Date: Thu, 28 Jan 2021 01:55:28 +0000 From: JordanProject Subject: Texas 1956 Vol. 1 - 3 This story is fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. It's copyrighted 2020 by The Jordan Project, all rights reserved outside of Nifty. The reader comes first, so I live for feedback. Please take some time to provide it to TBTop@protonmail.com. What worked, what didn't work. * * * * Keep this great site going and donate to http://donate.nifty.org/ * * * * TEXAS 1956 Vol. 1 – Chapter 3 When the three of them were together and Kenny was in his boy clothes, something that happened every few weekends, the Men were gentle, especially Deputy Jake. It was different elsewhere. Captain Ridgeton's shame and humiliation in the company of the gunnery sergeants, and his lack of choice in associating with them, had led to considerable resentment. In his adult life, he became hard, strict, unsmiling. Brick and Jake were fully aware of the situation. In fact, they sought to exacerbate and exploit the captain's discomfort when they could, starting with their intrusive presence in Ridgeton's daily routine. One or the other would contrive a reason to show up at his workplace, or to stop his car by the road. Deputy Jake told him where to park his car, both at the lumber yard and the reserves section of the military base, and would sometimes show up and make him drink his piss. Brick made him give the deputies duplicate car and house keys. Ridgeton would get a surprise dinner guest at irregular intervals. A non-refusable invitation to go out for drinks. Maybe a spit roast, with Brick screwing his ass while he sucked off Jake. And when they were alone, even in their adult civilian roles, the captain would be required to call them "sir." After a time, the captain realized that his life wasn't his own. Whatever these deputies wanted, he'd have to comply. And, of course, they worked out at the gym in town every Saturday. All told, there were more days that Ridgeton saw one or the other than days when he didn't. He never knew which day would be which, only that he was at their beck and call, always required to be subservient, agreeable, and polite. The relationship was like the air they breathed. His role and the rules of conduct were fixed and understood, but never open for negotiation or even discussion. Humiliation was constant and ongoing, and went far past the times where he would submit himself sexually. The dividing line between the sexual and non-sexual sides of it was gradually erased; even when there was no sex involved, there was a sexual current not far beneath the surface. The worst, and the best, was the matter-of-fact, unspoken nature of the arrangement. It heightened the impact of the casual masculine confidence and swagger of the deputies, who acted with impunity at all times. This, Kenny thought in those times when he was alone, was what it meant to be stripped of his Manhood. He was ashamed of the humiliation but he was addicted, drawn to his debasement like a moth to a flame. When Jake was present, the interaction was always cordial, but on those occasions when only Brick would have him, the situation would become more demeaning. Deputy Brick had little interest in the little-boy aspect. He made clear that, in his eyes, the captain was a queer like any other queer. Brick's specialties were hard, jack-hammer fucking, and having the captain drink his piss. He especially liked the latter in public situations where only the two of them knew what was happening. One of Brick's favorite games took place during monthly reserve duty. There was a Coke machine in the unit, and the assignment brought them into contact two or three times a day. The deputy-gunnery sergeant made sure to keep the captain supplied with bottles of Sprite, and the captain never knew in advance what they might contain. This lack of predictability was a feature of all their interactions. Only a part of of it was sexual in any way, but Ridgeton never knew what might happen from minute to minute. He was always off balance, and even their non-sexual encounters contained some element of humiliation. "Hey, captain, got ya another Sprite," Brick would say, his expression between a smile and a smirk, his gravelly voice bordering on a taunt. "Gunny sergeant's gotta take care of his officers!" The other enlisted Men within earshot would smile, picking up on the insult behind the false servility. "Thanks, gunny!" the captain would say, drinking a bottle full of piss in front of everyone, careful to conceal any hint of what he had just swallowed. In addition to their monthly drills, each reservist would train for two weeks at a base far away, usually either in California or the Carolinas. Schedules were staggered, and when Deputy Jake mentioned that he'd be leaving for two weeks of reserve duty in California and another month of vacation in Hawaii, Ridgeton dreaded what was coming. His fear was confirmed when he was making rounds in a remote building on the first day of monthly training. He approached a doorway and heard Brick talking and laughing with two other Marines. "Christ, I just knew the little fucker's a dick-suckin' queer," he heard one say, his tone oozing contempt and hostility. "Can't say I'm exactly surprised," the other one replied. "I know the fella who his wife ran off with. Heard a few things." "Yep, a pervert from the get-go," he heard Brick chime in. "Got him under our thumb now, though." Ridgeton passed quickly, acting as if he hadn't heard a thing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brick showing pictures to two other enlisted Men. Since the deputies had started into their activities, they'd taken dozens of photos. * * * * That wasn't the half of it. He recognized one of the Marines as an active-duty guard in the base's brig, and the other as a reservist employed at the yard he managed in civilian life. McDaniels Naval Installation was an oddity for West Texas, being about as far from any ocean as it gets. It was there because a powerful congressman from Texas had put it there, and it was used to