Punking Mike, Part 2

Max H.  lilperv76@yahoo.com

Chapter 11

This story involves sex between guys.  If you shouldn't be reading stuff like that, move on.

The characters in this fantasy may not always practice safe sex.  In the world we live in everyone should practice safe sex.

It's okay to print this story out or save it to disc, but it remains my property.  Don't transfer it to another website or archive without my permission.

Thanks, as always, to TW for doing the editing here.

I want to thank my friend "the Marine" for suggesting the character of Jeff and for several of the events that happen in this chapter and the next one.

Mike Cronin:

This whole chapter is going to be about my experiences with Jeff Foster, the guy I was assigned to do a project with in my sociology class.

As I've said in mentioning Jeff earlier, he was obviously a dedicated ROTC guy.  Don't get me wrong, I liked him.  He was cute, for one thing.  5'8", brown hair and eyes, high and tight haircut, nice shoulders, slim waist, and a really great butt.  His posture was incredible, always like a ramrod, standing or sitting.  He had a habit in class of speaking in a very military manner and addressing anyone who was senior as "sir" or "ma'am."  This earned him sarcastic comments from some of our less disciplined classmates.  When he introduced himself to me, it was last name first:  Foster, Jeff.  

I had heard that the Navy/Marine ROTC unit on campus was new, and I didn't have any of those guys in any of my other classes.  Some of the others in our soc class made fun of Jeff behind his back, but my limited contact with him had made me like him, as I said.

He and I were to do a report on some aspect of gay/straight relations on campus.  We found we could meet after class on Wednesdays in his dorm room.  We figured that we might need more time together later, but that would do for starters.

The first time I went to Hayden Hall, his dorm, I was reminded of my life in a dorm the previous year at IU.  Same smell.  Same noises.  Jeff's room was on the second floor, he'd told me.  I climbed the stairs and was about to knock on #217 when the door opened.  "Hello, Cronin.  I heard you coming."  

He offered his hand and we shook.  The room itself was almost funny.  There were two of everything, but there was no doubt which set belonged to my new friend, if the huge Marine Corps posters on the walls weren't already a dead giveaway.  One bed was made military fashion, with no bedspread, but with sheets and a blanket so taut a quarter would have bounced on it.  The other was unmade.  One closet door was open and inside was pure chaos, with piles of shoes and laundry on the floor, clothes hanging askew off of hangers.  The other closet door was closed.  I'd have bet that everything inside was shipshape and ready for inspection.  One computer had post-it notes all around the edge of the monitor and piles of papers and books on the desk.  The other was perfectly clean and squared away.  

"Damn Jeff!  I'll bet your roommate drives you freakin' crazy."

He grinned and said, "Yeah, well, I think I'm the one who drives him crazy.  But he's pretty tolerant, so we get along."

I set down my backpack and he gestured toward the chair in front of his computer.  He used his roommate's.  "So, Mike, do you have any clue how we are going to do this report?"

"There are lots of things we could do.  What would you think of starting by sampling attitudes of straight guys toward gays, and vice versa?"

He thought about that.  "Yeah, that would be a good start.  But how are we going to do that?  I mean, how would we identify the gay segment of the population?"  

"I've got that one figured out, I think.  First you and I have to come up with a questionnaire.  Then we go to the next meeting of the campus SGA."


"Yeah, the Straight/Gay Alliance."

"Never heard of them."

"When we get there, we ask the president, Darcy, for a few minutes on the program to explain what we're doing and ask for volunteers to fill out the questionnaire.  Or, better still, I could call her first and ask her for some time at the meeting."

"Sounds like a plan.  Would I have to go?"

"No, I suppose not.  Are you afraid to go?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to be the only straight person there."

"Jeff, it's the STRAIGHT/Gay Alliance.  There are straights there, people who are at least open minded enough to want to find out something about lesbians and gays.  No one will assume anything about you because you are there."

"Oh."  He thought about that for a minute.  "Okay, I guess I could learn something from that.  Now, what about the straight sample?"

"Think you could get your ROTC buddies to fill it out?"

"I'll see Sgt. Beaufort.  I'll bet he'd let me do it.  It's for a class project, after all, and I didn't pick the topic."

"That's great.  You know, that will make a good start.  We can talk about other ways to get a fix on campus attitudes.  Maybe look in the files of the campus newspaper for articles on straight/gay relations in the past?  The guy who was the president of SGA last year worked for the paper and had a column, I've been told, in which he wrote about that kind of things."

