Date: Tue, 14 Sep 2010 20:12:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: i Was a Teenaged CuB 02

You know the drill: 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.

i Was a Teenaged CuB 02
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Uncle Mark! Oh shit!"

His hips sway forwards, like he was fuckin' some dude, but standing there
like the Rock of Gibraltor, Michael curves his bod around, stretching his
neck to where it's almost fully facing backwards. "What tha...." he
exclaims, after feeling a full rear assault of something human-sized giving
him a slam to his back. Michael stood there. The 'object' bounces off him
from the back. Slightly turning, he sees a stunned bod lying there on the
floor, reacting, "Hey, are you alright?"

Standing there, Mark cups an elbow in one hand, rubs his hairy chops with
the other and sums up, "Now Jack, how many times have I told you, 'not' to
barge in like...."

"I know, I know," Jack brushes it off, elevating his upper deck, propping
his elbows up against the carpeting. "Is anybody going to, like, help me
up?"

Mark smiled, reaching.

Jack followed through, but aimed for Michael's five digits!

"Thanks," Jack replies, opting to grab Michale's hand. Then he stood there,
hand still attached to Michael, whom just helped catapult his ass up off
the floor.

"No problem," Michael replies, still smiling at the shaggy, dark-haired
dude.

Too, Jack wasn't in any hurry. And as his eyes dipped down to check out all
that red, woofie fur, "Are you like applying for a trainer's job?"

Rather than get into any messy questions and answers, but to also return to
the subject matter which brought Michael into his office in the first
place, Mark bluntly says, "Michael is applying for a job."

"Really?" Jack says, dismay shown on his face. On his own behalf he
inquires with suspicion, "How come last week when I asked, you said you
didn't have any openings?"

The heat was on, Mark standing there trying to figure out how to get
himself out of this situation.

Michael started putting his shirt on.

Jack watched, till the shirt enveloped up every bit of chest and stomach
hair and skin.

"Well I... um, ah..." And rather than make two unhappy teenagers, he gnaws
a little off the bottom line, "Actually," he perks up, "I happen to have
two openings at this very minute."

"Really? Cool!" Jack replies, turning to Michael and saying, "I mean cool
for both of us that is!"

"Yeah," Michael replies. It wasn't all Jack checking Michael out. For the
past few years of high school, Michael had secretly lusted over more than
one sport jock, but he knew he would never have a chance, even if he found
one which was gay, of 'doing stuff' with him. The way Mark's nephew's eyes
have been traveling up and down his frame, there was a good chance he was
gay. Too, he wasn't at all like himself, more the 'high school jock' he
always dreamed about calling his own.

And Michael didn't need to ask, Jack doing the bidding for both, "What's
our job?"

Then Mark smiled. This was going to be easy. After all, for the past couple
of years, almost every time he's handed Gregg his paycheck, he's gotten a
'song and dance act' about how he should be making twice as much pay for
all the cleaning up he has to do.

So, as Mark escorted the two out of the office, they were happy making some
loot for taking care keeping up the gym, making it shine like the White
House!

Two minutes after he sends them out, Gregg is knocking on the door,
announcing himself, allowing himself in and saying ecstatically, "I'm so
fuckin' happy I cold almost...."

"Suck me?" Mark finishes off the sentence.

Gregg stood there for a moment. Over the course of ten years he has wanted
to.... thrown sketchy hints, often used soft gestures, like a hand to
Mark's shoulder when discussing something, but thinking Mark has finally
come around, as he closes the door, Gregg says, "If you want, I'm willing!"
His pearly white teeth showed his glee.

"So what is it you wanted to see me about, Gregg?" Mark says as if nothing
just occured.

It sent all his theories to hell, figuring Mark was setting up some free
time for him for himself... if left him a little peeved. All psyched up,
Gregg replies, "I did come in here to thank you taking some of my duties
away from me, by hiring the kids, and..."

"And what Gregg?" Mark asks as he rifles through some papers on his desk.

