Mack

by

PapaWereBear and UrsusMajr

(This is a work of fiction, depicting sex between consenting adult males. If such offends you or is illegal for you to read where you live, or you are under the age of eighteen, please leave now. No actual persons or events are depicted. Safe sexual practices are not used, but remember, this is fiction; in real life, get tested and play safe. We hope you enjoy the story. We can be contacted at PapaWereBear69@yahoo.com and UrsusMajr@makaw.net )

Chapter 1

"I can't believe you're a fag!"

The words echoed in Mack's head. His father sounded hurt and angry and confused and disappointed all at the same time.

"I'm bi, dad, but I like guys better than girls." Mack said as if the explanation would make sense to his fifty-year-old father.

"Bi? Bi!? Is that supposed to make a difference to me? Make me feel better? It still means you're takin' it up the ass or sucking cock, right? And what about AIDS?" Scott O'Brien's voice rose. "What about Amy? You two have been going out since your freshman year in high school."

"Dad! I can't help how I am. Yeah, I like Amy and we've made out and I liked that and Amy doesn't have any hang ups about me likin' guys, she even thinks it's kinda cool. I like girls, but.." Mack seemed to run out of words.

His dad rolled his eyes and continued.

"But you'd rather get fucked by some flaming queer? I just don't understand you, son, you like football and hockey, you love trucks and I've seen the way you look at Cheryl Dunning. I always thought you were a man! You look and act like a man, not some limp-wristed queen." Scott said, that confused-disappointed sound still strong in his father's voice. "Does your mother know?"

"I am a man, dad, and I like men who look and act like men, not queens." That last part slipped out, it was something Mack hadn't wanted to say because Scott was the quintessential man's man; a masculine, meat and potatoes, truck drivin', construction man with a full beard, a hairy chest and back, lots of muscle, and tats on his arms. He was the man Mack had measured every other man against since the age of five.

Scott O'Brien's eyes widened as he realized something for the first time.

"So that's why you liked football and poker nights with me and my buddies! Here I thought my son was interested in man stuff and you were just gettin' off lookin' at my buddies." Scott said and there was something new in his father's tone of voice and Mack knew exactly what that new element was -- disgust. "That's what's with the goatee too, isn't it?" Scott snorted and turned away. "I gotta get outta here before I say something I don't want to say." Scott said and grabbed his coat. "If your mother asks, I'm at Barney's, I need a beer or two to forget about this for awhile." With that his father left the house for the bar.

Mack stood, dumbfounded; he went to his bedroom and, though he hadn't done it for years, he cried. He cried because the man he'd always loved had shoved a sword through his heart.

That was a month ago and Mack, sitting on the bus now three days into his five day journey, still remembered it as if it had happened yesterday. He wondered if he would remember it as vividly twenty years from now. He thought he would; he thought he'd never be able to forget.

He remembered how Officer Ryan brought his dad home that night because he'd met him outside the bar and talked him out of driving home dead drunk. He remembered his mom pouring his dad into bed and listening though the wall as his dad talked to his mom about him and how he was gay. Mack's mom, of course, knew; and had for a couple of years. Mothers are sometimes much more perceptive than fathers; and fathers sometimes are blind because they want or need to be.

If only he'd heard his dad pull up in his truck or heard him come in the back door but he was too engrossed in the conversation he and Amy were having. If only he'd shut his door and his dad wouldn't have overheard him talking to Amy on the phone about being gay, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't be on his way to live with Uncle Russ out in California. Of course his dad would send him out to Uncle Russ; Uncle Russ was a sissy by dad's definition.

He really had expected something like this to have happened earlier, in his senior year when he'd been caught hacking into the school's computer system. The school had called the police, and the police had brought him home. At the hearing, the judge had suggested probation since he hadn't actually caused any damage or changed any records. The school had accepted that, but it came with a string... no computer access during probation. Period. He had only done it to prove how piss-poor the school's firewalls were; but his parents had gone ballistic, especially his dad. It was his dad who had threatened sending him west the next time he'd gotten into trouble with the police, for hacking into the oil company's billing computer last winter. That time, he'd only wanted to reduce his family's heating bill so his mom wouldn't be so worried that they wouldn't be able to make it on his dad's reduced pay. His dad had threatened, "I swear to God, if you cause us any more trouble with the police, I WILL send you to live with your faggot uncle." It would be the ultimate punishment, in his father's eyes.

Mack remembered Uncle Russ differently. He remembered a strong masculine man not too different from his own father, except perhaps bigger, hairier, quieter and of course, gay. Uncle Russ' beard was longer, bushier and darker brown-red than his dad's lighter, auburn one. That same color was only slightly lighter on his chest and back and there was plenty of it too. Mack was fascinated by it and played with what poked out of his Uncle's shirt and his beard when he was much younger and Uncle Russ would hold him in his lap. Mack had really liked the feel of it.

Mack remembered going down to the pond for a swim with his Uncle. When Uncle Russ asked, guessing the boy's secret, Mack admitted that he liked men; that big hairy men made him feel funny inside. He remembered admitting to his Uncle, with embarrassment, that yes, he had been admiring his Uncle's hairy shirtless chest and back. Yes, he liked the look and feel of his Uncles full bushy beard and yes, he had been looking at the impressive bulge in his Uncle's swim trunks. He remembered pleading with Uncle Russ not to tell anyone and his big burly Uncle took him into a gentle bare-chested bear hug that left Mack as hard as a rock. He briefly played with his Uncle's chest fur as he had done when he was a child. Uncle Russ assured him that his secret was safe and that if there ever came a time he needed to, he promised Mack could come out to California and live with him, if he liked.

Well, now was the time to collect on that promise. Mack had nowhere else to go on short notice. His dad hadn't exactly kicked him out of the house, he'd just told him that he needed to get his own place in a couple of weeks; now that he was almost twenty-two and a 'man' and all. That had been said with a sneer. Mack had been saving a lot on rent by staying with his parents and to his credit it went directly into a savings account with only some of it going for food, truck payments and the occasional splurge. His dad rarely spoke to him, and avoided being in the same room with him. His relationship with him had cooled and was rigidly formal now; and Mack hated that. They'd been so close, going to football games, working on cars together, going fishing and now that wonderful closeness was gone. His father seemed to take some sort of perverse pleasure by lavishing that extra attention on his younger brother Billy who his father loudly proclaimed was 100% red-blooded male and would do him proud.

Mack remembered how he'd left the only home he'd ever known three days ago. His dad had softened ever so slightly at the last and saw his eldest son off at the bus terminal with an extra $2,000 that Mack's mom had insisted on.

He warned Mack not to flash his money and Mack took that as a somewhat hopeful sign, too. Mack had to sell his truck since there was no way he'd trust it on such a long journey with its mileage and its quirks. His personal belongings had been shipped out to Uncle Russ as freight, but even at freight rates it cost him a small fortune. His mom gave him a paid long distance phone card and made Mack promise to call every Sunday.

"Son," Scott said looking deep into his eyes, "I don't understand you and I don't agree with your… lifestyle… if that's what you call it; but I don't wish you anything but goodness in your life."

"I know that was hard for you, Dad." Mack paused, then said " I love you Dad." Mack hugged his father, and when the hug wasn't returned, they parted. Mack got on the bus and his parents looked on. His mother waved, his father just looked as the bus left.

Mack sat toward the back of the mostly empty bus. He covered his head with his jacket and tried to sleep but failed. 'Time to grow up, I guess,' he thought to himself. 'I'm on my own now. I always wondered what it would be like. Guess I'll find out. Maybe Uncle Russ will have a computer I can work on.' Eventually he dozed off.