Bear Pup - Beyond Nifty

The Heathens: 

A barbarian warrior of the Roman Legion under Diocletian takes a new servant, a true innocent, whom he trains in war, manhood, life and, eventually, love. Told from the point of view of Kucuk, the boy Harcos calls his puppy, explore a fictionalized world set in very real times and places.

Chapter 31: Ponies & Perifides & Chapter 32: Salves & Shocks

A merchant encountered on the road has three ‘ponies’, new slaves that he treats as packmules with less than the care one would take with such animals. The As strikes a bargain with the man, with whom they venture to a nearby market-town. Danger and daring-do ensue. Afterwards, we learn exactly what the pony-slaves endured, and what their future might be.

Quotes:

Bu spoke, and the merchant laughed and sneered. Bu kept his voice level, but I could feel the tension and disapproval dripping under his words. “The ‘mules’ are new to their role having just been purchased some ten days thence in Kars. They are in training and will keep the packs on even at night.” He whispered just loud enough for me and his own servant to hear, “Kapik, take a waterskin to them as their master intends them to have no respite and I won’t stand for that.”

*****

He knew just barely enough Latin for us to explain his situation. Harcos had me do it, the repetition and rephrasing helping me learn. “You are safe. No harm to you. Fate not known. No Danger now.” As we undressed, he looked fearfully at my master’s slab of barbarian cock. Harcos smiled at me and I said, “No one touch you. No harm to you.” I blushed fiercely, which probably said more than my words, “No sex on you.” The boy sighed with relief and, as a candle snuffed, was instantly asleep as the uncertainty, dread and physical exhaustion presented their collective bill for immediate payment.

*****

Beaux Thibodaux 

A boy raised on the bayou in a cocoon of isolation and mental abuse by his drug-riddled mother and demented G-Ma suddenly arrives in a world he’s never known nor imagined. Kevin becomes Beaux’s guardian, protector and mentor (but not his lover) and ends up learning as much himself as he ever teaches his young ward.

NOTE: I do not own any right to the image heading this. The underlying artwork was first posted to Tumblr by gallerydluis. Only the text herein and the story referenced in this post are copyright of the author.

Chapter 30: The Power of Pain

Matt Lyons’ birthday party on the lake is going perfectly, until…

Quotes:

‘Father’ Rob had a kindly voice. He sighed deeply. “This is where bad luck comes into play for you. You see, the rest of us went through those terrors with infants, then toddlers then kids before the teen thing struck. I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like for you to have all that dumped on you in addition to the Dad Talk and all the rest.” We settled ourselves back into the stark but comfortable furniture. “Are you religious?”

I came dangerously-close to blurting out, ‘No, I’m gay,’ and caught the words just in time. With twinkling eyes, Rob replied, “Johnny, the other boy, um, ‘young man’, that met Beaux at the party is my son.” He laughed richly as did a few other parents. “Lord in heaven, I hope to get you into a poker game. I could fund a mission!” I blushed and a schnork of a laugh burst through.

*****

Will’s voice dropped and got a pinch of menace in it, “That is unfair and uncalled-for. I am not going to, to, to take advantage of--”

“I’m sorry, Will. I didn’t mean--”

“No, your turn to listen. I like Beaux more than any… anyone I’ve m-m-met in a long time. I want to be there for him. I’m fine if we never, you know, even *have* sex.”

Shy, gangly, over-tall and self-deprecating Patrick hopes he can hide in the crowd at summer camp. He ends up one of the ‘lucky few’ who get a two-man tent instead, paired with, in Patrick’s words, “a furrow-browed, surly, short, dark, wider-than-tall, hairy, muscle-bound tank.” He silently names the place Tent Canvas Hell, the central core around which he and others discover who they are and who they are becoming. 

Chapter 38: Pennies Drop

What did Jerry see, and what does he actually know? These are the questions that haunt the three young men of Tent Canvas Hell at Camp Sin ‘77. Over the horrors inflicted by Chef, over the kindness of Dr Eaglas and even over the reveal of the wallets created by our heroes, the gnawing dread looms large. 

Quotes:

Jim didn’t even look up at us as he trudged to the Hygiene Hut with the rest of the obviously-exhausted Wilderness Survivors. They frankly looked like the subject had been Bear-Attack Victimhood. Karl and I, along with several of the others who had friends in the group, followed in their wake and waited outside the Hut itself. Marcus confided the reason for the shape of our pals.

*****

I felt far less confident than I looked as I left the tent, walking toward the Hygiene Hut, trying to act as if it was just another lovely afternoon at Camp Sin. I kept it up really well until I got to Dr Eaglas’ office just as the door opened and I caught the horrified face of one of the younger kids in our late-forming group. Eaglas’ voice was calm, soothing and mock-stern. “You write like your mother told you to. She says she’s ‘frantic with worry.’” He warbled the last part and the penny dropped for the young man, Russ or Rusty or something. Russ (I think) shot him a look of gratitude that belied the fiction and fled in escape.

*****

Culberhouse Rules:

Two hot jock brother who have hated each other’s guts since toddlerhood find out that they’re both hiding the same secret, intense lust for the other. Now that they’ve figure it out, how the fuck to explain the sudden change of heart to your pack at school and your ‘rents? Naturally, you set yourselves up to be busted worse than you were in the first place. 

Chapter 15: Dinosaur World

Taylor works to shore up his cred as Dad works to survive a combined hangover and bongover. Later, over some guaranteed-mellow 'marijuana', we find out just why Dad is so worried about the Culberhouse Boys but also not the least upset about what they're doing.

Quotes:

We dressed and trampled loudly down the stairs to find a thoroughly-miserable, desiccated and PISSED-OFF ghoul sitting at the table in Dad's old plaid robe. "If either of you want to live another hour," his flat, quiet, pain-infused voice informed us, "you will -- very quietly -- eat things that do not go crunch with utensils that do not go clang and tiptoe your way out of this fucking house. Am I making myself completely clear? Either nod or shake your heads, because if you speak one single fucking word, I expect that I will be very, very sad right after I murder you." We nodded, wide-eyed and mute. Mom was not a fan of Dad drinking much, so we'd rarely seen him with a hangover. Apparently, it had been so long since he smoked that he had a bongover as well.

*****

[Dad] pulled out a box-pack of Marlboro Reds and Ryan and I shared confused looks. Dad *never* smoked and hated cigarettes as much as I did. He flipped the box-top and there was something wooden inside. He pulled it out and I just marveled at it.

It was a box the precise proportions of the inside of the cig-box made of rich, reddish wood polished with age and use and inlaid with an intricate design. I was still confused until Dad slid a panel from the top. I was speechless. There were two compartments. The smaller held an old-fashioned, dark-wood one-hitter and the larger was a stash-box. The slide-out lid actually acted as a loader! It was like watching Antiques Roadshow for stoners!

*****

Parenting Done Right

Cheap shot, I know. But someone thought this was a memory that needs to be saved. I mean, like, seriously? 

Just... oh dear.