Gregg stood there, a hand on his hip, figuring if he paused, it might set
his boss off in a different direction.

The bit of silence did act as a vehicle for Mark's attention, him saying,
"If it's something important Gregg, I've got like five seconds before my
meeting with the people from Powerfit?" Still nothing, Mark guesses, "If
it's about your salary, I'm not cutting it, so you can put that worry
away!"

He knew he could get fired for it, but a man could take only so much and
eleven years worth was more than any man, Gregg figured. Approaching Mark,
he forceably twirled him around in his swivel chair and plopped his ass
down across his legs, barreling him into the leather seat and kisses him!

Breaking off, Mark nonchalantly asks, "Was there a reason for that?"

Not meant as aggression, but more frustration, Gregg gives him a little
slap to the side of the face, springs up, saying, "You're pathetic!" He
storms out of there.

Sitting at his desk, hand feeling up the warm place to the side of his
face, looking at the slammed door, Mark says out loud, "He hit me!" After
the serious repose, a smile makes Mark's face glimmer.

Out at the desk, Michael and Jack were making small talk, when Gregg picks
up the blender and starts throwing stuff in it.

Knowing him better, what Michael thinks at least, he nudges Jack in the
ribs.

Taking the hint, Jack asks, "So what's up Gregg?"

"Not me," Gregg replies in an absurd tone, "because if I was I'd fuck your
uncle from here to China!"

The two eighteen year olds look at each other as the blender makes a loud
ruckus, churning up the ingredients.

First Jack turns to Michael and in a soft whisper, "I thought Gregg was a
bottom!"

Michael, not knowing either of the two, shrugs his shoulders.

When the blender is turned off, Jack asks, "Um, like you didn't get fired
did you, Gregg?"

"Fired?" Gregg slaps the counter hard. "I wouldn't give your uncle the
pleasure of firing me. I'd quit first!"

"You're not going to, are you?" Michael asks, tacking a little smile onto
his reponse.

"No," Gregg replies, "but I am going to take the rest of the day off." And
on the counter he piles a wad of keys and places a spiral bound book,
saying 'WEST' on the cover. "Here's the keys to lock up and the recipes for
making the protein shakes."

"What if Uncle Mark asks where you are?"

"Tell him I went home sick," Gregg says adamantly, grabbing his jacket and
headed out.

"Hey, he didn't drink his shake," Michael says.

"Oh! One more thing!" Gregg bursts in through the double doors. Rounding
the bar, he pours the blender into a tall plastic cup, sticks a straw in it
and leaves, this time with no goodbyes.

Jack asks, "I wonder what got him so pissed off?"

Two minutes later 'the devil' himself walks out to the bar, asking, "Gregg
around?"

Both at once answer, "He went home," Jack finishing out, "He's sick."

"I see." And wondering how the two perceived it, "What was wrong with him?
He wasn't like barfing up all over the place?"

"Uncle Mark?"

"Yeah, Jack?"

"That's like fuckin' gross!"

As if his own son, Mark points a finger, saying, "Don't you use that type
of language around here young man!"

Since Michael was his audience, Jack didn't want to cave in, but at the
same time respect his elders, choosing middle-of-the-road, "Yeah,
sure. Okay. No problem."

But neither of the boys said a thing when Jack's uncle, who is rifling
through some papers under the counter, "Now where the hell is that fuckin'
paper. I know Gregg said he put it under..." finding it, "Here it is!"

Before, Gregg had mentioned something about being truthful and since it
worked out pretty well in Mark's office, several factors working out to his
advantage, touching Mark's furry stomach, first time experience of having
some guy suck on his nip, but especially finding a job, he thought speaking
with honesty would help, "I think Gregg was pissed at something you
might've said, because right after he came out of your office he stormed
out of the place."

Jack stood there, tongue in cheek.

"What was that Michael?" Mark asks, taking a moment.

"Even thought Gregg said he was sick, he wasn't sick, like in barfing
sick."

