Chase lay on his bunk listening to the sounds coming from Ross's room. Every morning, at about 4:30, Ross rolled out of bed in the dark and did 100 push-ups. Every morning Chase listened to him. It was an almost silent exercise, just a strange creaking of the floor boards and, toward the end, a little more audible breathing. Then Ross would swing himself around and, without anchoring his feet, he would do 100 sit-ups. Chase could hear his back touching down on the floor with alarming speed as he worked. All in all it took him about 3 minutes from the moment he awoke before he would come through the door quietly, a towel wrapped around his waist, having done 100 push-ups and 100 sit-ups.

Chase would keep his eyes closed as the older man started a fire, put on the coffee, then headed to the shower. Only then, as Ross was showering, would Chase get out of bed and begin his morning ritual.

He had started, almost immediately after moving in, to do push-ups and sit-ups like Ross, every morning. At first it was about 20, but then as the days passed and he grew stronger, he worked his way up to about 80 before he would begin shaking and crash to the floor. It worked. He was in better shape than he'd ever been.

But this morning it was different. When Ross came out of his room he was pulling a pair of loose jeans on.

"Chase," he whispered gently.

Chase put his head up. "Yeah?"

"Time to get up. We got work to do."

"'Kay," Chase said, sitting up. He avoided looking at Ross, who was pulling a faded blue pocket t-shirt over his head. He pulled his jeans on, slipped on his t-shirt and some socks, and followed Ross out to the front porch. They grabbed their boots and shook them out then put them on in typical silence. They both went to the barn and fed the horses and chickens.

Finally Chase followed Ross out to the hay barn, which was about a quarter mile away, down by the winter pastures. They entered the huge old structure and stopped in the middle. Ross looked up at the rafters. Chase looked up too, seeing old beams with sheets of plywood spanning part of them.

Ross pointed at a ladder that went up one wall all the way to the ceiling. "We gotta get up there and move some bails. Haying season is around the corner. Gotta be ready."

Chase nodded, eyeing the ladder nervously. Its wood was faded and cracked in places, attached to the wall with a mixture of materials, from 2x4 studs to bailing wire lashing. Ross stepped up and started climbing easily. The whole building seemed to creak and groan, the ladder shook. Chase gulped once and then started up. He kept climbing, not looking up or down, until he noticed he was level with the rafters. He stepped onto a plywood platform that spanned the beams.

He must have looked nervous as the plywood bent under his weight because Ross, who was waiting there for him did a little bounce. "Don't worry," he said, as the plywood flexed, "it's got 2x4s bracing it and the rafters are solid. Built them myself!"

They got to work. Ross had Chase move to the huge opening in the barn's peak. The ground was about 30 feet down, it seemed. Then Ross walked over to a pile of hay bales.

"This is the last of it. Gonna need to stack the good ones at the opening so we can get them later, the bad ones go out to the ground."

"Okay," Chase said. Ross grabbed one of the rectangular cubes of hay and lifted it about chest high. He was about ten feet from Chase.

"Catch," he said. He suddenly threw the bail at Chase, who was about 2 feet from the opening. Not thinking about it Chase reached up with both hands as the bail slammed into him. He staggered and the bail fell to the plywood floor at his feet.

"I said, 'catch' not 'drop,'" Ross said. "That's a good one. Put it aside." He picked up another, which had visible mold on it. "This one ain't. Chuck it out."

Then he threw it at Chase.

This time Chase caught it, albeit awkwardly, and then chucked it out of the barn. It hit the ground with a thump. He turned back in time to see Ross throw another bail at him.

That was their morning. Playing catch with bails of hay. By the time the sun came up Chase was exhausted, his arms heavy weights. The air in the loft was cloudy with dust, probably mold spores, and bits of chaff, all of which covered them both from head to toe. When they climbed back down mid-morning he was afraid he wouldn't have the strength to grip the ladder rungs. But he made it. Ross pulled the tractor around with a small trailer attached to it and had Chase fork the bad hay into it. Then he told Chase to wait there while he parked the tractor to one side.

"Old Man Williams will be happy to have that load for his garden," he said as he walked up. Then, with a sudden movement, he ducked down, slid in close, wrapped his huge arms around Chase, picked him up and threw him down. Chase lay on his back in shock, Ross straddling his chest. The big man lifted a huge fist. He brought it down sharply in a hammer-like movement, stopping just short of Chase's nose.

