Date: Sat, 5 Apr 2008 11:43:14 EDT
From: ExecDad4Yngr@aol.com
Subject: Camp Conscription

Camp Conscription


An Erotic Short Story


By Roland Philips



Chapter One


Johnny thrust his right hand out the window and stuck his middle finger
into the air deliberately and defiantly when he spotted the wooden sign
spanning the curving dirt road, about eight feet above the ground, resting
precariously on two notched trees that had been dead for decades.  "Camp
Conscription," it read, only the middle four letters of the second word
were worn beyond recognition.  "Fuck this place," he yelled, addressing at
first nobody in particular, then repeating the exhortation for the benefit
of his driver.
	"I promise, it's for your own good, son."
	"How the hell would you know?"
	The driver sighed, as if exhaling could rid his body and soul of 19
long years of angst and turmoil -- precisely the opposite of what he had
been led to believe that fatherhood would be.  Further conversation, he
knew, would be useless.  Through the years, he had tried logic, appeals to
emotion, psychotherapy, guilt, grounding, removal of privileges -- all
useless.  Only by virtue of some kind of miracle had his son escaped jail,
or early death.  Now there was only one hope left.  "A unique experience
guaranteed to mold boys into men," the advertisement had said, without
specifying exactly what methods might be used.  He didn't really care, as
long as they worked.  As long as his son, five weeks later, would be just a
bit more mellow, less bitter about life, maybe even willing to get a job
that he didn't quit three hours after reporting for duty.
	The carbon gray 2007 Acura TL found its way slowly under the sign,
then another two hundred yards or so, evading as many bumps as possible,
negotiating those that became inevitable at a speed a turtle would consider
cautious.  Not only do I put myself through shit for this guy, look what I
do to my car! the man thought, moving his mouth more than he intended.
With no apparent harm done, he brought the vehicle to a stop in front of a
log cabin with two doors dividing the fifty foot façade into thirds.  One
of the doors opened immediately.  A young man dressed smartly in new jeans
and a Montreal Canadians baseball cap came over to his side of the car.
	"Hi, I'm Luke.  Welcome."  A pleasant, natural smile graced an
oval-shaped face with peach fuzz typical of a 16-year-old.  Perfect teeth
had either never needed a dentist or had been to the dentist quite a lot;
if they had been any whiter, you would have needed sunglasses to look at
them.  Despite the teenage appearance, Luke's confident voice, originating
deep inside like that of an opera singer, revealed a man of twenty-five,
standing about six feet tall.
	The man offered his right hand through the open window.  "Tom
Jennings."  Withdrawing his hand, admiring Luke's grip, he pointed to his
passenger.  "This here's Johnny."
	"I see."  Johnny avoided eye contact, a fact not lost on Luke, who
made a mental note.  "Well, shall we begin?"
	"Johnny..." Tom began, turning his head, but Johnny was already
more than half way out.
	"Just leave, Dad," he said, having slammed the door with sufficient
force to make the open window rattle.
	"Well, you see what I've got to deal with, Luke.  Good luck."
	"Piece of cake, Mr. Jennings.  Just remember: no visits, no phone
calls.  Come back in five weeks, you'll have a different boy on your
hands."
	Tom Jennings shook his head, as if to say "If you can accomplish
that, you deserve a Congressional Medal of Honor."  Closing both windows to
keep the dirt out, he drove off.
	"All right, Johnny, let's go inside."  Luke led the way toward the
cabin door he had not previously used.  Johnny followed about five paces
behind, with Luke's "C'mon, boy, keep up!" having no noticeable effect.
"Oh, do you have something to give me?"
	Johnny dug into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a
crumpled envelope.  "Yeah, here."
	Luke accepted, pulled the door open toward the outside, and
motioned Johnny to enter.  As Johnny stepped over the threshold, the door
closed behind him.  Luke couldn't help but smile.  This is going to be one
hell of a summer!  He tore the envelope open and read: "Luke, I can't
really tell what kind of a camp you run there, but whatever it is, I hope
it works, because nothing else has.  I love Johnny very much -- he's my son
-- but he's incorrigible, has been since he turned ten.  If there was any
way to get into trouble, Johnny found it.  He was the ringleader of the
neighborhood terrorist brat club, I hate to say it but it's true.  I just
want him to grow up, to gain a little respect for other people, learn how
to get up in the morning and get to where he's supposed to be.  One other
thing, if he smiled occasionally, that wouldn't be a bad thing either.
Thank you for whatever you can do."  It was signed by Tom Jennings.

* * *

It took Johnny a minute to adjust to the light, although the single bulb
hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the cabin barely qualified.
Combining visual and tactile information, he concluded that he was confined
in a small iron cell, approximately three feet wide, one foot deep, and
eight feet tall -- with a door leading into the cabin secured by a large
padlock.  Instinctively, he tried to turn around and shove the door open,
but both efforts were in vain.  Not only was the space insufficient to
rotate his body, but, feeling around with his hands behind his back, he
discovered there was no inside door knob, and the door was solid.  "Let me
the fuck out of here!" he yelled.  If the light bulb heard, it didn't
provide a reply.

* * *

Sylvia Thomas pulled up to the cabin in a light blue Volvo station wagon.
"Did you remember your toiletries?" she asked the boy to her right, slight
at about 135 pounds, five foot eleven, blonde hair.  If his ears hadn't
stuck out from his head just a bit too much, he would have been a model,
the kind people secretly envy when they spot a perfect specimen walking
down the street.
	"Of course, Mom."
	"Well, you take good care of yourself and have a good time.  I'll
call you tomorrow."
	"Mom, I don't think they allow phone calls.  That's what it said in
the brochure."
	"Don't worry, they'll let me talk to you.  Hush up."
	Luke walked toward the passenger side of the car.  "You must be
Jeff."
	"Yes, sir."
	"Welcome to Camp, Jeff.  Are you ready?"  Jeff leaned over to kiss
his mom, got a big hug back, and opened the door.  "All right, follow me."
Jeff and his mom waved at each other as Luke walked around the corner of
the cabin, out of sight.  "Don't shuffle, boy, pick up your feet and walk
like a man!"  Jeff looked down at his feet but didn't seem to understand,
as his gait continued sloppy, kicking up dust.  "You have something to give
me, boy?
        "Oh, yeah, here."  He handed Luke an envelope.  Luke opened a thick
wooden door, motioned for Jeff to enter, and closed it behind him from the
outside.  "I don't for the life of me understand this camp thing.  I've
given Jeff everything he has ever wanted, and more.  Usually he didn't even
have to ask!  But he begged me to send him, and I relented, knowing it
probably wasn't the right thing for him, but I love the little guy so much!
So be kind to him, he's pretty fragile, and send my Jeff back to me safe
and happy, OK?"

* * *

Luke heard the muffler when the Corvette was still a quarter of a mile
away.  "Jason."  He smiled.  He was partial to athletes, wrestlers in
particular, guys who realized that working up a sweat was about the most
masculine thing you could do.  The car practically bounced into the
clearing.  Jason hopped out, wearing bright white tennis shoes, tightly cut
jeans, and a T-shirt that hung on broad shoulders and tapered to a 31 inch
waist.  He wrestled at 155 pounds the previous season and had taken second
place at the State tournament.
	"OK, dad, you take `er back from here, okie dokie?  See ya in a few
weeks."  An older man slid over, put the car into gear, and drove off,
making considerably less noise than upon arrival.  "Well," Jason said,
spotting Luke walking toward him, "you must be the main man here!"  A solid
arm went around Luke's shoulders.  "We'll be buddies in no time!"
	"Just follow me," Luke replied, walking just fast enough so that
Jason's arm slid naturally off his shoulders.  This one is going to be the
most fun of all, he thought.  They disappeared around a corner.  "Hey
Jason, you got something for me?"
        "Dude, I almost forgot!  Here ya go!"  He produced an envelope and
pretended to hand it to Luke, drawing it away quickly when Luke reached for
it.  "Gotcha!" he yelled.
        "Dude," Luke replied, although he practically had to draw the word
out manually, "there will be plenty of time for `gotcha' later.  Just give
me the envelope."
        "OK, dude, don't get your balls in an uproar."  They used the
second door on the north side of the cabin.  "Hello Luke, this is Jason's
wrestling coach.  I've forgotten where I came across your brochure, but for
some reason I kept it, and when I came across it again a few months ago, I
immediately thought of Jason.  He's one of the best wrestlers I've ever
coached, and one hell of a friendly guy, but there's something going on
inside I don't understand.  I'm not even sure Jason knows about it, or what
it is, but something just doesn't feel right, or complete.  You don't say a
lot about your camp experience, but maybe being out in the woods with a
bunch of other guys he hasn't grown up with will do him some good and help
him find the missing link, or whatever it is that is so deeply buried.
Thanks, and good luck."

* * *

Tracy arrived with his sister behind the wheel, driving a Toyota Scion.  He
was Jason's opposite; if the latter was an exclamation, Tracy was a
question, a little pudgy around the middle, tapering toward the top rather
than the bottom.  "Are you Luke?" he asked in a voice that wouldn't have
carried three feet if a wind had been blowing.
	"Yes, and you must be Tracy."
	"Last time I checked."  He attempted a chuckle but it came out
awkward, like it didn't belong in the body it had come from.
	"Who's your driver?"
	"Sister.  Fraternal twins."
	"Cool.  Say goodbye and let's get started."
	Tracy went around to his sister's side of the car, poked his head
through the window, and whispered into her ear.  She smiled and nodded,
then gave him a peck on his cheek.
	"Follow me," Luke said, almost before the car had disappeared.
"And give me the envelope."  They went to the south side of the cabin.
"Hi, Luke.  I'm just going to say it flat out, I think Tracy might be
homosexual.  He hasn't had a date in his entire life, and when anybody
brings the subject up, he either gives a funny answer or leaves the room.
Personally, I don't care if he is or not.  I just want him to be happy, and
despite the veneer that fools everyone else, I know that he isn't.  I grew
up with him, I know him better than anyone.  Heck, we spent nine months in
the womb together, and although we were young (haha!), we made a connection
I have trouble describing.  Call it intuition if you want, but Tracy
doesn't seem comfortable with himself.  If you can help him, I'll be
eternally grateful."
	It was signed "A Loving Sister."

* * *

Sam got out of the Honda Accord clutching a briefcase.  Catching the
perplexed look on Luke's face, he explained.  "Didn't know whether I would
have time to do some reading.  Going to Virginia Tech in the fall, thought
I might get a head start."
	"No, I don't think you'll need it.  Why don't you leave it in the
car."
	Sam was recalcitrant.  "Not even a few hours here and there?  I
really need to bone up on my plasma physics."
	Luke considered the best approach.  Sam seemed vulnerable, probably
a bookworm since the second grade, with rounded edges physically that
belied a sharp mind.  If he were true to the nerdy stereotype, he didn't
have many friends and hadn't had sex.  A flat out "Leave the fucking
briefcase in the car" would have devastated him.  "Honestly, I think it's
better if you leave it."
	Sam stowed it in the back seat, explaining to his dad that there
wouldn't be time for studying.  They shook hands.  "Now behave yourself,
all right, buddy?"
	"Sure thing, Dad."
	"Is your letter in the briefcase, Sam?" Luke asked.
	"Yes, good point, I should get that shouldn't I?"
	"Yes, I'll need that."
	Sam retrieved a letter from an inside pocket of the briefcase and
handed it to Luke.  "OK, Sam, just follow me."
	They proceeded to the sixth and final door to the cabin.  "Sam's
dad will be bringing him to camp, but I'm the one who really made it happen
-- his mother.  See, Sam and his dad have always been close.  But his dad
has a major blind spot and doesn't see that Sam isn't a well-rounded
person.  He's brilliant, no question about that -- well, they both are,
that's part of the problem.  They have an intellectual connection, but it
doesn't seem to go beyond that.  Sam doesn't actually seem to feel anything
at all.  Talk about science, or mathematics, and his face beams, like there
are a thousand candles inside his head.  Suggest that he go to a movie with
a friend, and every one of those candles seems to fade, until there is no
light from his face at all, just a stare that doesn't seem to comprehend
that it's okay to just have a little fun once in a while.  Luke, will you
try to help Sam have some fun?"
	Luke smiled.  Yes, the fun is definitely about to begin.  He went
back into the cabin using the door he first used to exit when he came out
to greet Johnny Jennings.