"Oh really?" Mark stops and leans on the counter right in front of
Michael. "So you're playing doctor now? So what is your diagnosis?"

Since he had already dug himself into this ditch, Michael wasn't going to
leave himself there to be buried in top soil, saying, "In my own opinion I
think Gregg is 'love sick'!"

Jack stood there taking it all in.

"Is that so? Well, when I want your opinion I'll ask for it!" Mark grabs up
his junk and leaves.

"You asked," Michael replies as Mark rounds the counter.

Before Mark hits the door, he warns, "Then maybe you should mind your own
business!"

"Yeah," Jack says nastily, "mind your own business!" He instantly changes
to a smile.

Turning to the businees, a patron requests a shake, which was great for the
guys, setting themselves off for their first order of business.

After collaborating on the shake, they paired up to see if the patron
thought it up to par. A styrofoam cup on the counter was targeting by two
one-dollar bills.

After leaving, Jack discovers, "Hey, there's lots of loot in here," he
dumps it out and starts counting up the bills.

"What should we do with it?" Michael asks, with Gregg in mind.

"He left the counter in charge to us... this is is part of the
counter... it's ours!"

Michael laughs at the way Jack says it, agreeing.

He wasn't too prepared for the next question, Jack asking, "So what were
you and my uncle doing in there?"

"Where?"

Jack nods down the hallway.

"Oh, you mean his office."

As a reminder, Jack says, "You both had your shirts off and... I thought,
you both had your hands on each other?"

"Can I ask a question first?"

"Go for it," Jack replies.

"Are you gay?"

Answering a question with a question, Jack asks, "Why? You want to get it
on with me after work?"

All smiles, Michael replies, "I guess that answers my question!"

"Yeah, but now you have two questions to answer for me!"

Forgetting the 'uncle' question, Michael couldn't believe this relatively
slim guy was seeing something in him, looking beyond the chubby stomach and
pecs, "For real, you want to hang with me after work?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Because," Michael chose his words carefully, "I'm like chubby around the
middle?"

"Hey, can I tell you something and you won't think I'm weird?"

"Never," Michael replies.

"I'm gay, your gay and around school, there's like lots of gay dudes with
my build," Jack explains, "but because of peer pressure I had to be
cautious with even looking at a fat dude."

However, it went right over his head, the fact of Jack's infatuation with
the other fat dudes, Michael's attention on himself, in relation to where
Jack was going with all this, especially since his uncle had made such a
big deal about it, his reaction to all the 'red hair', when he unveiled his
front to the uncle and later Jack's by chance catching an eyeful, "So you
like chubby guys with red hair?"

Jack chuckled.

Michael wondered 'why'?

"According to Uncle Mark's circle of friends, you would be comparable to an
Incan 'god'!"

"Huh?"

He figured Michael wouldn't get it, because until he happened upon Uncle
Mark's get together of friends, he didn't believe it himself, "I kept
bugging Uncle Mark to let me go with him some night to the 'Cub Club'..."

"Cub Club?" Michael digs for info. "Like what's that about?"

"Sh-h-h a minute! I'd hear him talk about it here and there to guys around
the gym, saying stuff like, 'I'll see ya Saturday night' or some stuff
about the weekend at camp and then I finally got the lowdown, hanging out
in the lockerroom, or taking a crap in the stall and hearing all this stuff
about..."

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Cub Club?" Michael presses for info.

"Oh yeah, the Cub Club. I kinda got carried away, huh?"

But Michael couldn't be mad at Jack. He was as cute as a button and up
until he set foot into the gym, somebody who accepted him even though he
had a slightly rounded stomach and hefty pecs. But his curiosity would need
to be prolonged, the college swim team entering.

Some players headed to the lockerroom, a few hitting the machines and 'one'
sole member requesting, "Hi Jack. Hey, what are 'you' doing behind the
counter? What happened to Gregg?"

