Date: Wed, 2 Nov 2005 04:24:38 -0500
From: JamieHaze <horti123@cfl.rr.com>
Subject: SOMERSET FARM Chapter 54

			       SOMERSET FARM


Chapter 54

By

Jamie Haze


The whole gang flew to Trenton Hall Friday evening after classes and was
at the helipad Saturday morning to greet Coach Spiros and his dozen
Spartans when they arrived. Buck welcomed the Coach and his club while
they gawked at their surroundings, not knowing where to look first. The
monstrous house, Trenton Hall, Billy's chopper sharing the pad with
Trenton's, the extensive garden, the huge building next to them that was
the helicopter hanger and garage or the horde of naked guys that greeted
them. Nudity soon won the roving eye contest easily.

Doug shook Mark's hand with a grin. "These guys are supposed to be
Spartans, so that's how we dressed, so they'd be comfortable. We'd
have worn shorts if we'd known," he challenged in a low voice so he
wouldn't be heard in the hubbub of voices as the boys greeted or
introduced themselves.

Little Ben, who stood at Mark's side, was the first to take the hint by
dropping his gym bag and peeling out of his shirt and shorts, "Spartans
strip!" he ordered in a commanding voice. As the coach's assistant and
chief cum pumper, he was obeyed as if it was the coach himself who had
issued the order.

"Come on guys, we'll jog to the pool," Buck called. When he saw
stretched necks looking around for the pool, he added over his shoulder,
"It's a half mile away down this road." Doug, Mark and Ben fell in at
Buck's side.

"Who are these other guys?" Mark asked, "I don't remember seeing some
of them around the campus." He thought to himself as he glanced at six
sleek bodies jogging together, "And I definitely would have
remembered."

"There are about twenty swimmers and divers who live in the residence
now, these guys think like we do so we invited them to the party. The
others don't, but they ignore us since they came in knowing everything
up front." Buck responded. "Oh, just so you know in advance, there
won't be any more parties like this. I organized this one so your guys
can learn that we're regular guys just like them, only we all admit to
being who we are. I'm trying to keep peace on campus, I guess."

Mark nodded his understanding, "I agree, no more Homo Hall."

Doug laughed. "Oh, Homo Hall is okay. We kind of like the name now since
everyone calls it that, but we don't like being called fags or queers
even respectfully. If you could end that, we'd appreciate it. If you
can't, then we'll have conversations, twenty to one with a few of your
stars and I guarantee those guys will miss a few games this year." Mark
nodded his agreement, pleased with the warning up front.

"Residence?" Ben asked to change the course and tone of the
conversation.

"Dad added fifty apartments to the pool because Doug needed some serious
competition. Doug's father coaches some of them and some arrived with
their own." Buck glanced back, "Like Little Pettie, he goes to Oaks and
the guy beside him was his high school coach. They had a thing going at
home and Pettie wasn't about to move here without him so Bill hired
Scott to be his assistant. The others, like Harmon, Spencer's brother,
are in college on the Internet."

Mark and Ben looked back at the blond six foot five inch teenager who had
the widest shoulders that Mark or Ben had ever seen and the rest of his
heroic body matched, right down to prominent manhood. "Little Pettie?"
Ben asked with a squeak of wonder in his voice. "I HAVE seen him and I
wondered," he added wistfully.

Doug laughed and slapped Ben on the back, "Forget it, they haven't
messed with anyone else yet. Since they got here and don't have to sneak
around, they're kind of on their honeymoon. Little Pettie was his
nickname in high school and it stuck. With those shoulders and long arms,
no one can touch him in the butterfly, not even close. With his help, we
have a good shot at the state preppy circuit." he explained.

Mark looked back and frowned. "Hey, where's JC and John Boy?" he asked
with disappointment in his voice.

Buck didn't blink at the question. "Over at the house. They have some
business to do before they join us." Buck and Doug hoped the
`business' would end successfully because they'd started a campaign to
be allowed to join Evan on Sea Song to take a cruise during Thanksgiving
holiday. The planned itinerary included a daylong stop at JC's cliff top
villa in Venezuela, but very few of the gang and none of their guards
knew the real reason for the stop and wouldn't until they were asked to
help load JC's ten billion dollar cash money inheritance into Sea Song.

When someone asked about the building they were running past, Buck
detoured into the open entrance so the Spartans could ogle the Vet and
Harley collections lined up on the carpeted area but a few got stopped at
the `Mean Green Grading Machine', the giant Caterpillar loader,
Bucky's toy, where a pin stripe artist had been busy eliminating
scratches with an air brush and was then busy renewing the gold pin
striping. "Dad always got off on heavy equipment," Buck shrugged, "and
he helps out the construction crews when he has time," he grinned at the
artist, "but he likes all of his rides to look showroom new."

"Construction crews?" Mark asked.

"Yup, Dad started driving one of Doug's fathers' machines first when
they were building the pool, then he started cutting trails around the
property that we use for the time being to race our Hummer's. Bill
Henderson suggested it would be neat to build a college on some of our
land. Dad liked the idea and expanded it to a University with a prep
school attached. Come on, we'll show you, everything's happening on the
property beyond the pool." When Buck, Doug and the rest of the gang
resumed the run, they acted like magnets drawing the Spartans along with
them.

The gates separating the residence from the pool opened as they
approached, which reminded Mark that there were no accompanying
bodyguards, particularly Noah. Mark was interested in seeing `more' of
Noah, such an innocent looking young teenager who wasn't, yet so
potentially deadly. Noah's self defense classes were the most popular of
all sports offered in the athletic department.

"No bodyguards today?" Mark asked.

"When everyone's here they're off duty. Nothing larger than a Raccoon
can get on this property without someone knowing about it, but they'll
be around later. We asked Noah to put on a hand-to-hand demonstration,
and he, David and Vincent took weapons out to the firing range if anyone
wants to squeeze off a few," Buck advised, as the pool building loomed
ever larger. To say that the Spartans and the coach were so far impressed
with the Trenton estate was something of an understatement.

Buck and Doug stopped everyone before they entered the pool lobby.
"Here's the deal," Doug began and pointed to an open tent, "that's
where the food is on weekends since everyone loves barbeque, steaks and
whatever from the grill, whenever you get hungry, except tomorrow at
breakfast, that will be served in the dining room. The guys doing the
cooking are from the residence kitchen so they're used to nudity but not
at seeing anything else. We've opened the doors of vacant apartments in
the residence to use; ah..." he grinned and paused for effect, "even
sleeping eventually. We only have a small workout room here, but if you
really want to workout you can use a Hummer or one of those little four
by four Gator trucks to go over to Wilcott's field house. There are also
four Jet Skis on the beach in front of the house. If you want to do some
shooting, same thing, you'll have to drive. We put little maps in the
rolling stock so you won't get lost." He looked down at Buck, "Did I
forget anything?"

"Just that if you go over to Wilcott's in a Gator do not try going
through the middle of the mud pit, it's too deep, stay on the edges."
Buck grinned, "Oh, the Wilcott's and Doug's parents went with mine so
anything goes over there in the field house or down at the lake." Marc
Wilcott nodded his agreement and raised his camera to photograph the few
individual Spartans he wished to know better over the weekend.

Scott, Bill's assistant, piped up, "Mid morning practice is also
canceled," he announced and then stopped Doug and Buck's cheers with a
grin, "but we'll double up late afternoon's session so some of you
better save some energy."

"Can we just explore, like look around?" Phillip asked, he eyed a Gator
wistfully, just like anyone too young to drive. Doug agreed with a nod
and Andrew was ready to race Phillip to a driver's seat.

"Can we go with you?" Sean asked as he casually ran his hand down
Phillip's flank while Medi gave Andrew the same treatment so there would
be no misunderstandings. The older boys both grinned down on their
potential morning fun eagerly plus they wanted to distance themselves
from the `straight' Spartans so they could be themselves.

Buck answered, "Sure, you can even race them if you want to, we do." By
the time he finished his sentence he was talking to four bare backs and
butts.

The pool building, the Henderson Aquatic Center, by then was almost
surrounded by a dozen large building foundations that were separated by
at least two hundred yards to save the maximum number of trees. The
Spartans also gawked at the temporary stadium light fixtures mounted on
tall wood poles so the work could proceed twenty-four/ seven and studied
the even taller gantry cranes that surrounded each future university
building. Further away, a beautiful clear span bridge to nowhere as yet,
except trees, crossed a filling lake. Those were Doug's ideas that he'd
sketched in on the original site plan and his father happily engineered.
The closest buildings under construction were Evan's contribution,
designed by Bill Henderson, the Anton Falconburg Science and Technology
Center, along with a ten-story dormitory/apartment building growing from
a peninsula into the lake.