Chapter Two


Luke flicked a switch, and the interior of the cabin bathed in the harsh
glow of five bare 150 watt bulbs, arranged in a circular fashion about ten
feet from the center of the room and suspended from the ceiling by thin
black electrical cords.  He walked slowly, circuitously, to the center of
the room, easily circumventing six or seven pieces of dungeon apparatus
that would have felt very much at home in England in the 15th century,
inspecting each boy briefly along the way.
	"What the fuck is going on here?" Johnny yelled.  "If you don't let
me out of this godforsaken thing in about three seconds, I'll eat your
goddam internal organs for breakfast."
	"Nobody will be eating breakfast," Luke replied, "unless I give
them permission.  In fact, nobody will be doing anything without
permission, for the next five weeks.  I am your Master and Owner.  You will
do what I say, and you will refrain from doing anything else."
	Jason wrapped his hands around the bars and pulled, testing his
strength and failing to elicit even a hundredth of an inch of movement.  He
tried the door, but the padlock was equally unyielding.  "Hey, ya know
Luke, this is a pretty good joke, but I think maybe the time for humor is
over.  Why don't you let us out now and let's all have a good time."
	"I'm going to have a good time," Luke said, emphasizing the first
word, "and some of you might too, depending on how you adapt to your new
situation."  He walked over to Jeff's cage and saw a frightened young man.
"Take your clothes off and hand them to me."  Jeff was motionless.  "You
heard me.  If I have to say it again, you'll regret it."
        Everyone in the cabin heard the sigh of resignation.  "Yes, Sir."
He had trouble bending down for his shoes and socks, constricted by the
bars of the cell, but he managed.  "Here, Sir."
	Johnny couldn't believe his eyes.  "You fucking wimp."
	Luke put the clothes into a hamper next to the cell.  "When you
leave, this is where they'll be.  In the meantime, you'll wear this."  On
other side of the cell, Luke removed a heavy rubber body suit from a hanger
sitting obliquely on a large nail pounded into the wall.  "Come with me."
He produced a small ring of keys, unlocked the padlock, and opened the cell
door.
	Luke walked to the center of the cabin, the brightest spot since it
was surrounded by bulbs.  He stopped when he reached a small desk, with a
bare wooden chair behind it, a two drawer filing cabinet, and what appeared
to be a piece of medical equipment.  Jeff padded softly behind in bare
feet.  Luke whirled.  "Did I say you could walk?"
	"Well, Sir, not specifically.  You said to follow you."
	"I said `Come with me,' and you chose to walk without requesting
permission.  The rule is, you crawl unless otherwise instructed.  Go back
and do it again."
	Jeff stood transfixed.  He glanced over his shoulder, then at all
the other boys in turn.  He leaned toward Luke just slightly and started to
whisper, but Luke cut him off.  "Jeff, I didn't figure you for a slow
learner.  Did you hear my instructions?"
	"Yes, Sir."  He turned around, took a step toward his cage, then
slowly got on his hands and knees.  Gradually picking up speed, he reached
his cage, turned around, and crawled to the center of the room.  He lifted
one hand off the floor, realized he hadn't been given permission to stand
up, and put it down again.
	Luke addressed his boys, circling the room.  "Take note, and learn
fast.  Nothing will happen to you here that will harm you in any permanent
way.  Quite to the contrary, actually.  You will leave better than when you
arrived -- different perhaps, but better."  His voice grew stronger.  "You
are all here for a reason.  You will bring me pleasure.  If you choose, you
will develop your own reason for being here and develop accordingly."  He
turned again to Jeff.  "Stand up."
	Luke rolled the medical apparatus next to Jeff and turned it on.
Flickers of blue light crackled from the end of a tube made of clear white
plastic, attached to a flexible gray hose.  "Stand still.  Put your arms
up, shoulder high.  It doesn't hurt."  He proceeded to remove all the hair
from Jeff's chest and arm pits, moving methodically toward the pubic
region.  "Arms down.  Spread your legs."  The statue moved briefly, then
resumed its stone-like, petrified stare at nothing in particular.  The wand
continued to move until every hair below Jeff's neck had been consumed by
the blue light.  Luke picked the rubber suit off the desk and handed it to
Jeff.  "Put this on."
	It took Jeff a full minute to look over the suit and decide exactly
what to do with it.  Not being a surfer, he wasn't familiar with wetsuits,
which this resembled, except that cuffs had been attached at both ankles,
both wrists, the waist, and the neck.  Lockable zippers covered the pubic
area and the asshole.  Soles had been melted onto the bottom of the feet,
in a manner similar to the way pajamas are constructed for infants and
toddlers.  Similarly, gloves locked over the hands and wrists.  Luke used
small padlocks at every opportunity, then stood back and admired his work.
"Well, Jeff, I really don't think your mother would recognize you!"  By the
look in his eyes, he could see that Jeff certainly agreed.  "Back to your
cage!"  Jeff dropped to his hands and knees, awkwardly, and moved toward
the cage, Luke kicking at his buttocks every few seconds.  "Get used to it,
boy.  You're my slave now."  When he got to the cage, Jeff looked at Luke
with a question on his face.  "Yes, you may stand up," and Jeff did exactly
that, as that was the only available position in which he could get his
entire body behind bars.  The padlock slipped into place and clicked shut.
	Luke returned to the center of the room.  "Who's next?"
	Sam spoke up.  "If I may, Mr. Luke, I really think what you're
doing here is illegal.  You can get a lot of jail time for kidnapping."
	"Well, Sam, true to form, good for you.  I was hoping you would
bring that up."  He opened the top drawer of the file cabinet and brought
out five manilla folders.  "Let me see, yours is right on top.  `I, Sam
Winston, do hereby commit myself to the care of the proprietor of Camp
Conscription for the period June 6 through July 13, 2007, and will follow
all appropriate rules, regulations, and restrictions, without recourse to
the Courts of the State of California or the United States of America.'  Do
you remember signing that?"
	"Of course.  And I remember distinctly seeing that word
`appropriate' in there and feeling pretty safe."
	"Safe you are, Sam, I already told you that.  Comfortable, you are
not.  Do you see anyone here to whom you can appeal your definition of
`appropriate'?"
	Sam didn't need to look around.  In fact, he looked at his feet.
"No, Sir."
	"Very good.  Do you wish to be next?"  Sam nodded almost
imperceptibly.  "It looks inevitable," he whispered, ostensibly to himself,
but in the spare cabin everyone heard.
	"Inevitable my ass," Johnny shouted.  "You think you're gonna get
me crawling out there like an animal, you're gonna be waiting a long time
for that."
	Luke smiled.  "I've got a long time, Johnny.  I surely do."  Then
he walked over to Sam's cage and unlocked it.  Sam started walking, then
quickly fell to his hands and knees.  "OK, I'll forgive you a few steps
this time," Luke said.  Fifteen minutes later, Sam was back in his cage,
hairless from the neck down, wearing his locking rubber suit.
	Jeff spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper.  "Sir, may I ask
you a question?"
	"Yes, you may."
	"Sir, well, could you come over here please?"
	"Is that your question, boy?"
	"It was a question, Sir."
	"The answer is no, I won't come over there.  Whatever question you
have, ask it loudly and clearly.  You probably aren't the only person
wondering."
	"All right, Sir.  Well, it was a long drive, Sir, and I didn't have
a chance to go to the bathroom."
	"Is there a question hidden in there, boy?"
	"I'm sorry, Sir, I guess the question is, how and where do I go to
the bathroom?"
	"Very good, Jeff, just as I suspected, something everyone will want
to know.  For the first two days, you will excrete into what you are
wearing now."
	This bit of news energized even the quietest boys.  Jason was
first.  "Luke, dude, you're not serious."  Tracy was second.  "I really
don't think I could do that...Sir."
	"I am serious, and I assure you that you will, several times.  The
alternative will be not to excrete at all, which I assure you will
eventually become more painful.  After the first two days..." he walked
toward a corner of the room deliberately, stopping in front of a circular
hole about one foot in diameter..."you will use this.  You will piss into
it from a standing position, and heaven help you if you miss, unless you
are wearing a chastity device, in which case pissing standing up is not
practical.  You will shit crouching over it, and likewise -- don't miss!
The consequences will not be pleasant."
	Apparently the gravity of the situation started to dawn on Jason.
"Can he really do this?" he asked, adding a notch to his volume to make it
clear he was addressing the other boys.
	Johnny didn't need much prompting.  "He sure as hell isn't going to
do it to me.  And if the rest of you would grow some balls..."  He glared
at Jeff and Sam, leaving the remainder of the statement to their
imagination.
	Luke decided to let them talk it out.  Seating himself on the
lonely chair, he pulled the latest issue of "In Touch" magazine out of the
bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, put his feet up on the desk, and began
to read.  Opinions and invective began to fly from behind the bars.  Tracy
had the last word about twenty minutes later, which he illustrated with a
futile pull on one of the heavy steel bars in front of him: "Well, he's
doing it, and it doesn't look to me like there's a damn thing we can do to
stop him."  A long silence followed.  Luke continued to read, flipping
pages until he got to the back cover.
	"Well said, Tracy, a realistic approach," Luke said, tossing the
magazine on top of the filing cabinet.  He walked over to Tracy's cage.
"I'm guessing you're ready to be next."  Tracy nodded.  Fifteen minutes
later he was hairless from the neck down, encased in his rubber suit, back
in his cage.
	"Jason?"  Luke stood about two feet in front of the cell.
	"Yes, Luke."
	"You're a wrestler, right?"
	"One of the best in the State!"
	"A simple `Yes' or `No' will suffice."
	"You don't want to know how good I am?"
	"At the moment, I don't see that it matters, so I'll repeat the
question.  You're a wrestler, right?"
	Ten seconds of silence.  "Yes."
	"And you always had a coach, right?"
	"Yes."
	"And did you call your coaches by their first names?"
	Silence.  Then, "No."
	"What did you call them?"
	"I called them Mister, and by their last name, or Sir."
	"And do you know my last name?"
	Resignation.  "No."
	"Then what should you call me?"
	"My coaches never locked me up in a damn jail cell."
	Luke retreated to his desk, got out another magazine, and started
reading it.  About five minutes later he made a general announcement.  "You
boys in rubber suits will be allowed out of your cages tonight.  You will
sleep on thin rubber mats directly in front of your cages, with your ankles
secured to the bars.  You will get breakfast tomorrow morning at oh nine
hundred hours."  He paused and looked directly at Johnny.  "Those of you
not in rubber suits by twenty three hundred hours will stay in your cages
all night, in your present condition.  Tomorrow, you will not get
breakfast.  You will not get lunch.  You will not get dinner.  When you
have acknowledged me as your Master, things will go much smoother for you."
He continued to read.
	Fifteen minutes later, Luke heard a weak voice.  "Sir?"  He looked
up.
	"Jason, is that you?  Speak up!"
	"Sir!"
	"Yes, Jason, what can I do for you?"
	"Sir, may I have my turn now, Sir?"
	Johnny couldn't help himself.  "Faggot!!"  Luke ignored the
outburst.
	"Yes, boy, you may."  He proceeded to unlock the cage.  Jason the
wrestler fell to his knees and crawled to the center of the room.  Twenty
minutes later, he crawled back.

* * *

Luke re-entered the cabin at oh eight thirty the next morning, dressed in a
rubber suit remarkably similar to that of his boys, except that there were
no restraints attached.  He was flanked by a young man carrying a small
carton.  The smell of bacon woke everyone up, except Johnny, who had nodded
off briefly and intermittently throughout the night but found sleeping
standing up a near impossible proposition.
        "All right, boys, day two begins.  Stand up!  Prepare for
inspection!"  He made the rounds, touching and probing each body
deliberately.  "Kinda squishy in there," he commented to Tracy, who nodded.
"Wet too?"
        "Yes, Sir.  Uncomfortable to say the least, Sir."
        When he had concluded, Luke went to the middle of the room,
rotating slowly as he made his announcement.  "My friend Tad will put
breakfast in front of you -- those of you who earned it, that is.  You will
finish in fifteen minutes or less.  We will spend the rest of the day
learning how to use all this equipment.  You will place each other in
bondage, add butt plugs and harnesses to your rubber suits, and tantalize
each other, under my direction."  He didn't even try to suppress a huge
grin.  "Beginning tomorrow, your tasks will be to clean each other up, in
pairs.  You will use the hole I pointed out last night for your toileting
needs.  You will discuss in your pairs why you are here and how you are
reacting so far to the discipline of this camp environment.  You will
alternately be put into chastity belts or masturbated until you are hard,
but you will not be allowed to reach orgasm.  Anyone who has an orgasm
without my express approval will be disciplined severely.  Anyone who
refuses to participate in any activity will be locked up for an extended
period of time, denied the use of the toilet, and refused the privilege to
eat.  I strongly recommend you not choose this course of action.  On the
far wall" ... he pointed... "is a drinking fountain.  You will ensure that
you are properly hydrated at all times.  This is the one freedom you enjoy
here, at all times -- to drink water -- presuming that you are not in your
cell.  Those of you who resist and remain in your cells will be force fed
sufficient water to stay healthy."  This last comment elicited a quick
glance at Johnny.  "Beginning next week, I will take each one of you
separately out of this cabin, for a day or two or however long I decide,
and we will commune together with nature and see what develops.  On the
last day of camp, we will play the classic camp game `Capture the Flag,'
pitting you, as a team, against the boys in other cabins.  If we win, I
will get a huge bonus, so we have a lot of work to do.  Let's get started."