train pilots. The Marines were part of the Navy Department, and had an air wing. Pilots from both services trained there, and lived near the base in government housing. In addition to mechanical support, Marines guarded the gates and operated the supply and personnel functions. Ridgeton's reserve duties consisted mainly of auditing the permanent staff, and spot checking the various functions to see that nothing was missing. That these supervisory duties were given to a part-time junior reserve officer showed the low level of importance attached to his function, something that he was acutely aware of yet tried to inflate by harassing everyone in sight about meaningless details and paperwork. Behind his back, he was known as "Toy Soldier," a nickname he was aware of and hated. The base brig was tiny, rarely holding more than a couple of enlisted Men unlucky enough to have puked on the wrong civilian's shoes after a long night at a tavern. But there was also an annex with space for another 50 prisoners. This aspect of its operation was seldom if ever mentioned, and no one at the base knew much about it. The base scuttlebutt was that it was a transfer point for serious military criminals who transferred from brigs elsewhere that were full. The facility was well separated from the rest of the base – but connected to a tunnel network that ran between all the buildings on base. The larger brig had its own perimeter fence, exercise yard, and gates. Pilots who flew into the base would see guards leading exercise drills, and if the wind was blowing in the right direction, they occasionally could be heard barking commands at prisoners. In reality, the facility was a research center where new methods of management and correction were tested. Prisoners were both civilian and military, and discipline was tight. Guards were carefully screened for strength, size, toughness, and spit-and-polish military bearing. Those on active duty lived apart, and it was uncommon to see any of them off base. They didn't say much, and smiled even less. Word on the base was that the brig guards were not to be questioned or toyed with. While they were not known to get drunk in the area honky-tonks or throw their weight around, they had a reputation for winning the rare fight that someone was foolish enough to pick. This was the brig to which the sheriff's deputies were attached for their reserve duty. They were closely familiar with the Men there, and with the nature of the facility, and what went on inside. It was why Ridgeton was so quick to comply with their orders at the outset, having judged accurately that Brick and Jake could easily make good on the dire consequences of disobedience. That day, Ridgeton quickly left the building, deeply worried at what was coming. Brick had promised not to reveal his crimes if he complied with their orders, but was he going to be tossed into hell anyway? The captain decided that he needed to redouble his efforts at groveling to the Men, hoping desperately that they might change their minds. He would smile wider, and be even more enthusiastic in compliance with their whims. It was the only way. * * * * Among the benefits of running a secret and experimental prison, and of knowing those who worked there, was access to the latest tools. One reserve weekend long before they'd ever encountered Ridgeton, Jake and Brick left the base with a large supply of the latest behavioral control chemistry. Each of them got an identical large cardboard box. Back at Jake's place, they opened one of them. Inside, there were bottles and a leaflet. Starting with his first encounter at Haskins's house the day after they'd showed him the pictures of him with the little girl, the deupties prevailed on Ridgeton to agree to take the drug, explaining that it would make him feel better about his situation and ease his transiton from Man to boy. He had gotten a dose every time either deputy was with him for more than an hour, and at every reserve drill. If both deputies or just Brick were present, the captain would get one or the other submission formulas. When it was only Jake, he'd usually get "Management." Brick often preferred it when Ridgeton talked back to him or struggled mightily not to, and would give him "Correction." Every morning, at his house, Ridgeton got a dose of "Management-Minus" when he brushed his teeth, and another when he went to bed. Over time, the effects helped make both deputies figures of great intimidation, yet irresistibly attractive and reassuring. * * * * DESCRIPTION Correctol Series is designed for use in structured environments to enhance behavioral control, supervision, and compliance with authority. DOSAGE AND ADMINISTRATION 1. Keep away from prolonged exposure to light. 2. Fill dropper three-quarters (higher marking), mix with food or drink. Will not evaporate. Suitable for cooking – stable to 950 degrees F. Small molecular structure will thoroughly and evenly self-mix with liquids and food solids within 30 seconds without mixing or shaking. 3. Undetectable: Tasteless, odorless, no residue. 4. Self-limiting: Higher dose will not increase effect. No known overdose potential. No known food or drug interactions, or allergic reactions. EFFECTS: "MANGEMENT" AND "CORRECTION" 1. Heightens all senses, quickens mental activity 2. Generates feelings of inferiority, submission, humiliation, shame 3. Generates hunger for praise, reassurance 4. Generates intense admiration for, worship of, and attraction to superiors, belief in their authority and superiority 5. Sexual stimulation with "plus," without regard to sexual orientation 6. Background mood elevation. 7. Daily use for 30+ days will alter brain chemistry, producing long-term baseline effect. After 3 months daily administration, readminister at one-third dose (lower marking) in situations where full effects desired. One year of no administration to "reset" temperament to state before treatment. FORMULATIONS 1. "Management" and "Correction" have "Plus" and "Minus" formulations. 