The way Michael's thinking went, he figures this swim-dude number one man
now for Jack's immediate attention being, he's older and like himself,
'red-haired'! What a surprise though, when he gets noticed, standing there
almost shoulder-to-shouder to Jack.

"Hey, who's this?"

Rather than single Michael out, Jack replies, "Michael and me will be
helping Gregg out around here." Then he keys Michael in, "This is Patrick
Gilhooly, almost the best swimmer on the college team."

"Almost?" Patrick jokes, holding a fist over his heart, "Now what hurt,
Jack!" He laughs.

Good thing Michael was behind the counter, because he was feeling more than
laughter, though he did lend towards making more laughs, the merrier!

Jack butts out, cleaning the blender, getting it ready for Patrick's
'usual', but keeping tabs on the conversation.

"I hope I'm not offering offense here, but it's not often a... um..."
Patrick tries working around the word 'chub', "we have big guy like
yourself around here?"

If Patrick only knew 'how big' Michael was feeling right how, feasting his
eyes on the shoulders, which true to Patrick's sport, was deemed 'swimmers
build' in his mind, but also the still wet head of red hair, which made it
darker. "I first was here to work out, then got this job."

Hyper, Patrick replies, "Oh man, that's so fantastically cool! Then maybe
we can work out together... if you want to?"

'Me work out with him?' Michael thought to himself. 'Why?' he wondered,
since there were quite a few able-bodied men available for the choosing.

Thinking Michael reluctant for a certain reason, Patrick says, "If it's
because I'm a college dude and you're in high school..."

Michael jumps in with, "I gratuated high school last June."

If you knew somebody who knew any of the college athletes, it was good to
know that guy and since it seemed Michael was hitting it off with Patrick,
Jack wanted Patrick to know he and Michael were good buds, so walks over,
puts his arm over Michael's shoulders and says, "Michael and I are going to
be starting Charter in a few weeks."

Smiling, Michael asks, "Yeah and do you know if the swim team needs a good
cannonballer?"

However, instead of going along with Michael's joke, Patrick reinforces his
offer, "I bet if you and me work out together, in no time you would be in
shape for the swimming team?"

Probably Jack was thinking the same thing, Patrick really pushing it.

Too, it went unsaid, yet Michael wasn't afraid to come out and ask a dude,
"You wouldn't happen to be gay, would you?" He looked down, seeing, right
after feeling, Jack's foot putting pressure on his toe. Immediately he
thinks he didn't do the right thing in the asking!

"You wanna hear something funny?"

Dreading it, Jack says, "You're not gay and..." and thinking Patrick is
ready to punch their lights out for accusing him, backs away from his
co-worker, "I really don't know Michael... we just met this afternoon
and..."

"What a fuckin' shame," Patrick says, leaning both elbows on the counter.

Seeing it coming any second, Jack grabs at some paper towels, all ready to
clean up the bloody aftermath.

Recollecting Marks words from before, Michael tells, "The management
doesn't look kindly on people using profanity, Patrick!"

"Oh really?"

'That's it!' Jack thought, the first punch coming.

"Well I suppose I'll need to really watch myself when I come in here from
now on."

Then, Michael and Jack really got a kick out of Patrick, when one of the
team members approach the protein bar, saying, "Hey Pat, what the hell'r ya
doing? We thought you were gonna..."

'Slap'! Tony felt the burning on his cheek, Patrick overpowering him with,
"What's the matter with you Tony, using foul language in an establishment
such as this?"

It was only a light slap, which left Tony's already tanned, Italian skin,
slightly flushed. None of the swim team cared much, knowing it was
Patrick's way to give a little slap here or there.

"But Pat... none of us gave a damn of how we talked before and..."

"Tony, let me give you a message and you can pass it along to the other
guys," he allowed Patrick to place his arm over his shoulders and like a
caring brother, he led Tony over to where the rest of the team worked out.

Michael and Jack followed out of sheer curiosity.

"Hey guys! Listen up!" Patrick shouted.

A couple of guys sported iPods, so wound up getting the buds ripped out of
their ears.