"Mike, you seem to have a good handle on all this.  I can see why the prof assigned you this topic.  But why me?"

"Complaining, Jeff?"

He looked really embarrassed.  "No, I didn't mean that.  But why would she pick me out of the whole class to work with you?  Did she think I was some kind of homophobe or bigot?"

"Oh, I don't see why she would have thought that.  Maybe she thought you looked like a pretty normal dude."  I wondered if the prof really did think that because of his being in ROTC Jeff was a homophobe, but I sure as hell wasn't going to tell him that.  He could prove to her on this project that he wasn't.

We talked for a while longer.  When it was time for me to start home, I suggested that he come up some questions for the questionnaire.  We exchanged email addresses and agreed to exchange our sample questions as soon as we could.  Then when we got together the next week, we could combine them all and see what we had.

Well, we came up with a pretty good questionnaire, we thought, and I made arrangements for us to have some time at the next SGA meeting.  Jeff went along, but he insisted I do the talking.  He was afraid his manner might rub people the wrong way, and I didn't argue with him.  We got 35 people who said they were lesbian/gay and a dozen straight people to fill out the questionnaire.  We both thought that was a pretty good response.

Outside the building, I said to him, "Thanks for coming with me, Jeff."

We bumped fists.  "No problem, Mike.  I found that meeting really interesting.  I learned some things there."

"Would you like me to be with you when you hand out the questionnaires in your ROTC class?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Look, Mike, I appreciate the offer, but there might, you know, uh, be some comments about you."

"Ya think?  I'm willing to risk that if you want me to be there.  Or is it that you don't want to be seen with me there?"

"Okay, Cronin, now you've done it.  I'll ask Gunny if it's okay for you to be there to help me explain what we're doing.  If he says it's okay, you'll have to haul your sorry ass to class with me and stand up there with me.  And don't blame me if you hear some things you don't want to hear."

I grinned.  "I think I can risk that."

"Well, I'm a little hurt that you'd think that of me.  I've never had any experience with gay people, and I don't always know what to say.  But you're my friend, and I'm sorry if you think I'd be embarrassed for the others to know that."

I expelled the breath I'd been holding, and held out my hand.  "Thanks, Jeff.  Can I drop you at the dorm?"

"No, thanks, Mike.  I'll just run.  See you in class!"

As it turned out, Gunny Beaufort did not want me to come to class.  He told Jeff to assure me it didn't have anything to do with me being gay.  He just said it wasn't SOP.  But he did allow Jeff to hand out the questionnaires and explain briefly why we were asking them to fill them out.  The sergeant told them they WOULD fill out the questionnaires and give them to Jeff at the next class meeting.  

The project went along well.  In addition to the questionnaires and the columns written the previous year by Philip, the then president of SGA, we were able to interview the assistant dean of students, who was really helpful.  She seemed very interested in our project and answered all our questions without any bureaucratic hedging.

Jeff insisted that we get started drafting our report.  We had gone over the questionnaires and tabulated the results to the extent that we could.  He offered to write a first draft.  Then we could kick it back and forth via email.  It was good to be working with Jeff because he kept me on my toes.  I would probably have waited until after the Thanksgiving break to get started, but he was having none of that.  

Speaking of Thanksgiving.  One day after class I asked him where he lived.  He told me that his home was in California and that he wouldn't be going home for the break.  Too expensive, too little time.  That evening I asked Gage if we could invite Jeff to stay with us for the short holiday.

"He's welcome, of course, Mike.  I have a question and a slight problem."

"And they are . . . ?"

"Do you think he would be comfortable here with us?  He sounds like something of a  tight-ass."

I chuckled.  "Yeah, he is, sort of.  But he was fine at the SGA meeting.  Besides, I think he's accepted me as a friend, and not just someone he has to work with on this report."

"Well, you know him.  Now.  You and I are invited to the Crosses' for Thanksgiving dinner.  I don't think it will be a problem, but we'd have to run it by Bev before we invited Jeff.  Or, I suppose, we could fix Thanksgiving dinner here for the three of us."

"Do you want me to call Bev?"

"Yeah, why don't you?"

I did call her, and she seemed pleased.  "The more the merrier, Mike.  We'd love to have your friend with us.  Poor guy.  It must be terrible to be so far from home.  We can't have him alone on Thanksgiving, can we?"

