Date: Thu, 22 Jan 2015 21:20:33 +0000 (UTC) From: Macout Mann Subject: Robert E. Lee Academy 6 Did you ever think what it would cost to subscribe to a magazine that offered you stories like the ones you can read here on nifty.org for free? That's why making an occasional contribution to nifty is a good investment. This story involves homosexual activity between high school age boys. If you object to such, or if you are underage, please read no further. Please also let me hear from you. It means a lot to know whether you like my stories or not. Reach me at macoutmann@yahoo.com. Enjoy (I hope). Copyright 2015 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved. A YEAR AT THE ROBERT E. LEE ACADEMY by Macout Mann CHARACTERS PREVIOUSLY INTRODUCED Cadets Barefield, (C. Sgt.) Carol, 16 Squad Leader, Room 110, Messes around Bascom, Rory, 17 Care-free non-militarist, Room 112 Baumgartner, Drew, 13 Son of Army Major, Room 110 Calhoon, Elliot, 13 Bright kid, from Kentucky, Room 211 Chesterton, Dean 16 Top scholar, Room 211 Ellis (C. Lt.), Roger, 16 Platoon Leader, Company B Farrier, Scott 15 Newly tough, Room 212 Fulton, Patrick, 14 Tough Juvenile Delinquent, Room 212 Gunnerston, Richard, 12 Gay from Iowa, Room 216 Hammond, William, 17 Tough, Room 212 Hardcastle, Elbert, 12 Baptist Preacher's Boy, Room 110 Harwood, Kenneth, 16 Very bright, Room 112 Humphreys, Fredrick 15 Real scholar, Room 211 Johnston, (C. Lt.) Baxter, 17 Football Capt., Platoon Leader Lindstrom, Herbert, 12 Hardcastle's friend, Forrest House MacMillan, Creighton, 15 Socialite's disciplined son, Room 112 McNeil, (C. Lt. Col.) Benjamin, 16 Deputy Battalion Commander Menifee, (C. Sgt.) Jason, 17 Squad Leader, Room 212, Tough guy Montgomery, Jack, 15 Room 216 Muggeridge, Clayton, 15 Room 216 Patterson (C. Lt.), Fletcher Platoon Leader, Company C Plunkett, Kent, 17 Big-dicked football player Spencer, (C. Col.) Wallace, 17 Battalion Commander Stephens, Rex, 15 Room 110 Stone, Frank 14 Jock, Room 211 Thatcher, Marion, 13 Bully, Room 216 Walton, Thomas, 14 Eager to please, Room 112 Witherspoon, (C. Capt.) John, 17 Captain, Company B Adults Baumgartner, (Maj.) Stefan Drew Baumgartner's father Pugh, (The Rev'd Cdr.) Ellis Chaplain Southerland, (Col.) Malcolm Superintendant/Headmaster Chapter VI Thanksgiving Week Fulton's ass was so sore the following day that he didn't dare not report to Witherspoon as ordered. Witherspoon, on the other hand had intended to continue the punishment by fucking Fulton and letting both his platoon leaders also have their way. When he saw how funny Fulton was walking when they marched into chapel, he decided to have pity. He'd make Fulton suck them instead. "Reporting as ordered," Fulton said. "Reporting as ordered, sir," Witherspoon spat. "Reporting as ordered, sir," Fulton repeated. "Sit down, Fulton." Witherspoon waited, then began, "Are you saying you didn't learn a fucking thing from what we did to you last night?" "Sorry, Captain. I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I just wasn't thinking. It's hard to get used to this fucking military shit." "Well unless you can talk your folks out of taking you out, you're going to be up to your ass in `this military shit' for the next three years. So you might as well get used to it. You've obviously been `hot spit' wherever you've been. But you aint anymore, and you better get used to it; or what happened last night is goanna become a regular thing. "Now we've generally got a good bunch of guys here at Robert E. Lee. Fit in, and act like a new'un should, and they'll treat you right. Act high and mighty like you've been acting, and they'll make you miserable. Understand?" "Yeah...yes, sir." "O. K. Me and Ellis didn't hump you last night. I was goanna do it today, but I don't think your ass is in any shape to take more dick. So I'm just goanna ask you to give us head. Eat me, man." "Yes, sir," Fulton replied. He knelt and unbuckled and unzipped the company commander and took his hard-on into his mouth. He was very careful and gave as good a blow job as he possibly could. For some reason it seemed like the right thing to do. He didn't feel put down at all. He drank Witherspoon's cum and moved on to the two cadet lieutenants. And later, back in Room 212 he even told his