"Stay out of the construction areas unless you put on those hard hats!"
Doug called after them as the two older boys sat behind the steering
wheels of two Gators trying to figure out how to get them started. "Turn
the key and tromp the gas!" he added. Two engines roared to life
instantly and they disappeared down a rough track in the nearby trees
toward the firing range without knowing or caring where they were going.



A half mile away, at the range, David was blissfully asleep while
`connected' to Noah under him and Vincent slept at their side oblivious
to the fact that he all but suffocated the willing body under his. A
fifth body, a Japanese stroked Vince's back while lying at his side. The
small body under Vincent was the other's brother; they were Medi's new
bodyguards. David and Vincent were sleeping while mounted because Noah,
at their request, put them under. He and David discovered that if he put
David to sleep, that David stayed hard as he slept and of course Vincent
wanted to try it as well.

David and Noah became lovers and in love without realizing it at first.
They were roommates, had sex regularly, always enjoyed each other's body
and company and gradually David became the top to Noah's willing bottom
unless David became insistent. Noah began putting David to sleep because
he wanted to keep David on and in his diminutive body as long as
possible. Another fortunate side effect was that when sleeping, David
didn't `wilt', and whenever Noah woke David or he awoke on his own, he
eagerly resumed thrusting as if he hadn't come earlier.

That Saturday morning Noah woke David with a groan, "Hey babes, I hear
someone coming balls out so we better start looking more professional."

David, always modest, pulled away from Noah hurriedly and began looking
for his clothes to hide his erection, until it dawned on him that he
didn't have any clothes because they were on the estate. "Damn!" was
his response to Noah's giggles while he continued to lie on the blanket
they'd brought along.  When he looked down on his diminutive lover he
grinned and shrugged, Noah only looked like a growing thirteen-year-old
when he was dressed, but nude, his magnificent chiseled body told the
true tale and David's panic driven wilting reversed course as he stared
lovingly, just like always.

Vincent slept on even though the boy at his side began poking him in the
side, harder and harder, trying to wake him. The Gators burst into the
clearing together with all four boys in them claiming that they won until
they saw David standing by the blanket, that Noah remained stretched out
on it while Vincent remained asleep, until Noah rubbed the back of his
neck.

"What the fuck's all the racket?" Vincent asked the trees and began
thrusting his hips gently while holding his body up on his elbows. He
looked down on the boy under him, "You alright Sam?"

"Yes sir," the boy, Sam, answered in perfect English with a British
accent. "Medi is here with Sean and two friends."

Vincent glanced back briefly and winked at Medi and Sean, "Medi is like
the plague, he's everywhere. If you want to get a full night's sleep,
lock your door. Lay down here Medi, I'm not used to seeing you standing
up," he joked. Medi accepted the invitation in a flash.

Introductions were perfunctory with Medi doing the honors from his back
in between Noah, and with Sam still anchored under Vincent while he waved
Phillip down and Sean was pulling on Andrew's arm while playfully
pushing Noah out of the way.

"Sam and Jack?" Phillip asked the Japanese boys, "If you're Japanese
how'd you get those names?"

"We were born and raised in Bachal, Prince Medi's country, so we have
dual citizenship. Our parents are traditional Japanese but of course no
one at the International School we attended there could pronounce our
names."

"Including me," Medi added, "until they taught me their language! That
is another language class I shall ace," he giggled.

"You see there are no other Japanese families living there and English
is the primary language at school, so we adapted when we were quite small
and picked English names." Sam explained as Vincent abandoned him and
nudged Jack to replace him. Vincent remained enthralled with the Japanese
brothers and was from the moment he met them. Both were petite, lithe yet
hard of body and so enthusiastic. From the brother's point of view, they
in turn were intrigued with the beefy, hairy American giant and the
potential of his vast limp circumcised manhood.

Sam and Jack had been circumcised at birth as well since their father had
no wish to give offence to the family's Muslim hosts and employer when
the boys were old enough to engage in sports and the incumbent locker
room nudity. He wanted his children to fit in as much as possible
ignoring the fact that they were the only Japanese family in the country
and their peers naturally interested in knowing if Sam and Jack were as
`normal' `down there' as other nationalities.

"Well if you don't mind my asking, how did you two brothers get
together, and then become Medi's bodyguards?" Andrew pressed, studying
the bodies of two superb rather petite athletes.

Jack shrugged, "Our father is our clan leader, a Samurai. He taught us
the martial arts and other things." He reached under a pair of discarded
shorts that he wore to the range, and withdrew it holding a throwing
knife. He casually flung it over sixty feet at a shooting target, the
knife quivered in the target's heart. Only Sam and Medi failed to blink
in astonishment.

Jack continued, "Our family is ancient and still very traditional, our
father taught us his skills with much practice. Our father is also an
accomplished computer programmer and designed Bachal's national system
and now maintains it, so here we are, held in the highest esteem by the
Emir who sought us out personally from our dojo. Sam and I got together
as you say, because we weren't allowed to socialize unless chaperoned
and just touching another, except in physical combat practice was out of
the question. Sam satisfied my needs at first and a year later we began
satisfying each other's. Our father knows of this arrangement and thinks
of it as an interlude since our marriages have been arranged, almost from
birth and are inevitable."

"Don't you want to shoot?" David asked playfully.

Medi giggled and opened his legs, "Phillip and Andrew are about to." He
suddenly looked inspired, "I know, you two can mount them, we'll have a
smashing three-way, and oh yes, consider yourself challenged on the
pistol range too," he added.

"Medi," David scolded, "these guys are guests. Maybe they don't want
to."

"Oh yes, we do." Phillip half whispered as Medi pulled him in. "We're
gay and the Spartans aren't very original so we haven't tried anything
like this before with anyone." He looked hopefully up at Noah and
pointedly opened his legs so Noah could kneel between them.

No one got up to shoot anything inanimate for over two hours, but they
all considered their first `shoot' to be fantastic.



Once on the pool deck the Spartans stared openly at more eye candy, the
straight resident swimmers and divers.

Mark and the rest of the Spartans acted like kids in a candy store once
they discovered the closest vacant apartments. There was a slight
difference in what went on behind closed doors. Mark, Ben and the other
two gay Spartans separated themselves from Kevin, Steven and the others.
The gay boys were interested in experimenting with variations and
fulfilling fantasies. While the others considered themselves there for
the weekend to be `packed' and the whole gang conspired to oblige them.

Scott and Little Pettie whispered together for a few seconds while the
group dispersed into the residence. Pettie nodded and Doug felt long
delicate yet strong fingers on his shoulder. He turned to find Pettie
smiling down on him. "Scott and I heard some of what you said about
being on our honeymoon, and we were, now we're wondering if you and Buck
would like to work out with us the first time? We have been a mite
standoffish, but we've been here long enough, that the honeymoon is
over. It's kind of time we started meeting, ah, other couples socially,
ah, that is if you want to."

Doug grinned his astonishment and Buck laughed his gravelly laugh. "So
much for being hosts. Your place or ours?" Doug quipped his question,
looked at Buck and added quickly, "I call firsties with you big guy, you
pick position."

Buck frowned at Doug and Pettie's retreating backs until Scott
approached shyly. Buck's expression changed to a leering grin. "Top or
bottom?" he asked.

Scott blushed furiously and nodded toward his giant young lover, "He's
so big and beautiful, what do you think?"

"Me too with Doug. Okay, pick a number from one to ten."

Scott laughed, "I'm going to lose, right?"

"Yup. I want to look up at you, that is if you don't mind." Scott's
whole body turned red as he whispered something, for Buck's ear only.
Buck's eyes widened, "You can't be."

"Oh yes I am, Pettie was my first ever and I still don't know how that
happened except it was mutual. Since then I kind of pulled rank on him, I
am his coach remember."

"Has he asked?" Buck asked in wonder as they rushed to catch up to
their lovers.

"Once at first. I told him that he needed the exercise not me, actually
I was afraid I might hurt him, he's just a big lovable kid after all. He
hasn't mentioned it since, now I'd like to try it just once before, ah,
anyone else, but I'm too chicken to ask."

"Well, we'll just see about that!" Buck declared and began jogging.
"Hey Doug wait up, we have a problem Houston, or Scott and Pettie do.
You are no longer first...and they are going back into their honeymoon
mode playing some roll reversal. We are not socializing with a couple who
is still half virgin."

Pettie looked at Scott's embarrassed expression, grinned and pulled
Scott close by collaring his neck with a long arm. "You duffus," he
whispered, "I've wanted you since day one. I've been feeling like I'm
only half fulfilled." Scott explained his reasoning, which he realized
was dumb and playfully warned about name-calling. Pettie giggled, "I'm
sorry I got it wrong, you're a dumb coach duffus." The couple walked
into the elevator in a new revised world of their own, forgetting that
Buck and Doug were there and left them standing in the first floor hall.

