Date: Mon, 27 Oct 2008 16:54:21 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: ?Nature Takes Its Course? 10 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, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, 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. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection. % "Nature Takes Its Course" 10 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % Before the days activities got going, a free time slot between breakfast and the ten o'clock psych workshop, kept Denis on his usual morning activity of wandering the grounds, taking in everything around him. It wasn't always like this. Not before Tony Gagliardi began arriving frequently to visit him. This particular morning the sun was shining down between the trees casting long thin shadows on the cedar pathways. One of means by which the Pacific Northwest Experience facility dictated a national park look, more paths and less roadbed, it led Denis from building to building, through lush forest or fields of flowers and lichen, a blueprint of pathways encompassing the modern complex of buildings, to where the psych class was held. With his stomach full, the first big meal he managed to eat since arriving here, Denis approached his destination. Leading up to one side of the glass and wooden structure, grass met a small patio. He tried the door. Locked. Putting his hand up to a window, cutting out the forest silhoutted as a mirror, he peered inside. Same time he softly said to himself, "Anybody here?" He supposed not since there wasn't any sign of life moving about inside. Shooting the time he walked around the other side of the building. Looking down the twelve or thirteen shale steps, he saw a kid sitting there. Naked from the waist up, he was bent over. Denis could see he wasn't with it, arms cradling, his head atop his knees, seemingly shutting out the environs around. "Aren't you cold with nothing on?" Denis asked, concerned he might catch something from the early morning chill. He received no response. Trying again he stated, "I've got a tee shirt on and `I'm' almost chilly." With still no word, he tried for the third time, "Hey, are you okay?" Just then one of the counselors, Mitch Rodriquez, shows up. "You're not going to get anything out of him." "Oh, hi Mitch. Why not?" As he keyed the door, Mitch informs Denis, "Jared hasn't said one word to anybody since his mother dropped him off yesterday." "I thought so. I didn't think I saw him.... Jared around here before today," Denis replied, his attention still towards the smooth shoulders, lines forming shoulderblades and the crease down the center, a seemingly perfect specimen of a male back. "Would you want to take care of arranging the chairs, Denis?" Switching the lights on, Mitch added, "last night's group left, leaving this place looking like a tornado whipped through it!" "Be right there," Denis said. Turning towards the sliding door Mitch just opening, he turned back towards the descending stone stairway. "You coming, Jared?" Even though he didn't know this guy, looking to be as old as himself, he felt bad because he wasn't saying anything, not making a move or even twitching, not acknowledging. Inside, he turned to ask, "Don't you think Jason is going to catch a cold out there, Mitch?" "You know where the blankets are. Damned if he would take one from me!" "How come?" Denis asked, arranging his fifth chair in a circle from the ones scattered about. "Remember your first day when you came to group?" Denis smiled. "Yeah." "What'd you think of me, seeing this six foot-four inch tall guy, built like a football player?" At first Denis was reluctant to be honest. Then thinking back to day til now he saw him in a different light, that of a big brother. "Kind of scared. I mean when we go swimming you do look like a great big bear!" "Honest," Mitch replied. It made him smile, thinking of thick black hair coursing over his pecs, a dark trail embedded in fur as it traveled down to his navel, board shorts glued to his rather built lower abs. On the other hand, Denis wasn't thinking much different, only it was after Mitch surfaced from the lake and hauled himself up to the raft in the middle where Denis had been lounging out in the sun. Only difference, Mitch's body fur was wet. "I can't go into detail. Patient privacy you know. In Jared's world, think of everybody looking like