"Bev, you're such a sweetie.  That's what I thought you'd say.  Thanks.  I'll let you know if Jeff can't come.  Otherwise, count on three of us for Thursday."

The next day I invited Jeff to spend the holiday break with me.  He was really touched but also seemed a little nervous.  

"That's very generous, Mike, but I don't want to horn in on your holiday.  From what you've told me, this is your first Thanksgiving with Gage.  You don't need a stranger around."

"Dammit, Foster, you ARE wanted at the Patrick/Cronin house.  You WILL come home after class on Wednesday and stay with us until Sunday.  Is that understood?"

He broke into a broad smile.  "Sir!  Yes Sir!  That is understood!  Cadet Foster will report to your home after class and stay with you and your, uh, partner until Sunday.  Thank you, Sir!"

First he saluted me, and then we high-fived

"Jeff, I think I should apologize.  Will you be uncomfortable being with Gage and me?"

"You aren't going to come on to me, are you?" he asked, grinning.

"Sir!  No Sir!"

"You aren't going to fuck each other in my presence, are you?"

"Sir!  No Sir!  But I won't promise we don't hug each other once in a while, Sir!"

He chuckled.  "Well, I guess I could get used to that."

Thanksgiving Dinner at the Crosses' was a wonderful affair.  Three things about it stick in my mind.  The first, of course, was the wonderful food.  Gage said he always insisted on bringing something.  Thanksgiving morning he made a mince meat pie and candied yams.  Just before we left for the Cross's, Jeff and I made a big bowl of salad and put it in a Tupperware container.  Gage hauled out a cut glass bowl to serve it in when we got there.  Our contributions more or less disappeared into the vast array of food Bev had fixed.  She said Brent and Gus had helped.

The second thing I remember is how welcoming the Crosses were.  Brent seemed to have gotten over his reservations about me and gave me a big hug when we arrived.  I got a hug and a kiss from Bev.  Gus was bouncing around like a puppy.  And everyone treated Jeff as if he were one of the family.

Everyone but Gus, that is.  Gus treated him like a god!  We were all dressed casually, but Jeff, despite not being very big, looked every inch the Marine with his haircut and his military bearing.  Gus took one look at him and seemed to be in awe.  For most of the time we were there, he was next to Jeff.  When he found out that Jeff wanted to be a Marine officer, he had a million questions.  Once I heard his mother say, "Gus, give poor Jeff some breathing space.  He might want to talk with the grownups, you know."  Jeff, every inch the gentlemen, assured her that he was happy to answer Gus's questions.

For the rest of the weekend, Gage stayed in the background.  He let Jeff and me do pretty much whatever we wanted.  Gage and I tried very hard not to be too affectionate with each other when Jeff was around.  We didn't want to embarrass him.  Once he came into the kitchen and caught us kissing.  He blushed, excused himself, and left.  We followed him back into the great room and apologized to him.

"Hey, it's a new experience for me.  But it's okay.  It's your house.  And, you know, it's kind of nice.  I never thought I'd say that, but you guys obviously really do love each other, don't you?  I mean, it's not just the sex, is it?"

Gage looked at me and I looked at him.  We both grinned.  "No, Jeff," Gage said, "it's not JUST the sex."

Jeff laughed, and what could have been a difficult moment passed.

The day after Thanksgiving Jeff and I did what everyone else does that day.  We went to the mall.  In fact, we went to a couple of them.  The traffic was terrible and the malls were wall to wall people, but it was kind of fun.  We were both getting ideas for Christmas presents, me for Gage, him for his parents.  On Saturday Gage and I took Jeff with us to the gym to work out.  Of course I checked him out, but discreetly.  He had a really nice body.  Taut, trim, wiry, smooth.  I tried not to look at his cock, but when the three of us showered together afterward, I couldn't help noticing that it was about the same size as mine, even though he's a couple of inches shorter than I am.  Nice balls, too.  Gage offered to drop us somewhere while he did the grocery shopping, but Jeff tagged along.  That afternoon we all watched football.  Jeff and I took in a flick at the mall that night.

The next day, as I was driving him back to campus, he said, "You know, Mike, I have to thank you for all of this."

"Hey, Jeff, it's been fun having you with us."

"Well, I've enjoyed it, too.  You and Gage and the Crosses have all been very welcoming and I appreciate it.  It's kind of tough not being with my family, but you guys have sure helped make up for it.  And there's something else, too."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"It's been an eye-opener for me to see you and Gage together.  I mean, you're not at all like the stupid stereotypes I had in mind about gay guys.  You seem as much a real guy as any of my other friends.  So, I guess I figured that maybe Gage would turn out to be the -- please don't get mad -- feminine one.  But he's obviously not."

