Date: Tue, 9 Nov 2010 15:16:35 -0800 (PST) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: i Was a Teenaged CuB 10 You know the drill: The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. % Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection. i Was a Teenaged CuB 10 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee % He had thought about it, already telling Uncle Jim he was staying over at Geoff's house this evening. So, at least he could say `change of plans', when showing up at home. For the most part of the evening, Michael wanted to chill out and digest all which has happened. Hopping in his truck he figured he would get some `real' pizza, so at nine o'clock on a Saturday night, he pulled into the parking lot of `Lo Vecchio's Pizzeria', parked, was about to go in, when the door to the restaurant opened for him. "Oh Michael! How are you?" Michael wondered why Mark West was playing up to him and sure enough came the reason. "Michael, I'd like you to meet lead bass of our `Bear Quartet', Heinrich Baden." Shaking his hand, Michael was suspicious. Sure enough, when Heinrich comes out with, "I'm very happy to meet you young man. I do hope you will come out to our Cub Club meeting this month?" Then Mark points out, "Heinrich is also the president of our club!" Unsure what to say, Michael resolves, "Congratulations!" "Your calzones?" Swift, quick and to the point and then a quick exit. Now there was something to be excited about, Michael watching the white bag dropped off and the dude turn to walk away. "Somebody should teach that boy some manners!" "He only does it to get under your skin, Heirich," Mark tells him. Meanwhile, Michael has seen himself inside the eatery. At the door, Heinrich has a second complaint, "And where did Michael go?" Mark replies, "Well, you weren't paying attention to him!" With pouty lips Heinrich says to Mark, "I want your ass for that remark!' Smiling, Mark says, "Cool!" The sign said `seat yourself', so Michael did, finding a nice booth to himself across the floor of the restaurant. The dude who dropped the calzone off, assisted him, but was very quick and impersonal about the service given. But at least Michael got his two slices of pizza and lemonade. He watched people come and go, a few quarters stuck in the jukebox and knew one or tunes played. However, the most joy he got out of the evening was watching the waiter waltz around the floor, from kitchen to the restaurant, delivering food and taking away dirty dishes. As he sat there he shook his head `yes', in recognition. The waiter was part of the same crowd, who badgered and bullied him at school. Actually, it didn't bring back memories if the torturous thing imposed upon him, being held by two and punched in the stomach by a third, or in gym class, getting peed on in the shower or in the wood shop, while a saw was blaring away, his nips getting squeezed by pliers. Yeah, he went through a lot, until Uncle Jim taught him a thing or two about self-defense, but now he dwell on the advice his uncle gave him if he should happen to run into any of these `men', that at the time they were teenagers and out in the world it's a different set of rules. Michael thought about Uncle Jim's words of wisdom and right now was applying them. Michael pondered on the last phrase of Uncle Jim, `What do you think is the right thing to do?' "How was everything, okay?" Michael decided to pop the question, "Weren't you one of the guys in wood shop who held me while they hurt my nips with pliers?" Chewing gum like a tough character, he pops it out of his mouth, bends over and says to Michael as soft as possible, "Yeah, look. I did a lot of stuff back in high school," which happened to be two years ago, since the waiter was twenty years old, "but I'm trying to put it behind me." He also reveals, "Look, I knew I was one of the ones who put you down for being gay, but," he looks around, "it was totally wrong, because..." he stares Michael in the eyes, "because I knew I was gay too!" Then he excused himself, Michael sitting there with a whole new world of thoughts. Right now he didn't know how to react and all he could think of was to get out of there. In front of him on the table was one of those black, leather folders a waiter has with the bill. He opens it to tally everything up, but there aren't any numbers written. He thought he could escape talking to the waiter once more. Fortunately he saw a chef or other personnel by the counter. When he inquired, the guy took the folder, opened it, closed it, tossed it on the counter, saying, "No charge!" Leaving, Michael's destination was the gym, since he knew it would buy him some time, staying open till eleven thirty. As soon as he opens the door, Gregg says, "If you're looking for Mark, he's busy!" Good-guessing, Michael wasn't sure of the name, but asks, "With the bass singer from the Bear Quartet?" "Number one answer gets you a free protein shake at the end of your workout!" "I'll probably be here till closing," Michael says. "At least you won't be alone!" Facing the protein bar, Michael wonders `why?'