me." It got Denis to thinking. He knew when he arrived he didn't want everybody knowing every little stitch of detail about himself. "But I'm not hairy all over like you." It was the wrong choice of words, learned too late. "I mean I'm six feet tall, but not as tall as you." Mitch thought he had a `secret admirer' from a few days ago when Denis and he lay out in the sun, talking about anything that popped into Denis' mind. Being thirty-two years old he didn't exactly fit into the category as `father', more an older brother. Even though it's an all-male camp setting, he didn't rightly know who was who as far as straight or gay. Knowing the reason why Denis was incarcerated here, he already know of Denis' preferences. He had been putting off mentioning it, waiting for Denis to reveal his nature first, typical thing Mitch did, but there was always an exception to `his' rules. Sometimes dealing with this age group he was blunt in his words, so he chose, "Like bears do you?" Feeling he wasn't quite ready Denis replied, "Not really. I heard they can attack and kill you just for looking at them. I think deer are more gentle." "That so?" Mitch replied, knowing Denis pulled a fast one on him. Seeing the chairs all arranged, he reminded him, "Blankets are in the closet?" "I know." Realizing he cut Mitch off in a curt manner, he said, "I mean I think I know." Mitch set about whistling an old John Denver song, `Sunshine on my Shoulders', as Denis opened the sliding cedar door, stole a blanket and headed for the great outdoors. % "Bummer! Just my luck!" Lying against the wall, his legs over Kirk's, Jason asks, "What's up?" He inverts his book, allowing it to flop on his stomach. "Remember how you and I were going to hop in your car and take a crosscountry road trip?" "Yeah?" "Forget about it!" Kirk tosses the sheet of paper, a letter from his folks, in Jason's direction. "Oh man. This sucks!" Jason responds, reading about Kirk's father getting laid off. "More than sucks. You know what this means for next fall?" "Don't you have enough set aside for the fall semester?" "Yeah, but what about the next semester, dah?" He was quick to plop his pillow down over his face, not wanting to deal with the world right now. Looking at his roommate, clad only in his lowrise briefs, visible from the neck down, a nice sight of hair and flesh, Jason only thought of the pillow cutting off air. Closing his book and tossing it aside he turned so he was face down, slapping his bod up against his roommate. "Oomphff!" Kirk cried out, removing the pillow. "It worked." "You know what this means?" "You're going to break down and let me lend you the money?" Jason sought the easy way out. "We've been over this before, Jase. Just because your family has more money than they know what to do with... I told you. I'm not into taking advantage of people and would you stop licking my stomach?" "But I like licking your hairy belly!" Kirk responds, "I'm not in the mood, okay?" "Guess not," Jason said, placing one hand over the other, on top of Kirk, his chin affixed like a bust on a pedestal, looking at him. "So what are you going to do?" "What else can I do? Get a job." "Doing like what?" Kirk says, "Whatever brings in the bucks." "Maybe you could help the Army Corp. They're still digging up on the ridge?" Jason tries. "Nah. I think you have to be certified or something, even for digging ditches." "By now all the good jobs are taken." "Doesn't matter," Kirk says, getting up. Rolling over onto the bed, Jason asks, "Where are you going?" "To look for a job," he says, fitting his legs into his jeans. "Better wear a nice shirt and a tie," Jason gives hint. "No office job is going to pay the kind of money I need." "Just the same, wear a shirt and tie. Nobody's going to hire a slob, you know?" After dropping the tee shirt over his stomach, Kirk grabs it at the bottom and rips it up and over his head. "Got one?" "You're lucky. I ironed a couple yesterday." "I can't believe you don't wear tee shirts to classes," Kirk says, always throwing his roommate a hint to get with it. "I like the preppy look," Jason replies, picking out a white shirt and striped blue tie. Clothing his bod with the shirt, Jason is at work feeding the tie through the collar. "I can't believe you don't know how to tie a tie." Kirk tells, "I never had the opportunity to wear one." As Kirk looks down at the hands busily putting together