Date: Sat, 21 Jan 2012 18:36:17 -0800 (PST)
From: Tchase Mcphee <survivalgame@rocketmail.com>
Subject: STReNGTH FRoM WeaKNesS 03

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any
resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely
coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons,
of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages,
neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male
relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy
sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not
read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most
states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check
with your local laws regarding such.

% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use
protection.

%

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I freely publish to the Nifty Archives and `do not' receive a royalties
paycheck at the end of the month! TCMcP :)


%


STReNGTH FRoM WeaKNesS 03
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

Every store, every restaurant, all, including mall staff `knew' Jerric
Jago, but none more important than the greeter at the front door of the
upscale Cavenport Commons. Given instruction, when visible signs of an
important shopper approached the doors, a call was put into the main office
of the shopping mall. From there, three secretaries would phone every store
in the mall, putting them on alert, which would translate into `big bucks
have just walked through our doors!'

Whenever this occurred, whomever was on door duty would be elected to
spring into action, welcoming the clients delivered by limo to the front
door. `Limo' was the trademark which set things into focus.

It happened, a newcomer to the staff, "Welcome to..."

Two words was enough for Jerric, "Save it hunney, Jerric know what he wants
and where he's going!"

For one, the door greeter `knew' he was being watched, because the first
week on the job was a trial period. From shock of Jerric's remark, to
remembering his status, the young dude steps forward. He had a hard time
getting it out, `sir', to Jerric, but manages to lunge at Dean, "Uh, yes
sir, but maybe you need some help..." focusing on Dean's face, "getting
around?"

Now Dean hadn't come right out and said he was `gay', but Scott, noticing
how Dean's attention keyed on in to the door greeter, the two stuck in a
frozen condition, Scott kind of gets a hint. Not lying, because probably
Dean has been to the mall before, "This is my first time here."

Dean really had to laugh, Jerric dumping them at the door. He wondered if
`he' and Scott were going to need to see a bus schedule!

"Oh," the blond dude acted shocked Scott was speaking to him, breaking off
his concentration, "your first trip to Cavenport Commons? Then I would
strongly suggest an escort?"

It made Dean smile, bringing back memories of being twenty, in college and
mistakenly meeting up with a guy for sex, only learning he wanted to get
`paid' for it!

"I think it would be a good idea." Turning, looking up at Dean, "Don't you
think, Dean?"

Dean's mind was off somewhere, a delayed reaction to a question he never
heard, "Uh sure. Great!"

Detecting something strange, it left a blank reaction in Scott's mind.

"All right, then," the dude looks towards the side of the mall through the
corner of his eye, a nervous reaction of being watched. Picking up two
folders, he says, "My name is Michael Ballent and," rolling the speech off
his tongue, memorized off a cue sheet from the mall human resources
manager, "I will be your servant for your shopping trip at Cavenport
Commons. Feel free to ask me any question..."

At which point Scott has had it set in his brain and with curiosity asks,
"Are you gay, Michael?"

Turning to Scott, red in the face as if he were Scott's own father, he is
not reluctant to reprimand, "Oh my god, Scott, you don't go and ask someone
a personal question like that!"

"Oh," Scott replies in a lowly voice, realizing he's made a blunder,
possibly calling it wrong because he has misinterpreted Michael and Dean's
silent exchange of thoughts.

Right away Dean throws up both hands, using gestures, "I'm so sorry,
Michael."

"It's okay." And probably thinking Scott could be onto something here, "Not
a problem, but I think it's only fair I get to ask a question?"

Dean pretty much knew all the angles. Models and others back at the Hanson
compound, not to forget Jerric, whether joking or of true feeling, had
`educated' him on the ways and means of picking up guys, not that Dean
didn't have a monopoly on some his own thoughts and desires, so knew what
was about to be thrown back in his own face, "Pertaining to?"

Knowing he was being played, Michael changed his line of fire just for
Scott's sake, glancing down at the fourteen year old, then after
tongue-in-cheek addressing Dean, "Are you shopping for yourself or your
little brother?"

Scott loved the reference and before Dean could get a word in, "My big
brother brought me to the mall to shop for a new wardrobe. Got any clothes
for a guy my size?"

"Brought you to the mall? I could have sworn you were with Jerric?" Michael
replies.

Drawing off Jerric's history of shopping with Gerard, "What Scott means is
we were `dumped' by Jerric to do some shopping."

"Scott, is it?"

"Yup," Scott replies.

"So, what's your brother's name?" Michael asks.

"Dean," and fessing up, "but he's not really my brother."

"Good," Michael replies, revenging himself, "then I don't need your
permission to ask him out on a date?"