Chapter Three

Luke arrived the following morning dressed in hiking boots, blue jeans, and
a bright white T-shirt, carrying a bucket full of water.  Setting the
bucket down hard near his desk, he walked immediately over to Jeff, who was
asleep on his mat, ankles chained to the cage.
        "Up and at'em boy," he yelled, unlocking the chains and the locking
portions of the rubber suit.  "Move to the center of the cabin and take off
all your clothes."  Luke moved over to Tracy and did the same.  Both boys
complied without complaint.  "Tracy, take the sponge in the bucket and give
Jeff a bath.  Clean him up good.  His personal adventure starts today."
        "Yes, Sir," Tracy stated in a matter of fact manner, feeling as
comfortable with it after two days as if they had been the first words out
of his mouth as a baby.
        Luke went outside again and returned with a backpack and four
quart-sized water bottles.  "Good job," he observed, as Tracy had started
from Jeff's head and worked his way down, now cleaning his genital area and
his ass.  Two days' accumulation of excrement just about made him choke,
but he held back, sensing Luke would not approve.
        "Back to your mat, Tracy, and lock the chains on.  Jeff, I want to
see you on your knees."  He saw what he wanted, then proceeded to unzip his
own pants, revealing a huge hard-on, probably measuring 8 inches from base
to tip.  "You ever seen a dick this beautiful?" he asked.
        Jeff stared.  "No, Sir, I guess not."
        "You've seen dicks, before, right?"
        "Yes, Sir."
        "All right, then give me an opinion!"
        "Beautiful, Sir, I mean it."  And he did.  A large mushroom head,
somewhat purplish in color, tapered into a slightly curved shaft, blood
vessels pulsing with sex.  "Put your mouth on it, carefully, and show me
how much you care."
        Johnny, roused from the uneasy slumber that had consumed him the
last day and a half, leaning on the bars of the cage because that was the
only position available, couldn't control himself.  "Oh God! Luke, you are
a real son of a bitch."
        Luke glanced up nonchalantly, then looked back down and put his
hands on Jeff's shoulders.  "I haven't had an orgasm for four days, boy,
and I'm ready.  So get at it.  Pull off when I say so, and not before!
Please me, boy!"
        It took a few minutes.  Jeff's head began bobbing up and down,
slowly, then swiftly, as Luke threw his head back in ecstasy.  "Now!" he
commanded, and Jeff moved his head just in time to see a large white glob
shoot several feet into the air, followed closely by four more.  Luke
tousled Jeff's hair, then put his hands on his shoulders.  "Now that's what
a call a BLOW JOB!"
        Luke cleaned himself off, then pulled some clothes out of the pack.
"Here, put these on.  We're going for a walk."  Then addressing all the
boys in the cabin, he continued.  "We'll be back late tomorrow.  My
assistant Tad will take care of you in the meantime.  Get to know each
other."
        Dressed now in hiking outfits, including boots, with water bottles
attached to their belts, Luke and Jeff marched toward a trailhead on the
south side of the cabin and disappeared, Luke in the lead, Jeff carrying
the pack on his back.  The trail was wide, well used, flat with the rare
exception of a root that stuck out of the ground an inch or two.  They
marched in silence.  Half a mile away, the trail narrowed slightly, and the
sky disappeared, blocked by increasingly dense overhead leaves and
branches.
        "Are you scared?" Luke asked without turning around.
        "A little."
        "Good."
        Half a mile further, they stopped for a drink.  "Never hike without
plenty of water, Jeff.  Never go into life unprepared."
        "Yes, Sir."
        Twenty minutes later they reached a clearing.  "We're camping here
tonight.  Give me the pack."  Luke removed a large tarp, some cooking gear,
two packets of freeze-dried food, a chain about three feet long, and two
padlocks.  He attached the chain to Jeff's ankles so that they could be
spread only about a foot apart, with the remainder of the chain dangling
from the right ankle.  "You can move around, boy, but I don't recommend
running away.  Now set up the camp and cook dinner.  I'll get a little fire
going."
	They dined on macaroni and cheese with tiny pieces of recently
hydrated hamburger that tasted like they hadn't seen a cow since the 18th
century.  But after a brisk walk, dinner is always welcome.  They ate in
silence.  Jeff knew without being instructed to clean up, which involved
washing two forks and tossing the used food containers into the fire.  Then
he retreated to a log opposite Luke and stared into the fire.  Flickers
became embers.
	"What are you thinking?"
	"How stupid I am."
	"Stupid?  Why?"
	"You want the truth?  I came to this camp hoping to learn about
myself, maybe grow up a little bit -- and so far all I've done is spend the
night in a fucking cage, shit and piss myself inside a stifling rubber
suit, give you a blow job in public, and fix your dinner with my ankles
shackled a million miles from nowhere."
	"So far."
	"Well, according to your description, that's about all it's going
to be, climaxing with an electrifying game of capture the flag!  Wow, I
don't know if I can handle the excitement!"
	"Jeff, that was sarcastic!"
	Boots rubbed in the dirt as Jeff considered how to respond.  "I'm
sorry, Sir, that was totally inappropriate."
	"To the contrary, you're feeling frustrated and used.  You might
even be angry.  And based on what you know, you have a right to be.  Why
not express it?"
	"Anger is not acceptable.  Everybody knows that.  I've known that
since I was two years old."  He got up, tossed a small branch on the fire,
and started back toward the log.
	"Sit over here," Luke said, and moved a foot to the left on a tree
trunk covered with moss, probably downed in the fire a few years ago.  Jeff
took a place several feet away and stared at his chained ankles.  "Who
taught you that anger wasn't appropriate?"
	"Mother."
	Luke threw a second limb on the fire and poked it, stirring up a
small white flame, then returned, concern in his eyes.  "Jeff, tell me
about yourself."
	"What do you want to know?"
	"Son, don't wait for instructions for every Goddamn little thing in
life!  Show some initiative.  Now tell me about yourself!"  It would have
been a command even if Jeff hadn't been shackled.
	"All right, sorry."
	"And don't fucking say you're sorry all the time.  Just spit it
out."
	"OK.  I'll be a sophomore at Dickinson University next fall,
studying chemistry.  B average first year."  He paused, looked for
approval, and found an interested, dimly lit face and a slight nod.  "I
belong to the GLBT Club."
	"Really?  Good for you.  Does Mom know?"
	"No."
	"Figures.  Athletics?"
	"Not permitted.  Besides, I have every phobia under the sun.  I
doubt I'd be able to get on a bus for a road trip."
	"Phobias, eh?  What else are you afraid of?"
	"Heights.  Enclosed places.  Frogs."  He paused, considered, and
risked a smile.  "Women with mustaches."
	It worked.  Luke laughed out loud.  "Good one, Jeff, I'm proud of
you."  Jeff released a sigh that moved a branch ten feet away.  "More.  Dig
a bit, get below the surface.  Do it because you trust me, or do it because
you're the one in shackles, I don't care."
	A meteor flashed across the sky, east to west, then disintegrated.
	"My mom says that's a lucky thing, to see a meteor."
	"OK, start with your mom."
	"Very kind, loving, generous.  Devoted her life to me, really."
	"No siblings?"
	"Sister, two years older.  When she was five, she got leukemia,
died eight months later.  I was too young to remember, but people tell me
it changed my mom.  Depression, apparently, and a bad one.  My dad couldn't
handle it and split, left for Seattle and never came back.  Called me once
on my birthday when I was nine.  Two years later I heard he had been killed
in a car accident."
	"I'm sorry to hear that."
	"Yeah, thanks.  Well, life is tough.  Speaking of which, this log
doesn't make the most comfortable sofa in the world."
	"You're right about that.  Get on your knees, facing me, hands
behind your back!"  Luke got a sharp look, followed by compliance.  He
shifted himself to a sitting position on the ground, letting his back lean
on the log.  "Give me a one word description.  Pick an adjective, any
adjective at all."
	"Lonely."
	"Go on."
	"I was a prisoner in my own house, practically.  Mom was always
afraid something was going to happen to me.  About the most exciting thing
I was allowed to do was go bowling."
	"Wow, she really let you do that?"
	Jeff nodded and winked to acknowledge the sarcasm.  "Scored over
200 once.  Mom was so proud!"
	They both laughed.  "When do you plan to let her in on your little
sexual secret?"
	"I don't.  She'd be devastated.  If I took away her dream of tiny
little loving grandchildren, I don't know if she'd love me anymore."
	"Jeff, are you ready for a hard truth?"
	He stared at Luke, then considered his physical position.  "Do I
have a choice?"
	"Do you want a choice?"
	"No.  Go ahead.  After the last two days, I think I'm about ready
for anything."
	"Jeff, your mother doesn't love you.  She's taking care of herself.
She's protecting herself from the possibility of pain.  Psychologically
speaking, she's got your balls locked up in her Hope Chest, anticipating
the day you'll release her from her fear of additional catastrophe.  But
it's not going to happen, because she's scarred, scarred for life.  I don't
know why she couldn't handle her daughter's death.  Some people recover,
some don't.  She apparently didn't, and she took you along for the ride,
hoping you'd stop any more stray bullets from the rifle of life."
	Another meteor shot across the sky.  "You don't have to comment,
Jeff, that's a hard thing to hear.  Just think about it."  Jeff nodded.
Luke found a key in his pocket, released one padlock, stretched the chain
so it now provided Jeff with a full three feet of motion between his
ankles, then clicked the lock shut again.  "Now get down into pushup
position and give me 200.  Face the log.  Rest as often as you need to, but
don't move out of that position until you're done.  And I don't mean girlie
pushups, either, do them like a man -- keep your body straight.  Then go to
sleep."
	"Yes, Sir!"
	Luke walked off and got into his sleeping bag.  Jeff did 201
pushups, just to be sure he hadn't miscounted.  * * * Jeff woke up to the
sound of his name being called stridently but from a distant source.  It
took him a full minute to remember his situation; the shackled ankles
helped considerably.
	"Jeff!  Come here, I need you!"
	Jeff glanced at the campsite, recalling clearly now how he had come
to this place, and why, what he had experienced, and what Luke had said
about his mom last night.  Luke's sleeping bag was empty.
	"Jeff!!  Are you awake?  Look for me!"
	There was an unusual urgency to the voice, a tone he hadn't heard
before.  Jeff stood up awkwardly and followed the sound.  With Luke calling
every thirty seconds or so, it took only two minutes for Jeff to discover
his captor on a thin rock ledge about thirty feet below the top of the
hill.  Rocks and creosote bushes disguised a steep trail.  He peered over
the edge, then retreated quickly.
	"Can you see me?  Oh, there you are, thank God!"
	"Luke, ah, I mean Sir, what are you doing down there?" he called,
standing safely about three feet from the drop-off.
	"I had to pee in the middle of the night and explored a bit too
far.  I fell and sprained my ankle.  I can't get back up!"  Jeff pondered.
He had never been the rescuer in life, only the rescued.  "Well, don't just
stand there.  In my pack you'll find a rope.  Get it!"  Jeff returned
shortly.  "OK, now lower it down.  I think with you tugging on the rope and
my one good ankle, I'll be able to climb up."
	But the rope was too short, by about ten feet.  "It won't reach."
Jeff was not yet fully awake and wasn't embarrassed to state the obvious.
	"You'll have to climb down a few feet so I can reach it."
	"Sir, perhaps you recall from last night that I have acrophobia."
It was half way between a statement and a question.
	"Yes, Jeff, I remember.  And I have a fear of dying."
	"I'll just go back for help.  It's not that far."
	"NO!!  I need you to help me now.  Climb down a few feet, that's
all you need to do."
	Jeff got on his hands and knees, moving cautiously toward the
precipice.  "I don't know if I can do it."  He glanced back at his ankles,
still shackled, and the hiking boots on his feet.  "At least tell me where
the key is so I can get rid of this damn chain."
	"It's in my pocket."  He paused.  "Oh shit, it isn't there!  It
must have fallen out!"
	"Jesus, Luke!  You want me to ..."
	"You don't have a choice, boy.  Just do it, don't think about it!
Use the large rocks for your feet and keep your body close to the ground.
Keep one foot on a solid support until you've found another rock for the
other one.  Grab onto roots with your hands."
	Jeff moved, but inches seemed like hours.  With the rope tied
around his left shoulder, gripping what was left of terra firma with his
hands, knuckles white with fear, he allowed his body to slide over the edge
-- slowly, cautiously, glancing toward the trees above and uttering a
silent prayer.  He continued in this manner, step after excruciating step,
until he had dropped about five feet.  "OK, I'm lowering the rope."
	But it still didn't reach.  "More, Jeff, just a couple more feet.
You're doing extremely well, I'm so proud of you.  Just a few more feet!"
	Jeff was committed.  In fact, moving back up would have been just
as difficult as going down.  He tested rocks as foot rests.  Sometimes they
held, sometimes they didn't, but he found enough to descend another yard.
Again he lowered the rope.
	"Got it!  That's all I need, just a little something to give my
good ankle some support.  Now start back up."
	"Oh my God!  Sir, if I live through this..."
	"Same way you came down, Jeff.  Solid rocks for your ankles, large
roots for your hands.  Tie the rope around your waist."
	Foot by foot, rock by rock, they climbed in tandem, slipping
occasionally, with conversation lapsing into staccato commands from Luke
about where the good footholds would be, followed by epithets from Jeff.
He wasn't convinced he would live, so whatever punishment that might result
from the uncharacteristic series of swear words didn't concern him.  With
one last push off his right ankle, Jeff managed to throw the top half of
his body onto flat land again.  Quickly, he was standing up, pulling
steadily on the rope as Luke moved toward safety.  The appearance of his
face above the precipice provided welcome relief for both of them, and when
Luke had finally placed his feet on solid ground, they collapsed from
physical and emotional exhaustion.
	"Thanks, Jeff.  You did great."
	"Well, like you say, I didn't have a choice."
	"Actually, you did.  My telling you otherwise didn't remove the
choice, it only made it more difficult to select the easier option.  You
did make a choice, perhaps unconsciously, but you did."  He let that sink
in a minute.  "I need some water.  Then let's take a nap."  They walked
slowly toward the campsite and climbed into their sleeping bags.  The first
rays of the sun were just peering above the horizon.
	Two hours later, Jeff woke up again to the sound of Luke's voice,
only this time it was a lot closer.  In fact, it was hovering over his
genitals, which Luke had exposed by unzipping Jeff's pants.  "You have a
pretty nice cock yourself."  Luke fingered the shaft and got precisely the
reaction he was hoping for.  He licked the tip lightly.
        Jeff stopped looking and let his head fall back to the ground,
closing his eyes.  "You have no idea how good that feels."
        Luke's retort was buried somewhere in the rapid motion he
undertook, gradually taking more and more of Jeff's blood-hardened penis
into his mouth.  Minutes later, Jeff exploded.  They went back to sleep.  *
* * The circle of cabins became evident gradually, as the trees thinned and
the trail got wider again.  Luke, hobbling less obviously on his bad ankle,
stopped and pulled a key from his right pocket.  "You don't need to march
into camp wearing those," he said, unlocking the chain.
	"I thought the key fell out of your pocket."
	"I guess I checked the wrong pocket."  Luke smiled.
	A multitude of emotions raced to the surface -- resentment and love
being among them.  Jeff hesitated.  "Sir, you didn't really slide down that
hill and sprain your ankle, did you?"
	"Does it matter?"
	Jeff had expected a more direct answer and gave this clue some
thought.  Then he smiled too.  "No, I guess it doesn't."  He gave Luke a
bear hug that practically knocked the wind out of him, releasing him only
hesitantly, fearing it was lasting too long.  "Ummm, what do I tell the
other guys?"
	"Tell them as much or as little as you want.  You're a man.  Men
have choices."  He re-considered.  "However, I suggest you not reveal too
much.  First, you still have a lot to think about.  Second, the others
haven't had their adventures yet.  They won't resemble yours, but it's best
if they not have any information about what to anticipate."
	"I understand, Sir."
	The second they walked into the cabin, Luke's tone of voice
changed.  "Crawl over to your cage and take your clothes off!"  Jeff obeyed
without hesitation.  Facing the cage he found a straight-backed chair,
draped with his rubber suit, a butt plug with harness, and a locking hood
with built-in blindfold and gag.  Luke pulled several lengths of
quarter-inch diameter rope out of his filing cabinet and moved up behind
him.  "Here, let me help you with that," Luke said through a sadistic grin,
as he shoved the butt plug into place and attached the harness.  "We've
cleaned up the rubber suit for you in your absence," he explained,
motioning for Jeff to put it on.  Luke produced a full bottle of fresh
water.  "You might be dehydrated, let's not take a chance.  Drink the whole
bottle."  Then Luke pushed Jeff into a sitting position, tied his ankles
securely to the legs of the chair, pulled his arms behind his back and
cuffed the wrists together, and pulled the hood over Jeff's compliant head.
"Now I'm exercising my choice, boy," Jeff explained.  "You'll be in corner
time until I think you're ready to be released."
	Two hours later, the pain of holding the urine in exceeded the
anticipated discomfort of sitting in a pool of warm liquid.  The pressure
on his bowels continued to increase as well, but the plug made it
impossible to remedy that situation.  By the time Luke came to release him
thirty minutes later, Jeff had made some decisions, including the first
thing he would say to his mom when she came to pick him up from Camp
Conscription.