Before he spoke, Patrick saw the two counter-dudes standing there, so
partitions Michael off from Jack, saying, "Hey guys, Mark has a new manager
working here and there's a bunch of new rules to follow."

One swimmer says, "New rules? I'm not taking my cue from some little fat
punk!"

Over time, Patrick had become a sort of father figure for the team. After
all, he was the most muscular and any member knew not to go up against
him. But also, they were a fun-loving group and weren't reluctant to reject
another team member's opinion, in the name of fun.

Walking over to the swim-dude, Patrick asks, "How'd you like spend ten
minutes hanging by your balls from the lat bar, Frank?"

Unlike other times, instead of full of fun, it was said with such
seriousness, Frank's humor drained from his face as he retorts,
"No... no... I was kidding Pat!"

"Me too," Patricks says, with a forced smile.

Too, there was that gentle slap, to Frank's balls, Frank crying out like it
was a punch, "Ow.. ow..."

"Shut up Frank. You know I didn't do nothin'... except maybe turn you on?"

As the two watched, Michael was thinking he'd like to have Patrick touch
his balls, but in a way different manner!

Walking back to the protein bar, Michael informs, "Patrick, I'm not the
manager. Gregg still works here."

He giggles, saying, "Don't tell the guys. They'll never know the
difference. But hey, if any one of them give you a hard time, I want you to
come to me!"

"Okay," Michael agrees.

Then the two lingered there at the end of the counter, staring and smiling,
till they both said at the same time, "You have nice green..." and then one
after the other, "eyes... eyes..."

Michael then figured it a definite, Patrick liking guys, which brought him
to the question, "So you want to work out with me because you're gay?"

Patrick smiles.

Michael states, "You can tell me like it is."

Thinking it was good Jack was busy, Patrick quietly directs at Michael,
"I'd really like to see what that red moss covering your balls tastes
like?" A big grin follows.

"So," Michael doesn't change his reaction, "you want to workout with me so
you can get in my pants?"

"You tricked me!"

"Trick you Patrick? I didn't trick you," Michael pleads. "How did I trick
you?"

"Well, you give me this big speech about telling you like it is, but when I
tell you like it is, you put on this big huffy attitude and right away
think that because I asked you to work out me, I want to plug your fuckin'
ass or something?"

"You just cursed," Michael reminds.

"Yeah and I'll do it again to get it through your head I'm not into doing
any of the stuff you think and in fact, if anybody is going to be doing the
ass-plowin' it's not me!"

With no sweat, Michael replies, "Well that's good, because if it came to
you doing me, I would have to put a stop to us starting any kind of
relationship, because I'm not into taking it up the ass."

Patrick smirked, thinking Michael a no-nonsense guy, telling it like it is,
like he told it like it is right this minute.  Calmed, Patrick says, "Well
that would suit me just fine and I like what you said."

Michael says, "Oh, so you're okay with what I said about taking it up the
ass?"

"And, about starting a relationship?"

For a minute, Michael had to refocus on the words which just spouted out of
his mouth. Realizing he did mention the courtship status, "If you want to
date or something."

"How about we talk about it tonight?"

"Um, okay, but we can't go to my place. I live with my aunt and uncle and
my uncle is not too good with me being gay."

Joking, Patrick says, "Maybe we should bring him down to the gym, tie his
balls to the lat bar and let him watch the swim team make out!" He laughs.

Knowing Patrick was joking, Michael smiles, saying, "That just might do
it!" But now that Patrick mentioned it, Michael inquires, "Is every guy on
the swim team gay?"

"Most, but some of the straight guys are coming around!"

"Really?" Michael asks with sincerity.

"Not really, but they don't mind getting a blowjob now and then. Straight
guys like oral."

It was on Michael's mind and since he wasn't reluctant to ask, "Do they
like... fuck any other guys?"

Patrick jokes, "Ooh-h-h you just cursed!"

%

Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee

`i Was a Teenaged CuB' 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.....