"That's how most fights end up," Ross said.  He stood up, offering a hand to Chase. "You gotta remember that. It ain't standin' toe to toe sluggin' it out. You'll end up on the ground wrestlin' around, and the feller you're wrestlin' with may be bigger and stronger than you."

He led Chase to a huge feed sack just inside the barn and against the wall.

"You know how to punch someone?"

Chase shrugged. Ross bobbed his head toward the sack as an invitation. Chase swung a fist, hitting the surprisingly hard packed feed in the taut burlap. He shook his hand, grimacing. Ross smirked a little. He reached out and grabbed Chase's hand and held it up.

Chase marveled at the size of Ross's hands as the big man tugged at his fingers. He gritted his teeth and tried to listen as Ross talked.

"Your hands are made up of little bones," Ross said, matter-of-factly. "Most people, if their strong enough, will break their own hand before they break a man's face." He grabbed Chase's elbow, cupping the point. "Use your elbow."

Chase nodded as Ross stepped back. He turned his body to one side and swung his elbow at the massive feed bag. It sunk in, and while it hurt the skin, it didn't feel like his bone was going to break. Ross grabbed his hand again, made it into a fist. "Swing it like a hammer," he said. Chase did as he was told. He was able to hit the sack harder with less pain than he did earlier.

All morning Ross and Chase worked on his fighting skill. For a week straight, every morning and every evening before bed, Ross showed Chase everything he knew. Each day, eight hours a day, four hours in the morning and four in the evening. All day they would work, prepping equipment for haying season, moving cattle, mending fences.  And they practiced. Before long Chase was becoming more natural in his reactions.

During the day, when he could, Chase would find some privacy and let everything go. Everything he had held tight inside, all the desire, would be let go.

Usually, the second his hand went into his pants and wrapped around his already hard cock Chase would visualize a naked Ross straddling his chest. He could see, vividly, the larger man's balls laying against his skin, the thick prick waving around. Ross has his wrists pinned over his head, and he leans in and kisses him, forcing his tongue between Chase's lips. Then, in this fantasy, Ross leans forward, up onto his knees so his cock and balls hover over Chase's eager mouth. Dream Chase would bring his head up, burying his face in the taut ball sack. What would it feel like to open wide and take one testicle into his mouth, suckle it, taste it? Feel it twitch and tighten on his tongue? Sometimes, in his dream, Ross pushes his cock down, sliding it between Chase's lips. Usually, at a point like that, Chase would feel the swell of ecstasy rock his body and with a quiet gasp of breath he would shoot his load into the palm of his hand.

In a way the training, besides being physically demanding, was emotionally demanding as well.  The physical contact was nearly too much for him, but he concentrated, left those thoughts for those moments later, in the bunk room.

At the end of the week Ross walked up to him, much as he had the first day of training. The older man suddenly moved, sliding in to clinch. Chase reacted without thinking, sliding to one side and slamming his fist into Ross's ribs.

The big man grunted and stood up straight. Chase held out his hand. "I'm so-"

Ross cut him off, grinning sheepishly. "Nah, nah," he said, waving his hand, "you got me fair and square."

That night he got into his truck and drove away, telling Chase where dinner was and not to stay up. Chase lay awake until he got home at about three in the morning. The big man went into his room and fell into bed. He was asleep almost immediately.


Chase sat across the table from Ross, staring at the letter in his hand. He sighed and handed it over to Ross, who read it intently before placing it down on the table carefully.

"Says I have ten days to get a physical and then report to the draft board."

Ross didn't say anything. His mind was a blur.

"I'll go see Doc Branson," Chase said.

"I-I know a doctor in Muskogee," Ross said, his voice a low rumble.

Chase shook his head. "Doc Branson's right here in-"

"He's a quack," Ross grumbled. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.  When he looked up he could see Chase glaring at him.

"It's something I need to do," Chase said simply.

Ross nodded. "I can respect that."


Doc Branson was tall, somewhat thin, with sharp features. He greeted Chase warmly when he came out from the back room. Chase was the only one in the waiting room, the last patient of the day. The old lady behind the front desk had signed him in, her coke bottle glasses amplifying her grey eyes. She was deaf as a doorknob, as well.