By noon, stomachs were rumbling and all the boys; their guards and guests
were temporarily satiated and gravitated to the food tent with the
straight swimmers and divers living in the residence. The lunch buffet
was more like a major banquet as usual, since everyone living there
always ate whatever the individual felt was best for his training diet.

After lunch and with Noah, David, Vincent and the boys returned from the
range, it was unanimously decided that Noah's marshal arts demonstration
would take place in Wilcott's field house. Medi and Sean raced each
other to claim two Gator driver's seats with Andrew and Phillip
reclaiming `their' two machines and then waited impatiently while the
others attempted to pack themselves into the Hummers; Buck and Doug's,
Evan's or Billy's (The guard contingent knowingly chose Billy's or one
of their Suburbans.). The overflow, all gang members, claimed shotgun
seats or climbed into the small truck beds of the four Gators. Doug rode
shotgun with Medi while Pettie and Scott fitted themselves into the back
still wearing pleased grins that seemed impossible to erase and with
their eyes on each other constantly. Billy loved his big truck, third
only to Evan and his helicopter and refused to play gate chicken, so he
hung back while Buck and Evan drove to the parking lot entrance, stopped
abreast and waited for Billy to sound his horn.

David and Noah joined Billy in the front seat of his Hummer. Both wore
shit eating grins for some reason. "What?" Billy asked suspiciously.
The guards were usually frantic to stop gate chicken races because of the
obvious danger.

Without answering directly, David found his tiny radio in his black nylon
carryall that all the guards carried and kept near them constantly. He
slipped on his ear bud. "We're ready control. The last race is about to
begin. When they're 50 yards from the gates cut their remotes and open
them." He instructed and nodded when he received a response.

Billy grinned, "It's about time," he stated accusingly, "even though
when I'm riding with Evan when we play I get a hardon, eventually
someone was going to get hurt."

"You know it," David agreed, "lightening reflexes or not, the desire
to win was making them foolish. From now on control will operate these
gates just like the others. There will still be a race though. Whoever is
on the right has the advantage of turning into the trail to Wilcott's
first, but then that's been widened so they can pass each other if the
leader makes a mistake. Okay Billy, get them started," he instructed
when he heard impatient shouts and saw middle digits being waved from the
two Hummer's although none of the Spartans knew exactly why they were
giving the gang's guards the finger.

A blast from Billy's air horn shattered the relative quiet and the race
began. In the distance, the massive gates began their waving synchronized
dance as the guest button pushers practiced with hurried instructions
from Evan and Buck. The gates continued to wave mindlessly until the
Hummers were fifty yards away and still dead even, bumper-to-bumper.
Suddenly both valves swung open fully and stayed open. Evan and Buck
accelerated, proud of their guest operators, Ben for Evan and Mark for
Buck. The big diesel engines roared and the match ended as a tie for the
first time. Evan had the advantage of being on the right but slowed as
they always did usually so the winners could deride the losers as
chickens, only for the first time there was no loser. Evan's mouth
dropped open in surprise and then disgust as Buck sped past him with much
finger waving and shouts of laughter at Evan's gullibility or just from
habit. Even the four overloaded Gators passed him before he got over his
shock in realizing that the race was still in progress and that he was
last.

Once on the trail, the Gators wisely yielded the right-of-way after Evan
almost touched the tailgate with the jutting wench of the one that Medi
drove. Although it may have been that Doug, riding shotgun had screamed
something about eminent emasculation to the fearless little driver, which
had some influence on the decision. Buck kept Evan's Hummer behind him
by weaving back and forth until they approached the mud pit because
crossing it was the real race. Whoever piloted their vehicle across and
climbed the opposite bank first was the winner since from there on the
trail was too narrow to pass.

The four Gators began racing each other after Evan left them behind. Medi
quickly took the lead by forcing or almost forcing the other three little
four by fours into bordering trees with Doug's enthusiastic
encouragement while Doug, Little Pettie and his coach and lover Scott,
held on to each other and the little truck for dear life. The other
drivers, Sean, Andrew and Phillip had no wish to wreck their rides,
possible injuries to themselves or their passengers aside, while Medi
considered the Gator he drove with abandon and the others as being
replaceable with a simple phone call.

When Medi got to the mud pit, originally a swampy area but by then
churned into a quagmire, the Hummers had almost reached the opposite
side. Medi accelerated and followed their path of roiled water. Doug
looked up too late. The other three Gators followed like army ants. Medi
almost reached the center before the Gator began to dig into the soft mud
looking for purchase. They slowed to a halt and began to sink. Doug stood
up on the seat next to Medi, quickly stepped into the higher truck bed
and pulled Pettie and Scott to their feet, laughing his ass off. Medi
floored the accelerator until the engine coughed and died. Silence
descended on the pit except for back slapping laughter from the gang
riding in the mini trucks and the others who had debarked on the dry
shore to point. The luckless four drivers all remained sitting behind
their steering wheels with only their heads above the muck and water with
Medi and Sean stretching their necks to manage that until they collected
their wits and stood on the seats with their bodies dripping an
interesting shade of reddish-brown.

Buck suddenly stopped his laughter and cupped his hands, "Mom's going
to kill us Douggie!" he shouted, "Remember who we borrowed those
machines from?"

Doug stopped his laughter as well when the importance of the question
sank in. He first cuffed Medi on the back of his head. "If we die, you
go first Medi, you little motherfucker. We borrowed these from the
gardeners and Buck's mom is their boss. She even works with them and
drives one of these when she does. If these aren't clean and running by
Monday morning, Buck and I are dead meat, and if we are, bet your ass
that you're going home in a box," he declared, half seriously.

Medi rubbed his head, "What could the illustrious lady do to you two?"
he asked cautiously. "Besides, I shall simply call Mr. John Deere. Do
you know if he lives locally?"

Doug ignored Medi's question about where John Deere lived, "Well,
we're already grounded here until Christmas, but we were trying to
wheedle out of working out through Thanksgiving break. She could ensure
that wouldn't happen. Shit, she could even cancel Christmas at Dagger
Key, all because you didn't listen!" Doug pointed to a narrow track
that disappeared into the mud close to the trail the guards used to
follow the boys. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DRIVE THROUGH OVER THERE!" he
added and swung at Medi's head again.

Medi ducked, lost his footing on the slick vinyl seat and fell backward
into the water and muck. Doug followed Medi with a cannonball and
suddenly a mud fight and wrestling match began with more muted splashes
as everyone else riding in the sunken Gators joined them in the gravy and
gumbo. The guys, mostly Spartans followed Buck and Evan into the quagmire
to join in the fun while Marc, who remained on shore, switched cameras to
begin documenting the occasion and the consequences of sinking the little
utility trucks was temporarily forgotten.

Billy was following the Gators and stopped on the shore behind them.
David shook his head in wonder, "Would you just look at them? Surrounded
by millions in facilities and toys and they're as happy as hogs in a
wallow of free mud."

Billy shifted to reverse quickly when he saw four mud covered apparitions
wading toward them. "Well, I'm not playing," he declared. "If I get
covered in mud, I'll have to hike back or over to Wilcott's to clean up
in order to come back to drive this out of here and that ain't gonna
happen."

"Good point," Noah agreed, "let's just drive around the edge. We'll
even help them out by driving their trucks to Wilcott's for them."

In the end, they only had one Hummer to drive after Marc saw two guys
coming toward him and his vulnerable cameras. "Oh no you don't!" Marc
shouted with a laugh as he climbed into the driver's seat of Evan's
rumbling truck and sped for home.



"Shit! Shit! Shit! The last and most important swine, Jorge, escaped me
or them!" JC pointed to a blinking light on Buck's big screen. He and
John Boy had been closeted in the apartment living room since four
o'clock in the morning watching the planned elimination of the four
remaining cartel members using snoopy. There were four blinking lights
that emanated from a dozen transponders JC's teams wore but the
individuals on each team were too close together so the signals were
merged.

"Did I do something wrong?" John Boy asked meekly with a hint of a
stutter sure that he did.

JC hugged his young lover close after snapping his cellphone closed, "No
my love, it was my fault. Jorge flew his family out early as to be
expected of course, I threatened their existence in my anger but would
never harm family unlike that filth. He has a villa in Cuba, which means
he enjoys that country's protection. His plane returned and was
instantly readied for another flight; I thought Jorge would use it to
seek his own safety. He knew in his heart that I would attempt this
revenge after the payment. The plan was to catch him as he left his
fortress for the airport but as my men waited and watched, he departed by
sea. One of the remaining guards was my man. The swine had a large ocean
equipped Cigarette boat in the bay below the castle that I was unaware
of. I should have thought to anticipate an alternative route."