His jaw dropped open, Scott replying, "You know Dean is gay?"

Dean faked, "Oh my god, Michael! How could you tell?"

Though, when Dean had first entered the mall he didn't let on, he and
Michael looking at each other, each having their suspicions and from there
could only hope!

%

Meanwhile, back at the Hanson compound, Gerard figured, since Aksel was out
of his life, he would take the afternoon off from `work' and `play'.

When he entered the gym, most clammed up at attention, while those who have
hung around the mansion for a few years carried on with the norm.

"Interesting," he says, standing before the chest press, Jean-Claude's
knees pressed to his chest while holding the weight bar, plates
attached. "Dean show you a new position to do chest presses?"

Davide's jaw just dropped open, nothing to say by getting snagged with his
shaft firmly implanted in Jean-Claude's ass, arms wrapped around the thighs
to ensnarl a tight fit.

This brought all the guys' attention into focus around the chest press
device.

Thirty minutes ago, Jean-Claude had launched himself into dialogue, leading
to a sexual encounter with Davide, with all intentions of him `helping'
Davide with his chest presses. However, he allowed Davide to perform his
double-talking and wound up the one doing reverse crunches. He wasn't sure
about all of this, but when Davide broke through his cherry ass, all
Jean-Claude could do is bite his lip and buck up to the invading shaft.

"Um," Davide says, for lack of rational words, then his ass dropping back,
"we two just got... kind of..."

"No, no, no," Gerard says of Davide backing away from Jean-Claude's ass. "I
love free porn as much as the next man!"

Jean-Claude's thinking turned from fear, fear of losing his job and
possibility of being blacklisted, gulping because he and Davide's actions
were being blown off.

Now all the dude's attention was drawn to Gerard, unbuckling his belt,
saying, "Only I know watching Davide plow your ass, it's gonna make me
mighty horny?"

Jean-Claude didn't exactly like the idea of getting his ass plowed in the
first place, but looking up at Gerard's zipper coming down, he wasn't
exactly thinking of thirst. However, knowing he was indebted to the
photographer for taking those two hundred shots for his portfolio, he
swallowed his pride, saying to Gerard as he shucks his pants and briefs at
the same time, shoving them down over his hips, "Looks... nice," he lies,
because he would rather be man on top, in Davide's place, though he has
never turned down a nice piece of raw meat.

Calling over to two of the `senior' models, "Josh, Dmitri, want to lift
this bar off here?"

"Right away," Josh says, the twenty-five year old tapping Dmitri's
shoulder, each reporting to and end of the loaded bar, lifting it.

Stepping out of their way, Gerard is already firming himself up, making
comment, "Tell me, do they still put new models through hazing?"

Josh recalls, from when he entered the ranks, six years ago, "It was right
around when I joined up, universities were making a big scene over
hazing. Though," he cracked a smirky smile, "we didn't feel any harm in a
little circle jerk!"

Davide didn't care about rules. All he knew and cared about was the state
of his cock, at full mast and keeping warm as an oven. However, he saw an
opportunity, whether it led to advancement or something else, "Why don't
you do the honors Gerard?"

Of course Davide felt the overwhelming affect of cold air drying his wet
cock, but if it helped for him to rise to the top of the `supermodel'
ladder...

For Jean-Claude, he let out a sigh, probably misinterpreted as a sign of
missing his ass filled up, but on Jean-Claude's terms, it was just a
first-time feeling of all the room left in his ass chute, suddenly feeling
a void.

"Yeah, okay," Gerard replies, locking eyes for a short time with Davide as
they pass by each other, Gerard on his way to the glory hole.

As he role played the last time with Jean-Claude, getting his cock all
oiled up, Davide dictates, "Open up bitch!" First time around, as with now,
his thinking of Jean-Claude a butch top, he mistreats him, grabbing his
hair, snapping his head back so it drops below the cushion of the chest
press bench.

When opportunity presents itself, they could all jump at the chance,
Jean-Claude no different, acting like a bitch, opening his mouth for
impalement.

It started with Jean-Claude on his back, but after Gerard worked his ass
for a good part of twenty minutes, he wanted him doggy-style.

By this time too, they all had their gym shorts down at their ankles or
stepped out from. Some had their jockstraps tucked under their balls, which
made them look larger than a man should be. 6, 7, 8, 9c, they were all hard
and stroking to the hot action. Even, Louis Lafeet, eighteen years old and
crowned with the title of `smallfry' of the group, not because of his cock,
an 8c, but of his five feet, nine inch height, allowed himself to come too
early. Nobody minded, making fun of Jean-Claude, each using Louis` cum to
create an oil for massaging into Jean-Claude's chest and stomach. Dmitri
beat them all to it, his big hand making Jean-Claude's 8c all glistening,
helping him along to get high on his sexual performance. It even served to
help Louis with his second round.