. Then hears, crept up behind him, "Here to work out, Michael?" All he returns is, "Hi Patrick." Muscles bulging out of the sides of his tank top, fabric so tight around his pecs, Patrick's nips seems larger than life, "I know I sounded like a jerk and... if you want to work out together it's cool, even with no strings attached." "I'll think about it," Patrick replied. And dragging the knapsack from his truck, he reported to the lockerroom. "What do you think Gregg?" Gregg advises Patrick, "I think your lust for having hour ass paddy-whacked ruined it for you!" Patrick walked back to the chest press, thinking about it. Actually he had already thought it through and came to a decision he could never give up what made him feel good. The last time he was paddled on the ass, the guy doing it wanted to whip him on the back with a belt. So, instead of drawing back, Patrick was expanding his horizons. He's already decided this is going to be a workout session and no more. On the other hand, Michael did some soul-searching as he pulled off his shirt, unbuckled his pants, kicked off sneakers and reduced his wardrobe to wearing briefs. He sat there on a bench and since he had all the time in the world, played with sock and sneaker, like an arcade game, putting the sock in the sneaker without missing. "Hello Michael, how are you?" Michael looked up to recognize Tommy Farris, half-owner of Farris' Florist. "Good, Mr. Farris and you?" Rather than comment on himself, he says, "You were quite the talk of the `Cub Club' meeting?" "I was?" Michael asks. "I thought that stuff was supposed to be secret?" "Secret, phooey! There's talk you might not think about attending the meeting!" "I'm not." Paying more attention to the thirty-four year old shop keep stripping down, he's hit with, "Oh now you should think about reconsidering." Based on Patrick's `favorite activity', Michael replies, "I'm not going to stand around and watch guys paddle each other's asses!" "That's only a fraction of what happens. There's plenty more to involve yourself with. Do you like to sing?" 
 "I know about the `Bear Quartet'." "And?" Soon Michael saw the reason Tommy was a member of the Cub Club, though minus one `big' detail. It gave reason to digress, "Excuse me, but it's not like I was stalking you Tommy, but..." "Stalk all ya want!" Tommy replies, hands feeling up his dark haired chest, stomach and then his right hand feeling up his pubic mass. "Don't you have to have a gut to be in the Cub Club?" Michael inquires. "Times have changed and if we had limited it to guys with a paunch, we'd be out of business. Nowadays to join the Cub Club it is more the interest. Some of our young cubs don't have anything but that wiggly little treasure trail!" Michael had to laugh and the diversion made him feel better. "I'm glad we've had this talk Tommy." "Well, let me warn you, there's some of that `other stuff' going on and we don't condone it..." "What other stuff?" Michael asks, now more focused on putting his gym clothes on, now that Tommy Farris has. "Kinky stuff and all." "Kinky stuff?" 
 All Tommy leaves Michael with is, "Like life, you have to go into this with an open mind. Some of it is right for you, some not. You have to pick and choose what is right for you and respect what the others like to do." As they are wrapping it up, Patrick comes in the lockerroom, saying, "Oh hi Tommy. Gregg told me you were here." The two stopping, staring at each other made it seem like Michael was the focus of the room. Michael, all ready to hit the gym floor, says, "Uh, I guess I'll see you out there." "I'll be out in a minute," Patrick says to Michael. Rounding the protein bar, Michael asks, "Hey Gregg, do you know what it is with Patrick and Tommy Farris?" Gregg smiles, asking, "Are you sure you want to know?" "I'm trying to respect what other people like to do," Michael quotes Tommy. As Gregg goes to tell, Mark West's office door opens, Heinrich paces down the floor towards the entrances, passing right by the protein bar to hear, "Tommy Farris is giving Patrick a whipping on the ass most likely." "Oh really?" the fifty-two year old Bear Quartet bass says. "What's that about?" Mark asks as he watches Heinrich take a detour and head towards the lockerroom. Michael, totally aware of the whole encompassing activity, tells Mark, "Tommy Farris is going to whip Patrick's ass and Heinrich is going to help!" Slapping his hand on the counter, Mark seems to scold Gregg, "Now you know I don't want that type of stuff happening around here!" "He's not gonna throw Patrick out, is he?" Michael asks Gregg, considered. "Why don't you just get on with your workout Michael?" So Michael did, even though it was kind of lonely because Patrick wasn't there to workout with him. He tried to check near the front desk, but the back of the gym was a ways. Finally he did see the three, plus Mark West, all in civilian clothing and he felt bad because of what he said was probably getting at the least, Patrick kicked out. Nothing he can do about it, Michael worked out until eleven thirty, until the crowd dwindled to zero. "Ready for that protein shake on the house?" Gregg asks, faced down over the weight bench. Looking up at him, Michael says, "Are