Chapter Four


Luke arrived early the next morning, with Tad close behind carrying four
Styrofoam containers in a plastic grocery bag.  With the contents soon
distributed to Jeff, Jason, Tracy, and Sam, the smell of scrambled eggs and
burned toast permeated the cabin.
	"Hey, don't I get anything?" Johnny clamored.  Having not shaved or
showered in close to a week, his appearance was beginning to match his
demeanor -- gruff and ornery -- and the stench emanating from his cage kept
the humans away but drew hundreds of flies.  He had long since stopped
trying to bat them away.
	"I believe you know what you need to do to get with the program,"
Luke replied.  "Just let me know when you're ready."
	"Don't hold your breath."
	"Anybody who gets within twenty feet of you needs to hold his
breath."
	"Not my fault, dude, let me shower and I'll smell a lot better."
	"As you may or may not be aware, we have no showers here.  In your
case, it makes no difference.  You would not be permitted to use them
anyway.  Here you are my slave.  And you seem to be the only one who can't
make that adjustment."
	"Yeah, those other faggots gave in like six year old sissies.
Surely you didn't expect that from me!"
	Knowing that words were not the solution, Luke turned his attention
to the others, finishing their meager breakfasts now, kneeling on their
mats with ankles chained to their cages.  He proceeded to unlock all four
of them and directed them to crawl to the middle of the room, then take off
their rubber suits.  "You will pair up today, clean each other off, then
play with each other using the dungeon apparatus.  Each person will assume
the role of either a dom or a sub the rest of the day."  He looked
deliberately at Jeff.  "You will have the first choice, dom or sub?"
	"Dom, Sir."  It didn't appear to be a difficult decision.
	"Very good, I thought you might.  Sam, what is your preference?"
	"What would be the advantages and disadvantages, Sir?"
	"Analytical to the core!  Since you require more information than
is currently available, you will be the sub.  Jeff will be your Master the
rest of the day.  Is that clear?"
	Sam's quizzical look revealed a lack of understanding about what
had just transpired.  Nevertheless, he knew better than to question the
decision.  "Yes, Sir."
	"Tracy, what say you?"
	"Sub, please Sir."
	Jason managed a non-committal sigh of relief, a good choice under
the circumstances, replacing the enthusiastic, overt "YES!!" that would
have been his preference.
	"All right, it's settled.  First, you clean each other up, taking
turns, the sub cleaning the dom first."  He waved his arm toward four
buckets of water that Tad had brought in during breakfast.  "When you've
finished, all four of you get down on your hands and knees, facing Johnny's
cage, and wait for my instructions."
	Luke sauntered over to the only cage still occupied, stopping about
five feet away.  "You are a sorry sight, young man."  Then more pleasantly,
"Are you hungry?  Just give me a simple, honest answer."
	"Yes, of course."  They were the first words Johnny had spoken in
three days that didn't hiss between his teeth.
	Luke beamed.  "Good for you, an opportunity missed to get angry.
You will be rewarded."  He left and returned with another breakfast, a
bucket of water, and a bar of soap.  "Here, wash your hands.  As sadistic
as I am, I don't want you getting dysentery.  Now eat up, and remember you
could have had it hot."  Johnny reached gratefully through the bars of the
cage, balancing the container in one hand and stuffing the eggs and toast
into his mouth with the other as though he expected it to be his last meal
on earth.  "Tad will get you water to wash it down."
	Luke returned to the center of the room, where four naked slaves on
their knees were watching, wide-eyed.  "All right, stand up.  Jeff and Sam,
go over to the St. Andrews Cross and demonstrate how that device is used.
Jason and Tracy, do the same with the stocks and pillory."
	Jeff stammered.  "Sir, may I ask a question about crawling?"
	"Yes, you may."
	"Sir, if I wish, may I make my slave crawl over there?"
	Luke suppressed a smile.  "First, he is not your slave, he is your
sub.  Before you leave, you will understand the difference.  Second, yes
you may."  He watched as Jeff nodded to Sam, as if that would be a
sufficient instruction.  When it turned out not to be, a hesitant "Crawl,
Sam" prodded the latter reluctantly and slowly to his knees.
        Upon arrival, it dawned on Jeff that the device didn't work with a
person in that position.  "Stand up," he said, gaining confidence.  Luke
shot an approving glance but knew it was easier to command someone to stand
up than vice versa.  "Face toward the cross, hands in the air.  Spread your
legs."  A small table next to the cross displayed two pairs of handcuffs,
two short chains with padlocks and keys, several lengths of rope, a gag, a
hood with blindfold attached, about a dozen clothes pins, a small wooden
paddle, a long piece of cotton string less than half as thin as the rope,
curled up neatly, and a huge oversized padlock that weighed at least pound.
With Sam now in full compliance, Jeff used the handcuffs to attach his
wrists to the upper D-rings, pulling his elbows well above his shoulders,
and attached the ankles to the lower rings.
        Jeff glanced at Luke for a reaction.  "I'll be there in a minute.
Punish him a bit."
        Meanwhile, Jason had put Tracy in a hammer lock and marched him
over to the medieval torture device that was used to punish witches and
other scum of the earth.  "Step in," he commanded, and as Tracy complied,
Jason moved the wooden frames back together, pushing horizontally, snapping
the locks on both sides of his ankles.  "Lean forward."  He pulled the top
half of the pillory up just enough for Tracy to put his head and wrists
through the openings, then let it fall, flush against the lower half.
Padlocks clicked.  "Well, pardner, try to get out!"
        Tracy quickly discovered that very little movement was possible.
Moreover, the force of a wooden paddle striking his bare ass several times
in succession made him wince.  His face turned red, not so much from pain
as from embarrassment.
        "All right, Jason, not bad," Luke said, striding over to the
pillory and taking the paddle out of his hand.  "Just a couple of lessons,
all right.  First of all, did you establish a safe word?"
        "You told me to be the dom."
        "I did indeed.  I didn't tell you that he was to be punished
unmercifully without any chance to communicate with you in a meaningful way
about what was happening on his side of the scene.  Have you ever been in
one of these, boy?"
        "No, Sir."
        "Then do you have a clue what it feels like?"
        "I can only imagine."
        "That's not good enough.  Until you've been there, you don't know.
And we are not in the business of causing permanent bodily harm.  ALWAYS
establish a safe word, something the sub can remember and say easily, and
if he uses it, you release him immediately.  Some doms prefer a `green,
yellow, red' signal, where `yellow' means `caution, go easy, I'm getting
close to my limit,' and `red' means `let me out of this thing right now.'
Got it?"
        "Yes, absolutely."
        "And if the sub is gagged, then you establish another signal, like
three verbal noises of any kind in succession."
        "I understand, Sir."
        "All right, give me the paddle.  Bend over and grab your ankles."
Luke gave Jason three hard swats on his bare ass, with only seconds in
between.  "Stay in that position."  He waited a minute, then rubbed the
paddle against Jason's bare ass, up and down and sideways, then drew it
back for a swat, then repeated the process until the wooden instrument had
collided with skin two more times.  Between swats, he not only rubbed
Jason's ass cheeks with the paddle but used its edge to stimulate his
crack.  Occasionally he reached under the genital area and rubbed Jason's
cock and balls with the paddle.  "Which did you like better?"
        "No question about it, Sir, the second by far.  I guess if I were
gay I might even enjoy it."
        Luke passed up the easy opportunity to explore a subject he knew
would surface again.  "Then that's the way you should do it when you paddle
someone else.  I repeat, we are not medieval monsters, we are twenty-first
century human beings helping each other through sometimes challenging life
struggles and having a little fun along the way."
        "I'll go along with some of that, Sir, but I don't know that
getting paddled would ever be fun."
        "When you were wrestling, did you ever get pinned?"
        "Rarely, but yes."
        "And did you enjoy it?"
        "You must be joking!  I was trying to pin the other guy!"
        "I know that, but you didn't answer my question."  Jason shrugged
and looked away.  Luke decided not to press the point -- at least not yet.
"OK, now you paddle Tracy the way I showed you, and ask him which he
prefers."
        "Sure, no problem."
        Luke returned to the St. Andrews Cross, where Sam's ass was getting
redder by the minute.  "Well, it looks like we have a few things to learn
here too."  He inspected Sam's arms.  "How do they feel?"
        "Losing a bit of circulation, to be honest.  They feel a bit
tingly."
        "OK, Jeff, do you know why?"
        "He's a pussy?"  He immediately felt badly and wished he hadn't
said it.
        "You're not an expert in biology, I take it.  When the limbs are
above the heart, blood circulation gets to be a problem.  The hands can be
a bit above the heart, but not for extended periods of time, and you need
to check in with your sub now and then to find out."
        "OK, that totally makes sense, Sir."
        "Now, take the string here and attach it to his balls."
        Jeff soon discovered he had to crouch on the other side of the
Cross, and the apparatus itself got in the way.  Plus the light was low.
He glanced at Luke, his face asking for advice.
        "If you want to paddle, he's OK.  If you want to play with his cock
and balls, turn him around, facing the other way."  Five minutes later Sam
was again restrained, facing forward, arms extended but not as high, with
the oversized padlock swinging from the string attached to his balls.  Luke
pushed it gently, and Sam flinched.  "You see, this can be a lot of fun.
Have at it.  Experiment with the hood and the clothes pins if you wish.
But don't' forget, you'll get your turn on the other side.  Whatever you do
to him, he'll have a chance to do to you."
        Jeff smiled.
        An hour later, the pairs switched, with Jeff and Sam moving to the
pillory and Jason and Tracy taking advantage of the St. Andrews Cross.  The
old saying "a great time was had by all" really didn't apply.
        Luke stopped them in their tracks about two in the afternoon.  "I
assume you're getting hungry," he said loudly, to nobody in particular.  He
saw nods.
        "When everyone has gotten off, except Johnny of course, you get
lunch."  He provided no further instructions, striding confidently over to
his chair, putting his feet on the desk, and glancing at his charges from
time to time.  Jeff and Sam began masturbating each other almost
immediately.  Johnny had gone back into a semi-slumber, about the only kind
permitted by what had become his interminable standing position.  But Tracy
was getting no cooperation from Jason at all.
        "Is there a problem?" Luke asked without moving.
        "Yes, there sure as hell is," Jason replied.  "I'm a goddam
wrestler, and I'm straight as an arrow, and if you think I'm gonna jerk him
off or suck his little cock, you are delusional."
        "You will, or you'll be back in your cage wearing a rubber suit
twice as heavy as the first one."  He paused for effect.  "I didn't say you
have to enjoy it."
        Jason glanced at Johnny and quickly decided that returning to the
cell was the greater of two evils.  "Don't worry, I won't."  And by all
appearances, he didn't.
        Luke didn't care.  As he surveyed the situation, he realized that
he was living a life's dream.  He was totally in control of the lives of
five hot young men.  He could be strict, he could be lenient; he could give
them food to eat or not, as he chose; he could dress them in rubber suits,
or keep them naked; he could force them to excrete into their suits,
creating a squishy mess reminiscent of a baby's soiled diaper, or permit
them to use a hole in the floor, the nearest thing to a toilet they would
see the entire summer.  Except for Johnny, who might or might not come
around by the end of the session, they were all cooperating to greater or
lesser degrees, sometimes even having fun (by this time, Sam had shot his
load and was working feverously on Jeff), and learning a bit about life in
the process.  Ah, life was good.


Chapter Five

Luke arrived the following morning with the same pack he had carried the
day he took Jeff into the woods, dressed in the same manner as well, with
his assistant in tow.  The four cooperating boys were kneeling on their
mats, ankles still chained to their cages; Johnny, his urine and
disintegrating feces now slipping through the legs of the rubber suit and
soiling the floor of his cage, hung onto the bars with both hands.  "Who's
ready for breakfast?" Luke asked.
	A chorus of "I am, Sir, please" rose from the four corners of the
floor.  Only Johnny remained silent.  Luke waved toward Tad, approving the
meal for those who had accepted their subservient role, then walked over to
Johnny.
	"Would you like breakfast this morning?"
	"Yes."
	"You get one more chance, then we throw it away.  Would you like
breakfast this morning?"
	"Yes...Sir...please."  The last two words were barely audible, even
to Luke, who stood less than five feet away.  But he recognized it as
progress, recalling the way he had trained rats in psychology class in
college using the technique called "successive approximations."
	"All right, I'll accept that today."  He called over his shoulder
to Tad.  "Breakfast over here too!  Remember to let him wash his hands
first."
	Fifteen minutes later, Luke released Tracy and Jeff from their
shackles and instructed each to crawl to the middle of the cabin.  Both did
so, awkwardly, but struggling successfully with their rubber suits after a
considerable number of days' experience.  "Jeff, Tracy's adventure begins
today.  Clean him up and get him dressed in these hiking clothes."  When
that had been accomplished, he addressed the entire group.  "Tracy and I
will be leaving shortly.  As before, Tad will be totally in control.  You
will obey him as you would me.  Those who are well behaved will be allowed
to play in the dungeon.  However, no orgasms are permitted."
	Outfitted with water bottles, with Tracy wearing the pack, the duo
headed out the door.  Tracy reveled in the fresh air, breathing deeply.
"It may not be my place, Sir," he said hesitantly, "but the air in the
cabin is becoming oppressive."
	"And what are you doing about it?"
	"Some of the boys tried to talk to Johnny while you were out with
Jeff, Sir.  I'm not sure they made any progress."
	"We'll wait and see."
	Tracy concluded from this non-committal answer that he had said all
he should on the subject, and he fell into line behind Luke on the trail
leading to the campsite.  Luke set a moderate pace until he reached the
place where the trail narrowed, stepping aside momentarily.  "You lead."
	"Are you sure, Sir?"
	"Would I have said it otherwise?"
	"Anything you say, Sir, it's not that I'm trying to be disobedient.
I'm just not much of a leader."
	"The trail is well marked."
	They continued, but at a much slower pace.  Tracy seemed obsessed
with observing every flower, sometimes crouching on his hands and knees to
observe those he found especially beautiful or unique.  He liked the
butterflies too, noticing minor distinctions in coloration that totally
escaped Luke.  "Would you call that purple or magenta?" Tracy asked,
pointing to an especially large specimen that landed nearby.
        Luke sensed that the answer was important to Tracy, although
personally he could not have cared less.  It was an insect -- all right, a
pretty one -- but "purple or magenta?"
        "I don't know.  It sure as hell isn't green."
        Tracy shot him an irritated glance that quickly evolved into
sympathetic understanding.  "You don't understand.  To me they are
different.  They speak different languages."
        "Right now, your legs need to speak `get the hell down the trail'
or I'll have to punish you when we get there."
        "All right, Sir."  Tracy moved on, with Luke observing closely.
The pack sat differently on his back than it had on Jeff's, and Tracy's
hips seemed wider.  The walk was less athletic, the stride less confident.
Watching Tracy's legs now, and the broad buttocks, Luke concluded that
Tracy was simply built differently.
        When they arrived at the clearing, Luke directed Tracy to lay out
the sleeping bags, gather firewood, and prepare dinner -- sparse though it
was.  Unlike Jeff, Tracy was unhindered by shackles on his ankles.  They
watched together, for almost an hour, leaning against a large log, as the
last yellow flames of the campfire died, yielding hot red coals.  A slow
breeze moved the smaller tree branches.
        "I'm horny," Luke observed.  "Bring your sleeping bag over here."
        Tracy considered asking whether to walk or crawl and decided that
the latter was the more appropriate choice, despite the discomfort caused
by small rocks and twigs digging into his hands and knees.  When he
returned, he straightened up all four corners of the sleeping bag
meticulously and kept smoothing the wrinkles out of the middle portion with
his hands until Luke lost his patience.
        "All right, enough already!"  Then, without further delay, Luke was
all over Tracy, pulling the short-sleeved shirt up and over his head,
revealing a hairless chest and simple round light brown nipples.  The pants
came off quickly as well, plus the white jockey shorts that Tracy had
really enjoyed wearing, in contrast to the nakedness or rubber since he had
arrived at Camp Conscription.  Luke kissed him hard, and Tracy kissed back.
Both sets of hands and arms, guided by instinct, explored energetically.
Luke's penis stood rigidly atop his oversized scrotum.  "Get the lube.
It's in the side pocket of the pack, the left side toward the top.  There's
a condom in there too."
        "Yes, Sir."  Tracy was in heat, and his voice quavered.  He was
also one of the happiest men on earth, anticipating an event he had
secretly wished for since the minute his eyes had fallen upon Luke's lithe
body.  He handed the condom and the small bottle of lube to Luke and
resumed his position on the sleeping bag, face up.
        "Have you been fucked before, boy?"
        "Yes, Sir.  Unfortunately, it's usually painful."
        "Shouldn't be, if it's done right and you trust your partner."
        "I trust you, Sir.  I'm so ready, Sir."
        Luke tore the little package open, lubed thoroughly, and rubbed
some of the sticky liquid directly into Tracy's ass as well.  He placed
Tracy's legs on his shoulders, kissed him again passionately, then inserted
the tip of his penis into the pulsating hole.  He started thrusting, first
gently, then firmly, while Tracy masturbated himself violently.  In the
end, with all of Luke's pelvic muscles working in concert, both boys
emitted moans of pleasure as they reached orgasm simultaneously.
Relaxation followed, with intermittent kissing and gentle touching added as
an indication of affection as well as eroticism.
        Eventually, Luke sat up, leaning against the same log.  Tracy
joined him.  Two minutes later he was crying.
        "Would you like to share?" Luke asked gently.
        Tracy shook his head no, and Luke sensed a profound sadness.  He
pulled Tracy's head toward him with his right hand and placed it on his
shoulder.  Sobbing continued for a few more minutes, followed by a series
of deep sighs.
        "I don't feel like I know you very well yet," Luke started, sensing
that the sexual familiarity had cleared a path toward personal intimacy.
        "I've got no secrets, at least not from you."
        "Do you keep secrets from others?"
        Tracy knew he'd be asked for examples.  "Yes.  Do you promise not
to laugh?"
        "No."
        "I like to crochet."
        "I see nothing wrong with that.  What else?"
        "Well, my sexual fantasies.  Being fucked is my primary fantasy.
Only I don't especially care for it up the ass."  He hesitated, then
decided to risk everything.  "I, well, I pretend I've got a vagina."
        "Is that so?  And you'd like to have someone's dick in there?"
        "Yes, Sir.  Of course, that's not possible, but that's what really
turns me on."
        Luke put the clues together.  "Tracy, are you trying to say you
think you might be happier as a woman?"  He said it non-judgmentally,
impartially.  Any answer would have been right.
        "I try not to think about it.  That's not the way I was born."
        "Maybe part of you was.  Just not the genital part."
        "Can a brain be male or female?"
        "I'm no psychologist.  But men and women think and behave in
different ways, there can be little doubt of that."
        "Sometimes I feel like I have a female brain."
        "If you want to know the truth, I observed you closely today on the
trail.  I think you are built like a woman, at least in places.  I think
maybe part of you does want to be female, and parts of you are already."
        If anyone had ever made that observation before, nobody had ever
displayed the courage to say it straight to Tracy's face.  Luke had
expected a stifled dissent.  What he heard was more nonchalant, almost as
if the ineffable had been expected for many years, and here it was,
finally, and it was almost accepted before it was even spoken.  Tracy
cracked a smile.  "You think, seriously?"
	"Yes.  I get the feeling you aren't comfortable in your own skin,
somehow."
	"I don't know how to say this.  I look at women, and I think to
myself, `you are so lucky to be a girl.' "
	"Is it possible you'd want to become a girl?"
	"I never thought about it.  It's not like I have a choice."
	"Actually, you do.  To some extent, at least.  You've heard about
sex change operations, no doubt."
	"My family would kill me."
	"Would they?"
	"I don't know.  Not literally."
	"Nobody would approve?  Nobody would understand?"
	"Well, apparently you would."
	"Yes, I would.  And maybe some other people would too.  Sometimes
we don't give people enough credit.  We catastrophize in anticipation of
the worst possible reaction.  And that fear keeps us from experiencing all
there is to life."
	"I've been afraid of this idea since I was ten years old."
	Luke sat quietly for a minute.  "You'd be a gorgeous woman, Tracy."
	Tears flowed again and spoke more eloquently than any words that
could have been uttered.  When they stopped, Luke stood up, pulled Tracy up
with him, and gathered up the sleeping bag.  Hand in hand, they returned to
the flat cleared ground, where Luke dropped the bag and straightened it out
next to his.  Soon they were fast asleep.