I looked over at him and grinned.  "You mean no lisps, no limp wrists?"

He looked down for a moment.  "Yeah, I guess that's what I was expecting.  I'm sorry.  But, like I said, this whole project you and I are working on has been a reeducation for me, and being here with you guys this weekend has added a lot to that."

"Jeff, I wanted you here because I like you.  You're my friend.  I didn't want you to be alone in the dorm for the holiday.  Besides, I've enjoyed it, too.  I can say I think of you as a good friend without you thinking I'm coming on to you, can't I?

"Cut the shit, Cronin!  I know you aren't coming on to me.  I think I know how much you care about Gage.  And," he grinned, "like I said, you come on to me and your balls are in serious jeopardy."

The next time I saw Jeff, he looked really tired and even more tense than normal.  I had noticed that there was a lot more activity in his ROTC unit after classes, with the freshmen running around in uniform and doing more PT than was normal, even for the Marines.  I didn't get a chance to ask him about it until we met in his room at our regular weekly meeting to work on our project.  The report was in great shape, and I was confident it would get us a good grade.  Jeff seemed to think so, too, and he suggested we turn it in early.

"Why would we do that?" I asked him.

"Why not?  You agree with me it's ready.  Maybe the prof would be grateful to get an early start on reading the reports."

"She won't think we're sucking up?"

"I doubt it.  I just think it might be a courtesy to her."  Then he grinned.  "And it can't do any harm, right?"

I laughed.  "Jeff, man, you're too cool!  It's been an education for me, working on this project with you.  I'm grateful to the prof for getting us together."

His face became very serious.  "Yeah, Mike, me too.  And speaking of us . . . being friends, would you, that is, do you think you could . . . ?"

"Jeff, what?  Tell me.  What's going on?  Is this something to do with your ass draggin'  all the time lately?"

He sighed.  "Guess you could say that.  My ROTC class is being initiated for the next few weeks.  It's kind of like fraternity stuff.  For this period, they ride our asses pretty hard, treating us like recruits at boot camp.  Our seniors have been on our backs all week, with daily uniform inspections, extra PT, and punishments for just about everything.  It seems like nothing we do is good enough to satisfy them."  He paused.  "You know, Mike, I was going to ask your help, but I won't.  I don't want to impose on our friendship."

"My help?  Like what?"

"Let me tell you.  Then you'll see what I mean and you can refuse, okay?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Some asshole in the senior class thought it was a cute idea to add an interesting twist to this year's initiation.  I have to get a civilian, that is, someone who isn't in ROTC, to be my initiation instructor for a week.  They want this because it increases the embarrassment and humiliation for an outsider to administer all the shit.  If you agreed to do it, there are some specific things I'll be required to do, and you'd have to attest that they were done.  I'd have to do pretty much anything you told me to.  And you'd be expected to punish me for any infractions of the rules or whenever you thought my attitude needed adjustment."

"Oh, shit, Jeff!  I'm not really into that sort of stuff."  I didn't want to tell him what had gone on with Seth the previous summer.  "I think it sucks that you have to go through that, and I like you too much to be the one who does it to you."

"Mike, before you say no, think about this.  It's a lot less than I'll face when I have to go through OCS.  Besides, I'd rather have you doing all this than anybody else I can think of."

I grinned.  "So, Foster, you want me to do it because you think I'll go easy on your Marine ass, huh?"

He didn't smile.  "No, Mike, I want you to do it because you're my friend and I respect you.  You're pretty squared away . . . for a civilian."

I guessed I should appreciate that back-handed compliment.

My serious buddy continued earnestly, "I don't want to take orders from some lazy, undisciplined, half-drunk frat boy.  If you agree to do this, you have to promise not to go easy on me.  It won't mean anything if you aren't strict, if you don't see that I fulfill all the conditions of our part of the initiation.  Besides, it wouldn't be honest."

Damn!  I didn't want to do that, but I understood what he was saying.  "Jeff, here's something else.  If I have to do shit to you, what's it going to do to our friendship?"

"Look, man, I promise not to let it interfere with that.  I may not like what happens, but it's my responsibility to suck it up, to take it like a Marine.  You're just helping me achieve my goal, and I'd never blame you for that."