you ready to close?" "Like fifteen minutes ago?" Resting the barbell back in the holder, Michael pops up with an apology, "Sorry." "No problem," Gregg replies with joviality, "I've got to be home by one. Got a guy coming over," he wiggles his eyebrows! Michael asks, as he follows Gregg up front, "Anybody I know?" Fixing up the shake, Gregg says, "Steve Kelso?" "Kelso brothers who own the hardware store?" "Same," Gregg replies, slurping in some milk. "I didn't know one of the Kelso brothers was gay?" Before pressing the blender button, Gregg replies, "Oh, more than one!" And now Michael has to wait to find out which of the five brothers is gay! % Slowly, Davy's mind sank back to the original reason for winding up in this delightful dilemma, sitting in an upstairs jon, a hot tub big enough for four, but himself and Artemus enjoying the steamy vapors. He ventures to ask, "Will Chad be joining us soon?" "Chad? He probably got tied up in some legal matter." Artemus, sitting across from Davy, falls to his knees, his hands tagging Davy's knees, "Why? Still feeling uncomfortable after that bump on the head?" Davy wasn't given a chance to answer, Artemus ducking his head under the sea, his sonar set on some bounty. "Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h--h!" Davy moaned, dropping his head back, which hurt some, but the pain quickly flushed from his mind by some undersea creature gulping up his pipefish! "You okay?" Artemus asks, popping his head out of water. "Why should I `not' be okay?" Given a lead, Davy followed, a hand helping him up and out of the hot tub. "Where we going?" "My aren't you the inquisitive one?" Artemus laughs as he leads Davy out of the jon and into the lux bed chamber. More or less guessing, Davy now was sure, being led to the other side of the suite and into yet another room, housing a bed, dresser and other furnishings. "Nice!" he says, still being led like a puppy dog, on Artemus' hand. "It's about to get nicer!" From a closet Artemus pulls a towel and begins drying Davy off. "Much nicer!" Davy replies after Artemus dries him from top to bottom. Landing on one knee, Artemus picks up from where he left off in the hot tub. After rolling his tongue around Davy's barrel, he empties his mouth and says, "Any complaints?" "Only one. I'd rather be on the tasting end?" Artemus just grins, leading Davy over to the bed. Careful to position his head in the pillow, he asks, "Comfy?" Wanting to know his plan, because he was in the usual `top' position, relaxing flat on his back, his question was soon answered. "Now, at the slightest amount of pain I want you to tap my arm." He had a reason for this and soon Davy learned it, Artemus sitting his ass cheeks down on Davy's chest, leaning forwards, his hands bracing his bod against the headboard, his cock slowly welcomed into Davy's cavernous orifice. % The nighttime was running out of hours for Michael, taking the speed limit as he sped down Main St. Off and on throughout the day he had been thinking about Mark West's offer to work at the gym and seven out of eight times he's thought about it, he's come up with the majority of his thoughts being negative. Main reason as this `Cub Club' stuff, this being West's main focus on the reason for hiring him. After all, he considers while standing at the red light, "This belly," he rubs his hand over his pauncy little stomach, and after speaking it out loud, thinks like he's talking to the furry, red gut under his shirt, `you're getting me into so much trouble!' He's then awakened to `the road', someone behind beeping. At first Michael thinks it's someone he knows, so turns his head to take a quick look. On the rebound, to face the windshield, something catches his eye. Instead of making the driver from behind more ornery, Michael pulls around the corner, parking on the side street. Walking back, he turns back onto Main St. and two stores down sees it, a legal-sized sign, handprinted, `Help Wanted'. He then smiles, not seeing it before, the cute little puppy looking square at him and waving his tail. "Oh-h-h-h-h!" Michael whines, his fingernail tapping on the window. He's then distracted when some of the lights dim in the pet shop. He talks, to the dog, "They're leaving you all alone?" Second distraction, he hears the click of the front door, popping up from being bent over. Standing, he's confronted by a guy, saying, "Are you interested in a puppy?" Smiling, Michael was really thinking he was interested in the dude half-hanging out of the doorway. Sure, the puppy was cute, but he didn't have anyplace to raise a dog. Swinging back to what originally caught his eye, "I wish, but I'm interested in the job if it's not filled?" "I'm looking to close..." "I can come back tomorrow," Michael says. "Not necessary. What I was going to say is, as long as you're not buying anything?" As Michael passes within the entrance to Peter's Pets, he says, "I guess I can fill out an application, right?" Little did Michael realize, walking past the store owner, through the portal of the pet shop, from looks alone, he was already considered number one applicant. Unknown to him, he was the first one who applied