the final touches to his formal look, Jason stares at Kirk. "You have such nice hair." Looking up, Kirk asks, "Huh?" Making observation, Jason says, "You know the hair on your chest and stomach are redder than your head of hair?" "I guess the reason you like to tongue my chest and stomach more than my head?" Joking, Jason responds, "Ewe! I'd rather lick your pits than your head!" "Could feel interesting," Kirk ventures to say. "There," Jason said about the tie, thinking about how it could turn him on too. "Now if you'll just wait for me." "Wait? For what, Jase? I can drive myself." "There you go. Thinking about yourself again, Kirk." "Okay. You can drive me." It wasn't strange, Jason putting on a formal shirt, buttoning it down his bod. It was rare to see Jason without his signature shirt, sometimes a tie, depending on who the professor of what class he was attending. "What do you need a tie for? You're the driver, remember?" Kirk asked when Jason chose a deep purple tie with pinstripes. "I know. Unlike you I don't need a reason to dress up." "Right," Kirk replied, rolling his eyes. % Whenever someone entered Sal Barberio's hardware store, a little bell tinkled. Such was the case when the bell-like tone rang. "You want to get that Trevor!" came ringing out, Sal on knees adjusting a shelf, unable to manage it. By the time Trevor reached the door, he found no one. "It's bent," Sal heard over his shoulder. Little did he know of the guy standing behind him, eyeing up his hairy asscrack, a result of his pants stretched to far over his bear-butt! "I beg your pardon?" Sal asked, a bit perturbed yet nice enough, his thoughts being this was a customer. "Reason the shelf isn't going into place is the metal bracket is bent." "He's right," came the voice from standing next to the guy. Trevor gets a talking to, "Then why don't you go ahead and fix it Mr. Smarty!" Sal stands back and watches his nineteen year old employee try to rectify things, to no avail. The young guy observing Trevor, states, "You need a hammer. Gotta whack the hell out of that sucker or it'll never fit in the slot." Watching, Sal knew that the case. Looking over the guy who shot his mouth off, he was thinking more about the `sucker' part. He was wondering what the blond guy was packing, wondering if it was worth sucking! He woke out of his reverie, looking up from blondie's crotch to Trevor, gone. "Where'd Trevor..." "He went to get a hammer. Say, you got any jobs available?" Being the dude had sort of long hair, over his ears and scraggily, a beard looking to be about ten days old, clothes wrinkled, dirty sneakers, Sal wondered as he took inventory. He had one thing in his favor, in Sal's eyes, he was so damn cute! "Got it!" Trevor announced, a hammer in his hand. He gave the end three little taps. "That's not going to do anything. Move outta my way." So, there Sal and Trevor stood as the hammer was grabbed out of hand. The store rang with an awful clamoring, metal to metal as the hammer taught the shelf how to bend back into mint condition. "What's all the racket?" Bernardo called out, showing up in the gardening aisle. "Mr. Know-it-all is fixing the shelf," Sal replied to his partner. Trevor stood there, a smile on his face as Bernardo asks, "Did I miss something or does `he' work here?" As the shelf falls into place, straight with the one next to it, Trevor advises, "He's looking for a job. I'd say hire him." Sal switches to hassling Trevor, "Payroll done yet?" "Almost." It was the cue for Trevor to vacate the scene. "So? Do I have a job?" "So? Does he have a job?" Bernardo quizzes Sal too. "What is this? A conspiracy?" He then digs into the guy's business, "Where you from?" "Here." Giggling, mainly at his partner, so businesslike, Bernardo freely offers his hand, "Bernardo Gonzales.. and you are?" Tossing the hammer from right to left hand, he offers back, "Chris Gates. I just fixed your shelf here so it works. I can pretty much fix anything." "Can you haul manure?" Sal tries a deterrent. "I can do almost anything for a buck," Chris replies. "Hmm," Sal says, his left hand under his right elbow, right hand strumming his beard. "That means your hired," Bernardo is brave to say. "C'mon. I'll get the paperwork for you to fill out." "Wait a minute there a moment," Sal replies. Bernardo, standing about as tall as Sal, same appearance, beard and all, concludes, "He fixed your shelf. Least