"Can you give me any more details about what I would be expected to do?"

He grabbed a printout off his desk.  "Here, take a look at this."

I was very uncomfortable with what I saw.  There was a list of requirements on the two-page document, and then there was a sealed envelope for whoever agreed to be the candidate's "instructor" for the week.  "Jeff, we'd need a place to do some of these things."

"Yeah, I know it's a real imposition, but we obviously can't do some of that stuff here in my room.  I really don't want my room mate involved, even as an observer.  Do you think we could do it at your place?  I mean, Gage would have to be out of the house, and I know it's really pushy of me to ask.  But this is mandatory stuff.  And it's up to me to figure out how to do it."

"Jeff, after reading this, I think it had better be me than anyone else.  Let me talk to Gage about getting us some privacy.  Can we do the two biggies the same evening, ya think?"

He blushed.  "Yeah, may as well get those two over with all at once."

"In that case, maybe Gage could be out until late.  That would give us all evening, say, until 1:00 AM.  You could just spend the night in the guest room where you stayed over Thanksgiving."

"Like I said, I'm really embarrassed to ask."

"Relax, Jeff.  We'll get through this somehow.  I'll talk to Gage this evening."

"You can tell him as much as you need to about what we're going to do.  And if he says no, I'll understand."

"I'll email you after I've checked with Gage, okay?"

He heaved a big sigh.  "Yeah, Mike, thanks.  You're a good friend."

We touched knuckles, and I left.

Gage was wonderful.  I didn't have to show him the ROTC instructions sheets.  I just told him the outlines of what I was asked to do for (and to) Jeff.

"Mike, I need to make an overnight to Columbus.  I can drive down there one afternoon and come back the next morning.  And I can do that just about anytime in the next two weeks."

"How about this Sunday night?"

"Sounds good."

I hugged him.  "Thanks, hon.  I love you for being so understanding, for trusting me."

He kissed me.  "Mike, Jeff's a cute guy.  But we both know he's straight.  Besides, he's your friend.  I know it must bother you do have to assume this sort of dominant position with regard to him.  I know that you will do what you have to for him.  And I have complete trust that you and he aren't going to do anything that would hurt me."

I kissed him again and held him for a long time.

Jeff's special initiation phase could begin and end whenever we wanted it to within the few weeks of the "regular" initiation (I really couldn't imagine them taking this hazing for that long.)  Characteristically, Jeff wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.  I emailed him, suggesting that the week run from the coming Sunday until the following Sunday and that I'd pick him up and bring him home with me for supper Sunday evening.  He was to stay overnight Sunday night and ride back to campus with me the next morning.  He had an 8:00 class, so I'd have to get in touch with Terry and ask him to come in early with us or else drive by himself.

I got an almost immediate reply from Jeff confirming everything and thanking me again.  I called Terry and told him that Jeff and I had to leave in time for an 8:00 class on the following Monday.  He said he'd rather drive himself than get to campus an hour early.  I told him I'd drive an extra day later in the week to pay him back, and he said we'd talk about that later, which was his way of saying it wasn't necessary.

The next day I had lunch, as usual, with Terry and Kim.  Actually, I got there early enough to see Kim before Terry arrived.  I asked him if he could make me a copy of the dvd he'd bought from Seth.  He seemed surprised, but said, "Sure, Mike, no problem."

"I guess I should explain."

"Hell, man, you don't have to explain anything if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay.  I've told Gage about all that stuff Seth did to Jason and me, but there might come a time when I'd want him to see the pictures.  It's part of who I am now, and I think our relationship is solid enough for him to see them.  If he's willing, that is."

"Mike, would you feel better if I gave you the original?"

"I appreciate the offer, Kim.  But there are hundreds of those things out there.  I just can't let myself think about that."

"I'm going to give you the original anyway.  I can't watch that stuff now that we're friends.  I'm too uncomfortable, knowing you were being forced into doing all that shit."

I would have hugged him if he hadn't been across the table from me.  "Man, that's sweet.  I love you for that."

He grinned.  "I'll bring the dvd to lunch tomorrow."

As I read through my heretofore sealed instructions, I marveled at what a different world the military was, especially the Marines.  I understood that discipline and unquestioned obedience to orders were essential to an effective fighting force.  But it was all so foreign and repugnant to me.  I respected Jeff for his ambitions, but I was glad it wasn't me going through all this shit.  I decided, however, that I'd try to get into the spirit of things.  That was what I had agreed to do by taking on the job of being Jeff's initiation "master," and Jeff had made it clear that's what he expected of me.