for the job! Behind the counter, an application was placed where sales are transacted, "Got a pen?" Feeling up his tee shirt, Michael replies, "Nope. I just came from the gym, so..." Receiving a smile, a hand clicks open a pen, "No problem. Got one right here." "Thanks," Michael replies. While he filled out the application, through questioning, he was also interviewed, "Working out at the gym?" "I've been at it for about a month," Michael replies, still filling out the form. Unknown to Michael, by coincidence, his future employer already knows a thing or to about him. Only this afternoon a certain member of the police force had stopped by, looking for a dog. They got to talking about the same club they belonged to and his cop-friend had mentioned Michael, by name. He knew Seamus was going to drop in on Michael, but wondered if things went sour. Apparently, which, if his thinking was correct, Michael was `open season'. "Says here, `other' address. I'll be attending college in a week or so and don't know if I will be staying on campus?" His heart leapt into his throat, thinking Michael was going to move away, but then how redundant, when Michael is applying for a job. In a calm voice, he asks, "I suppose you will be attending college right here in Cedar Creek?" "Right," Michael replies, elaborating, "but I'm not sure what my major is going to be." The two hear a yelping sound, Michael turning from counter and racing towards the front. The store owner was right on his tail. "Oh, I think he's sick!" Sick was right! Michael, picking up the pup out of the plexiglass collar around the table, felt the full effect of a sick puppy, his barfing right down his shirt. "Oh, I'm so embarrassed," the owner replies. Regardless of his shirt or anything else, Michael says in a cutesy little voice, "Are you feeling sick little guy?" "C'mon. Let's take him to the back. I've got a separate cage for him." "Cage?" Michael replies with audacity. "You're not gonna put him in a cage, sick, are you?" It was both a dilemma, but a caring side of Michael, enough to break anyone's heart. Making a rash decision, the pet store owner says, "Okay, you're hired." "I am? That quick?" Sweeping past Michael's questioning, he says, " I'm Pete and if you want to, since you not work here, can take the puppy home with you, but have him back by tomorrow, so...." "Take him home? I can't do that," yet Michael still holding the pup, clinging to the middle of his pecs. `Logical', Peter thought, saying, "I know what you mean. I have a cot in the back, there for such instances," thought Peter has used it for `other purposes', "the pup can stay with me in the back and then tomorrow morning I can take him to the vet." Thinking of earlier, it would fit Michael's schedule, "Not a problem. I can stay." Pete deliberates. "If you trust me?" Michael giggles, the puppy licking him under the chin. "Of course I trust you Michael!" It then occurs to Michael, "But you don't even know me." "You look honest." Michael wasn't buying it and it showed, the look on his face more in demand of an explanation. Pete thinks, `here goes', spelling out, "I happen to know Seamus O'Connelly and he told me he met this terrific guy...." "He said I was terrific?" Smiling, Pete says, "He said more than that!" "Really?" Michael said in a pouty manner. Feeling guilty, that maybe he's misjudged Seamus, he says, "I need to make a quick call." It's only now Michael surrenders the pup, saying, "Here, hold Cubby a minute." "Cubby?" Pete asks, with inquiry. "Yeah. He's fat like me!" It's not what Pete was thinking. Not fat, but perhaps a little plump. Even though he himself would be considered `beefy-muscle', he liked a guy with a little gut. As Michael disappeared from sight, Pete started talking to the dog, "Cubby, is it?" Thinking along the lines of the name, "I suppose since he gave you your name, Michael should be your new owner!" Meanwhile, up front, near the double doors to the store, Michael was phoning home, the place where he was expecting to reside tonight. Shocked, but not totally bent out of shape about it, he found Geoff had hit it off with Seamus, which left him out of the trio for the night. Then, as he paced back to the front of the store, he started feeling guilty, like he was trading Seamus off for Pete. Mid aisle, between the bird food, he stops. `Pete?' he thought, `where did that come from?' However, as Michael recalls, when he was entering the shop, he thought the six-foot, broad-shouldered store owned was kind of `hot' looking. As he approaches the pup, Pete says, "He, what took ya? Cubby went missing his owner!" He smiles, waiting for response. "I had to make a call," Michael replies in all sincerity, still dwelling on Seamus and Geoff. Then it registered, "Wait! Cubby's owner? What do you mean?" Pete laughs, saying, "You made him throw up on you! He's all yours now!" "For real?" Michael says, taking Cubby back, holding him in a light embrace to his chest, even though it has `throw up' on it. "Starting tomorrow morning," Pete replies. Michael is quick to say, "I can stay with him tonight, in the back of the store, if it's alright?" Acknowledging, Pete