* * *

The cleared camp silently and walked deliberately but slowly toward camp,
Tracy in the lead.  Where the trail widened, Tracy turned around.  "Do you
think I should tell the others?"
	"Totally up to you," Luke replied.  "Sometimes there are good
reasons for secrets.  Sometimes there aren't.  You're an adult.  You
decide."
	They walked again in silence.  Just before entering camp, the young
boy who had decided to become a girl stopped again.  "You know, Sir, I
think I'll keep my name.  I'll just spell it with an `e' right before the
`y.' "
	"A fine choice."

Chapter Six


"Predicament bondage," Luke explained to the four naked boys on their knees
in front of him, their bodies erect and hands clasped behind their heads,
"gives you a choice between two or more uncomfortable or painful options.
Your predicament comes in choosing which option to experience, for how
long."  He motioned to Tad, standing behind and slightly to the right, and
was promptly provided with a pair of leather wrist restraints, a padlock,
an iron spreader bar, and a piece of string about four feet long.  "Sam,
front and center, crawl up here, then stand up.  Face the other slaves.
The rest of you remain in your present positions with as little motion as
possible.  Every movement I see will result in a swat to your bare ass at a
time and place of my choosing."
	Sam did what he was told.  His arms were soon pinned behind his
back, and the spreader bar kept his ankles about three feet apart.  A light
push from either the front or the back would have toppled him, as he had no
means of keeping his balance other than attempting to keep his weight
directly above his feet.  Luke deftly tied the string to Sam's balls and
stretched it toward the middle of the spreader bar.  "Bend your knees," he
commanded, and as Sam did so, about four more inches of string became
available to tie to the bar.  Luke finished the knot with a flourish and
checked to see that the string was taut.  Sam flinched.  "All right, now
stand up straight."
	Sam attempted to follow this instruction, but every inch that he
straightened his knees resulted in increasing downward tension on his
balls, caused by the unyielding string.  He managed only a slight movement,
then returned to his original position.
	"Good.  Now I'm going to step aside for a few minutes and just
observe."
	Time was not kind to any of the boys that morning.  Sam's knees
started shaking, but every time he tried to straighten up, the pressure on
his balls brought him down again quickly.  Luke smiled every time it
happened, which averaged about once every three minutes.  Meanwhile, Jason
started moving his elbows slightly to ease the pain in his arms, caused by
lack of circulation, and he was soon joined by all the others.  Gradually,
the movements became less subtle.
	"Stop moving," Luke demanded, and the motions ceased, but only
temporarily, as the discomfort became unbearable and the threat of being
paddled faded into the distant future.  Fifteen minutes later, Luke
relented.  "All right, put your arms down by your sides."  And he proceeded
to release Sam as well.
	"Predicament bondage," he continued, sounding very much like a
college professor.  "Sam experienced the real thing.  The rest of you
experienced a variation that was more mental than physical, but quite real
nevertheless, because you truly believed that punishment would result from
moving your arms.  And it will."
	He called them up, one by one, made them bend over and grab their
ankles, reddened their asses in proportion to the movement he had observed,
then sent them back to their places.
	"All right, let's graduate to something more sophisticated."  Tad
pushed a small table on wheels into position near Luke and plugged a small
device into an electrical socket.
	"Jeff, stand up and face the boys.  Spread your legs."  Luke used
the spreader bar again, then applied an ointment on Jeff's ball sac and
attached two small pads, both of which were connected to the electrical
device by thin wires.  Luke flipped a switch and moved a dial slowly.
"Tell me when you feel something."
	Jeff's face registered motion about 30 seconds later.  "A slight
tingling, Sir."
	"Good.  Tell me when it feels moderate."  He continued to move the
dial.
	"Now, Sir."
	"Well, you have quite an acceptable tolerance level, Jeff,
congratulations.  Now, put your arms up, on both sides, to about shoulder
height.  Extend your fingers."  Luke proceeded to attach small mercury
switches to the middle finger on each hand, again attached by wires to the
device on the table.  He moved the dial up just a hair, then flipped
another switch.
	"Do you feel anything now, Jeff?"
	"No."  Jeff was facing away from the machine and answered only on
the basis of the feelings he detected, or failed to detect, in his genital
region.
	"Excellent.  Just hold that position, then."
	Jeff knew exactly what to expect, and he wasn't disappointed,
although given a choice, he would have preferred to be disappointed.
Several minutes into the exercise, his arms got heavy, and he dropped them
below a 45 degree angle.  Silently, the mercury moved inside the switches.
Jeff's body reacted quickly to the shock he experienced to his balls,
sending reverberations up and down his legs and resulting in a quick upward
motion of his arms.  The mercury rolled again, and the shock ceased.  But
the arms got heavy again, with the same inevitable result.  This continued
for about five cycles.  Each time, Jeff managed to keep his arms up longer,
but it simply wasn't possible to remain in that position forever.
	The other boys remained on their knees, observing, giving silent
thanks that they were not the ones wired up to the electric contraption.
Luke smiled and read their minds.  "You will all get your turns, don't
worry."  He turned the machine off and removed the restraints.  "Good job,
Jeff.  How did it feel?"
	"I don't suppose you want me to say `shocking,'" he smirked.
Noticing that Luke didn't seem amused, he added, considerably more
seriously, "that wasn't really fun, Sir.  No matter what choice I made,
discomfort was inevitable.  If I had to do that for an hour, I'd consider
it torture."
	"Precisely the nature of predicament bondage.  Well said, Jeff.
And who wants to be next?"
	Needless to say, they all had the opportunity to experience this
ingenious device, a time-consuming venture since each boy required a
minimum of fifteen minutes to realize the position's full potential.  Luke
then allowed them to eat lunch, relax, and chat among themselves.  He and
Tad ate at the small desk in the center of the room, talking occasionally,
mostly observing and listening.  When they had both finished, he got a
length of string out of the desk and called the boys to a corner of the
cabin, where an apparatus had been set up but previously unnoticed.  It
consisted of a pulley firmly attached to the ceiling, a spreader bar with a
smaller pulley attached, and a length of stout rope that hung from both
sides of the top pulley.
	"Anybody want to guess how this is used?" Luke asked.  Bravery was
in short supply.  "Okay, Tracey, front and center."  Luke attached the
string to Tracey's balls, winding it around thoroughly so there was no
chance it would slip off.  The spreader bar was used to keep his ankles
about three feet apart.  Luke then pulled the rope coming down from the
ceiling pulley and used it to tie Tracey's wrists together behind his back.
"Lean forward," Luke commanded, simultaneously pushing Tracey's wrists
upward, resulting in his head and torso being forced toward the floor.
Luke then grabbed the rope coming down from the pulley on the other side,
ran it under the pulley attached to the spreader bar, tied it to the piece
of string, and wound the string around Tracey's balls, leaving very little
slack.  "Tracy, stand up as straight as you can."
	Tracey attempted to obey the command but didn't get very far.
Moving his torso back toward an upright position resulted in his wrists
moving down, pulling on the rope, and consequently exerting downward
pressure on his balls.  "I can't, Sir."
	"We'll see.  Wait a few minutes."
	Everyone watched eagerly.  Tracy fidgeted uncomfortably, to the
minimal extent that his position allowed.  Finally, holding his arms up so
high behind his back became intolerable, and he moved them down.  "Ah!
Ah!" was all he could muster, as the pressure on his balls increased.  He
tolerated the pain about 15 seconds, then raised his arms again.
	"Imagine about an hour of that," Luke beamed, well satisfied with
his demonstration.  "Keep it up another 10 minutes, then we'll let someone
else try."  Needless to say, they all had an opportunity.
	"All right boys, next lesson.  Gather around me in a circle.  Now
you will face a physical challenge, another form of predicament, because if
you are not sufficiently motivated to work until you are totally exhausted,
punishment will result.  Based on my knowledge of each of you, I have
written down the number of push-ups I believe you should be able to do in
half an hour.  One at a time, when I say `begin,' you will get down into
position and begin doing push-ups.  You will count each one out loud.  You
may rest when you get tired, but the more push-ups you do, the less severe
your punishment will be.  If you exceed the number I have written down for
you, there will be no punishment at all.  If you fail to achieve that
number, you will receive the number of swats with the paddle equal to the
difference between what you did and what I expected of you.  Is that
clear?"
	"Yes, Sir," came the uniform reply.
	"Good.  Sam, you begin.  Those of you not participating at any
given time may provide encouragement if you wish."  Tad pulled a black
leather hood over Sam's head.  He could see no light, but the holes for the
nose and mouth provided ample opportunity to breath.
	Sam got to seven before collapsing.  Less than a minute had
expired.  Gym had never been his best subject.  "C'mon, Sam, do some more,"
Jason yelled.  "Seven push-ups?  A ten year old girl could do better than
that!"
	Tracey looked at Jason disapprovingly, then back at Sam.  "You've
got lots of time, Sam.  Rest up a bit, then keep going.  You can do it!"
	The next 29 minutes replicated the first.  Sam did what he could,
collapsed, received encouragement from each boy (albeit phrased in
different ways), struggled with a few more, his upper arms shaking, then
collapsed again.  In the end, he got to 87.
	"I figured you for 100," Luke stated.  "Stand up.  Arms in front of
your body, and don't move."  The large wooden paddle landed 13 times.  "Go
back to your place in the circle.  All right, who's next?"
	"I'll go," Jason said.  Tad removed the hood from Sam and fastened
it around Jason's head.  Jason knew he could do considerably more than 100.
What he didn't know was how many Luke expected.  At fifteen minutes, he had
counted out 72, but he was slowing down.  "Half way," Sam estimated.  "At
this rate, you'll have 142."  But even conditioned wrestlers wear out.  The
final total was 108.
	"I expected 125 from a rough, tough guy like you," Luke said.  "Get
ready for your punishment."  The paddle landed 17 times.
	Tracey was next and got 8 swats.  Jeff worked up a sweat, pushing
himself to the limit, and received only two.
	"Another predicament," Luke explained.  "How hard do you work to
avoid punishment, not ever knowing if you are working hard enough?  Not
entirely unlike real life, if you want my opinion."
	He gave the boys a chance to rest, then provided another
opportunity for them to achieve his objective for their physical ability.
"Now you will do leg lifts.  I have again written down a goal for each of
you -- the number of lifts you can do in 30 minutes.  You will lie on your
backs.  Each exercise consists of lifting both legs to at least a 45 degree
angle, legs straight, holding that position for 5 seconds, then lowering
your legs to the ground.  Count them out as before."
	They took turns, warming to the task of yelling encouragement to
their fellow slaves.  Only Luke understood that this was a more important
objective of the assignment than the punishment that resulted from failure
to achieve the goal.  Nevertheless, he enjoyed paddling each boy in turn,
illustrating again the nature of a slave's predicament.
        Luke then removed Tracey's hood, handed him the key, and instructed
him to release Jason.  Jason released Sam.  Sam released Jeff.  "You may
relax," Luke instructed, then walked over to Johnny's cage.
	"And how many push-ups do you think you could do?"
	"It doesn't fucking matter.  You'd find an excuse to swat me no
matter how good I was."
	"Want to try?  At least you'd get out of your cage.  I'll have the
other boys provide encouragement, just like they did for each other."
	"I don't need no damn encouragement.  What I need is a good meal
and some hot water running down my back."
	"Neither of which you shall have until you tone down your attitude
considerably."  Luke turned and walked out of the cabin to plan the next
boy's adventure.

Chapter Seven

Luke arrived the next morning, walking energetically, with Tad close behind
as usual, carrying breakfast and wearing the now familiar pack.  When
everyone had eaten, including an unusually subdued Johnny, Luke unchained
Sam.  "Time for your adventure, boy."  Then he addressed the others.  "As
always, Tad will be in command.  Those of you who enjoy some degree of
mobility will be free to play.  You now know enough to experience quite a
few pleasures with each other.  You will play as a threesome, getting to
know each other as well as you possibly can, both sexually and otherwise."
He paused and smiled.  "And because you have been cooperative, you are each
permitted one orgasm."
	The boys hid their excitement poorly.  They were all excruciatingly
horny, having abstained from reaching sexual climax during the previous
day's lesson on predicament bondage despite the intense state of arousal
that each had experienced.  And being in their sexual prime, it had not
been unusual for any of them to cum two or three times a day prior to
arrival at camp.  Jason and Sam were beyond excruciating, having progressed
to somewhere between agonizing and unbearable, as neither had yet been on
the trail with Luke.
	Luke called the boys together closer and practically whispered.
"And try to get to know Johnny better.  I want each of you to go over and
talk to him individually at least a few minutes sometime during the day."
Watching the boys' faces, he added, "Hold your nose if you have to, but do
it."
	Luke carried the pack outside, with Sam two steps behind.  When
they reached the trailhead, he stopped.  "You will carry the pack, boy.
But you are not permitted to look inside, under any circumstances."  He
emphasized the word "any" with both gestures and a serious vocal tone.
	"Why is that?" Sam asked.
	"Because I said so.  Is that not good enough?"
	"I guess it is, Sir.  But I like to know the reason for things."
	"I've noticed."
	"And, if you don't mind, I have another question."
	Luke allowed it, reluctantly.  "You said the others could have an
orgasm.  I haven't had any sexual relief since I've been here.  It would
help if I could anticipate."
	"I'm not going to answer your unasked question.  Wait and see."
Luke took two steps into the woods, then paused at a sign scrawled onto a
rough board, nailed to a post.  "CAUTION: BEAR SIGHTED NEAR TRAIL LAST
WEEK."  Luke noticed that Sam was reading it too.
	"Umm, Sir, do you think we should be taking this trail?"
	"I think we'll be okay.  Trust me."
	Sam shook his head, clearly uncomfortable with the situation but
helpless to do anything but follow along.
	Luke hadn't taken ten more steps into the woods when Sam asked
another question.  "Where does this trail lead?"  Luke just ignored him,
unsuccessfully.  "I know I'm bothering you, but my dad would want me to
know what I'm getting myself into, and heading out on an unknown trail
would definitely not qualify.  Especially if there are carnivorous wild
animals."
	Luke whirled.  "For Chrissakes, boy, have you ever just done
something spontaneously, without thinking too much?"
	"You don't approve of thinking?"
	"I approve of taking a chance now and then, leaving your safe and
secure little comfort zone that's about two feet in diameter."  He knew
immediately he had gone just a bit too far, too fast.
	"I'm sorry, Sir."  Curiosity turned to instant depression.  "I am
who I am."
	Luke covered as well as he could.  "And that's a good thing, Sam,
it really is.  A lot of people could use your analytical skills and your
thoughtful approach to life.  But there's also something to be said for
letting your hair down every now and then."
	"Usually that gets me into trouble."
	"You mean, you've tried it?"
	"Well, I went to a movie once without checking the starting time.
I got there 15 minutes late, missed most of the previews."
	"Wow, and you lived through that?"
	The sarcasm bounced off the trees, unnoticed by Sam.  "Yeah, after
the movie I asked the person in the next seat what films had been
previewed, and I went home and looked them up on the Internet."
	"Thank God."
	They continued in silence, past the narrowing of the trail.  "How
far is it?"
	"Just as far as I want it to be."
	When they reached the campsite, Luke helped Sam take the pack off
and removed the items that would be needed for the night.  He stowed the
pack at the edge of the clearing, on the far side away from the log that
sufficed for a chair.  He sat down and watched Sam gather wood, make a
fire, and cook dinner.  After Sam burned the wrappers and washed the forks,
he joined Luke with his back against the log.
	"Sam, who's your favorite person in the entire world?"
	"That's an easy one.  My dad."
	"Because?"
	"We're soulmates.  We think the same way.  It's like we see the
world through the same type of lens."
	"Convex?"  Sam finally cracked a smile, confirming Luke's view that
a sense of humor can be useful in practically any situation.  "Now, other
than your dad, who is your best friend?"
	Sam seemed puzzled.  "I'm not sure.  I hang out with my Science
Club friends at school, but we don't see each other socially."
	"Do you see anyone socially?"
	"There's really not a lot of time for that.  I study a lot."
	"And is that all there is to life?"
	"It's enough for me."
	Luke let it slide.  "Sam, one more thing, then let's hit the sack.
You know about the bear.  I took the precaution of bringing some
protection."  He walked over to the pack and removed a small handgun, along
with ammunition.  Deliberately, carefully, he shoved a clip into the
weapon, pointed it at a tree about 150 feet away, and fired.  The bullet
thudded harmlessly into the trunk.
	Sam recoiled.  "I don't care for guns."
	"You don't care for bears either, right?  What if you had a
choice?"
	"Hobson's choice, if you ask me."
	Luke didn't understand the reference but proceeded.  "Here, you
fire it once."  He handed the gun to Sam, who accepted it gingerly.  "Have
you ever shot one of these."
	"I've never even held one of these."
	"Well, it's not hard.  Here, this lever is the safety.  In this
position, it's on...in this position, it's off and you can fire.  Go ahead,
take a shot."
	It took Sam a full minute to squeeze the trigger.  Once again, the
tree took a hit.
	"Nice shot, pretty good for the first time."
	"I hope it's the last time."
	"It might be.  It might not be.  Depends on whether the bear visits
us during the night."  Not being stupid, Sam grasped the implication
immediately and sighed deeply.  "That's right," Luke continued, "it's your
job to protect us.  Keep the gun by your side.  If you see the bear, shoot
the son of a bitch, will serve him right."
	"Why can't you keep the gun?"
	"Because I told you to keep it, and you're my fucking slave, and if
you don't follow instructions you'll spend the rest of your days at Camp
Conscription in your little cell, just like Johnny."
	"That wouldn't be too pleasant."
	"To say the least.  Anyway, relax, I was here with Jeff and Tracey
and we didn't even catch a glimpse of him."
	"Were they afraid?"
	"You can ask them when you get back.  Now get into your bag and get
some sleep, tomorrow's going to be a rough day."  Sam complied.  Luke
retreated to the log and watched as Sam drifted off.  An hour later, he
started snoring.