"Gather round boys," Gerard finally said, in his wanting to come so bad.

Some were ready, some not, but all formed a circle around Jean-Claude, flat
on his chest on the weight bench. All, except Davide, still with his cock
using Jean-Claude's throat for a modified ass chamber, but gunning for the
ultimate release. As he did, sending a flood of manseed down the tube,
others voiced their opinions of the ultimate max, shooting their white
manjuice onto Jean-Claude's chest and stomach.

Louis, who was experiencing his first group sex, could only say, "Daymn!"
seeing so much goo flow at once, but even more startling, watching Davide
grab hold of Jean-Claude's head and drive his load home! Even though Louis
had shot his second load, his cock hadn't lost momentum.

With friendly jealousy, Gerard exclaims, "Damn Louis, would you back down
already!"

They all laugh when Louis states, "I can't! It feels too good!"

From that day on, he lost the nickname, `smallfry'!

%

"Will you `stop' looking at every tag, Scott?"

"$19.50 for a tee shirt?" Scott exclaims, looking at a tee shirt in
Abercrombie Kids.

"Look," Dean explains, taking Scott into a remote corner of the store,
where music and darkness become their shadow to other pairs of ears, "just
for today, can you forget your aunt used to shop the clearance racks at
Sears?"

"Are you mad at me, Dean?" Scott asks, a frown on his kisser.

"No, I'm not mad at you, it's just that..." Dean softens his approach,
"Look, I don't pull a big salary working for Gerard, but at the same time
I'm not in the poor house, but if you look at it as we are shopping with
Gerard's credit cards, we are being representative of him." He hoped it
went over with Scott, because Dean wasn't exactly good at making win-over
speeches!

"You mean you want us to pretend we're like... like as rich as Gerard?"

Dean saw an opportunity presenting itself, in Scott's comprehension, "If
you want to look at it in that way, if you recall, you're part of Gerard's
extended family, you know?"

Recalling something else, Scott replies, "Gerard did say something like his
house is my house too now."

"There you go. If Gerard was with us now, don't you think he would say the
same thing about using his credit cards?"

Thinking it clearly, Scott says, "I suppose. But how much can we spend?"

All Dean could think of, "Until the card is maxed out at the limit?" he put
it to the kid.

"How much is the limit?"

As he said it, into their presence walks Jerric.

"Jerric, where..." before finishing one thought, Scott asks, "you went
shopping?"

"No hunney, these are for `you' to try on!"

Dean just stood there grinning, looking at the expression on Scott's teen
face, as Jerric had a sample of half the boy's portion of the store in his
arms.

Looking up at Dean, he says, "I hope Gerard doesn't have anything charged
on that card!"

Michael had skipped out for a reason, returning right in the middle of
Scott coming out of the dressing room, his Sears outfit upgraded to A&F,
"Here you go, one ice tea and a sack of fries!"

Scott is quick to defend the store management, "But it said at the door no
drinks or food?"

"Oh, that's not meant for you," Michael replies.

To keep the circus going, Jerric walks into their alcove with another
armful, "Oh yummy! French fries!"

"They're not for you!" Dean snatches the sack out of Jerric's hand, who had
stole them from Michael.

"Oh now you don't hunney!" Jerric reprimands Dean, swiping `air'!

"You're getting too fat anyway. You should be down in the gym with the rest
of the guys," he furthers.

Like Jerric and Gerard in the same room, busting each others chops, the
same seemed to hold true with Dean, Jerric `pretending' to be insulted,
putting his hand on his hip, head in the air, like he was above all of
them, stating, "Well! For that wise-ass crack, hunney, I'm taking the
limo!" Turning back real quick, "And you can take the bus!"

"Take the bus?" Scott panics. "Take the bus? How can we take the bus with
all this stuff?" of which he had already chosen enough to pack the trunk of
the limo.

"No sweat," Michael says, "the mall has delivery service. I'm sure they can
get everything to you by tomorrow?"

"I guess," Scott tells him, a little downer in his voice, "I can wear my
`Sears' clothes until then," he looks up to Dean.

Dean comes up with, "Or we can pick out two outfits now and put the rest
off till tomorrow?"

Thinking it over, especially since he's been studying Dean, Michael
suggests, "`Or', we could load it into my truck and not only get the goods
home, but you two are welcome to hitch along with me?"

"You got a big truck?" Scott asks.