"Mrs. Mason, you can leave now," Doc Branson nearly shouted at her. She smiled and, without skipping a beat, grabbed her purse and nearly ran for the door. Doc Branson watched her go and smiled at Chase.

"She has a couple or three cats to feed," he explained. When the door closed behind her he locked it. "In case someone sneaks in and tries to steal some morphine or otherwise." He paused for a moment and winked at Chase. "Now that we're alone, right? We should throw a party, have some fun. I have morphine after all!"

Chase blinked, confused. The doc waved a hand and laughed. "I'm kidding. That stuff is the devil."

He lead Chase back to an examination room where he told him to strip down to his skivvies. Chase did as he was told as the doc wrote some things in a file at his desk. When he was down to his boxers the doc weighed and measured him, all the while chatting casually. He then sat Chase down on the edge of the examination table. As he checked his reflexes and listened to his heart his questions turned more personal.

"So there are some questions I need to ask," he said as he hit Chase's kneecaps with his little hammer. "Have you ever had an STD?"

Chase cleared his throat. The doc had put one warm hand on his thigh to hold it still while he checked his reflex. He shook his head.

"Good, good. Are you sexually active?"

Chase shook his head again. The doc put the hammer aside and held his stethoscope up to Chase's chest. He listened for a moment. "Surprising," he said. "I'd imagine all the girls who have a passionate bone in their body would be after a good looking boy like you."

The doc checked his breathing then knocked him in the back, thumping around with his fingers, before having him lay on his back. He probed around, sticking his fingers into Chase's belly. Chase shifted uncomfortably and the doc put a steadying hand gently on his chest. Chase gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the feelings that were rushing up. It was clear to him, from the way the doc looked at him, that there was an undercurrent of sexual tension. He avoided looking at the doctor as the fingers dug into him. Suddenly the doc stopped and traced a line down the middle of his belly with his finger.

"You're in excellent shape, by the way," he said. "Look how deep is the separation between the abs here." Chase held his head up off the table and looked as the doc's finger followed the valley of his abdominal muscles slowly, all the way down to the band of his shorts. Chase took a deep, rather shaky breath. The doc smiled at him. He suddenly gave Chase a light pat on his hip.  "All organs feel fine...internal organs that is. Okay, stand up and drop your drawers. We'll check the externals."

Chase stood up and pushed his underwear down to mid-thigh as the doc pulled up a short rolling stool. The doc looked at the boy's crotch as he put rubber gloves on.

"Well, you certainly look healthy!" Chase looked down and grimaced. His cock was a firm arch, pointing down but very willing to come up. The doc reached out and grabbed Chase's prick, pulling the foreskin back as the boy held his breath.

"I would normally ask if you have any issues with erections, but I'm guessing not. Do you masterbate often?"

Chase sighed, blushing. "I dunno what often is."

The doc was busy inspecting the rather heavy, somewhat firm cock in his hand. "Once a day? Twice a day?"

"Once," Chase gulped.

The doc suddenly cupped his balls with his free hand, fondling them as he held the cock up and out of the way.

"But that's not enough, huh?"

"I guess not," Chase mumbled. He was squirming. The doc was squeezing and testing every inch of his ball sack in the most thorough examination he'd ever experienced. The doc shoved his fingers deep into his crotch.

"Turn your head and cough," he said. Chase coughed and the doc made him do it again before he finally let go of his prick. Chase bit his lip. His cock was now parallel to the ground, pointing right at the doc's face. The doc grinned. "Well, let's see if this next check helps or hinders that problem you have right there."

Chase gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry," he said. "I c-can't seem to help it."

The doc looked up at him and his face was suddenly very serious. "I know. But maybe the help you want is not the help you think you want."

Chase looked down at him and swallowed. He was pretty sure the doc was going to lean in toward him and his cock twitched at the possibility, but then the doc smiled and said, "Well, I got the cure what ails you, one way or the other. Go ahead and turn around, bend over against the table."

Chase did as he was told. After a few moments he felt the doc pull his underwear all the way down. "Go ahead and kick those off. There you go. Now, spread your feet apart. Good, and arch your back, kind of stick your ass out...very nice."

Chase felt a hand pull one ass cheek to the side then the coldness of a lubed finger slide up to his anus. The finger gently entered him, making his toes curl.

