Date: Fri, 27 Jan 2006 10:41:14 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Out In The Wild, Wild West 34

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?'

"Out In The Wild, Wild West" 34
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"All I know is, Jim's going to be pissed when he sees
this!" Sean tells the gathering of boys.

Except JJ, who has been in the jon, heaving his guts
out, along with sixteen loads of cum.

"'Sees' this, Sean?"  Brian asks.

Ansel adds, fortifying Brian's question, "This place
wreaks!"

Out of the jon comes Stormy, complaining, "The
doojicky that ya pull to make the water come out of
the ceiling in the jon, broke."

Sure enough the gang looks at Stormy, holding the
handle and three feet of chain, utilized to release
the water to flush the toilet down.

"And we got another problem, guys."

"What's that Stormy?" Brian asks.

"The water coming from the box near the ceiling?"

"Yeah?"

"It ain't stop coming and the water is all over the
floor."

"Oh shit!" Johnny calls out, running into the jon,
saying at the same time, "Jim's dining room is going
to get flooded!"

"What do I do?" Twenty-two year old Brian Nelson, the
one left in charge, asks.

"Where's that red button doojicky?" Sean asks.

"Si, amigo. Jim say if you have trouble to use it!"

Taking Rico's suggestion into consideration for two
seconds, Brian runs to the desk and pushes the button.
The second doojicky, the one that summons a person at
home when there's company at the door, buzzes.

"The door!" Brian calls out.

However, what none them stopped to realize is that
they all had been running around in the buff!

As soon as the door flings open, a gentleman, topped
with a derby hat and an umbrella under his arm
announces, "Winston Packer-Underwood..." takes in the
view of Brian, the sandy brown haired youth with a
smooth chest, dark defined trail running down his
stomach, "ahem the third," pausing, Winston took in
Sean, eyeing from top of his blonde hair, the light
coating crossing his pecs, the almost unidentifiable
trail down the nineteen year olds abs, "at your..."
rounding out his view, he takes in the view of
nineteen year old Rico Montez, the black hair swirling
around his dark nips, the dark, thin trail separating
his stomach, the treasure trail extending out of his
deep, recessed bellyhole, "um... service?"

At this point, as the three young men took in the view
of Winston, they forgot about their troubles, smiling
at each other, knowing the forty-six year old man had
a hankering for each of them.

"Um, yes...ahem, you depressed the button, did you?"

"Oh yeah," Brian then replied, "we've got a big, big
problem!"

Leading Winston upstairs, Sean questioned him on the
red button doojicky and how he knew to respond.
However, Winston's mind was on something else, as he
came into James' bedroom.

"What the God's name is that stench?"

"Hey, are you from Engeland?" Jake asks, regarding the
accent.

However, seeing the water beginning to seep out of the
bathroom door, Winston had other thoughts on his mind.

"Quick! We've got to get out of here! You boys there,
grab some clothes!"

Stormy, Jake, Ansel and Johnny began to gather their
things, putting on their pants.

"No, bring them along. We have to leave, immediately!"

Brian, making sure Ansel was with him, headed towards
the door to the stairs.

"No, not that way," Winston told them. "The closet!"

Johnny, having been that way before, swings open the
closet door.

"C'mon guys, this is fun!"

Grabbing Sean's arm, he made sure his newly acquired
buddy was with him.  With eight youths, plus Winston,
stuffed into the narrow chamber, it was too close for
comfort.

"Stormy get yer hand away from my dick!"

"I didn't do it on purpose, Rico!"

"Yeah sure."

"Are we all here?"

"Wait! Where's JJ?"

"Dammit!" Rico says, "We can't leave the cumslut
here!"

Running into the john, Rico, who's proved to be a good
thinker under stress, comes running back, the hundred
and eighty-two pound carcass over his shoulder.

"Whoa, Mr. Muscles," Sean mentions.

If he had set JJ down, there wouldn't be enough room,
so stretched across four of the young men's chest,
JJ's nude body sat.

"Hold on. I'm not sure if this contraption was meant
for all this weight," Winston informs them.

"Oh shit," Johnny called out, "this doojicky didn't
work like this before!"

"Elevator," Winston called out.

"Oh, I've heard of them," Sean, the scholar says.

"That's what you gentlemen are riding in."

However, unlike before when the elevator came to halt,
with Jim and Johnny inside, instead of the doors
opening, they stayed immobile.

"Aren't you going to open the door, um...?" Johnny
asked.