* * *

About two o'clock, a deep growl emanated from the edge of the campsite.
Moments later, the shape of a bear appeared.  The growl continued, and the
bear left the woods, approaching Sam as he slept.  Sam didn't stir.  The
bear stopped, hesitated, looked around.  The growling continued.  Sam's leg
moved.  The bear noticed and moved closer...finally grabbing the leg and
pulling it hard.
	Sam sat up halfway.  THE BEAR!!  SHIT!!  WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO??
He remembered the gun.  He grabbed it, forgetting to move the safety.  It
shot anyway, one...two...three bullets, all directed at the center of the
bear, which collapsed in a pile at his feet.  "OH SHIT, SIR, I KILLED IT."
He looked toward Luke's sleeping bag, which was empty.  Just then, the bear
started stirring again.  Simultaneously, Sam noticed that growling was
still coming from the edge of the clearing.  Luke pulled the bear head off
and grinned at Sam.  "Good job, boy!"
	Sam collapsed on top of his sleeping bag and lost all caution.
"Son of a bitch, Sir, I could have had a heart attack!" he yelled.
	"Not likely, not at your age.  Anyway, you didn't."
	Sam put his hand on his heart.  "Must be 200 beats a minute."
	"Yes, now.  What was it when you were shooting the bear?"
	"How the hell would I know?  I was busy."
	"Yes, you were busy doing something spontaneous, without thinking
it through.  And your heart survived."
	Sam didn't answer.  He knew he had been tricked, and tricked badly.
And he knew it had been done for his own good.  "But the bullets??"
	"Blanks.  I switched the real bullets out after you went to sleep."
	Sam considered the situation, giving his heart a chance to stop
racing, giving his head a chance to catch up with the rest of his body.
"You know, Sir, that was a hell of a thing to do."
	"Is that good or bad?"
	Sam didn't hesitate.  "I think it's good, Sir.  No, I know it's
good.  Thank you."
	"Don't mention it."  Luke took the rest of the bear costume off,
went to the edge of the clearing and flipped a switch on a tape recorder,
then got into his sleeping bag.  We still have a few hours of darkness
left, boy.  Let's get some sleep."

* * * Later that morning, just before re-entering camp, Luke stopped Sam in
front of a tree with a diameter of about 6 inches, a stout pine about 15
feet high.  "We can't go back this early, boy.  Besides, you said you were
horny.  Take your clothes off.  Kneel in front of the tree."  Sam did as he
was told and soon found his arms bound with rope, his wrists and ankles
behind the tree, his eyes blindfolded.  "Now repeat every 30 seconds: `Luke
is my owner and Master.  I obey every command immediately and without
question.'  Keep repeating it until I tell you to stop or you feel
something in your mouth."
	Even the new, more spontaneous Sam understood that he really didn't
have a choice.  He began reciting.  Luke found a spot a few feet away, a
small pile of leaves making the hard ground more comfortable, and observed
the scene he had created.  Ten minutes later, as he began to sense that Sam
was feeling deeply humiliated by his subservience and his lack of knowledge
about how long the scene would continue, Luke's dick began to twitch.  Luke
started rubbing, and a minute later a raging hard-on was revealed as Luke
tore off his pants and underpants.  He inserted the throbbing member into
Sam's mouth and began thrusting, pulling off just in time to ejaculate
spectacularly into the summer air.  Then he rested.  "Continue!" he
commanded, as Sam did not immediately begin his recitation.  "Luke is my
owner and Master.  I obey every command immediately and without question."
Luke enjoyed being in control -- and he certainly was!  But he understood
that control has its responsibilities as well as its privileges.  He
started giving Sam's penis a gentle touch, growing gradually rougher, until
Sam squirted seven times, moaning as though it had been six months since
his last orgasm.  The sadistic part of Luke wanted to make Sam continue
reciting another half an hour.  The humanistic part said "enough is
enough."  He compromised on 15 minutes, then untied the boy and allowed him
to dress himself.  Then they marched into camp together.



Chapter Eight


Luke noticed the thermometer hanging from a thin rusty nail on the outside
of the cabin, then glanced at his watch.  "Ninety-one degrees already," he
commented, as much to himself as to Sam.  "Going to be a hot one."  Sam
nodded.  Neither boy was yet aware of the impact the temperature would have
on the rest of the day's events.
        Luke and Sam walked into the cabin only to witness a spectacle
neither could possibly have anticipated.  Tad, left in charge, was naked
and tied in the predicament bondage position that used pulleys to keep him
bent over.  Jason had the paddle cocked and ready to swing, and judging
from the redness of the Tad's ass cheeks, it wouldn't have been the first
swat.  Johnny had been released from his cage and cleaned up; he and the
rest of the boys had brought their mats into the part of the cabin where
the apparatus was located, and they were lounging around, talking amongst
themselves, as though they were on a cruise.
	Luke assessed the situation quickly and turned to Sam.  "You had no
part in this.  Go to your cage and lock yourself in, and you'll escape
punishment.  You may remain dressed as you are now."  Sam didn't hesitate,
knowing Luke could be sadistic when the situation required -- and sometimes
when it didn't.  In this situation, clearly calling for severe punishment,
he had no desire to be the object of such intentions.  He found his cage
door open, with the open padlock hanging loosely from the strong circular
metal piece on the door that fit precisely into the latching mechanism on
the main part of the cage.  He entered, faced the center of the cabin, and
clicked the padlock shut.
	"One down and four to go," Luke said confidently.  "Who is going
next?  The intensity of the punishment will vary inversely with the speed
with which you follow my orders."  He looked at each boy, sternly.  Nobody
moved except Jason, who lowered the paddle.  "Jeff, release this man at
once."
	Jeff had the good sense to do what he was told.  He quickly untied
the string from Tad's balls and released his wrists.  Tad collapsed into a
heap on the floor, and Luke was at his side in an instant.  "How long did
they have you?"
	"I don't know.  It felt like forever."
	"The boys are about to find out how long forever is," Luke replied.
"Well, you're okay now.  Go put some clothes on and get yourself something
to drink."
	Tracey began to stammer.  "I'm sorry, Sir, they..."
	"Don't you dare blame anything on `they,' boy!" Luke interrupted.
"Are you an adult or are you a child?"
	"An adult, Sir," Tracey said meekly, hardly believing it himself.
	"Then you bear responsibility for your actions.  Crawl toward your
cage.  Stand up only when you get there, insert the butt plug, and make
sure the harness holding it in is tight.  Over that, wear the rubber suit,
and make sure everything is zipped up.  Then get into your cage and lock it
up.  NOW!!"
	Tracey was no match for Luke's imperative tone.
	"Two down," Luke stated.  "Is anyone else going to volunteer?"
	"You helped me..." Jeff began, but Luke was in no mood for
verbosity.
	"Skip the explanation, boy, just do it!"
	Jeff crawled toward his cage and was soon plugged and wearing the
rubber suit, standing erect in his locked cage, no longer a threat to
Luke's authority.
	"Three down."  He stared at Jason.  "We don't' know each other well
yet, boy.  Do yourself a favor and submit now, don't test my resolve."
	Johnny couldn't help himself.  "Oh, my," he said sarcastically,
"imagine what could happen if we tested his resolve!"
	"You of all people should know.  How many days did you live in
rubber and excrement?"
	"Not enough to make me act like a slave.  I'm a man!"
	"They're not incompatible, but you're not ready to understand
that."  He returned his attention to Jason.  "You're a man too, no doubt."
	"Yes."
	"Then you can take a punishment like a man?"
	"If I need to.  Wrestling practice was no piece of cake."
	"Compared to what you're going to experience, it was a piece of
strawberry shortcake with whipped cream and a nice big fat red strawberry
sitting up top, nice and pretty."
	"I can handle it -- if I have to."  He wasn't yet convinced that he
would.  But he didn't see Tad sneaking up behind him, and Johnny's warning
came too late.  A lasso dropped around his body and tightened immediately
around his elbows, restricting the movement of his arms considerably.  Tad,
no physical slouch when he wasn't bound, pulled Jason relentlessly toward
his cage.
	Luke took preventive action, addressing Johnny with the ferocity
Alexander the Great had probably used to address his troops.  "Stay out of
this, son, for your own good."  Then he helped Tad use the rope, and
several others lying nearby, to wrap Jason up, binding his arms to his
sides and tying his legs and ankles together, preventing all movement below
the neck.  Taking advantage of a partially open mouth, the beginning of an
invective that never saw the light of day, they shoved a hard rubber ball
gag into Jason's mouth and tied the strap behind his head.  With resistance
reduced to a minimum, they easily pulled a heavy black leather hood over
Jason's head and locked a narrow attached collar around his neck.
	"Okay, time to start handling it," Luke mocked, as he pushed Jason
into his cage, slammed the door, and fixed the padlock.  "Nice job," he
commented to Tad.  "Now, go relax or something, get some air.  I'll handle
Johnny."
	"You sure?"
	Luke nodded.  He didn't have a strategy yet, but in its absence, he
had confidence that one would suggest itself to him in due time.  And with
the other boys now helpless and confined to their cages, time was on his
side.  He returned to what he hoped would not become the scene of a major
confrontation.
	"Four down," he started, not knowing exactly how that would play.
	"Pansies, all of them."
	"Something you don't want to be."
	"Something I'm not."
	"I'll give you that.  A pansy would not have resisted as long and
as successfully as you did.  You deserve credit for that."
	Johnny's eyebrows went up half an inch.  "You just paid me a
compliment."
	"Why not?  I tell the truth as I see it."
	"And do you accept the truth as other people see it?"
	"Try me."
	"Me and the other boys were having a good time.  We were -- what do
you call it -- bonding."
	Luke was secretly pleased to hear Johnny's description of the
growing relationship between the boys, but acknowledging the good news
publicly was premature.  "You weren't doing such a good job of bonding with
Tad."
	"We weren't hurting him.  Nothing was happening to him that didn't
happen to any of the other boys when you were demonstrating how to use the
contraption."
	"He didn't seem to be enjoying himself."
	"Neither did they."
	"You discussed that, did you?"
	"We talked about a lot of things.  We had quite a lot of time, you
know."
	A kernel of the strategy Luke had been hoping for began to develop.
"So, you got to know each other fairly well, is that what you're saying?"
	"We're not bosom buddies, if that's what you mean.  But, yeah, I'd
say we were on the way to becoming friends."
	Luke decided to spring the trap.  "And you're going to let your
friends take the rap for something that you participated in?"
	The idea took Johnny by surprise.  He was used to thinking only of
himself.  "Nobody has to take the rap for anything."
	"Ah, but they do.  That's for me to decide, and the decision has
already been made.  I left Tad in charge, and all of you decided to rebel.
Rebellion calls for strict and severe punishment.  Your new friends are all
locked into their cages, and there's nothing you can do about that.  The
only question left is whether you are going to accept your share of the
misery, or whether you're going to try to skate, free and clear, and let
them do the hard time on their own."  The trap acquired an unexpected edge.
"In fact, if you refuse to voluntarily accept your share of the punishment,
theirs will be increased proportionately."
	With this new piece of information obviously weighing on him,
Johnny glanced at the four boys in their cages.  "You're not going to drag
me back into my cage, like you did with Jason?"
	"Am I going to have to?"
	Johnny considered his situation.  He wasn't used to debating
someone as skilled as Luke was in turning things around on him.  The way he
saw it, he had two alternatives.  He could try to resist, appearing selfish
and uncaring to his new friends, and probably end up caged anyway.  He
remembered Luke's statement about the intensity of the punishment and
shuddered; he already understood the lengths Luke would go to in order to
maintain dominance.  Finally, it appeared that his decision would have an
impact on the intensity of the punishment his new friends would receive.
Alternatively, he could accept the inevitable -- "voluntarily," as Luke
called it -- and demonstrate some loyalty to his colleagues in the process.
Not necessarily for all the right reasons, he came to a conclusion.  "What
do you want me to do?" he asked softly.
	"Crawl toward your cage.  When you get there, take all your clothes
off.  Stand up, spread your legs, clasp your hands behind your head, and
wait for me."
	In a few minutes, Johnny had joined his friends in wearing a
tightly fitting butt plug, held in place by a leather harness, covered with
a taut rubber suit locked on at the wrists and ankles.  With all the
enthusiasm of a man about to enter a gas chamber, he stepped into the cage,
which Luke promptly locked.
	"Five down, none to go," Luke chuckled, as he went outside to find
Tad.  The thermometer now registered 95 degrees.  A relentlessly hot summer
sun, just past overhead, cast short shadows.
	"Everything under control, Luke?"  Tad looked refreshed and happy.
	"Five slaves in their cages.  What could be more beautiful?"
	"You could have come back an hour earlier.  That would have been
beautiful."
	"I was busy."
	"Yeah, I'll bet."  The two friends shared a laugh.  "Hey, what are
going to do with Sam?  He had no part in it, remember."
	"Right you are.  I'm going to release him soon.  He'll watch over
the others while we enjoy what little shade we can find.  Why don't you get
a deck of cards and set up a table and a couple of chairs under the big
tree over there?"  He pointed.  "Make a couple of gallons of lemonade while
you're at it."
	"Sure thing."
	Luke went back inside.  "Okay, Sam, free and clear."  The cage door
opened.  "Here's your assignment.  It's pretty fucking hot outside, and it
must be at least ten degrees hotter in here.  These boys deserve their
punishment, but we're not getting to let them die of heat stroke.  Go
around and check on them from time and time, and give them water, at least
a quart every two hours.  You may remove Jason's gag for this purpose, then
put it back in again."  He smiled.  "We both know where that liquid will
end up, but then, we didn't tell them to rebel, did we?  Tad and I are
going to stay outside for the most part.  We'll be back periodically to
check on things.  Got it?"
	"Got it, Sir.  You can count on me."
	"All right, boys," Luke announced generally.  "You will remain in
your cages until I decide to release you.  No talking is permitted, except
that all of you except Jason may ask Sam for water if he doesn't offer it
soon enough.  I do not expect Sam to rat on you if you do talk, but if I
happen to be listening at the door and hear anything, your time in the cage
will be doubled, or more.  You will drink water when Sam offers it to you;
if you resist for some strange reason, he'll come get Tad and me, and we'll
pour it down your throat."  Secretly, Luke hoped at least one boy would
resist.  His sadistic streak hadn't had much opportunity the last few days.
But that was changing rapidly.  "Everyone clear on the rules?  Good."  He
turned and left.
	Given the situation, it didn't take long for all the boys to start
sweating.  Inside the cabin, the temperature was probably slightly over
100.  Inside the rubber suits, it was easily 110.  Water disappeared down
their throats almost as fast as Sam could refill the bottle.  But it didn't
stay in their bodies long, oozing out as sweat or making its way through
the urinary tract within half an hour.  It wasn't long before Sam started
noticing that a circle of stench surrounded each cage, and the radius of
the circle increased by the hour.
	Luke and Tad played cards and drank lemonade until they decided to
have some fun at the boys' expense.  Entering the cabin and marching over
to Jeff, they unlocked the cage long enough to place him in a sitting
position, with his hands tied behind his back and his legs extended in
front of him through the bars of the front gate of the cage, which was
again in the closed position.  They fastened a heavy iron collar around his
neck and chained the collar to one of the bars of the gate.  The padlock
was once again fastened.  "Sitting duck," Luke exclaimed, and he proceeded
to unzip his fly, pull out his dick, and pee directly into Jeff's face.
Jeff tried to resist, but the collar permitted his head only an inch or so
of motion, and Luke was able to compensate easily.  "Now you, Tad."
        What used to be lemonade spilled into the boy's face.  "Ah,
artificially sweetened revenge," Tad said.
        "All right, let's go load up again."
	They played cards another hour, drinking as much as possible, then
repeated the pissing process with Tracey.  Jason and Johnny had their turn
as well, and by then the sun was setting, pee was everywhere, and even the
boys who claimed not to believe in God were praying that the unpleasant
adventure would soon end.  Since they had obeyed the admonition not to
talk, at least as far as Luke could determine, he decided to relent around
7 p.m.  "All right, boys, learned your lesson?" he asked rhetorically.
"Sam is going to release you and give you some dinner.  Then you go to
sleep, chained to the mats in front of your cages.  I'm guessing you are
ready for a bit of relaxation.  Tomorrow, Jason starts his individual
adventure.  Tad will be in charge of the rest of you, and I don't expect a
repeat of what happened when I was out with Sam."  He noticed heads shaking
and concluded that the punishment had had the intended effect.  "When Jason
and I get back, we'll spend one day getting ready for the climax of the
camp experience -- capture the flag!  And I sure hope this cabin wins."