JC made yet another call on his cellphone. He talked at length to an
obvious friend since there was much laughter although John Boy didn't
speak Spanish. After, JC looked at John Boy with a smile, "I apologize
for my rudeness in speaking Spanish." John Boy shrugged his make believe
indifference. JC continued, "The gentleman knows no English. He was my
father's good right hand in all things and my father's only friend. He
has retired to a villa in Spain, but left behind his two sons to serve me
as he so ably served my father." JC nodded toward the screen. He
explained that the sons were to have taken out Jorge with hand held
rockets just outside the castle as the giant bloated slug climbed into
one of the three identical vehicle's all with deeply tinted glass for
the trip to the airport. JC shrugged. "Now that the business at hand is
concluded for the present, and because the young men have been dedicated
to my service by their father, they will arrive here in a day or two to
begin that service. I must get them enrolled here, I know only that they
are intelligent and well trained for adventures such as this but nothing
else. I have never met them as they were as deeply sequestered as I was
and bringing us together before today would have been entirely too
temping, the family rule not withstanding. I only hope they are not louts
to become embarrassments wherever we travel but I could not refuse their
father the honor he bestows on me."

John Boy pulled back snoopy's view to begin quartering the sea between
Colombia and Cuba and found the escape boat fifty miles off Barranquilla,
the undeclared Colombian drug capital. The sleek racing boat was
approaching a hundred foot motor yacht at full speed. "Is that him?" he
asked needlessly. He'd already zoomed down so they could see a large
body occupying most of the aft settee.

"Yes, and that is his yacht which I also stupidly ignored. There should
have been explosives in that long since." JC brightened suddenly, "By
now Jorge has been contacted by the surviving staff of the others and is
delighted to learn that he has no other partners and is the sole owner of
a vast enterprise. Is the e-mail ready? The drug enforcement people must
move quickly or they will find only empty shacks."

"Yup, they'll trace it back to a `puter in an empty apartment in
Berlin, thanks to Evan." John Boy giggled, "Just say the word."

"Send it please."

"That was three words, but no matter." John Boy's fingers danced over
the keys initiating a lengthy e-mail that would arrive at the DEA
Washington, D.C. offices, complete with finite map coordinates for the
speedy location of all the cartel's known drug lab locations.

"There is one thing left to do," JC said as he dialed another number
and after connecting, he punched in a six-digit extension number and the
line went dead two seconds later.

John Boy knew without being told that there had just been a horrendous
explosion in Baranquilla's industrial area. "Were any of our people in
there?" he asked hesitantly.

JC grinned hugely for two reasons; John Boy's use the word `our' and
his concern for the well being of `their' employees. He hugged John Boy
close, "No my love. Everyone had been dismissed the first day of the
take over, even the technologists, the chemists and engineers, as I knew
they would with no thought of replacements beyond trusted peons from
remote sites. I believe they thought that they could just operate the
process by pushing a button. Not a gram of powder has been produced
since. All of our people have been well compensated and can retire if
they wish or seek legitimate employment in another country."

John Boy's stomach rumbled as Chad and Rick appeared from the hallway
leading to the bedrooms. They were holding hands and wore stupid grins.
"Hey guys!" Chad greeted JC and John Boy. "We slept in today all by
our lonesomes. It occurred to us that we haven't been alone in a bed
since we got here an' we sure needed to. What are you guys up to?"

"Unfinished business which is now concluded," JC answered. "Poor John
Boy is starving to death. Are you going to lunch?"

"Yep. Man can't live on love alone!" Rick pontificated, "Want a ride
to the pool? That's where the food is. We got us a car we drove over in
case some of the yahoos needed to get off the property."

"Excellent," JC pulled John Boy to his feet. "This estate is too large
but it certainly is comfortable and safe."

"Are guys still gunnin' for your ass, JC?" Rick asked after Chad raced
him to the driver's seat and JC invited him to ride with he and Jon Boy
in the back of the stretched Mercedes limo.

JC nodded, "There's just one left now and he is on his way to Cuba to
lick his wounds and rethink his business position, which, although he
doesn't know it, he hasn't a business anymore."

Just then there was the sound of a muffled cellphone playing a tune.
JC's eyes widened as he watched Rick dig into a black bag that all
guards carried when they weren't wearing clothes. "You are bodyguards
now?" he asked the Texans.

While Rick answered the call Chad looked up into the rear view mirror,
"Sort of, I'm gettin' good workin' with Noah and Rick's even better
after workin' with ole Dave on the range." He giggled, "We're kind of
a team if there's a problem. If he misses, it's my turn to move in and
take the bad guy out hand to hand."

"Who?" Rick asked the caller before looking at John Boy. "Is your last
name Carter?" After John Boy nodded cautiously, Rick announced some bad
news, "Your daddy's out at the gate. He says he's come to take you
home."

John Boy's face developed a pallor, "How, how'd he find me?" he
mumbled, drew his feet up on the seat and hugged his legs trying to
disappear in the corner.

JC thought quickly and looked almost as pale. "Because I am most stupid.
When we registered you at Oaks we used your real name and address, and
gave them the name of your former school. They must have requested
transcripts, for which your father would have had to sign a release
before they could be sent. It is the only way. I should have asked for
advice." JC's face hardened suddenly, "Can the gentleman be allowed in
and entertained until we decide a course of action?"

Rick nodded after relaying the question to the control room. "The boys
will park his ass in the big drawing room an' he ain't leavin' there
until you say so."

By then Chad had guided the big car into the pool's parking area only to
find it and the tent where the buffet waited almost deserted. Rick
snapped his phone closed. "The gang's gone over to Wilcott's. We best
scamper over there for a powwow big time," he suggested as Chad spun the
limo around to aim it at the drive to the public road.

They found Buck, Doug, David, Evan, the twins, Marc, Hans and Herman and
Vincent waiting for them outside the Wilcott fieldhouse. They already
knew the problem and had discussed possible solutions, up to and
including the ultimate by impetuous Marc; "Off the motherfucker," he
suggested and held up an imaginary rifle aimed at a tree trunk. His index
finger moved back and his body jerked with the imagined recoil.
Fortunately cooler heads prevailed.

"I agree," JC nodded, "the man is a thief so he can be bought off, but
I will not do the buying. That would not be proper. I would appear to be
buying a slave in his eyes. I think John should buy his freedom before
witnesses. His father must not know of any relationships."

Marc butted into the conversation, "And I've got the best witness right
here." He held up a small video camera. "Here's what we should do..."



An hour later, Malcolm Carter had just finished the best luncheon he'd
ever had in his life. He sat at the foot of the fully extended table that
could seat twenty-four, facing the closed double doors that led to the
hall where two dour young men dressed in suits stood at parade rest with
their eyes fixed on points over Malcolm's head. Officially the men were
`escorts', there, he was told by the butler, so he wouldn't get lost
as he wandered the first floor rooms, waiting for his son. He'd also
been told that John was out and about with his friends and there was some
difficulty finding him since the vast estate boasted thousands of acres
and toys included off road vehicles.

Malcolm still hadn't been told his host's name. All he was given at the
prep school was an address where John was staying for the weekend and
that reluctantly only after he'd proved to the school's satisfaction
that he was indeed John's father after identifying himself and producing
the boy's birth certificate.

After two scotches in the drawing room, wine with his lunch and then
appreciating the heady aroma of a fifty-year-old brandy and finishing
half the over large snifter Malcolm was pleasantly buzzed. His
congregation didn't know he drank -- for medicinal purposes only, of
course -- and this was one of those times. His son, the queer little
bastard had run away, stole thousands of dollars and permanently disabled
the church's computer. John would pay for his sins once he was locked in
the church's special school for `wandering' boys.

Malcolm wasn't aware that his escorts both wore ear buds and was
surprised when they turned together, opened both doors and stepped back
to allow a small parade of boys, young men and hard-eyed adult men entry
to align themselves shoulder to shoulder along the side of the table.
Everyone was dressed in suits, crisp starched white shirts and ties. Buck
was first in line and was closest to the Pastor intentionally.

Buck introduced himself formally; "Good afternoon Pastor, my name is
Buckminster Trenton the Fourth," he graciously offered his hand with his
best actor's toothy smile, "welcome to my home."