roommates he was sorry he'd been such a horse's ass. "I'm too sore to get fucked, but I'll give yall head, if you want me to." Again, it seemed like the right thing to do. Monday wrestling practice went like it usually did for Hardcastle. He got pinned every match. Toward the end of practice another first former, even smaller and scrawnier than him, took him down in thirty seconds. "Sissy boy can't even take on somebody half his size," the victor teased. "Yeah," an older cadet taunted, "Hardcastle's a fucking queer." "Hardcastle's a queer! Hardcastle's a queer!" the rest of the team began to chant. "I am not!" Hardcastle cried. "I am not a queer!" And in his frustration he began to weep, which only further encouraged the others to torment him. "That will be enough, men!" the coach finally shouted. "Calm down all of you! Go hit the showers!" Coach Brown seemed really annoyed. In the locker room the torture continued, although at a quieter pace. Hardcastle's embarrassment at being naked in front of others didn't help. And, of course, his tormentors realized the cause of his discomfort. "Hey, Hardcastle," one of the academy's star wrestlers teased, "your wieny's so little, you're sure it aint a clit? He don't want us to see his clit, guys!" "Yeah, that's 'cause he's got a clit but no pussy....at least not in front," someone else laughed. Hardcastle sought the solace of his friend, Herbert Lindstrom. Lindstrom had always been a loner. But Savannah was a lot bigger than the hamlet where Hardcastle grew up. Lindsrom had been able to really be alone. He had often wandered through the squares and also the byways of the gorgeous town he called home just being himself. During free time at the academy he'd done the same thing, finding out-of-the-way places where he could be alone. That was one reason he, unlike Hardcastle, had adjusted to academy life. Lindstrom's roommates were really pissed, when Hardcastle burst in and announced that he needed to talk to his friend. "Sure enough," Lindstrom said. "But these guys don't want to hear about our troubles. Let's go for a walk." Lindstrom led him to the lake, where he'd found a number of well-hidden hide-a-ways. It was almost like bushes had been planted to conceal goings-on within their enclosure. The two cadets sat on a carpet of brown grass. "So you've got another problem, friend?" Lindstrom asked. "Same one," Hardcastle cried. "I'm so unhappy." As he had several times before, Lindstrom put his arm around his friend and tried to console him. "Maybe you should ask your folks to take you out," he suggested. "Oh I have," Hardcastle began to sob. "My father won't even answer my letters. Mama says they're coming for Thanksgiving. I don't know why they're coming, but since they'll be here, I'll try to let them know again how miserable I am." "Well, you can always do something to get kicked out." "Oh no. I can't imagine what Daddy would do, if I were expelled." He rested his head on Lindstrom's shoulder. Lindstrom just held him more closely. Easter, Commencement, and Thanksgiving were the three most important days in the academy's calendar. The public was welcome to attend Sunday Chapel anytime, but for the Thanksgiving Service all were most cordially invited from near and far. Parents especially. The drum and bugle detachment joined the organist in providing music for the service. If they made arrangements in advance parents could enjoy turkey and all the traditional accompaniments with their sons. And in the afternoon there were special athletic demonstrations. This year among the parents in attendance were Andrew Fulton and his wife, Eleanor, and The Rev. Jeremiah Hardcastle and his wife, Mabel. Fulton was anxious to see how his experiment in discipline was working. The Reverend thought the trip was a waste of time, but for once his wife had prevailed. She sensed from his letters that her son needed a mother's love. Since his church didn't have a service on Thanksgiving, The Reverend agreed to come. The chapel service was suitably grand, although much too formal for Rev. Hardcastle's taste. The Corps of Cadets marched in toward the end of the voluntary, which was Karg-Elert's "Nun Danket alle Gott." Once they were in place the service began with a rendition of "The Netherlands Hymn