you can do is hire him!" Sal thought the same, but wanted to put Chris to the test. He knew whenever unloading bags of manure some would break open! "We need that pallet of manure removed from the loading dock like yesterday?" "No sweat," Chris automatically says. "Which way?" Sal and Bernardo exchange glances, Bernardo shaking his head, but then again following Chris down the aisle he directs him to the loading dock, both bears following. "That's it? It'll be a piece of cake," Chris replies to the pallet of bags piled up to his pecs. "We'll be back in an hour," Sal says to Chris, leading Bernardo away. "Don't tell Sal I'm helping you," the voice came from the other side of the store, Trevor dragging a metal cart behind him. "I can do this by myself. No sense you getting into any trouble, thanks," Chris replied. But Trevor went over and took one off the top, struggling with the bag. Chris went to help, take it from him and naturally it busted open. "Sorry," Chris said. Fortunately for Trevor, the bag tore open towards Chris. "You sorry? Look at you? You're shirt is like..." Before Trevor could say what he meant, Chris had his tee shirt up and over his head. Without further ado, he was putting his all and all in, heaving the plastic sacks off the pallet and onto the metal cart. "Um, don't they have pallet jacks?" Chris asks, nonstop in his rotating the stock from pallet to cart. "What? And make life easy around here?" Trevor replies as he rolls another flat cart up to the other. As Chris works on, Trevor stands there, already part of Chris' request as so not to get dirty, plus assurance he could whittle the pallet down in no time. He can't help but notice the arms Chris has, muscular as well as the rest of his bod. "You work out?" Trevor asks as Chris bends down to lift another bag. It breaks, black fertilizer spilling all over Chris' smooth bod. "Sorry." "Not your fault. So," he digresses, "what're they doing?" "What are who doing?" "Your bosses?" Before Trevor can answer, Chris says, "The one, he sure is grumpy. The other guy, Bernardo is real nice. He the owner?" "They both own. Well I don't think Bernardo owns as much of the business as Sal, but...." He was ready to say it, but didn't want to elaborate on the their personal lives. But Chris was right on the money in more ways than one, asking Trevor, "What about you? You have some nice guy to shack up with?" Depositing the last bag on the cart, Chris sweated like a hog and resembled one, digging in the dirt. Same time, he waited for Trevor's reaction. Smiling, Chris thought he let Trevor go on long enough. Instead of letting Trevor deny it, he was quick to defend his opinion, "I saw you checking me out the whole time I was unloading the pallet." Same time as he talked, he walked, gaining ground on Trevor, standing there still in shock, saying, "I dunno... I..." Inches from Trevor, Chris states, "My body turns you on, doesn't it?" After gulping, the twenty year old says, "You do look muscular." Before anymore time passed, Chris had Trevor up against the loading dock wall, his perspired, dirt-laden chest and stomach pushing Trevor's bod to the wall, lips causing Trevor to forget where he was and for what purpose of being there. As Chris backed up he had a smile on his face, a reaction to Trevor still standing there, sighing as if he just enjoyed having a cold glass of ice tea. Eyes shut, Trevor babbled on, "Felt.. nice." "Well you better pull yourself together. Here comes the bears!" Snapping out of it real quick, Trevor smiled, straightening his tie. "I thought you were doing payroll?" Sal posed to Trevor. "I was... am... I..." Of course it was obvious, the stains on Trevor's shirt, more than payroll was being accomplished. "What's this?" Sal asks, knowing Trevor helped Chris out, the stains on his tie held in Sal's hand. "What's the big deal?" Chris spoke out. "Isn't that what team work is about? People helping people. Damn, if that's not what you do around here then I don't think I'm interested in the position you're offering me." "Me offer you?" Sal said, hands on his hips, standing there in his own store, aghast at what Chris was pulling on him. Up until now, Bernardo stood there quietly. He always thought it comical, Sal getting high blood pressure over something meaningless. However when he saw Chris pick up his tee shirt, shake it out, he exercised his fifty percent share in the