Besides, some of it might be pretty interesting.

Since Jeff had no wheels, I drove to campus late Sunday afternoon to pick him up.  He was waiting patiently at the entrance of his dorm with his duffel bag, looking like a Marine ready to ship out on deployment.  Because of the risk of snow, I had insisted that Gage take the Rover to Columbus.  Fortunately, there wasn't any snow yet, and I managed the Beemer with no trouble.

We arrived at home, and Jeff took his duffel bag up to "his" room.  When he got back downstairs, he said, "Something smells great!"  

"Earlier I fixed a pot of spaghetti sauce, and I've just put the heat back on under it.  We'll have that and a salad for supper, if that's okay."

"You cook?"

"Well, I could do a few things before I met Gage, but he's taught me a lot."

"I guess that figures."

"Watch it, Foster.  This isn't the time to piss me off, you know."

"Piss you off?  What?"

"You're dealing in stereotypes.  Do you like to sit around on weekends in your underwear, scratch your hairy belly, drink beer, watch football, and fart?"

"I don't have a hairy belly," he answered seriously, with a confused look, lifting up his shirt to prove the point, and giving me a good look at his smooth, trim abdomen.  Then he realized what I meant and he laughed.  "No way!  But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Some people would characterize straight men that way.  You've just suggested that Gage and I like to cook because we're gay.  Same thing."

"I hadn't thought of that, Mike.  I'm sorry."

"That kind of thinking is so easy.  But a guy who's doing a project on straight and gay attitudes shouldn't be thinking that way, for sure."

"Yeah, I see what you mean."

"Now, I'm going to have a beer.  How about you?"

"Yeah, please.  A beer or two might help me relax."

"Worried about this evening, Jeff?"

"Damn right!  I know I shouldn't be.  This won't be anything like what I'll be facing next summer, but I'm still not looking forward to this.  I don't know what you found in your special instructions, but I did read the business about the two big items we have to do tonight."

I got us both beers.  "I'm not looking forward to this, either, you know.  I really don't want to do it.  But you've convinced me that, since somebody has to, it should be me."

He gave me a rather sickly grin, lifted the bottle, and said, "We who are about to die salute you."

I touched my bottle to his.  "Relax, Jeff.  It won't be that bad."

His grin was more genuine this time.  "Easy for you to say."

After supper Jeff helped me clear the table and load the dishwasher.  When that was done, I said, "Your initiation week has begun.  Go upstairs, relieve yourself, brush your teeth, and report back here to me."

"Wow, Mike.  You sound like you are beginning to get into this."

"Quiet, Foster.  When you get back downstairs, I will tell you what your orders are for the coming week.  One of the first things you need to remember is that from now on you don't speak without being asked a direct question or else asking permission to speak.  And for the next week, whether we are in public or in private, you will address me as `Sir.'  In fact the first and last word out of your mouth will be `Sir.'  Got that?"

"Sir!  Yes sir!"

"Good.   Now do what I told you.  But before you come back downstairs, you are to remove all of your clothes.  I know you will fold or hang them neatly.  Now, use the bathroom, brush your teeth, strip, and report back."

Instead of his usual snappy response, he hesitated, looking uncomfortable.  "Sir, do I have to remove ALL my clothes, sir?" he squeaked.

"You have trouble with your hearing, Foster?  I have given you a direct order.  Now get your butt moving, Marine!" I bellowed.  (Damn, I was surprised at how much I was getting into all this.  But it was just role playing, wasn't it?)

"Sir!  Yes sir!"  He turned smartly and went upstairs.

The qualms I had had earlier about doing all of this seemed to be disappearing.  I realized that Jeff had to find someone to do this, and I knew I wouldn't be sadistic about it.  On the other hand, I had a guilty feeling that I might be coming to understand why Seth was getting off last summer on what he was doing to Jason and me.

A few minutes later Jeff was coming down the stairs.  And then I had qualms of another kind.  He was naked, as ordered.  And he was hot.  I loved his taut, lean body and his smooth chest.  He had brown hair on his forearms, in his pits, on his legs, and, of course in the pubic area.  Swinging between his legs were his nice cock and good-sized balls.  I realized that it was going to be practically impossible for me to get through this evening without throwing wood.  Maybe lots of wood.