2. "Plus" and "Minus" versions stimulate or suppress erections through alteration of circulatory and brain chemistry. 3. "Minus" formulations make erections and ejaculation 3x-5x more difficult to achieve. 4. "Management" and "Correction" generate craving for effects with long-term administration. 5. "Management" formulations generates submission, obedience. "Correction" adds resentment, rebellion in conflict with "Management" effects. 6. "Supervision" is "Super Plus." Heightens senses and mental activity. Generates high confidence, superiority. Erections stimulated, ejaculation sensation heightened, volume doubled. DIRECTIONS FOR USE 1. Solitary usage will have little effect except for baseline, as above. 2. "Management" and "Correction" formulations most effective when subject unaware of administration. 3. Full effect within 30 minutes. Dropoff starts at 10 hours, complete by 12 hours at subject weights of 100 to 400 lbs (45 to 180 kg). 4. Premature administration will replace/add effects (if formulation different), and "restart clock" on duration of all effects. 5. Correctol does not produce behavior, but state of mind. Actual behavior must be directed by superior. 6. Most effective when subjects predisposed or preconditioned to effects, either by nature or conditioning (physical/mental pressure, hypnosis, etc). * * * * That night, after the reality of Deputy Brick's conversation with the other Marines had fully sunk in, Ridgeton considered suicide. He'd had similar thoughts on the weekend that the two deputies had sprung their trap, but quickly rejected them. Now he was in far deeper, with no way out. Maybe ending it all was the thing to do. But, as before, he rejected the idea. His mind told him that things had become too strange, disturbing, and degrading, and that it would get much worse in Deputy Jake's absence. But his instincts were different, because his predicament was also deeply exciting. Sessions with Jake were almost dream-like, allowing him to give up any semblance of the daily facade of Manhood that he has always found so difficult to keep up, and with no hint of the hostility and danger always present when Brick was in the picture. But Deputy Brick's brand of domination had its own lure. The menace, the direct and blunt humiliation of being ordered around and insulted thrilled him in a way he could barely describe even in his private thoughts. The uncertainty and unpredictability made it a constant guessing game. He craved the few times when Deputy Brick seemed to be approving or at least not hostile, but also the times – much more often – when he was harsh and degrading. The contrast between the two opposites made his dealings with Deputy Brick a roller coaster, and roller coasters were thrilling. Over time, he had felt himself become hyper aware and sensitive to even the smallest indications of what mood either deputies was in. All it would take would be a look – a smile, a frown, a stare, a smirk, a crooked grin, a tone of voice. He often got erections with either or both of the deputies present, or by himself when carrying out an order. They both seemed to know what would do that, and they controlled his ejaculations too. The captain had become an extension of their whims, moods, and wills. Sometimes he hated it and sometimes he loved it and sometimes both, but he was drawn to both of them, separately and together, like a moth to a flame. Their presence dominated his life, and he could not separate himself, no matter what. Suicide was the logical choice, or maybe simply taking his savings and disappearing somewhere. But it was out of the question. * * * * The next morning, Ridgeton rose early. He brushed his teeth, shaved his face and then, as he now did once a week, removed the faint beginnings of stubble that had appeared elsewhere on his body. He used the toilet, then showered and cleaned himself inside with an enema bulb, a daily ritual ordered by Deputy Jake. As required on reserve weekends, he then donned a harness that Deputy Jake had arranged to have made and fitted. Constructed of the same webbing in the belt on his uniform, it went over his shoulders and down his back and front in a Y configuration. A belt at his navel drew the downward straps tight against his body. The front strap ended in a small metal ring that gripped his penis and testicles. The rear strap was narrow and formed a kind of tail that held a series of small eyelets, lined with metal. The eyelets fit a bolt that held attachments designed to fit his anus. The one he wore to reserve duty was a hard rubber bump about a half-inch long, and when the end of the tail was attached to the ring around his genitals and tightened, it was a constant presence. He lubricated the bump with Vaseline, tightened the harness, and donned tight briefs and a t-shirt, followed by his dress uniform, consisting of close-fitting blue trousers with a bright red stripe on the side, a tan, open-necked shirt, and a white hat. The harness was effectively concealed by the heavily starched shirt, and the t-shirt underneath. When combined with the regulation garters that connected his shirt-tails to his socks, the effect was a loss of control, and an ongoing low level of stimulation, visible to no one. From time to time – always at random – one or the other deputy would call Ridgeton to a store room at the base, remove the bump, and attach a larger plug that went all the way inside, and he would wear it for the rest of the duty day. It was a reliable indication that he'd be jack hammered later on, but not always. "One way or another," the deputy-gunny sergeants would say, "yer gonna know who runs the show." Driving to the base, Ridgeton felt the familiar tug of conflicting emotions – resentment, inferiority, danger, powerlessness, uncertainty, and excitement – that had dominated his thinking since the deputies had trapped him earlier in the year. He had learned to exercise some control over the erections that the apparatus would often stimulate. Once he let himself get hard, getting soft again might take an hour or more. At least he was small enough that it didn't show.