leads Michael back there, saying, "It's `not' all the comforts of home, but there's a small shower to wash off. Nothing fancy, but I do have a clean towel." "Looks nice," Michael says, walking in the small back room, saying, "I've always wanted a shower in my bedroom!" Laughing, Pete says, "More like a bed in the jon!" Allowing Cubby to wander onto the bed, Michael says, "Oh look at him. The poor little guy is lying down and going right to sleep!" Pete says, "I've going to go finish closing up. If you want to, you can take a shower?" "Problem," Michael says. "What?" "This is the only tee shirt I've got?" Pete closes the door, reaches up and unsnags a shirt from a hook. Holding it up, Michael reads, "Pet Walk 2009?" "Yeah. I walked for homeless pets last year. Might be a little tight, but I usually opt out for a larger size. You know," he jokes, "these big, worked out pecs?" Laughing along, Michael says, "I wouldn't know. I haven't seen them!" Tossing the shirt to Michael, opening the door, Pete says, "Be careful what you wish for!" As Michael stripped for his shower, he was all smiles, thinking, `or I just might get it!' One of the reasons for thinking about how cute Pete is, disregarding the age differences, was referring back to Seamus and Geoff. When he talked with his pal, he wasn't showing a bit of concern in them being almost ten years apart in age, so why should he think any different of himself and Peter. One thing he did wonder about is Pete's actual age, since he definitely was `older'. With a knock on the door, he hears Pete call, "Are you decent?" `Nice of him to ask', Michael thought and even though, to a stranger, he wasn't, he yells back, "Oh course not!" On the other side of the door, Pete wondered what the signal, deciding it was an invitation to proceed. He did, slowly, creeping the door open an inch at a time. Being a jokester, he blindfolded himself with his hand, leaving a slit between his fingers, saying, "I'm coming in now!" Michael probably figured he would think the coast is clear, the sound of the water and when opening uncovering his eyes, would find him behind the crude curtain. First it was the door separating them, now it was the shower curtain, Pete now wondering if he should trespass or not. "Now I `know' you're not decent!" Michael yells back, in a comical fashion, "I don't have any different anatomy than you do!" Without even looking, Pete differed in opinion, stating, "I don't know about that!" In a joking mood, Michael says, "Lemme see!" Whereas Michael pulled a fraction of the shower curtain aside, after having looked down, Pete slips it closed, complaining, "You're getting me all wet!" High wired on the anatomy issue, Michael asks, "It is hard or soft?" "How can you fuckin' tell when it's in a guy's pants?" Michael giggles, replying, "I ain't used to that language, so stop fuckin' using it!" Like a stage appearance, Pete suddenly draws back the curtain and now and regardless, it doesn't matter if he gets wet now, sporting his naked self, "So, what do you think Mr. Expert?" With the soap between his hands, Michael replies, "Pretty big for being soft." "What're you?" Pete asks, looking at Michael's crotch, "A perfect ten?" Smiling, Michael says, "Only when I'm hard!" Getting in the shower stall with Michael, Pete says I really need to get hard for you to get the true picture." Michael turned as Pete entered, the two face to face. "Um, like what were you thinking or doing to get yourself hard, Pete?" With the drama unfolding, Pete says, as the cheap showerhead only cascades over Michael, leaving him basically dry, "It's really tough in this inadequate arrangement." Something in the back of Michael's mind pops up, "By the way, Pete, how old are you?" "Daymn you young guys, you always get me on that clause. Twenty-seven. Over the hill?" Doing the math, "Let's see, in a couple of months I'll be nineteen." "When?" Pete asks, starting to do something with his hands, rubbing Michael's arms. Liking the feeling, wanting Pete to do more, Michael returns the action, except with soapy hands, "November eleventh. You?" Smiling, like he was hiding something suspicious, Pete replies, "February fourteenth. Ring a bell?" Michael replies, "I'll never catch up with you!" Pete says, "Like how would you mean that?" Feeling like it, because he's so comfortable with Pete, Michael's soapy hand is making and keeping Pete hard, "I think you're hard now!" "C'mon. Rinse off," Pete says hurriedly, his actions working along, helping Michael rid his bod of the soap. Things moving fast, Michael wonders if Pete is going to take them `to bed', something he is not sure of wanting at the present, especially when there's a little furball sharing it! He took it in stride and felt relieved when Pete says, "C'mon and get dressed. We're going to my place." Michael replies, "I'm not going without Cubby?" "Are you kidding?" Pete says, having trouble stepping into his briefs. "He's one of the family now!" % Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee `i Was a Teenaged CuB' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author. The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....