of Thanksgiving" with its rousing final stanza beginning, "We all do extol thee, our leader in battle." Later, following the Offertory, a drum roll introduced the National Anthem. And finally, after a Blessing the singing of "Nun Danket," "Now thank we all our God...." After Thanksgiving Dinner Fulton's father spoke to Col. Southerland about Patrick. The colonel consulted his roster and referred him to Cadet Capt. Witherspoon. Witherspoon told him that Patrick had been a problem when he first came, but recently he seemed to be shaping up. The elder Fulton also noticed that Patrick's roommates seemed to like him too. His father was very pleased and told Patrick so. The Rev. Hardcastle, on the other hand, was not pleased. His son, to the extent he felt he could, had bared his soul to both his parents, trying to make them understand how depressed he was and why he was begging them to let him come home. His mother understood, but his father said he was a twelve-year-old cry baby. "You obviously haven't made any effort to fit in," he charged. "Not one boy has even said `hello' to you since we've been here, and you haven't spoken to anybody either. I knew it was a waste of time to come." Despite the fact that they lived only a few miles away, the Hardcastles didn't even stay for the afternoon demonstrations. Elbert was devastated. Friday was a holiday. No classes. No formations. Elbert and Herb Lindstrom found themselves back at the lake. It was chilly but sunny, not so cold that they couldn't stretch out on the grass. "My father won't listen," Elbert cried. "He hates me I know, and Mama's afraid to cross him. But he's supposed to be a Man of God! But he won't even pastor his own son." His friend sensed that the time had come. "I know things are hard," he tried to comfort him, "but I think they'll get better. "I think I told you that I had a special friend back in Savannah. He was special, because when we were together, we always made each other happy." Herbert once again put his arm around Elbert. But this time not just around his shoulders. He let his hand rest on his friend's waist. And as he continued to talk, it wandered down to Elbert's groin. "When guys around here play around, it's just to shoot off. When Jason and I did, it was to show how much we meant to each other. I'd like you to be my new special friend, Elbert." As Herbert's fingers caressed his dick, Elbert was totally conflicted. No one had ever touched him that way before. It felt so good. But he also had a vision of Satan tossing him into the pit of fire. In his mind's eye, however, Satan had the face of his father. The pleasure he felt overcame his feelings of depression, and his father's face faded from view. "Yes....yes I would like that," he whispered. Elbert felt his fly being opened, his dick being pulled from its khaki prison, and Herbert's lips slipping down the length of his hardening shaft. He had died and gone to heaven. Bathed in saliva, stimulated by his special friend's tongue, Elbert's appendage sent new and exciting waves of delight throughout his body. Herbert relished the taste and lavished all his passion on his new partner. What he had said was true. It wasn't just to get him off, but to show him much, much more. He finally increased the speed of his oral caresses. Suddenly, Elbert felt his dick touch off a mammoth seizure that rocked his whole body. His head and heart both pounded. Every nerve in his body tingled. Was he peeing? His first orgasm was something to experience. Herbert swallowed Elbert's first cream and delivered remnants of it to his special friend in a sloppy kiss. The boys in quarters never did anything like kiss. Elbert felt weaker than he ever had before. He lay back trying to catch his breath. Herbert held him close, and again fondled his now-soft two-and-a-half inch wiener. They cuddled for the longest time. "That was so wonderful." Elbert finally was able to speak. "Next time, you can do me....if you want to," Herbert said. After a long silence Elbert again spoke. "Do you do things with your roommates?" "Sometimes," Herbert answered. "To be one of the boys, or if I'm totally horny. I generally just beat my dog. Is that what you do?" "No. I've never done anything before." "Really? I'm so glad I was your first."