Before Malcolm could recover from his surprise or respond; movement at
the doorway diverted his attention. His son John had arrived followed by
another taller boy who carried a bulky nylon bag. The second boy was
obviously a servant since he was a spic. Manual labor or Malcolm guessed,
after intensive house breaking and training they could be made into
servants since such menial jobs were all fucking wetbacks were good for.
JC placed the bag on the floor and then held the chair at the head of the
table for John to take the seat. The spic bowed to John and stepped to
John's side ready to be of further service at his master's whim.
Malcolm was so fascinated with his surroundings and his son's air of
superiority and confidence he didn't notice Marc disappear from the far
end of the line to stand behind Herman and Hans or see the video camera
lens that appeared resting on Herman's shoulder

John Boy looked down at the bag and nodded. The spic quickly bent,
unzipped the bag. John held out his hand and the spic retrieved a
shrink-wrapped block of something and offered it to his master. John only
nodded and pointed at his father. The spic delivered the block with
alacrity and placed it on the table near Malcolm's hand. Malcolm eyes
fixed on the hundred-dollar bill that he could make out through the
stretched layers of plastic.

"That is the eighty thousand dollars I took from you that you stole from
the congregation," John Boy said with ice in his changing voice. "Plus
twenty thousand for the sin of being gay and for the sin of stealing,"
he added. "Next, I wish to purchase my freedom from you as my parent."

Vincent had been standing next to Buck. He broke from the line,
unbuttoned his coat, took out papers, hastily downloaded, and a fountain
pen and placed them near the brick of cash. Unplanned, he leaned forward
so his jacket fell open exposing his vest of holstered weapons. "You'll
never leave here walking, motherfucker, until you sign these papers!" he
hissed in the Pastor's ear.

"Name your price," John demanded and nodded to JC who began to carry
individual bricks along the table to place them by the first.

After the tenth, Vincent stopped JC, "That's enough." He grinned at
Malcolm, "Now I'm gonna reverse this parade. For each thirty seconds
you delay in signing, you lose a hundred grand." He looked at his watch
with his other hand on the last brick in the line. Malcolm pulled the
documents forward and began to read the first page hurriedly until
Vincent tossed the first brick to JC who barely caught it in surprise.
"Now you're down to nine hundred, Reverend asshole. You just keep
readin', take you're sweet time, but when you run outta money, then you
an' me are headin' to the basement where we'll be closer to the Devil
himself and then you'll beg me to let you sign."

When Vincent picked up the second brick ready to toss it to JC, Malcolm
all but screamed, "WAIT! I'll sign; these are just custody papers after
all." He looked up at John after he scrawled his signature. "If you
want to remain queer, stay here with your friends and be queer. Just
never return home begging me to take you back." Malcolm warned as
Vincent grabbed him at the back of the neck and hauled him to his feet.

John Boy grinned, "I think I'll be able to resist that temptation. Good
day Malcolm." John Boy stood and started to leave the room until he saw
Vincent begin stacking the bundles of currency in his ex-father's hands.
When they finished, Malcolm held the top most one in place with his chin.
Vincent took his arm in a painful grip and pulled him from the room,
occasionally jerking his arm so he was in constant danger of losing his
balance and dropping his payment after warning that whatever was dropped
stayed behind. There was no thought of providing a bag to carry the money
conveniently.



When Vincent returned to the dining room, it was to a party atmosphere,
only Vincent was clearly unhappy. "You know we fucked up, or I did. I
should've got the address of that school so we could put their silly
asses out of business."

John Boy was in the middle of the huddle that was watching Marc's tape
on the camera's tiny screen. "No problem Vincent, I know where it is.
The church's headquarters, the seminary and the special school for
queers are combined on the same property. They bought a big old estate
right on Lake Michigan somewhere north of Chicago."

Vincent grinned as Noah joined him, "I'll be John Boy and you be some
thug the Rev hired to deliver his son."

"THUG!" Vincent roared with laughter. "I'll just have you know I'm a
Deacon. In fact I'm Pastor Carter's right hand man whenever some
discrete muscle is needed and this is one of those times." Vincent
looked hopeful, "Do you think that story will wash?"

Noah backed out of Vincent's reach. "Yeah, as long as you don't talk
too long and can keep from swearing."

Vincent nodded happily and wagged a come hither finger at Eric, "You
need to earn your bones boy. You'll be unexpected," Vincent thought a
moment and snapped his fingers, "I know, the Rev caught you and John Boy
goin' at it in the chapel during Sunday school."

"I go where Eric goes," Jefferson declared.

"Bones?" Eric asked Jeff dubiously as the spontaneous planning session
continued around them.

Jeff nodded, "Earning your bones would be some kind of wet work, like I
earned mine by pushing a button that put Grape and his momma out of
business, remember?"

"Remember? How could I forget, asshole, you almost killed us too with
parts of the house raining all around us. At least you and Vincent were
in the van. I was hiding under a fucking Hibiscus bush."

Jeff giggled, "Man you sure hold a grudge a long time. I didn't know
you were there and I said I was sorry a dozen times."

"Transport?" Vincent asked the room.

Evan waved before Buck, "Mine can be ready in a half hour. After, fly
the `students' down to Dagger. They can hide out there while they
decide what they want to do with the rest of their lives." He pulled
Hans and Herman aside. "Go with them and if the head of this fucking
school and any of the instructors are anything like my stepfather and his
friends, take them to Dagger too and then take them out on Sea Song for
another fishing trip." Hans and Herman blinked when they looked into
Evan's eyes as his anger rose. They were startled to see that his
expression was exactly like their former master's, Anton, Evan's
adoptive grandfather, which told them that whoever ran the school was
going fishing no matter what. Evan had another thought, "Oh, you know it
might be nice if there was some kind of fire to get the innocents to
evacuate and then an explosion that destroyed the whole place if that
could be arranged." Hans and Herman nodded their understanding.

John Boy spoke up suddenly, "I have to be me Vincent, they have my
picture, and we'll have to stop in Ohio on the way. We can pick up Walt.
He's a graduate and can tell us the lay of the land and maybe what they
did to him. I mean he can if he remembers. I'll go e-mail him if his dad
let him keep his `puter. Can we land in Columbus?"

Evan was already talking to his pilot on the phone after it was decided
that the visit had to take place immediately before Malcolm thought about
contacting the school to cancel John Boy's attendance. He relayed the
question and then nodded happily.

"If you are going my love, I am going as well."

John Boy stretched his neck to give JC a peck on the cheek, "Good, I
want you to see me earning my bones. Come on, let's see if Walt's on
line." JC and John Boy ran from the room. Five minutes later John Boy
discovered that his older teenage acquaintance from church was online. He
was under house arrest and his computer had all possible parental
controls applied but he could still email. They switched to Instant
Messenger and quickly established that Walt was indeed interested in
bugging out of his families' lives forever and that he hadn't been
quite as zonked out as John thought him to be whenever they saw each
other in church. Walt had been acting and regularly spitting out his
medications as soon as his father turned his back. This news sent JC
running to Vincent to ask what time they would land in Columbus. Walt
promised to be at the airport without fail as he stated in capital
letters, "I WANT A PIECE OF EVERY ONE OF THE ASSHOLES WHO RUN THAT
SCHOOL!" The boys closed the connection after John Boy gave Walt his
cell phone number.



Buck and Doug knew that they couldn't go and didn't ask since they had
to remain at home and be hosts to the Spartans, but they could help from
home. Buck called Will and Joe. He knew where he'd find them, even on a
weekend. They were at their offices and at first exploded in anger over
the speakerphone when Buck explained the project that was already
underway until the boys managed to also explain that they weren't a part
of the team and that Vincent was leading it with David and Noah. Will was
on another line to the Chicago office while Joe congratulated the boys on
their maturity although their disappointment came through loud and clear
over the phone as he disconnected.

Will ordered three stretch limos with experienced drivers and two four
man teams in separate vehicles as backup to be at O'Hare to meet Evan's
plane. He also ordered a small box type delivery truck in the event that
any of the special schools' staff members required transport for further
`interrogation' elsewhere. Will then sat down in front of his terminal
and began a search for every scrap of information available about the
small religious sect. Something impetuous Vincent wouldn't think of
doing in advance if he was angered. Anything pertinent and useful would
be faxed up while in flight.

While Will was busy, Joe picked up his phone. He called Vincent to ask
for the Columbus kids' description. He explained, "We don't have an
office there, but we have a working relationship with a small
organization. They'll send someone to watchdog the kid until you get
there."

Walt decamped from his family home and prison after trashing his computer
and borrowing his father's car keys while he snored his way through the
rants and raves from a TV evangelist in the den. He arrived in Columbus,
found a MacDonald's, and called John only to discover that he had two
hours to wait but John did tell him where to meet the plane; at a private
aircraft service center. Walt still couldn't quite believe that he was
free, almost free, he corrected, of his father's tyranny and abuse. He
began celebrating by ordering more food than he could possibly eat and
then surprised himself when he swallowed the last tiny cold greasy French
fry.