Brian Nelson replied, "His name is Winston."

"I like it!" Johnny let out, fancying the name.

Rico added, "Senor Winston es bueno, si."

Thousands of question ran through Winston's brain, as
the elevator then suddenly jolted. However instead of
moving downwards, it shifted to the side.

"What tha?"

Winston smiled, hearing the young men complain of
bodies getting smashed up against each other. Also,
like falling dominoes, Jake let go of JJ's feet,
Stormy released JJ's thighs, putting a strain on the
rest of his body. Soon he stood up, causing the space
to be overly cramped.

"Oh, gentlemen. Just inhale!" Winston shouted out,
after hearing two earfuls of complaints.

Boys antics. That's all it were. Nothing nasty, but
complaints of somebody's chest getting pressed to a
back, their cock too close to an ass crevice. All the
time, Winston's silently laughing his ass off!

%

"How is it going Dr. Lee?" Cal asks, looking over his
twenty-six year old lover.

"We wouldn't know for several hours, um... what was your
name?"

"Cal. Cal McClintock."

"Nice Scottish name."

"Thanks. Is Jim going to be alright, too."

"James is the least of our worries."

"Braedon's not going to die, is he?"

Ying drew on the question of Jim bringing up the
instance of the young Chinese doctor in his life. In
Cal's loving demeanor, he sensed the same feeling as
when he was once deeply in love.

Putting his arm around Cal's shoulder, he replied,
"I'm doing the best for him that I can. He's seems to
be a very strong young man."

"He is," Cal reported, then questioned Ying,
"Braedon's a real good looking guy, don't you think
Dr. Lee?"

Sensing the affection between the two, Ying didn't
gripe when Cal rubbed his hand on Braedon's midchest.

"Oh yes. Mr. Murphy is a very good looking man. You
are a lucky person to have him."

"I am, Dr. Lee. You see... I.. I'm really concerned
about Braedon because I love him."

"Now, how could I not tell that, Cal?"

Looking up at Dr. Lee, Cal smiled, as he extended the
same.

%

"I can't believe we're free!"

"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched,"
one of the guards responds.

"What's that Wyatt?" the other guard asks.

"Something I developed in my spare time," the
twenty-one year old replies. "Go ahead and get the
carriage ready while I fix this."

Standing next to Wyatt, his sidekick watches his hands
fashion a wad of something, attaching a wire to it.

"What in tarnation is that Wyatt?"

"Oh, you'll see in a moment, Donald. I guarantee it."

"I have the carriage all ready," Hans called out, "get
on board."

"You go ahead, Donald. I'll be right with you."

The forty-seven year old watched Wyatt assemble his
contraption, pasting the wad of what looked to be
claylike substance up against the door they had
entered from the fortress compound, into the stable.

"I wish I knew what you were doing, Wyatt?"

"Will you go get in the carriage, Donald?"

"Not without you, Wyatt."

"Donald, we've been over that already. We're good
friends and that's all, so get the hell outta here."

Donald Watson hurried along, stealing glances back at
the twenty-one year old. He recalls three years
earlier, taking Wyatt under his wing. Now, it seemed
the man he regarded as a `son', was slowly fading from
his life. At least the barriers of Voltaire's fortress
kept them as a `family'.

"Wyatt, come on! We have to go! And now!"

"You get moving. I'll catch up," Wyatt yelled back to
them.

Hans yelled out, his whip against the horses back,
charging the carriage out of the barn.

"It's going to be okay mister," Jason Schmidt told the
older man.

"I hope so," Donald replied, looking back out of the
window of the horse-driven coach.

However, Hans pulled up on the reins as the stable
seemed to burst into one huge ball of flames.

"Wyatt? Noooooooooooooo!" Donald called out.

Jumping from the last movements of the carriage, he
tried to run back to the burning barn. Jason stopped
him, holding both of the forty-seven year old man's
arms in restraint, the thirty-one year old's
bare-chest and stomach held tightly against Donald's
back-flesh.

"There's nothing you can do," Jason replied.