Chapter Nine


Jason's adventure mirrored Sam's at the beginning, including the admonition
not to look into the pack under any circumstances, except the "bear" sign
had been removed from the trailhead.  Luke wore blue jeans, a white
T-shirt, and a cowboy hat the keep the warm sun out of his eyes; Jason
labored in his rubber suit, locked in all the usual places, tennis shoes
being the only accommodation to hiking convenience.  The two boys, not
exactly on the best of terms following the previous day's punishment,
walked most of the way to the campsite in silence.  Beads of sweat appeared
on Jason's forehead.
	"Too warm for you?"
	"Shit, we used to have wrestling practice in rooms hotter than
this."
	They hiked again in silence.  "Is the pack too heavy?" Luke finally
ventured.  He had deliberately packed it to be heavier than it was for the
other boys -- a lot heavier.
	In fact, the straps had begun to cut into Jason's shoulders,
despite the rubber barrier.  "Naw."
	"Would you admit it if it were?"
	"Doesn't matter, cause it isn't."
	"That doesn't answer my question."
	"Men don't bitch and moan about stuff."
	"Right, they just grimace and accept whatever comes their way."
	"Damn straight."
	They walked the next quarter mile in silence.
	Luke gave some instructions when the clearing came into view.  "Put
the pack down.  I'll set out the sleeping bags while you gather wood for a
fire."  With Jason no longer in sight, Luke pulled the two sleeping bags
out, plus matches and two bags of freeze dried tasteless calories, plus two
rocks weighing about five pounds each that had been wrapped in dish towels
so they wouldn't make noise.  He tossed the rocks away, and they took their
place in the randomness of the natural world.  Jason returned and cooked,
if you call boiling water and pouring it into water-tight pouches cooking,
and they ate to the sound of birds chirping and grasshoppers tuning up for
their nighttime operas.
	"What are you thinking?" Luke asked when he had downed the last
spoonful of the flavorless beef stroganoff.
        "I'm not sure I want to share it."
	Luke decided he was fortunate to have left Jason to the end.  He
was likely to be a tough case.  "Okay, you don't have to.  Would you tell
me about your family?"
	"What's to tell?  I'm an only child.  Dad's the Chief Financial
Officer at a Fortune 500 company.  Mom's a nurse, works the ER at County
Hospital.  Aunts and uncles are all pansies, watch CNN for political news
and play bridge all weekend."  He stuck his finger in his mouth, indicating
that the mere idea of playing bridge made him want to throw up.
	"Do your parents like their jobs?"
	"Yeah, I guess, they've both been doing them for a long time.  I
dunno, we hardly ever discuss it.  The truth is, I hardly ever see them."
	"Long hours, eh?"
	Jason shot Luke a quick glance, as if to say "I don't know where
you're going with this, but I'm not sure I like it.  "Yeah, long hours."
	They watched the dying flames.  "Throw another log or two onto the
fire, Jason."
	Jason labored with the idea, then thought better of disobeying and
tossed two good-sized pieces of timber on top of the red coals.  In a few
minutes, flames were licking at their sides, alternating yellow and blue.
Luke released Jason from the rubber suit, releasing copious amounts of
accumulated sweat, urine, and body odor.  "Get some water and clean
yourself up."
        Jason was only too happy to oblige.  When he had finished, he
dressed in more conventional hiking clothes, which Luke retrieved from the
pack, and settled in next to his companion.  "Do you mind if I ask you kind
of a personal question?"
	"Not at all," Luke answered.
	"All right, well remember you gave me permission.  You know, to me
you seem like a sadistic, lazy son of a bitch."
	"Because I told you to get the logs?"
	"Yes.  Plus about a thousand other things."
	"Did you mind getting them?"  Ah, now we're starting to get
somewhere, Luke thought.
	"I carried the pack.  I got the firewood.  I cooked dinner.  Why
does it always have to be me?"
	"Well, I thought you were the big successful wrestler, the guy who
likes to be active, be involved."
	Jason gave that some thought.  "Yeah, true enough, as far as it
goes."
	"And where does it go after that?"
	He waited a long time for an answer and wasn't sure he was going to
get more than a couple of large sighs.  Eventually, his patience paid off.
Luke had a professor in college once who lauded the importance of silence
in the listening process; tonight, that advice was paying off.  "Just once
in my life I'd like to be the person who didn't have any responsibility."
	"What kind of responsibilities do you have?"  Another good piece of
advice from the same professor -- ask open-ended questions.
	"What don't I have?" Jason replied, and the words came out bitter.
"Teach the younger wrestlers the basics.  Win at all costs, especially
during the State tournament.  Get into a good college, which requires
getting good grades.  Be happy, be polite, be interested in other people.
Is that enough?"
	"And when you were younger?"
	"I can't remember a time I didn't have to take care of my little
sister."
	"How much younger?"
	"Almost four years.  I was expected to be the model older brother
-- kind and gentle and caring.  When I wasn't, there was hell to pay, at
least when my parents found out.  Of course she took maximum advantage of
the situation, hanging out with me and my friends, being annoying whenever
possible."
	"You sound frustrated."  Listening technique number three: reflect
back what you hear; help people realize what they are feeling by holding a
mirror up to their repressed emotions.
	"I guess.  I just feel like I've had to take care of the world for
a long time, and I'm wondering when the world is going to take care of me."
	"That never happened?  Ever?  Not even when you were a child, or a
baby?"
	"I don't remember too much from the early years.  I do remember
being pushed to eat with a fork when I still wanted to use my fingers."  He
shook his head.  "Seems like a small thing, sorry to get bogged down in
detail."
	"Not at all, detail is good.  Detail is what early memories are all
about.  People don't start forming concepts and connections until they are
five or six, maybe even seven.  But long before that, memories of
sensations and feelings -- or the lack thereof -- are being laid down."
	 "How do you remember the lack of a sensation?  Doesn't sound
logical.  If something didn't happen, then how can you remember it?"
	"Good question, Jason, I'm proud of you.  In this context, what you
remember physiologically is the need for a sensation that doesn't occur.
Your cells know what they need.  If they don't get it, they hurt -- far
more than most people realize.  If babies aren't touched, they grow up
craving physical affection, unless they completely repress the need, in
which case they may exhibit just the opposite symptoms."
	"Is that what Freud believed?"
	"Let's not talk about Freud, this is about you."
	"I don't know what else to tell you."
	On a hunch, Luke gave a directive.  "Go get your sleeping bag and
bring it over here.  Smooth it out and lie down on your back."
	Jason gave Luke a "what the hell?" look but did it anyway.
	"Good.  Now sink into the feeling of being a little baby."
	"You've got to be joking."
	"Shhh.  Don't talk.  Allow your body to feel what it was like to be
small and vulnerable, to be needy and dependent on other people."  Luke
waited and watched.  Jason's breathing slowed down, and his face relaxed.
"Good.  You're in a crib.  Picture the bars and the solid wood end-piece --
the one you probably spent hours staring at.  What else do you see?"
	"There was something hanging from the side of the crib."  The
memory crashed into his head, seemingly from nowhere.  "A little clown, I
think."
	"Is anyone else there?"
	It took Jason a full minute to conjure up the feeling.  "No.
Nobody's around."  Luke didn't comment; "silence," he cautioned himself.
"Nobody's ever around!"  Jason became more agitated, his voice rising.
"Nobody's ever around!!" he repeated, and the words seemed to originate not
from his throat but from deep inside his chest.  Suddenly his legs started
thrashing, almost convulsively, in an alternating fashion, up and down,
just like a baby would move his legs, and his elbows bent, his fingers
forming into tight little fists, arms waving almost at random.  Breaths
became fast and shallow, and soon a baby-like cry escaped from a heaving
chest.
        Gradually, Jason relaxed again.  His breathing returned to normal.
"What the hell was that?"
        "You just experienced what psychologists call a `Primal feeling,'
so named by Arthur Janov," Luke explained.  "And you're very lucky.  Very
few people have the opportunity, or would be open to it if it presented
itself.  You let it happen.  My compliments!"
        "That was the strangest thing that's ever happened to me."  He
glanced at Luke and smiled.  "Other than being locked into a fucking cage
wearing a rubber suit."
        Luke ignored the mild barb.  "How did it feel?  The Primal
feeling?"
        "Refreshing, actually, there was something cleansing about it.
It's tough to put into words."
        "Yes.  In slightly more technical terms, your body remembers
important feelings, especially intensely traumatic feelings, and stores
them into reverberating circuits in the brain.  When your defenses are
down, they come to the surface naturally, without any hypnosis required,
and most people report a feeling of euphoria or resolution that can't be
achieved using any other psychological method.  You had a small feeling.
Sometimes they last for half an hour or longer and involve a lot of crying
and screaming.  Sometimes they are verbal, sometimes not, depending on the
age to which the body is regressing."
        "I'm sleepy."
        "Another common effect.  Feeling feelings is intense emotional work
and requires enormous energy.  I'm ready to turn in also.  Let's go to
bed."

        * * *

The early morning rays of a golden sun creeping above the horizon split the
leaves of a large pine tree and threw a sparkle into Luke's eyes.  He
glanced over to find Jason awake, motionless, alert, lying on top of his
sleeping bag, his muscular hairless chest accented by two perfectly placed
nipples.
	"You're not cold?" Luke asked.
	"Not now.  I was in the bag most of the night, but it's warming up
already."  Jason paused and took a deep breath.  "Can we try that again?"
	"Try what?"
	"The Primal feeling."
	"Let's not push our luck.  You need a trained psychologist to help
you reach back into those early feelings in an organized way.  Besides, I
have something else in mind."  Luke practically jumped out of the sleeping
bag, stark naked, with a hard-on that should rightly have been attached to
Atlas, or Arnold Schwarzenegger.  "I've had the hots for you ever since I
laid eyes on you, you gorgeous stud!"
	Jason's intended verbal protest was smothered by the lips that
pressed harshly against his own, soon parted by a tongue that darted this
way and that in search of pleasurable stimulation.  His pants were unzipped
and pulled off in one continuous inexorable motion, easily overpowering a
feeble protest that knew better than to succeed.  Luke had taken the
precaution of taking the small bottle of lube to bed with him the night
before, and he used it generously before shoving his shaft into the
intended target.  Jason warmed to his task, clearly identified as making
Luke a happy camper.  A few minutes later, Luke rolled over and lay face
up, still panting, with a smile that gave the rising sun a run for its
money.  Jason jerked himself off, using his right hand, groaning as he
achieved orgasm like someone was stabbing him in the back, then relaxed.
	"Did you enjoy it?" Luke asked.
	The honest answer came about a minute later.  "I didn't really
think I would.  But yes, I did."
	The broke camp thirty minutes later.  "What should I wear?" Jason
wondered, already knowing the answer.
	"Well, we wouldn't want the other boys to think you were a wuss,
now, would we?"  They enjoyed a joint chuckle.
	"I may still have a few baby feelings inside, but mostly I'm a real
man."
	"Yes, you are.  And there's your answer."
	They were both smiling when they walked into camp an hour later.