At the airport, and finally in the lobby/lounge, Walt hesitantly
approached the counter attendant to ask about the arrival of an expected
flight from Newark International and provided the fight number. While the
attendant called air traffic control, Walt felt a light tap on his
shoulder. He wilted visibly and almost collapsed to the floor before
quiet words of reassurance penetrated his brain.

"Relax Walter, we're friends of John Carter's," one said quickly.

The magic name worked wonders. Walt turned to see two smiling men, two
very big smiling young men. "We were sent here to see you on your flight
safely, and that is all we're going to do."

"How'd, I mean who, and so fast?" Walt stammered.

"Mr. Carter has friends in high places, and it was requested that
someone meet you here in the remote chance that someone else might try to
stop you." The second man explained. "We only had a physical
description and we were almost ready to approach that good looking dude
over there," he nodded at a teenager with light brown hair, blue eyes
and similar aquiline facial features, "that is until we saw you slink in
looking like you just robbed a bank."

Walt cringed before giggling for the first time in months, "That bad
huh? So much for trying to look inconspicuous."

"Flight AF747 will arrive on time in twenty minutes," the attendant
advised.

Walt and his two minders sat together watching the runway as aircraft,
private and commercial arrived and departed separated by two or three
minutes. They admired but otherwise ignored the jumbo jet as it continued
to break and slow as it passed them. Walt did a double take and pointed,
"Hey look at the tail AF747! That can't be them; no one owns one of
those bad boys privately. Do they?" he squeaked when he saw his new
friends turn pale with their mouths hanging open.

The first to recover his composure answered, "It would appear that
someone does. It just could be that the owner is the guy in the highest
place. Say Walt, you don't know us at all, but we'd really like a
chance to move up and out of this hick city. If your buddy Mr. Carter has
any juice, would you mention us?" The young man looked forlorn suddenly
even while Walt nodded, happy to oblige. "There's one thing though, Rob
and I are partners, not that it should make any difference, but around
here it does. We're trusted but they don't think we could do any
serious work, because at a critical moment we'd most likely start
screaming and run our fairy asses out of danger."

Walt looked morose but nodded, "Man, you guys are lucky. I'm still
looking for my partner, I thought he was going to be John Carter, but I
just found out that he's already spoken for. Sure, I'll mention you,
but just remember that I have no juice at all with anyone on that
monster." He nodded out the window where AF747 taxied by, turned and
stopped. The forward hatch opened just in time to accept the mobile
stairway. John Boy followed by Vincent stepped out and looked around
first and then they both focused on the mirrored glass fronting the
lounge.

"We'll walk you out there." Rob said as he and his partner, Tyler,
unbuttoned their suit jackets. Outside a gust of wind blew their jackets
revealing that both were armed and as they looked everywhere with serious
expressions, Walt doubted that he would be stopped by anyone on his walk
to the jumbo jet.

"Damn Walt, you've got good taste in men." Tyler said from the side of
his mouth as he looked up at John Boy.

"Yeah, but I thought he was too young so I was waiting. I guess I was
wrong." Walt mumbled. John Boy leaped down the stairs and started
running as soon as he saw Walt and didn't stop until he crashed into
Walt's body to hug him and welcome his taller friend. The greeting
stopped just short of a passionate kiss.

Tyler and Rob backed away after Walt introduced them and explained what
little he knew about their sudden presence. Then as the boys walked
toward the plane they heard Walt say, "About those two guys..." Tyler
and Rob almost reached the door into the lounge when a shrill whistle got
their attention. They turned to see that the boys had disappeared into
the plane but the big burley guy, Vincent, was waving them back. Both
laughed and raced each other to the plane.



The Reverend Dr. Josiah Walsingham stood in front of the open door into
the former mansion eager to greet Vincent as Pastor Carter's
representative who was delivering the poor Reverend's young homosexual
son to be cleansed of his vile inclinations over the next twelve months.
Josiah blinked when he first saw John emerge from the car, "He's far
more beautiful than his picture. I'll just have to make him my pet." he
thought and patted himself on the back for always recommending that
thirteen year olds stay for a full very formative and profitable year. He
blinked again when Noah followed and his eyes widened when he saw two
muscular blond men emerge last. These two each claimed the back of a
boys' neck to ensure that they wouldn't be going anywhere but into the
building. Josiah shook Vincent's hand and then looked more closely at
Noah.

This blond youth with his peaches and cream complexion, and his round
wire rimmed spectacles combined so he appeared to be a cherubic ten year
old, however the boy sported the in scale defined body of a young adult
with his wide shoulders, pronounced pectorals that pushed at his tight
tee shirt and then his tight little body tapered to a wasp waist that
disappeared into tight shorts borrowed from John Boy, which displayed his
manhood clearly. Looking further Josiah saw that the boy's hard thick
thighs exploded from both taught leg hems and below the tanned knees even
his calf muscles stood out clearly as he stood quietly, apparently
totally relaxed.

Vincent saw the admiration in the Reverend's eyes and attempted a blush
to begin his acting career. The gang discussed how best to explain away
his body development on the plane. "This one is Noah, he's my nephew
and my ward. I caught him and a neighbor boy together in the raw when
Noah was only ten. I saw the writing on the wall, the devil's handiwork
and attempted to turn him back myself. I've tried everything for four
years. I make him work out until he's too tired to stand up, I used him
as a woman to humiliate him and when he was old enough I saw to it that
he was completely drained before bedtime prayers each evening." Vincent
looked disgusted; "I thought there was hope for the lad, that is until
Pastor Carter caught him collecting his own son's seed in the chapel
yet."

Vincent hesitated and then asked; "I was wondering Reverend, if you
could tell me what I did wrong so when the boy returns home and I see the
first hint of backsliding, I could immediately reinforce what he's
learned here." Vincent held his breath waiting for an answer. They had
to gain access to the building.

Josiah recognized Vincent as a brother boy lover and realized that the
only reason Noah was being delivered into the school for rehabilitation
was that Pastor Carter caught the two boys together and he had no choice
in the matter. The alternative was exposure, "Well, um, yes, I think
that would be possible. Backsliding does happen unfortunately. You were
on the right track though, everything you did was working in the right
direction, but one man can't do it all by himself. We do everything you
did except each therapy session is prolonged by the use of our
seminarians, our college students," he coughed delicately, "and a few
men of the faith who volunteer to be mentors." He looked at the two
silent blond men. "Are these two fine men of our faith?"

"Oh yes Reverend. They're German and don't speak much English yet and
what words they do speak are mostly incomprehensible." Vincent's eyes
twinkled as Hans growled audibly while Herman frowned a death wish at his
burly friend for making jokes about their English at a time like that.

Josiah laughed and relaxed his guard, "It would seem that you gentleman
understand much more English than you speak at the moment. Would you be
willing to help Brother Vincent if his nephew, ah, backslides after he's
returned to the congregation? Would that be agreeable to you Brother
Vincent? Of course you would be welcome to visit here for as long as you
wish to learn and practice the proper techniques with all the boys. There
is just a small fee to defray expenses," he added quickly when he saw
the German studs' answer as they looked at the unfortunate Noah
hungrily.

"Sure," Vincent nodded, "I wouldn't mind seeing the boy disciplined
by either of these two friends, if you'll show them what they should
do."

"Yah, we help big time. Backslides will hurt young sinner so he
remembers to look to girls not boys in future." Hans agreed while
lightly patting Noah's ass as Josiah turned to escort Vincent inside.

Noah reached back to capture Hans' hand but Hans pulled it out of reach
too quickly. "Keep it up you big gorilla and you'll be short one
opposable thumb," Noah hissed from the side of his mouth.

"Cut the shit guys," John begged in a whisper with a nervous grin.
"You almost got me laughing. We'll blow our cover."

Noah allowed a small smile, "Relax John Boy, once we get inside, our
cover won't matter. These guys are dead meat. This operation has no
security, the gates are still open and they didn't even search you or
these two bozos." He looked back at Hans and Herman. Their immaculately
tailored suit jackets bulged in all the wrong places as both packed not
one, but two of their monstrous fifty caliber handguns plus enough loose
extra ammunition to kill everyone in the building four times, "Well?
Give us a push or something, we're supposed to be reluctant." Hans
looked at Herman and nodded. Hans' hand closed on Noah's neck to steady
him while he used the back of Noah's tight shorts as a convenient handle
and Noah's feet left the pavement as he was carried into the old mansion
and unceremoniously dropped at Vincent's feet.

