"Leitner?"

"You better start paying attention, Dougie... Leitner,
the bearded guy... camp director?"

"I knew that," He sarcastically threw off the blame.

"Don't bullshit me, Dougie. I saw how you scanned his
bod."

"Yeah okay. I admit it, but who's this dude?"

"Leitner refered to him as `Nick'."

"Kind of cute."

"Dougie, haven't you gotten us into enough trouble
today?"

"Me?"

"Not to mention your own balls bashed in?"

"Yeah, about that... I didn't know I was as tough as
that."

"What are you talking about, Dougie?"

"My balls."

"What about them?"

"They don't even hurt now."

"You're kidding?"

"Not."

"I thought you would pass out after Khan rammed his
kneed into you."

"Me too, but it didn't really last."

As the Coyote's marched onward, next to the Buffalo
boys, they seemed to fall more into a pack, rather
than a straight line, mingling.

"Hey, thanks guy."

"Huh?" Dougie said, looking over his shoulder.

"Thanks for saving my balls!"

"No problem," Dougie said, smiling, as he slowed his
pace.

"Chad Seivers," the guy offered introductions.

"Dougie Hazard," was offered back, with a handshake,
turning around.

"Yeah, well I'm awfully obliged for what you did for
me back there."

"Wasn't me. If Leitner hadn't come along, I'm sure
Reinken wouldn't have held back in tucking your sacs
in."

"Still, you helped stall him. I sure as hell wasn't
looking forward to it."

"Seems like you didn't object."

"Yeah, well you don't know Khan. It would have been a
million times worse if I refused."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He through the fear into us all last night."

"What about the other guy?"

"Yves? He's really nice. Of course last night he was
acting as Khan's puppet."

"I could see that. He didn't say much. Let Khan did
all the talking."

"Your new guy seems okay."

"Do you think that is who he is?"

"Sure. I had a message that it was imperative that I
call my dad. While up at the administration office, I
overheard that they found the counselor of Buffalo
Lodge stripped and tied to the whipping post."

"Oh? And what else did you hear?"

"Nothing much else. Something about the counselor not
wanting to talk about it, handing in his resignation.
Why? You know anything?"

Dougie laughed, telling Chad, "If I do, you'll be the
first to know."

Without either Reinken Michaelis or Dav Khan, the two
troops seemed much more aloof from the pressure of the
forced discipline.

Tardy, as they approached the mess hall, it had been
apparent the two leagues of troopers missed out on the
beginning of the breakfast hour.

"Well, might as well get this over with guys," Chad
led his group.

"Yep," One of the others replied, following Chad with
unbuttoning their shirts.

"What are you doing?" Dougie asked, with Marat and the
other Buffalo lads holding up.

"Taking our demerits."

Dario came over and asked, "Demerits?"

Holding up a pink slip of paper, Chad impressed upon
them, "Yeah. Dammit, got a whole slew of offenses
here."

Of course, Dougie, Marat, Dario and the rest of the
Buffalo Lodge didn't mind taking in the view of the
seven Coyote boys stripped to the waist, plus Chad's
unbuttoned and open shirt.

"Is that what this means?" Dario asks, holding up his
pink slip.

Chad reports, "Lucky you. Eight demerits."

"Lucky? What do you mean?"

"Damn, I have to take twelve lashes."

In a jiffy, Dougie had his shirt stripped, turning his
back towards Chad, then uttering, "Been there
already."

"Shit! That must hurt!" Chad replied, eyeing up the
crisscrossing lines.

"Took twenty yesterday." Then, holding up the four
corners of the pink slip, announces, "Got another
fifteen on top of that, coming at me now. Strange
thing, though."

"What's that, Dougie?"

By now, the Buffalo Lodge members had lost interest in
breakfast, taking on the spectator's view of the
stripped-to-the-waist Coyote Lodge teens. Finally
removing his shirt, Chad stood there with Dougie and
Marat, chatting.

"C'mon, we better get on line."

Forming one long line, the eight Coyote's and three
Buffalo's formed their own cue, as each one worked off
their penalties.

"Khan made sure that each of us would break some kind
of rule last night."