Chapter Ten


About six o'clock that evening, Luke and Tad arrived carrying 4 pizza boxes
and a six-pack of original Coca-Cola.  Johnny was caged; all the other boys
were wearing their full-body rubber suits, shackled at the ankles, but
otherwise free to socialize, and they were having an animated discussion
when the two leaders arrived.
	"All right, front and center," Luke called out.  Jason, Sam,
Tracey, and Jeff, chains clanging, formed a straight line and stood at
attention.
	"Special dinner tonight, pizza and Coke.  You need to be in good
shape for Capture the Flag tomorrow."
	The boys all had the same reaction, but Jeff put it into words.
"Thank you, Sir!  We haven't had a carbonated beverage since we got here!"
	"I thought you'd appreciate it.  Take some dinner to Johnny, too."
	Pepperoni hadn't tasted so good since the first Italian invented it
in 1572.  And the Cokes washed down what felt like tons of dirt and soot
collected in the throats of the boys since their arrival.
	Luke gathered his clan around Johnny's cage, so the lone hold-out
against total submission could find out what was going to happen, even if
he didn't participate.  "This is a very simple game, boys, modified just
slightly to fit the unique circumstances of Camp Conscription.  As you may
or may not know, this is one cabin out of four located here.  The boys in
each cabin have had similar experiences to yours.
	"Each cabin will be provided with a flag of a different color,
corresponding to the color of the rubber suits they will be wearing.  Ours
will be black.  The others will be red, blue, and purple.  Your suits, by
the way, will be locked on at the ankles, wrists, and neck.  Tennis shoes
will also be provided so your feet don't get injured running over rocks and
such.  You will all be shown to a different home base, scattered at various
locations around the grounds of the camp, where the flags will stay unless
and until they are stolen.  The winning team will be the one that is able
to capture the flag of the other three cabins and bring them simultaneously
to their own home base.
	"All the boys are permitted free access to any part of the camp
during this game.  You are not permitted to harm any of them.  However, you
are permitted to overpower them if you can and immobilize them using the
tools available in this backpack."
	Luke motioned to Tad, who went to the center of the cabin and
retrieved a small day pack.  Luke dumped the contents onto a mat: two pair
of handcuffs, one pair of thumb cuffs, a leather muzzle with a locking
strap, two ten-foot lengths of heavy rope, two padlocks, and keys for all
locking devices.  "In years past, the wining strategy has usually been to
immobilize as many of your opponents as possible.  Once they are handcuffed
or tied to a tree, you may take the contents of their pack with you.
Needless to say, if they cannot run or move, they cannot do a good job
either of protecting their own flag or stealing yours.  However, do not
assume that their captivity will be permanent, because each boy can be
rescued by another boy from his team if he is located and set free.  The
game will last until a winner is determined, regardless of how long that
takes."
	"Have you done this before?" Tracey asked.  "And how long does it
usually take to determine the winner?"
	"If you're worried that you'll probably have to pee and shit inside
your rubber suits, well" ... and here Luke couldn't help but sport a smile
that moved his ears at least an inch further apart..."I suspect that will
happen."  Tracey groaned, while the other boys grimaced, remembering the
discomfort they experienced their first night in their cages.
        "Each team has five boys?" Sam asked, wisely changing the subject.
	"Each cabin has five boys," Luke corrected.  "Teams consist of boys
who participate.  Any boy still locked in his cage is clearly not going to
do the team very much good."
	Jason gave Johnny a sharp look.  "Are we the only cabin with a
hold-out?"
	"I can't tell you that," Luke replied.  "You have to find that out
on your own."
	"Swell," Sam risked, not really knowing how Luke would react to
sarcasm.  "We could be down twenty percent before we even start."
	"You could," Luke agreed.  "And Johnny is the only person who can
change that."
	The boys all looked at Johnny for a reaction.  They got none.
	"He's not gonna budge," Tracey said.  "Too damn stubborn."
	Luke cut it short.  "It does no good to speculate.  What will
happen will happen.  Tonight you will sleep on your mats, chained to your
cages as always.  Johnny of course will still be inside his cage.
Breakfast will be served at six a.m. sharp, half an hour after the sun
rises.  Then you will have an hour to plan your strategy, as a team.  The
games starts at 7:30 a.m., rain or shine, cool or warm.  And, by the way, I
understand it is supposed to get into the nineties, so drink plenty of
water."
	Jeff had a final question, obviously rhetorical in nature.  "You
mean we're supposed to run around on a hot day, chasing other boys,
potentially getting handcuffed to a tree, in a non-breathing rubber suit?
And piss and shit in the suits if necessary?  Whose idea of a good time is
this?"
	Luke smiled.  "Good luck.  Win it for the gipper, will ya?"

* * *

About two o'clock in the morning, Luke came to the outside door to Johnny's
cage and knocked.  "You awake?"
	"Hell yes, how well do you expect me to sleep in this position?"
	"Good.  I wanted to talk for a few minutes."
	"Talk if you want."
	"Well, I was wondering what you think of the other guys.  You've
had some opportunity to get to know them."
	"They're all right, I guess."
	"Did you know they all asked about you during their private
adventures?  They were worried about you."
	"They did?"
	"Yes.  Tracey in particular.  I don't know that I ever met a more
caring person."
	"Well, I appreciate it.  I guess if the shoe had been on the other
foot, I would have asked about them too."
	"I'm sure you would have.  You've got a lot of pride, but just
below the skin you're as gentle as they come."
	"I wouldn't go that far.  But I guess I have a soft side.  I don't
show it to very many people."  He paused.  "I don't know why I'm admitting
it to you."
	"You didn't have to admit it.  I see through people pretty well."
	"I kinda got that impression from talking with the others about
their adventures.  The ones who were willing to share, anyway."
	"That's why I wanted to give you one more chance.  Without you,
honestly, the boys don't have a chance tomorrow.  With you, they could whip
everybody else's asses."
	Johnny paused a full minute.  "I'd like to help them."
	"I thought you might."
	Another minute passed.  "What do I have to do?"
	"Submit to me.  Crawl like the other boys did.  Tell me I am your
Master and Owner, and mean it.  I'll make sure you get a chance to
participate tomorrow."
	Four minutes passed.  Luke quietly thanked his professor again for
giving him the gift of silence.  "All right."
	A key turned in the lock, the deadbolt drew back, and the door
opened.  "Get on your hands and knees."  Johnny obeyed, and Luke backed up
about ten feet.  "Crawl out to me."  Johnny's head was down, humiliated
beyond his wildest imagination, but he did it.  "Good.  Now tell me what I
want to hear.  And elaborate!"
	Silence once again.  The words stuck in Johnny's throat.  But he
thought about the boys inside, sleeping chained to their mats, and
reconsidered.  "You are...my Master...and Owner," he choked out haltingly.
When Luke didn't respond, he knew it hadn't been good enough.  "You are my
Master and Owner," he said, fluently this time.  No response.  "You are my
Master and Owner."  This time he spoke with conviction, adding almost
immediately "I obey all commands you give, immediately and without
question."
	"Good.  Crawl back into your cage and stand up."  Johnny noticed
that the deadbolt didn't return to its locked position.  He also heard a
small pack drop behind the door.  The sound of metal was unmistakable.

* * *

Breakfast was served promptly, as scheduled.  Rubber suits were locked on,
and packs were distributed.  They held the strategy session on mats pulled
in front of Johnny's cage.  "You're still part of us, even if you don't
participate," Tracey told him.
	"Thank you," Johnny replied.
	None of the boys had played the game before.  They made up the
strategy as they went along.  "One of us has to guard the flag," Jason
recommended.  "Who wants to do that?"
	Tracey volunteered.  "I don't run that well," he explained.
	"Good," Jason continued.  "Jeff and Sam, I think you two should
stick together.  Scout out all the other locations, find out where the
flags are located, and report back to base as soon as you have the
information."
	"And what will you do?" Sam asked.
	"I'm going to outrun and overpower every guy I see wearing a rubber
suit that's not black, handcuff their ass to a tree, steal their pack, and
then go looking for more."
	"That sounds as good as any," Jeff said, not convincing anyone that
he knew what he was talking about, including himself.
	Luke appeared and blew a whistle.  "Time to start.  Here's your
flag."  It was a rectangular piece of cloth, about three feet by two feet,
dyed jet black, attached to the top of a five foot pole.  "My job is to
show you where your base camp is, then get out of the way.  All of the
leaders have synchronized their watches.  When I leave, the game begins."
He led them to a small clearing on the south side of the camp, glanced at
his watch, and disappeared.
	Tracey stayed with the flag, alternately hiding behind trees and
pacing around the clearing, listening carefully for footsteps and watching
for moving objects.  Jason moved quickly toward what he suspected would be
the front lines and quickly met his demise at the hands of an ambush by
three boys wearing purple rubber suits who had wisely decided to operate as
a group.  Handcuffed with his back to a sugar maple, his ankles tied
together and bound to the base of the tree, he was no longer of any use to
the black team.  Jeff and Sam fared better, finding a member of the red
team sneaking toward their base camp and hogtying him with one of his own
ropes.  "There's justice for ya," Jeff shot over his shoulder as they went
in search of a new victim.
	The blue team decided to scout the other cabins for clues.  A lad
about five foot seven entered Luke's cabin silently, looked around, then
spotted Johnny in his cage.  Curiosity drew him closer.  "Ah, a hold-out in
the black team," he said, a gleam in his eye.
	"Yes," Johnny said.
	"We've got one too," the lad said, "some guy who thinks he's better
than anyone else."  He grabbed one bar of Johnny's cage with his left hand.
Johnny moved like lightening, clicking one part of the handcuff around the
lad's wrist, the other around the bar.  "What the...?"
	Johnny lost no time.  He left the cage through the unlocked wooden
back door, circled around, and stole the lad's pack, still containing all
the restraints with which he had been supplied.  Together with his own
pack, Johnny had enough to put two teams out of commission.
	Meanwhile, the three boys from the purple team had located the
black flag and tricked Tracey into investigating a noise made by one of
them while the other two circled around and surprised him from behind.
Bound and gagged, Tracey could do nothing to prevent his flag from being
uprooted and carried off, triumphantly.  And that's exactly where Johnny
found him, releasing him with a "Shhh.  Go find the flag, don't get caught,
and hurry back here.  I'll wait, hiding just outside the clearing.  Don't
let anyone know I'm free.  I'm the black team's secret weapon!"
	Tracey did exactly as he was told, delighted beyond words to be
free from his bondage, shocked beyond words that Johnny had been the one to
rescue him.  In the heat of the game, he didn't think to ask for details.
His delight soon turned to dread and fear, however, when he spotted from a
safe distance of about fifty feet every singe one of his teammates, except
Johnny, handcuffed to trees surrounding the purple team's flag.  The black
flag was there too, and the blue.  Only the red team has escaped so far!
Four members of the purple team were sitting near the flag, plotting
strategy.  Tracey retreated carefully until he was sure nobody could see or
hear him, then ran like a rabbit back to his home base.
	"They've got everybody!" he yelled breathlessly.
        Johnny grabbed him from behind a tree and shoved a hand against his
mouth.  "Quiet!  Quietly!"  His hand fell away.  "Tell!"
        "They've got everybody!  Except us!"
        "Who?  Who has them?  Where are they?"
        Tracey explained as well as he could, considering he was still out
of breath and his heart was racing about 150 beats a minute.
        "All right, here's what we're going to do."  Johnny improvised the
only strategy he could think of that might rescue the black team.  Tracey
nodded.  "Let's go!"
        Ten minutes later Tracey appeared just outside the home base of the
purple team.  Two of the four members had left, in search of the red flag,
and the other two remained in a seated position, watching the helpless
members of the black team struggle uselessly.  "Hey, you losers, think you
can catch me?" he called out.  They gave chase immediately and caught the
clumsy runner in a few minutes -- just long enough for Johnny to release
his cabin mates and set the ambush.  When the two members of the purple
team returned, dragging Tracey but not yet having put him into inescapable
restraints, Johnny, Sam, Jeff, and Jason pounced, easily taking captive
their surprised and confused opponents.
        And so it went, for three hours, the black team taking advantage of
its secret weapon one base camp at a time, until every boy not wearing a
black rubber suit was handcuffed or tied to a tree.  It was then an easy
matter to gather up the different flags and present them to Luke and his
colleagues, earning the title of "Winner."
        "You can't possibly know how proud I am of you guys," Luke gushed,
and they enjoyed a quick group hug, enjoying the camaraderie but holding
their noses.  Then he unlocked their suits.  "Go back to the cabin and
clean yourselves off.  Lunch will be there shortly!"




Epilogue


The 2007 Acura TL crawled up the road, avoiding as many of the ruts as
possible, Tom Jennings at the wheel.  He wondered, pessimistically, exactly
what he would find upon his return to the mysterious Camp Conscription.
	Luke met him in front of the cabin.  "Hello, Mr. Jennings, welcome
back.  Johnny will be out in a few minutes, he's saying goodbye to his
cabin mates."
	"Is he okay?"
	"He's more than okay.  I'll get him for you."  Luke disappeared and
returned two minutes later, Johnny by his side, walking so lightly his feet
barely touched the ground.  Johnny went around to the driver's side of the
car.  "Hi, Dad!"
	"Hi, Johnny."  He was going to say more, but the exuberant look on
his son's face took his breath away.  He had never seen such a broad,
relaxed smile.
	Johnny turned back to Luke.  "I guess this is goodbye."
	"I'm glad you were here, Johnny.  Don't be a stranger."
	"I'm glad too.  I'll never forget you."
	"There are a lot of things about this camp you'll never forget!"
They enjoyed a hearty laugh.  "All right, you take care of yourself."
	"I will."  Johnny got into the passenger seat and extended his hand
to his dad, who took it.  They shook, somewhat awkwardly.  "Hey, Dad,
thanks for coming to pick me up."
	Tom Jennings turned the car around.  Luke waved as he drove past.
Tom gave him a look that said "I don't know what the hell you've done to my
boy, but so far, I like what I see."

* * *

Sylvia Thomas drove up in the light blue Volvo station wagon, bright new
polish shining in the few places that hadn't yet been covered by a thin
film of dirt.  Luke waved.
	"How's my boy?  Did you take good care of him?"
	"Your `boy,' as you put it, is quite well, thank you.  Only he may
not be a `boy' anymore."
	"Of course he's a boy, he's always going to be my boy."
	"I'll get him.  He's saying goodbye to his friends in the cabin."
	Jeff came out of the cabin with Luke walking behind him and went
immediately over to the driver's side of the car.  "Hi, Mom," he said, his
voice almost gravely in tone.  "Would you mind scooting over, I'd like to
drive home."
	"Well, honey, why don't you just get in on the other side?"
	"Well, Mom, I guess I'd prefer to drive."  His body was motionless,
his voice firm and determined.
	"Honey..."
	"And I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me `honey.'  My name is
Jeff.  That's what everyone else calls me."
	"I've always called you honey, you never objected before."
	"I'm objecting now."
	Gradually, Sylvia Thomas realized she wasn't going to leave camp in
the driver's seat.  Literally or figuratively.  With the driver's side
vacant, Jeff shook Luke's hand warmly and firmly, then got into the car.
"Thanks a lot," he said, and looked straight into Luke's eyes.
	"You're welcome, my pleasure.  Don't be a stranger.  Take care of
yourself."
	The car left about twice as fast as it arrived, kicking up dust
behind it.

* * *

A Corvette pulled up, and a slight man with gray hair called out to Luke.
"You got my son here?"
	"Indeed I have.  I'll go get him."
	Returning from the cabin slowly, almost the way a mourner would
walk once his loved one had been covered with dirt, Jason turned and gave
Luke a hug.  "Thanks, man."
	"Thanks yourself.  Pleasure having you."
	Jason got into the passenger seat.
	"Don't you want to drive?" the man asked.
	"Naw, it's okay, you drive."

* * *

The Toyota Scion pulled up next, Tracey's fraternal twin sister at the
wheel.  Luke went to get the boy, soon to be a woman.
	Standing next to the car, they hugged.  Tracey's left foot left the
ground briefly.  Then he got into the car.  "Thanks for everything."
	"Good luck.  Don't be a stranger."  Tracey got in on the passenger
side, and they drove off.
	Three minutes later, the Scion returned, practically burning
rubber.  The sister got out of the car, gave Luke a big hug, a kiss on his
left cheek, and the biggest smile he had ever seen.  "Thank you!" she said.
"Thank you!"

* * *

The Honda Accord pulled up as Luke and Sam watched.  Dad got out of the
car.  "Boy, did I miss you!" he said, and gave Sam a hug, returned
sparingly.  "You're not going to guess what happened!  A new solar system
was discovered, only 366 light years away!  Isn't that great?  They think
life might exist, just like on Earth!"
	Sam turned to Luke.  "I'm really going to miss this place."
	"Sam, I'll never forget you.  Take care of yourself.  Don't be a
stranger."  They gave each other a long bear hug.
        Dad looked envious.  "Well, we'd better be going, son.  We don't
want to miss Nova tonight on TV."
        Sam got into the car.  "I think we're gonna miss Nova, Dad.  I've
got friends I haven't seen for five weeks.  I'm gonna call someone up and
go to a movie."  The car turned around.  As it left, Dad shot Luke a
questioning glance.
        Luke turned and walked into the cabin, alone, knowing he had made
five life-long friends who would be forever grateful for cages, shackles,
and rubber suits.