"Maybe enough for one or two more stores?"

"Cool! Where else are we going Dean?"

"Well, you don't want to wear only Abercrombie all summer. How about maybe
the surf hut?"

Scott replies, "I don't know how to surf?"

Both Dean and Michael knew they were talking clothing and not surfboards,
but Michael had another thing in mind, "Don't know how to surf? Why not?"

"Nobody taught me," Scott replies.

"Me neither," Dean says, even though inconsequential to the conversation
between the two, hoping at least for a reaction he doesn't get!

Standing there, Dean watching Michael carry on the conversation with Scott,
his imagination started to go wild with risky thoughts, like how Michael
would look in a speedo, cruising a wave on a board. He hadn't a clue to
what lay under the mall uniform, making Michael look like he worked at a
cinema, but in his mind, Michael was smooth down to the his navel, and
thinking, `Why not?' pictured a treasure trail to the low waist. He smiled,
thinking there `had to be' a big bulge in the speedo. The rest didn't
matter!

"Ready?" Michael suddenly turns and confronts Dean.

Thinking he was snagged, Dean says, "I was just thinking about surfing!"

And Michael, buying the revealing part of Dean's story, "About maybe coming
with me next time I'm headed for the ocean?"

"Yeah, that's it!" Dean comes back with.

Scott had returned to the dressing room, which gave the two the opportunity
to be alone, Michael accusing Dean, "Liar!"

"How do you know what I was thinking?"

Dean was leaning on one of the racks, his forearm extending over the
top. Michael comes to lean on it, stretching his arm over, an index finger
beginning to surf over the fine hairs on Dean's arm, saying, "Oh, because
maybe there's a reason why I'm thinking about quitting this stupid mall job
and taking up my friend's offer at his surfing school?"

"How come you didn't take him up on it in the first place?" Dean asks.

"Oh," he calmly explains to Dean, one finger combing, turning into a whole
hand, "because I thought I might have a better chance of meeting up with
some dude who's not in love with his surfboard?" Michael ends his soft
shuffling of fingers at the pit of Dean's elbow.

"What a coincidence!"

"You're not in love with your surfboard?"

Dean says, "I don't know how to surf. Remember?"

"Oh, right. So what's the `coincidence'?"

"The coincidence is," Dean replies, his hand pointing towards the wall of
shelved shirts, "the Atlantic Ocean is like only an hour that way..."

"Forty-three minutes, without traffic, and your arm should be in the
direction of the pants?"

Readjusting his arm by ten feet, Dean replies, "Okay. That way, so what I
was saying, with Scott, for the summer and nothing to do, this would be
something cool for him to do!"

"Especially," Michael planes his hand down Dean's inactive arm, swooping
over his knuckles, "if you were there to help?" He ended it with a toothy
smile!

"Would be nice, but I've got a job to do at the Hanson compound, working
out everyday with twenty airhead models!"

"Nice looking?"

"Understatement there, Michael. Like they all could be contenders for the
next CK billboard in Times Square?"

"Must be nice."

Dean replies in singsong, "If they only had a brain!"

Michael is quick on it, "The Sound Of Music?"

"The Wizard Of Oz!"

"Oh right. The tin man, right?"

"Scarecrow."

"I guess I'm a little rusty at my musicals," Michael replies.

"I sure hope you're not rusty at surfing?"

With a glint of pride, Michael says, "Does surfing school in Costa Rica
impress you?"

"Shut up! Really?" Dean's impressed.

As Michael is about to unload his story, out of the dressing room comes
Scott, "Does this look good on me?"

"You're joking, right?" Michael asks him.

"About what?" Scott replies with seriousness.

"You're the man when it comes to stripes!"

The two high five, Scott asking, "Does the Surf Hut have surfboards?"

Hinting, Dean picks up on it, "Um, wait till Michael teaches you first?"

"Cool! Are you going to be my teacher Michael?"

As they are about to pay up, Dean remembers with fright, "Oh my god!"

"What?" Dean and Michael ask at the same time.

"Jerric! He has the credit cards!"

Scott exclaims, "No he doesn't!" He produces the plastic billfold Gerard
had whipped out of his wallet.

"That's nice! How come he didn't give it to me?" Dean swipes it from Scott.

Being a wiseass, Scott replies, "Maybe because he trusts me more than you?"
He sticks his tongue out.

Scott gets `the tongue' back at him!

Catching Dean's act, Michael can only think of that tongue being some place
sensual!

%

Copyright 2012 T. Chase McPhee

`STReNGTH FRoM WeaKNesS', may not be sold, nor made part of any collection,
without prior consent from the author.

The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness!  TCMcP