"Like Michaelis this morning. If your lodge didn't
come along, I swear that he would have an offense for
each of us."

Marat spoke up, "Then again, he's been gunning for
Dougie since yesterday."

"How does that go?" Chad wondered.

"He let that animal whip Dougie's hide yesterday, but
we showed him, didn't we Dougie?"

"Marat?"

"Oops!"

Chad let out a roar of laughter.

"You wouldn't tell anybody, will you?" Marat asked,
humbled.

"Was that you that plowed his ass?" Chad asked Dougie.

"I think you eavesdropped on more than what you told
me, Chad!"

"Yeah, well...."

However, before Chad had a chance to reckon further
explanation, he was directed to advance to the
whipping post. Taking his shirt, the `punisher' took
Chad's shirt and hung it over a railing. Another
helped fasten leather cuffs to Chad's wrists, then
hang them above his head, to a hook.

Dougie yelled over, "Break a leg," to Chad.

Taking it in stride, he gave Dougie the thumb's up,
grinning, then losing his humor, as his tormentor
stood behind him, leather strap in hand.

Marat and Dougie cringed with each stroke of the
leather against Chad's pristine back, til it became
stripped with twelve strokes, turning a bright
crimson.

"I'm scared, Dougie."

"Be brave. Pain is like there for the moment, but
afterwards you only feel it a little. If you want,
I'll go first."

"No. I don't want to be last."

Dougie thought it fortunate that the same discipliner
that whipped Chad, hadn't been assigned to Marat's
dermerits. The leather strap seemed to land across his
shoulders with less magnitude. Still, he knew it
killed Marat to feel it's sting. Seemed to Dougie,
that with each stroke of the leather strap across his
buddie's white skin, turning it a bright pink, it was
as if it crossed his own back. He sensed he really
cared for the nineteen year old Frenchman.

Apparently, they weren't the only campers experiencing
disciplining that day. Every table had at least four
or five pink slips sitting on trays. During the
commentary, it had become part of the introduction,
incorporating the disciplinary code of Timber Creek
Fitness Camp.

Coyote Lodge butted ends with the table of Buffalo
Lodge, so Chad was able to sit next to Dougie.

"I don't know, about you, but my pa is going to be
pissed when he finds out about their discipline system
here."

Chad looked at Dougie, not sure he wanted to mention
something. But Dougie saw the questioning that
bothered him.

"Okay, out with it."

"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Chad."

Then, looking his left, Dougie sensed the same
confounded attitude with Marat.

Throwing his forkful of eggs onto his metal dinner
plate, Dougie grills Marat, as well.

"My best bud keeping stuff from me?"

"My dad knew about the corporal punishment," Chad
spared Marat from offering it first.

Being brave, Marat then gave it up.

"Mine, too."

"Fuck!"

Several of the boys from neighboring tables turned to
look at Dougie.

"Your dad had to know," Chad quipped.

"The bastard!"

Marat replied, "I was under the impression that you
and your dad got along."

"We did and we didn't. I mean, our home isn't exactly
`the Brady Bunch'!"

Chad looked at Marat, whom looked back.

"What's it like?" Chad cared to ask.

"Okay, so my pa prolly wouldn't care. In fact, he
probably wouldn't give a damn if they whipped me a
hundred times!"

Marat and Chad exchanged eyes again, as Dougie looked
at his bacon and eggs, pushing them around on his
platter.

At first, Chad placed his hand on the back of Dougie's
shirt, until he winced, "Owwwwch!"

"Oh sorry. I didn't mean to cause you discomfort,
Dougie."

Both Dougie and Marat could see that was the case, as
Chad showed the look on his face.

With his fork, Dougie signaled, `forget it'.

A bell rang. The Buffalo gang didn't know what to do,
but followed the Coyote's lead, in picking up their
tray and getting on line, heading for the kitchen
opening.

Chad cued them in, "You have to throw away the paper
stuff and place only your dishes on the moving belt.
The tray gets piled up. Follow me."

After eyeing up Chad's physique, upon stripping his
shirt for the punishment, he wanted to follow him,
with no sweat!

%

Arriving back at their cabin, their new couselor, so
Dougie believed what he heard, had them stand in a
straight line.