business, a tingling sensation down below, as his mind played games, visioning himself in bed with the lad. "You're hired!" Picture Sal, hands on hips, the look of unbelief on his face as he turns to his other half and utters, "Hired?" "I think he proved he can pull his weight," Bernardo says in Chris' defense. Feeding his head into the tee shirt, arms stretching it out over his chest, Chris overlooks their lover's spat, "When do I start?" Bernardo replies, "Trevor, you want to show Chris to the shower?" "You have a shower here? Awesome!" Chris responded. As the two started to leave, Bernardo says, "You better get yourself cleaned up too, Trev." He added a wink. Left alone, Sal complains, "You did it to me again, Bernardo!" He knew how to melt the icy waters, calm the raging sea, make wrongs right, so butting his beefy belly up to Sal's, Bernardo shuts his mouth, cupping his over his partner's, tasting his wiry stache as his tongue slips in. Like a game the two go at it, Sal pushing away. Holding on, Bernardo's hands grab hold of Sal's butt and lures him in for some hot body rubbing, as if a bear rubbing his belly on a tree. Another ploy of resistance, Sal's hands rub Bernardo's shirt until he finds both nips. Parting chests, Bernardo's head drops back as his nips are pulverized, but his hands hold their grip. Both soon forget about why they even got started, Bernardo stabbing Sal with his hard cock through his pants. "Dammit!" Bernardo curses as the door alarm tinkles. He says to Sal as he releases chunks of butt, "I'll get even with you later!" At least they parted, an understanding neither was angry at the other and with something to look forwards to, not that their bed-life was anything less than spectacular every night! % "Next time I fly out, I'm driving to a major city before boarding a plane," Eric Danziger complained as they entered the hotel room, flopping down on the bed on his back. "There's only two beds?" Richard notices, even though they are doubles. Coherent enough, Eric responds, "Take your pick, Richard. Alac and I will manage with the other one." Shocked, Richard asks, "That alright with you Alac?" More than alright, Richard is doubly astounded when Alac Davalos lies down next to Eric on the bed. "I didn't know you two were...." "Yeah. Ain't it a kicker, Richard?" Eric says. Still not sure, Richard asks Alac, "And you?" Alac makes up, "Eric defended me in court. It came out well. I can't repay him with money, so..." Smirking, Richard says, "I'll take this one," as he tosses his suitcase on the other bed. "Anybody hungry?" Eric calls out. "C'mon," he directs to Alac, using Alac's knee to upright himself. In an instant, Eric whips his tie out of his collar, the other hand unbuttoning his shirt. "It'll be so good to get out of these stuffy clothes." Unpacking, Richard does steal a glimpse of Eric undressing, darting to Alac as he's peeling his light sweater off over his head, his bushy navel trail highlighting his lower stomach. "Nice, huh?" Eric says to Richard, his thumb pointed at Alac. "This is a bad idea," Richard puts down the idea. "I think it's better I have my own room." "Nonsense," Eric tells him. "We're three adults. I think we can get along. Right Alac?" "Right," Alac agrees, even though he's got a slight hardon, not assuring himself it's Eric who's doing it to him! "Besides," Eric tells him, "you said you're strapped for cash?" "Uh yeah," Richard replies, one little detail he's forgotten. He resorts to, "Looks like I haven't got much choice." Outspoken this time, vying for dominance over the conversation, Alac tells with a twist of his French accent, "Richard, you make it sound like `we' are the bad guys! We are your friends, no?" His laptop strapped over a shoulder, Richard returns it to the bed. Walking over to where Alac and Eric are standing, he chooses to affectionately ask for forgiveness, locking Alac in his arms. "Sorry guys." Setting a comical pace, showing his apology accepted, Eric states, "What am I...chopped liver?" Alac and Richard divide themselves, separating halfway at their shoulders facing Eric. Alac puts it, "What do they say? There is always room for one more?" "You're catching on quick to the American way!" Eric says. Perceiving the open arms as a welcoming gesture, Eric takes advantage of the impending three-way hug. % `Ting-a-ling!' chimed the three hanging tubes, as the door to Barberio's hardware