Herman was going to provide John Boy the same service, but his hand
closed on the butt of a twenty-five caliber semi-automatic concealed in
the small of his back, which Evan gave him more to provide the boy with
confidence in potentially facing one of the more sadistic seminarians who
acted as `counselors' or one of the more vicious `volunteer' Brothers
who inhabited the place. John Boy admitted that he'd never touched a
weapon before and doubted he could hit anything, so Noah suggested that
he just fire into the ceiling as a diversion when the action started.

The boys were surrounded by four of the counselors in the lobby and two
nudged Hans and Herman aside in their eagerness to begin a welcoming
session. Walt had described the four who always worked as a team and
enjoyed their work too much, the inmates always referred to them as the
Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse or just the Four Horseman. The four wore
shorts, only to observe the proprieties in front of guests. Josiah threw
open a set of double doors and waved everyone in. "The first lesson for
new boys is fear," he whispered to Vincent. "One of these boys," he
pointed, "is newly arrived and the other used the word `no' when
requested to perform a task, so you're seeing one being indoctrinated
and the other disciplined for his transgression." He looked back at John
Boy and Noah. He saw shock and horror on both boys' faces, he thought.
John Boy was horrified, but he mistook Noah's expression; his was one of
ill concealed rage.

Walt had described the restraints. Both boys who knelt on plastic mats
wore them. A four inch nylon waist belt had smaller cuffs attached to
each side that were fitted around the forearms and smaller belts with
cuffs were fitted high on the boys' thighs and the lower cuffs were
Velcroed closed around their wrists so while their arms were immobilized
at their sides, the restraints otherwise allowed the body freedom of
movement.

One boy stood on his knees and was being forcefully face fucked by an
older fat man. There was a ragged line of men and older boys waiting
their turn in the young mouth. "Actually, being repulsed by Brother
Sam's penis in his mouth is a milestone for this boy, now as you can see
that repulsion is being reinforced." Josiah explained happily.

Vincent frowned, "Truth to tell Doc, I wouldn't let that dude fuck me
with your mouth." Josiah had to agree privately, but then thought about
the hefty fees the man paid regularly for the privilege so he just nodded
and shrugged. The need for pretense was ebbing and he looked forward to
collecting fees from three new customers.

The second boy was also on his knees but with his shoulders on the matt
and his head to the side, he was crying silently. There was another
shorter line of three behind him waiting for an older teen to finish his
last thrusts before he ejaculated. Josiah grinned at John Boy; "You will
replace him there very shortly as soon as he has been welcomed by the
rest of the staff."

They watched the older teen's expression change as he came and then he
leaned forward over the new boy and whispered something. The youngster
opened his eyes in surprise and nodded imperceptibly before his eyes
closed and he slumped to the mat. "Excuse me Doctor," the teen
interrupted, "may I mentor this one? I also think he's had enough for
the first day. We wouldn't want another accident would we?" he asked
Josiah cryptically.

Josiah looked startled, "No Brother Benjamin, we wouldn't. Take him
upstairs; he's your project. Send the others down would you? We have two
new unfortunates to welcome."

John Boy glanced at Noah. Brother Benjamin had been Walt's mentor. He
protected Walt from the others, was kind to him when he could be and even
taught him how to look and respond under the influence of the assorted
drugs the inmates were given and then palmed the tablets, again when they
weren't being watched. Walt became a good student of deception and a
superb actor, which served him well when he was returned home apparently
rehabilitated.

John Boy was jerked back to reality when the remaining boy pulled his
head away from the fat man and puked into the man's crotch and down his
hairy legs. The man's face was contorted with rage. He back handed the
boy viciously and screamed, "You'll clean this all up with your tongue,
you little cocksucker!" The man reached for the boy's hair as the boy,
on his back, used his legs to push himself away from his tormentor.

There was a loud pop. The man lost interest in the boy in favor of his
left shoulder as he sank to his knees to stare down at the small wound
made by a twenty-five-caliber bullet. Noah, Vincent and the Doberman's
although surprised, went into action. Noah took out two of the over eager
seminarian's easily since they were holding his arms. Hans dropped the
other two using the barrel of his weapon with one smooth motion between
their heads. They had been holding John Boy absently until he stepped
away from them and drew his piece to take aim at the fat man and had
remained frozen in place with his arm extended with his weapon still
pointed at the shocked man sitting on his heels wondering what was
happening. Vincent's closed fist flashed out toward the side of
Josiah's head and Josiah dropped to the floor unconscious as if pole
axed. Herman, with no close targets, raised his sights to the elegant
center chandelier that hung from the two-story ceiling. There was an ear
shattering report from his weapon, which froze everyone in they're
tracks. The light fixture shivered once, blinked out as sparks flew from
the ceiling and the thing dropped with a tinkling crash to send crystals
flying in all directions. Fortunately the four smaller companion lights
stayed on.

The fat man fell to his side and he began to scream in terror. The crash
also broke John Boy from his trance. He walked to the man, drew back his
gym shoe and kicked at the man's head. He was about to kick out again
when Vincent pulled him away forcefully. "Good shot Jon Boy! I bet you
broke his eardrum!"

"I, I did? Shit, I was aiming at his temple." John stuttered.

Vincent laughed, "Well it was a good miss, but no more to the head. We
may want to talk to him later. How about stomping his balls for him? That
will keep him conscious, and he won't be needing them any longer."

John smiled. "He won't?" he asked. By then the man had rolled to his
back and had one hand covering his bleeding ear and the other covering
the small bullet wound that trickled blood between his fingers. John Boy
moved to stand above the man's head. He knelt and suddenly raised his
weapon again. Vincent saw where the boy aimed but wasn't fast enough or
didn't care. There was another pop and the man's rosebud cock head
disappeared leaving a two-inch gushing stump.

"John Boy!" Vincent expounded in wonder. "If you wasn't part of the
gang already, I'd hire you in a heartbeat! Man that was good shooting."

John Boy stood up and shook himself like a wet dog, "This thing reminded
me of my father." Tears welled in the boy's eyes, "He sold me Vincent.
He sold me just like I was used furniture."

Vincent hugged John Boy and was about to console him when Hans and Herman
rushed by running for the doors where Benjamin and the boy exited. Both
shouted something in German. "ENGLISH, Goddamnit!" Vincent roared.

"The others come to noise!" Hans translated.

"Oh, right." Vincent turned to John Boy; "We'll worry about your
ex-dad later. Right now you need to go and get the boy free of those
cuffs. Make sure he's all right and then go kick one of those assholes
awake." He handed John Boy a razor sharp stiletto. "Make him strip off
his boxers, cut them into strips and make him get a tourniquet on that
fat fuck's dick stump, before he bleeds to death," he grinned and
added, "if he can find it."

While Vincent joined Hans and Herman, John Boy pulled the restraints off
the boy, who by then was laughing his delight at being rescued and at
Brother Sam's sudden lack of a cock. The boy and John Boy ran to the
four inert counselors and began kicking at them randomly until one
groaned when the boy's bare foot connected with his nuts and then he
attempted to play opossum. John Boy snuggled the short barrel of his
weapon in the teens' boxers fly and the youth found his feet with the
speed of light. The boy, proud of his success went on to rouse the other
three with carefully aimed kicks or stomps with a heel of his foot. When
the three were more or less conscious he simply ordered them to sit with
their legs drawn up to their chests and their hands clasped behind their
heads just by ordering them into the position while John Boy cut up the
fourth's boxers.

Just then, Hans and Herman pulled open the double doors on the opposite
side of the room and stepped back as a flood of curious Seminarians and
Brothers gushed into the room to be greeted by Vincent holding a machine
pistol. The first few attempted to turn and flee but got pushed forward
by others at their backs. All fell to their faces to join the others
already in the room when Vincent ordered it, reinforced by a short burst
into the molding over the door and a few splinters rained on them
harmlessly. That plus their retreat was blocked by Hans and Herman who
had closed the doors and held a `cannon' in each hand whose muzzles
looked like howitzers. The sudden quiet was shattered by the shouts from
the rest of the gang as they ran into the room with Walt in the lead,
fortunately unarmed, but with `blood in his eye'.

Walt spied the newly freed inmate first and ran at him. "Chase! Man,
it's sure good to see you again, even here. Aren't these guys great?
You're free man!" He stopped and looked around. "Hey where're the
others? Everyone's free, isn't that just so cool?" Walt impulsively
pulled Chase in, hugged him and kissed him with tongue.

Chase pulled away, blushed and looked around frantically, "Be cool Walt,
everyone's watching." He smiled, "But wow, hold that thought until
we're alone. Come on, the rest of the guys are in the dorm I guess, with
Brother Ben. He's nursing a new kid."