"In case you didn't get the whole gist of what our
director said, my name is Nick Kyriopoulos, but you
can refer to me as Nick."

Unlike Reinken, Nick seemed to run things with `cool'.


"I like a tight ship. I run things firm, but fairly.
It's up to you gentlemen whether the ocean remains
calm or we face stormy seas. Some of you have had the
taste of the lash this morning. Even though I am not
am advocate of corporal punishment, I will follow the
rules and not hesitate to punish where punishment is
due. Do I make myself clear?"

He waited til he was sure he heard every voice, or at
least saw lips move that represented an affirmative.

"I asked a question, mister?" He questioned Dougie.

"Um, sure. Yeah. I understand."

Marat was sure Dougie would be destined for another
slam in the main artery. However, Nick was cool with
Dougie's answer.

"Well, alright. Now, you all have a half hour of free
time. After that period, I'd like every man out here
in the yard, in shorts and tee shirts, lined up.
Dismissed!"

"Seems like a pretty cool guy. What do you think?" Ron
Hasting asked of his fellow mates.

"Yeah."

Still being a downer, Dougie replies, "Yeah, but he's
not scared of using his strap!"

Surprisingly, Marat spoke up, saying, "Dougie, we
deserved to be punished."

Dario, who's back show the wrath of eight lashes,
agreed, "Marat's right, Dougie. We've gotta start
protecting ourselves."

"From Nick? He's a little weasel."

"Like you said, Dougie, he's got the power to use the
strap and I don't think he's reluctant to use it, if
he has to," Maclyn tells them, pulling his shorts up.

"Maybe," Dougie replies, throwing a tee shirt over his
head.

Lifting the tee shirt he's just flung over his head,
fed his arms through, Jason lifts up the back,
inquiring, "Hurt?"

"It's a little stingy."

"I've got something for it."

Reaching in his shaving bag, Jason produces a little
tube.

"Here, catch!" He says to Marat.

Yesterday some of the boys paired off. It's obvious to
whom bonded.

"Take the shirt off."

"I just put it on," Dougie told him, sitting there,
looking up at him. Then, giving in, "Oh, alright."

Peeling it forwards, he lets it hang in front of him,
over his chest.

"All the way?"

Hemming and hawing, Dougie removes it.

"Lay down on your belly."

Dougie does what he's told.

After Marat squeezes out a generous amount, Gil says,
"Here, toss that over here." Then, turning to Dario
says, "Strip off your shirt."

Dario doesn't hesitate, saying, "Make sure you get it
real low on my back!"

"What happened to the infamous `top'?"

"I dunno. Kinda like having my ass massaged."

Maclyn picks up on the comment, throwing his own in,
"I'll give it a nice `hard' massage, Dario!"

Grabbing his crotch, made the guys laugh their asses
off.

"Oh no, Mac. You keep that weapon away from me!"

After a half hour massage, Dario's erection, rubbing
faced down against the mattress, caused him to have to
change his underwear. The seven of them, plus Nick,
had to wait a fraction of a minute for him to report.

"Sorry about that, Nick. Had a little `accident' to
clean up."

"I'll let it go this time, but from now on I expect
every man to be out in the yard in the precise time
alloted. Do I make myself clear?"

This time Nick didn't have to prod for another round
of answers.

"This morning, on your behalf I have accepted the
challenge of a volleyball game with Coyote Lodge. For
this morning's warmup, um... Ron, you'll be the
leader. Come up in front of the group, please."

They all couldn't believe how cool and calm Nick could
be. Totally the opposite of Reinken's barking orders.
But it also occurred to them that things could change,
if and when he returned to the lodge.

"Um, what do I do?"

"Can someone lend Ron a hand?"

"Sure," Dougie replied.

Advancing to the front of the group, he reached out
and took hold of Ron's balls. His fellow lodgers
laughed.

"A word, Mr. Hazard," the directive, not request came
from Nick.

Quickly, their hyena outburst quelled, as Dougie was
singled out. In a minute's time, Dougie stood before
the group.