opened and closed. "Eric? Chris?" rang out as Sal neatly placed the last package of roses on the bottom shelf, a project ready to be erased from the day's slate. "Hello?" Kirk Donegal called out, followed by Jason asking, "Anybody here?" Hearing the voices coming from about three aisles over, Sal nearly damned his bear-lover to hell, shouting out in addition to his two store employees, "Bernardo?" He forgot his anxiety over having to get up off of one knee and address his customers, knowing Bernardo was probably out back, Chris in the shower, Trevor given permission, not by him, to run the sweat off his bod as well. The two found Sal, rather than the other way around. Kirk's the first to speak up, "Hi. Are you the manager? We're looking for jobs and..." Before Kirk could say anything, Jason smiles and says, "Hi Mr. Barberio. I know we're kind of late about looking for summer employment, but my friend and I were wondering if you have any positions open?" "You're the Dalbec boy, aren't you?" "That's right," Jason replies with a smile, hoping Sal makes the connection, the ton of lumber his father ordered through the store to build their mansion in West Hills. Slightly backfiring, Sal asks the nicely dudded up eighteen year old, "Does your father know you're out looking for a job?" The manner in which it was communicated made it plain Sal questioned the validity of Jason's pursuing employment, knowing his father cleared at least a seven digit salary every year. Not too happy with the insinuation, Kirk, the alpha male of the college roomies, steps between the two, pardoning himself with the back of his hand to Jason's stomach, "You know it's not cool to fit people into a stereotyped mold?" For the second time today, Sal was getting backhanded with a borage of words by a second teen. Worst scenario, Bernardo happens to suddenly be standing right behind him. "What's up?" he hears, almost in his ear. Kirk speaks, "We're here to apply for jobs if you have any, but..." Sal just knew where this was headed. First, it would be Kirk blowing the whistle on his slight form of `bigotry', then the lash of Bernardo across his shoulders. Instead, he rose to the occasion, "Just what we need!" To inform the two college dudes, plus set Bernardo straight on his idea, he says, "Two applicants for the landscaping business!" "Jobs? Yeah! Alright," Jason replies. "Way-to-go bro!" he congratulates Kirk, lending an arm-to-shoulder gesture, where normally he'd fully embrace and show a more affectionate response for his gratitude. "When do we start?" Kirk questions, looking at Bernardo and Sal, waiting for a directive. Having grown up in the area, moving to town when their mansion was complete four years ago, Jason already knew the status of Sal's sexuality so didn't give it a thought to ask, "Are you guys friends or more?" Showing a sense of new wonder, Kirk looks for an answer, his attention divided between Sal and Bernardo. With his attention geared towards Kirk, Bernardo, the more muscular of the two bears asks, "How about you two?" In a friendly battle of words Kirk adds a smile after coming back with, "I asked you first!" Sal and Jason were just as stunned as Kirk, when Bernardo stepped aside his bear-lover and embraced Kirk. "Welcome to the Barberio crew!" As Bernardo showed them the way out back, he could plainly hear the conversation going on four feet behind his back. A few words, meant for select ears, he could hear Jason say in a low-toned voice, "You could have him up for sexual harrassment for actions like that, you know?" "I know," Kirk responded, but with a softer response, "but how much hotter can it get being hugged by a beefy, sweaty hunk like Bernardo?" "Hunk?" Jason stops, hands on his hips as he watches his Irish-American roommate proceeding, eyes affixed on Bernardo. With question in his mind, Jason is perplexed. Like a sudden revelation he wonders what Bernardo has that he hasn't got, question of why Kirk prefers a beefy bear to his lithe bod! % Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author. OTHER STORIEs BY TCMcP: OLuFsEN & SONs nifty/gay/adult-youth/olufsen-and-sons FOR SALE BY OWNER nifty/gay/highschool/for-sale-by-owner FOR THE LOVE OF MICHAEL gay/highschool/for-the-love-of-michael/ STRIPEs gay/adult-youth/stripes/ OLD-FASHIONED GOOD WILL gay/beginnings/old-fashioned-good-will/ TIDELIGHT ZONE nifty/gay/adult-friends/tidelight-zone/