"Let's go up to the dorm, John. We'll get them all free and then you
can tell them about the island and the Marine Academy all at once," Walt
invited and held out his other hand. He already held Chase's. John Boy
was holding JC like a long lost lover as he explained the fat man's
ruined crotch. John pulled JC along and the four began to run from the
room. Walt stopped them at the door and looked back to point out a few
guys, actually to pass his sentences on individuals rather cryptically.
"That's Brother George, not him, or that guy there, that's Brother Tim
and of course Brother Ben, but he's upstairs." He glared at the four
still sitting up, "Now those assholes definitely. We'll talk about the
other Brothers in the Seminary, but the rest, the old guys, do what you
want with them and I hope it ain't pretty and it hurts like a bitch.
It's time for some serious payback."

Vincent toed Brothers George and Tim to their feet. They didn't know why
they'd been singled out and were scared to near fainting until Vincent
explained that the three each showed kindnesses to the helpless boys
whenever they could and so they would not be harmed. He then suggested
that they go and dress and to get all their belongings packed because the
school was closing down with a bang.

The two teens ran out of the room to follow Walt, Chase and the other two
saviors. Once in the dormitory, they eagerly helped remove all the hated
restraints from the dozen boys lying on their bunks anxiously waiting to
find out about the loud noises and shouting from the first floor. That
quickly changed to a babble of young voices asking questions about their
freedom, Dagger Key, the Marine Academy and who their benefactors were.

Chase finally ended the noise by whistling shrilly. "Shut up and let
this guy explain. This is John, a friend of Walt's so we can trust him.
Shit, he even shot off old fuck face's cock and he wasn't even hard!
Now that's some shooting!" The boys, Tim, George and Ben looked at John
Boy with awe and respect and were finally ready to listen.

When John finished the boys all scurried to find their belongings and
clothes that were still in their luggage exactly as their mother's
packed them. All except the newest boy that Ben rescued. He still clung
to Ben like a leech. "What about us?" Ben asked John and JC. "What do
we do? We have no place to go. We didn't want to come here, we didn't
want to be clergy but our fathers sent us two years ago after Pastor
Josiah put out a call for applicants. Our parents sent applications and
pictures and we were chosen by the mother church to be the future
leaders."

"Leaders shit," Tim continued with disgust in his voice, "all the
Pastor wanted was some fresh slightly older meat to rent out just like
these kids. The day we got here we got the same treatment they got and
after we were fucked, we learned how to give head and then forced to fuck
each other in case the client wanted that. There is no Seminary; this is
a whorehouse for old guys with money."

JC grinned, "How old did you say you are?" he asked and raised his hand
to stop Tim from answering truthfully; that they were eighteen. "Think
before you answer, John told you the cutoff age, so how old are you
really?"

Ben giggled when the light dawned, "Well then I guess that would make us
just seventeen which will give us a year to decide what we want to do.
Right guys?"

"I was called too," the boy half whispered from Ben's lap. "Pastor
Josiah came to a new Sunday school building dedication. He kept staring
at me and a week later my father, the asshole, told me that I'd been
called to the mother church to do God's work in some way."

John recalled a comment that Ben made about another boy, "What accident?
Downstairs you mentioned an accident and Pastor Josiah looked scared."

It was Ben, Tim and George's turn to look scared suddenly. Ben answered
for them, "Just after we came here, a kid arrived. He was too young to
know what gay meant, so maybe he was called too. He was too choice, you
know, a pretty, young virgin and the fuck face and the Pastor broke him
in. The Pastor may be old but his ten-inch cock still works. The kid was
unconscious when they called us to carry him to the dorm to put him to
bed. We thought the kid was just in shock, that he would be all right,
but in the morning, the lower half of his bed was covered in blood. They
tore him up, and he hemorrhaged, bled to death. If we'd known we could
have done something, like getting him some help."

Tim made a sound of disgust, "Like what? We still aren't allowed near a
phone."

John Boy paled, reached for his holstered weapon and started for the
door. JC grabbed him and held him back. "Wait my love. They will be
dealt with. Evan has made all the arrangements."

"What did they tell the kid's parents?" John Boy asked in a
dangerously quiet voice. JC held him tighter.

"The Four Horsemen buried him somewhere on the place. They waited a
month before the Pastor contacted them. They were told that the kid was
out front playing and fell off the cliff. The body was so mangled that
the Pastor had him cremated. Actually they sent home an urn full of ashes
from a fireplace. It was all very `hush, hush' but we were in on it
since we found him and the Pastor pointed out right away that we were
accessories to murder so he had us by the short hairs to keep us in
line." Ben smiled and hugged his young friend. "We don't hesitate to
throw it up to the Pastor anytime we feel a kid has had enough. It works
every time as you just saw downstairs."

John Boy nodded and looked back and up at JC. "I'm going with Evan to
take care of them and whatever he plans had better be slow and painful."
He pointed to the boy cuddled in Ben's arms, "There but for the Grace
of God, go I." he whispered.

JC had never heard John Boy use that tone of voice. He'd changed in less
than forty-five minutes. He was no longer meek and subservient; he'd
become his own man. He was no longer John Boy, he was John, and the boy
was gone forever. JC nodded his understanding and allowed John his
freedom.

"Come on guys, we're going to have a tribunal and you guys are the
jury," John explained. "Thumbs up means freedom. To the side means free
but too poor to ever visit a place like this again after I do some
research to find every penny they own. And down, well, down means death.
Use that sparingly because you all have a conscious. I know that they
couldn't fuck you out of those."

When the boys walked in the former drawing room they were dressed and
carried their luggage while everyone to be tried including the Pastor was
naked if they had been wearing anything when the gang burst into the
room. The boys lined up where Vincent pointed. Ben, George and Tim were
also dressed but stood off to the side near the accused because they
wanted to be tried as well because they'd participated in the group
sessions just like the other Seminarians and they admitted that they
couldn't help enjoying some of the boys they were attracted to and in
other circumstances would seek as lovers. The newest boy was one of those
for Ben. Brian Sullivan still held Ben's hand and from the looks they
shared, it was obvious that the attraction was mutual.

David waved at John Boy. "The office is across the hall. Would you go
take a look at what's in the computer? Evan's going to bankrupt the
Brother assholes and maybe the chief asshole Pastor already has some of
their financials. Then there has to be a client list, guys that come here
for weekends. Whatever you find will save a lot of time for us and pain
for them," he explained and then added with a grin, "but not too much
pain."

"Sure David," John agreed and started to walk away but stopped and
turned back to Hans and Herman. "Oh, just so you know, I'm going with
you when you take out the trash and don't try to stop me."

"Me as well," JC butted in.

"Yah, Young Masters," Hans agreed, "But after, you will have dreams
that will never go away."

"I already have one of me on my knees with my face in the floor and
another being held by the ears with my mouth full." John shuddered.
"Maybe those will be replaced by helping to put these things away
forever. After, I'm planning to hit the Internet. There are more of
these operations out there, I'll find them and take them out one by
one." He turned to Rob and Tyler who looked lost. "Do you guys want
jobs like closing down operations like this?" he asked, already building
an organization. Both young men nodded eagerly and assumed their duties
at once by moving to flank John and JC and continued to stare with
distain at the living filth that littered the floor.

JC welcomed the new guards with handshakes before hugging John as they
left the room, "Correction, my love," JC smiled down on John, "You
will find them and WE will take them out without pity or remorse."



Hey Guys,

I've moved back to Florida, and again have my old Road Runner address,
horti123@cfl.rr.com. For those of you who just discovered this story, if
you get this far, I do have a mailing list (Always sent BCC) and send
chapters in Word form, as that's easier to read than Nifty, so if you
want on the list just send a note.

Next I want to offer a great big THANK YOU to my fine Editor, Emoe for
the time and determination he invests in cleaning up my work. I even
enjoy the final read more.

Yes, I do have a few other stories on Nifty. Another soap opera is Dooby
rhymes with Scooby it can be found in `Incest' with Part 23 (22 is in
progress) posted 08/2/05, and two complete stories, Apartment 14B in
`Beginnings', posted 11/10/04 and School Yacht Frig-it in `High
School', posted 09/08/04.

I also highly recommend Kombat Kids written by my good friend Ghost
Ryder. While it appears on Nifty, you can always find the latest Chapter
on his very own website, http://ghostryder15.gayauthors.org/. KK is a
great adventure with lots of humor, excitement and a few tears. KK is gay
Boy Scouts with teeth. You'll find SF there as well (I'm a guest
author! Imagine that?), and Ghost and I are collaborating on a joint
venture where we'll bring the SF and KK gangs together for a standalone
adventure.

HAPPY READING!

Jamie