He snapped to attention.  "Sir, Cadet Foster reporting as ordered, sir!"  Even without his uniform there was no doubt this was one squared away Marine.  He had what looked to my civilian eye like perfect military bearing.

The instructions had advised me to expect him to report with those words, but I was told to demand something else, as if he had not done what I wanted.  I admired his cute body for a moment before saying "On the deck, Foster!  Give me twenty!"

"Aye, sir!" He churned out the pushups easily, then snapped back to attention.

"You had better report in the proper manner.  Let's try that again, Foster!"

"Sir, Cadet Foster reporting as ordered, sir!"

That was the correct form for an ROTC cadet, but not what I was instructed to insist on.  This earned him an additional 20 pushups.  I enjoyed the view of his butt moving up and down as he did the exercises.  Finally, after going through the drill until he had cranked out 60 pushups without breaking a sweat (how do these guys do that?), I let out an exaggerated sigh and asked, "Do you really think civilians are worthy to be called `cadet'?  You are nothing!  To call you a maggot would be an insult to all maggots.  [So help me, that's what the instructions told me to say.]  For this week, you will refer to yourself as `recruit.'  Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Come over here and stand at attention, Foster."  When he did so, I grinned and asked, "Are your thumbs along the outseams of your trousers, recruit?"

"Sir!  They would be if I had trousers, sir!"

I chuckled.  "Now, we'll go over some of your standing orders for the week.  First of all, do you realize that you are an unworthy civilian who seeks to become a member of the Marine Reserve Officers' Training Corps at this university?"

"Sir!  Yes sir!"

"Say it back to me."

"Sir!  I am an unworthy civilian who seeks to become a member of the Marine Reserve Officers' Training Corps."

"No, Foster, that's not right.  What's wrong with your memory, recruit?  It's `Marine Reserve Officers' Training Corps at this university.'"

"Sorry, Sir."

"That's two fuckups, Foster.  You didn't ask permission to speak to me.  And you didn't remember what you were supposed to repeat to me.  Face on the deck!"

He dropped into a prone position.  "Now, give me fifty pushups.  And don't forget to count `em out."  

After meeting Jeff, I had stopped by the ROTC field a couple of times.  I had been impressed not only with the close-order drill they were doing, but also with the P.T. they had to do.  It had paid off for Jeff, because he got through 40 pushups with no problem, even though he had just done 60 and who knows how much his instructors had put him through the day before.  After 40, though, he was getting red in the face and slowing down a little.  When he got to fifty, he said, "Sir!  That's fifty, sir!"  He remained prone, holding his body off the floor with his arms extended.  And his body was a perfectly straight line, as I had been instructed to watch for.

"Okay.  Halfway down and hold it!"  Jeff bent his arms until he was halfway up and halfway down.  That must have put lots of strain on his arms and shoulders, for soon he was getting red in the face and blowing his breath through compressed lips.  It seemed cruel, but he was going to have to get used to this from me for the rest of the week, or neither one of us would have complied with spirit or the letter of our instructions.  When his arms began to shake, I took pity on him.

"On your feet, recruit."

When he was once more standing at attention in front of me, his was faced flushed and he was breathing more heavily than normal, I said, "Now, listen carefully.  Here are other conditions of your initiation.  For the next week, you will, as I said, call me `sir,' whether in public or private.  You will always ask permission to speak.  For as long as you are in this house you will be naked.  Whenever you see me on campus, you will be prepared to give me fifty pushups or any other PT exercise I may decide upon, and any number I shall stipulate.  Is that understood?"

"Sir!  Understood, sir!"

"Furthermore, until sundown one week from today, you will address ANY male you speak to, regardless of age, as `Sir' and ANY female as `Ma'am'.  Not just people who are older or senior.  If you are talking to Gus or some other kid, he's still `Sir.'  Got that?"

"Sir!  Yes sir!"

"Good!  Now, go upstairs to the bathroom you used the last time you were here.  Stand at attention facing the mirror until told to do otherwise.  And you are to sing the `Marines' Hymn' until I get there and tell you to stop.  Then we'll get on with the rest of the program."

"Sir!  Yes, sir!"

He executed a crisp about face.  I loved the way his cock flew out from his pubes as he whirled around.  He began, "From the Halls of Montezuma . . ." and marched upstairs.  I followed, watching his cute little muscular ass wiggle as he climbed the stairs and thinking this might be a very interesting evening -- if I didn't get too aroused.

To be continued.