Jason Schmidt, the same instigator whom brought the
decline of Pedro Gonzalez's empire, stood there,
watching the flames lick at the stable openings.
Watching that scene brought on the same memories of
the night in which his farm had been ransacked by
marauders, killing his family and the kidnapping of
his kid brother. Eventually he found out the demise of
his brother had been through Pedro's hands. That phase
of his life had ended, along with the revenge wreaked
on the man who had bound his brother into slavery,
eventually causing his untimely death. For the moment,
the only person that seemed worth anything to him, was
the one he clenched in his arms. Loosening his grip,
he relaxed enough so that he could scoot around
Donald's body and embrace him chest to chest. Donald
didn't refute the gesture, hugging Jason. Not a word
was spoken, as Jason felt Donald's tears on his bare
shoulders. From within the carriage, Grant Otterstad
came, beckoning the two inside.

"C'mon. We have to go."

"Heeeeeeeeeeeey! Wait for me!"

Soot covering him from head to waist, the black
leather pantsed twenty-one year old came running.

"Wyatt? Fuck, Wyatt, is it really you?"

Opening their embrace, Jason allowed Donald to run to
Wyatt's arms. Suddenly he felt cheated.

%

"We should almost be there," Winston reported to the
cramped up young men.

"Ugggggh, who farted?" Sean called out.

"Was that you, JJ?" Johnny insinuates.

After the cum-upchucking scene, it seemed that JJ had
become their man to pick on, with consistence.

Ansel, the mild-mannered individual calls out, "I
always wondered what cum-fumes smelled like!"

"Eeeewwwwweeee!" Brian replies.

Jake yells, "You're gross, Ansel."

"What'syour eggkuse?" Rico shouts to Jake.

Winston just rolls his eyes, shaking his head, making
the `tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk' sound with his tongue on
against his teeth.

"My oh my. Such language, boys!"

"Oh, you ain't seen nuthin' yet, Winston. Wait'll you
see when Rico really gets goin'!" Johnny, standing
within earshot of Winston, tells him.

%

"Dr. Lee, come quick! Dr. Lee, I think I saw
something!"

Ying Lee smiled, seeing the excitement in the young
lad. Waking out of a dozing siesta, he jumps to his
feet, readjusting his spectacles.

"What did you see?" He questions Cal, taking Braedon's
wrist in his hand to check his pulse.

"There, he did it again! And... and look!"

"Amazing! Absolutely amazing!"

The two watched, not believing their own eyes. The
welts crisscrossing Braedon's chest seemed to be
melting away, being replaced with new tissue.

"Look! He's waking up! Braedon, can you hear me?" Cal,
full of excitement asked, staring over the twenty-six
year old's face.

"Take it easy young man," Dr. Lee cautioned.

"We don't know what to expect."

However, as Braedon opened his eyes, speaking his
first word, `Cal?', he couldn't keep the eighteen year
old from placing his lips on his patient. More to add
to the amazement of the transfusion of enhanced blood,
from James West's body, Dr. Lee sensed the healing
power, as Braedon ripped his wrist from his gripping
hand and engulfed the young man in his arms. Such was
the strength, uplifting the youth from the floor,
placing him right on top of him, Cal's chest on top of
his, he didn't bother worrying any longer.

"Well, I'll be. It really does work! This is a
miracle!"

When he heard Braedon start to talk, Ying drew his
attention to James West.

"JJ told me you wouldn't give up hope."

"I didn't Brae. I dreamed about you. I knew something
was wrong, but I had hope that you would be coming
back to me."

"I never want to leave you again, Cal."

The two embraced for more kissing.

"You miss that too?" Braedon asked, feeling Cal take
hold of his cock.

Now joking, Cal replied, "Missed your ass more. Can't
wait to pound it again!"

What none of them knew or even ventured to speculate,
is that the XG Formula could be spread from human to
human by more than intravenous. The more Braedon and
Cal kissed, the more XG antibodies transmitted from
the host. Cal wouldn't realize until days later that
the scar he had on his knee from age seven, would be
erased from his skin!

%

"Damn it's cold in here!"

"We will only be a moment," Winston replied.

"He's right, amigos!" Rico replied, stepping into the
underground railroad system for the second time.

Before they got underway, they hear a large explosion.

Winston replies, "I knew it! They goes the
neighborhood!"

"What in the hell was that?" Stormy asks.

"Jim is gonna kill me if what happened is what I think
happened?" Brian, the one left in charge, asks.

"Don't worry yourself, young man," Winston replies,
"James West has been hounding the agency for a more
updated residence for the last two years."

"Up what?" Johnny asks.

Winston rolls his eyes again, shaking his head, making
that `tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk!' sound with his teeth
again, as the young men mock Johnny out, laughing
their asses off.


%

"Whew! That sedative you gave me really gave me a
buzz, Lee."