"Yeah, um. Look guys, sorry for my stupid, tasteless
joke here. Um, we're supposed to be here to learn
stuff, so sorry I tried making it look funny. Truth
is, I don't know how to do a warmup. In fact, I don't
know anything about exercising." Admitting a little
more than he had to, Dougie divulged, "My ole man sent
me here to get rid of me for the summer, so... well,
that's the truth, so if somebody else could come up
here and help Ron?"

Dougie walked back to where he was standing. Standing
next to him, Marat patted Dougie on the shoulder.

Nick suggested, "A volunteer?"

Skinny Gil stepped forward. The Canadian, standing at
five feet, eleven inches and weighing a hundred and
sixty pounds, delved into some stretching exercises.

As he moved about, he explained, "My dad was in the
Navy Seals."

Maclyn asked, "He wasn't Canadian?"

"No. My mom is Canadian. He's American, but anyway, he
showed me these cool stretching exercises. This one is
called a tricep stretch."

They watched as Gil placed both arms up and over his
head, almost like his palms touching the top of his
shoulders. It was a pleasure watching Gil, as his tee
shirt hiked up, revealing his tight, defined treasure
trail, pouring out of his deep navel. His shorts,
provided by Timber Creek Fitness Camp, the camp logo
at the base of his left thigh, hiked down, showing off
the fringe of his dark pubes. He wasn't the only one
on display, as the others looked around to take in
like views.

"Next?" Nick called out, adding, "Before we all start
to bulge?"

Nick allowed the laughter to permeate the cabin
grounds, himself smiling.

After maintaining the left and right positions for
thirty seconds each, Gil dropped his hands.

"Next, the shoulder stretch."

Less revealing, Gil brought his right arm across his
chest. He placed his right elbow in the inside joint
of his left arm, then reached across and grabbed his
left shoulder.

"Okay, now squeeze and elevate your elbow like this,"
Gil instructed them in a highly professional manner,
elevating his right elbow, continuing, "and we hold it
for 15.. 14..
13..12..11..10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..1.. and flex."

The guys shook out their arms.

"This is tough," Dougie commented.

Marat quipped, "Unlike fucking, you're not used to
it!"

Nick instructed, not really caring about the joke,
"Can we keep on target, boys?"

Marat apologized, not really meaning it. He thought it
a fair stab at comic relief.

"Next, we pair up for the two-person chest stretch."

Gil's next Navy Seal stretching exercise presented a
problem. With Scott missing, it reduced the ranks to
an odd number.

Marat and Dougie paired off. Gil went to stand next to
Dario. Ron and Maclyn paired, leaving Jason solo. Nick
could sense he felt awkward.

"I guess that leaves you with me, buddy!"

"Sure, if you don't mind?" The eighteen year old
replied, upbeat, to the counselor that looked to be
about five or six years older.

After standing in the vicinity of Jason, Nick asks,
"What do we do, Gil?"

Instead of belittling, something Reinken would have
done, Gil felt ten feet tall, as he gave out the
two-man instruction.

"My dad and I used to do this. The guy in front, me..
um, I place my palms facing straight out, like this.
The guy behind, Dario, places his hands on my wrists."

So no one but Gil can hear, yet the others suspect
some comment, Dario whispers, "I'd rather be placing
them elsewhere!"

They snicker at Gil rolling his eyes at Dario.

However, Gil continues, "Your partner brings your
wrists back and holds the position for fifteen
seconds."

Gil did the countdown, still thinking about what Dario
repeated to him. He hoped the guys didn't pickup on
the twitching in his shorts.

As Nick held Jason's wrists behind his back, he was
cautious to ask, "Feel okay? I'm not hurting you, am
I?"

"No. Fine, Nick."

At the conclusion of the countdown, they switched
places.

Suddenly, the leader of the Coyote Lodge appeared with
his team in tow, announcing straight away, "Ready to
get your pants beaten off of ya's?"

Nick answered for the Buffalo boys, "Hmm... why, so we
can fuck you boys over?"

Humor filled both camps, as they headed off towards
the volleyball court.

%

05 Continued....

Copyright 2006  T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold or made part of any
collection without prior written permission.

"The more you stretch, the more you can fit in...
'spread' happiness!"
  T. Chase McPhee... circa 2005