"Buzz, Jim?"

"Um, like bees buzzing inside my head, when I was
waking up."

"Speaking of which, I wonder how Marc is making out
with Robert?"

"I think we've both given them ample time to get
acquainted, Lee?"

It is then that Jim and Ying realize their
conversation is being spied upon. Turning, Jim gets
the shock of a lifetime.

"Braedon? Noooo, but you were..."

"That was then, but here I am now... in the flesh!"

Smiling, Jim looked down, ready to corroborate
Braedon's statement.

"Yes, I'd venture to guess you're looking spunky
there, Braedon!"

Cal, placing a hand on Braedon's chest, says
excitedly, turning him around as if a ballet dance
partner, "And look at this, Jim. All the stripes are
gone from the whipping Brae got!"

Not only was Jim enjoying the dancing show, but Ying
Lee enjoyed the performance as well.

"It looks like we have a lot to be thankful for," Jim
tells them.

Seriousness returns to the group, as Braedon stares
Jim in the eyes.

"Yeah, lots to be thankful for, especially you, Jim."

Bare-chest to bare-chest Braedon instigates the hug.
Lifting Braedon's left arms, Cal joins in on the
three-way hug.

Whispering, but so that Cal as well can hear, Braedon
tells Jim, "Anything you want or need is your's Jim.
All you have to do is tell me."

"Hmm," Jim replies, on the sly.

"No, I'm not joking Jim. You saved my life. I owe
you."

"And what do I get?" Dr. Lee asks the chummy trio.

He did get a nice, short, sweet hug, along with some
praise and thanks. An orderly then arrives to break up
the little group.

"Excuse me, Dr. Lee, but there seems to be a group of
young men and an older gentleman here, asking for a
James West?"

"Does that `older' gentleman have a small derby and
carry an umbrella, by chance?"

"Why yes," the orderly replied.

Putting his hand over his face, Jim rubbed it several
times, to himself he said, but others could hear, "I
wonder what trouble those boys are into?"

%

"I feel dirty."

"You look dirty, Wyatt."

The whole time that Donald Watson has been conversing
with Wyatt, old enough to be his son, Jason Schmidt
has been observing their conversation, plus Donald
trying to wipe the soot off of young Wyatt's blackened
chest and stomach.

"How are those other two?" Wyatt asks Grant, inquiring
of Peter Manning's and Rosario Daninos' condition.

"They are weak. I think they need some medical
attention, possibly a hot bath, some food and rest
would be helpful."

With his attention still on Donald Watson, Jason
couldn't bend his thoughts in the direction the
conversation headed. In his own mind, he thought of
how close he would like to be to the father figure. He
also thought of how lucky Wyatt is to have the
relationship with the forty-seven year old.

"Hey, we're stopping," Grant said, looking of the
coach window.

Too soon though, Hans had jumped down and opened the
door.

"We're here," he replied.

"What is this place?" Grant inquired, looking around
at the marbled walls of the courtyard.

"A place of sanctuary. C'mon, help me get Peter and
Rosario out."

Watching what transpired, Jason wondered why Wyatt
segregated himself from Donald. In the coach, it
seemed like they had very close bonds, however now
Wyatt seemed to pair off with Grant and Hans. He also
noticed the lonesome feeling that came over Donald.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh nothing," Donald lied.

"Doesn't look like it to me, Don."

"Don. Huh! Nobody's called me that in years."

"Do you prefer Donald?"

"Nah. Anything anyone wants to call me is fine."

Standing outside the wrought iron door, the one the
others passed through, Jason couldn't hold back his
feelings any longer. Facing Donald, the thirty-one
year old closed in, gently taking the older man in his
arms and kissing him.

After a minute or two, Jason asked, "I guess you
didn't mind that very much or else you would be
pushing me away."

With his hand rubbing the slender coating of chest
fur, the forty-seven year old replied, "You're being
real nice to me. Why all of a sudden?"

"Why? Because I've been looking for a man just like
you half my life."

"Me? I've gotta be twenty years older than you,
Jason."

"Doesn't bother me. I like older men."

Donald Watson couldn't believe what was happening to
him. Maybe he tried too hard sometimes, to achieve his
goal of scoring with a man younger than himself. It
had been something he always looked for in a man;
youth. Maybe Jason wasn't in his early twenties, as
Wyatt, but he did find the thirty-one year old very
appealing.

%


Continued.....


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