"Any pain?" The doc asked.

"No," Chase said. The finger slid deeper into him. Without thinking about it he went onto his tip toes, arching his back further.

"Hmm," the doc said. "If I didn't know any better I would say this isn't helping matters. At least not the way you wanted originally."

"No," Chase grunted as the finger slid in deep. It was the first time he had felt anything up his ass. His cock was thudding against his belly in pulsating rhythm with his heart.

"Well, your muscles are certainly strong," the doc said. "I can feel the sphincter contracting nicely in time with...Let's see what the prostate is about, shall we?"

He twisted his finger and Chase groaned. He felt the doc's free hand, which had been holding his ass cheek, slide between his thighs and cup his tightening balls.

"You'll cum soon, won't you?"

"I-I I'm sorry," Chase said, his voice almost a whimper.

"It's okay," the doc said. "Let me help it along." His rubber glove covered hand slid up from the balls to grip Chase's pulsing cock. He pulled it back, swinging it down. Chase lifted his ass as high as he could as he felt the doc's tongue on the head of his cock. The doc pulled the stiff member even harder until it was pointed back. Chase cried out in ecstasy when he felt the doc's warm, wet mouth engulf the head. The finger was now sliding in and out, and was then joined by another finger. Without ceremony Chase began to shoot his load. He could feel it streaming in the shaft where it was bound from being pulled back so far.

After several long moments Doc Branson let the cock fall out of his mouth. He pulled his fingers from Chase's ass and Chase heard him taking his gloves off. With a grunt he turned around, leaning back against the table. The doc look at him, almost warily.

"Well, that kind of got out of hand," he said thickly. His lips were coated in Chase's cum.

Chase looked down at the doc's crotch. His slacks were tented. The boy swallowed. He may never get an opportunity like this again, he thought. Without a word he moved toward the doc, who actually leaned back, as if he was afraid the younger man would attack him. Instead, Chase went to his knees in front of the doc. He reached shaking hands out and undid the belt, unbuttoned the pants then pulled the zipper down.

The doc sat back, still as death, as Chase reached into his shorts. The boy's cool hand wrapped around the doc's hot, hard cock. Chase could feel the wetness of precum that drooled from the top. He pulled at the pants and the doc lifted his hips. In a second his cock was free and his pants down below his knees. Chase looked at the thick, hard meat in his hand. He stroked it, watching it swell and subside. It was very thick, maybe about 5 1/2 inches long, but the head was broad with a well-defined ridge around the edge. Chase breathed in the smell of sex, of precum, pungent scent of the doc's genitals.  Leaning forward he tentatively touched the tip with his tongue.

"Well," the doc asked, "how is it? Your first taste, right?"

Chase nodded. He licked the head, running his flattened tongue over it roughly. It was bitter, salty, creamy.  Delicious. It made his heart race, the taste of it, that smell of sex wafting up. The head was mottled, like the face of a kid he knew who, when he blushed, would have a blotchy face. Chase took it into his mouth. It felt like a living thing, jumping on his tongue as he slowly fucked it with his mouth. Not surprisingly Chase himself was hard again. The doc held the back of the younger man's head as it bobbed on him. He looked down the undulating, muscular back, which tapered beautifully to the globes of that sweet, young ass he had finger fucked earlier. The boy's ass was gyrating in unconscious rhythm with his sucking mouth.

Chase was in heaven. The thick rod stretched his lips tight, the little ridges on the bottom felt incredible on his caressing tongue. The head would swell in his mouth, filling it, pulsing, the skin going from velvety to marble smooth and back. He slid down as much as he could, his nose burying in the doc's grey ink pubes. Doc Branson lifted his hips and groaned. The doc's eyes were on that beautiful, smooth ass, waving around as Chase thrust into his own hand.

"Maybe we could combine efforts," he said, wistfully, hopefully. Chase came up for air, a string of spit hanging between his lips and the doc's cock. He looked up and blinked. "What do you mean?"

Doc Branson pushed the boy away and kicked off his pants and shoes. He had Chase bend over the table again. This time the doc, who was considerably taller than Chase, positioned himself behind the boy. Chase lifted his hips as he felt the doc's fingers pull him open. He bit his lips at the feeling of the doc's cock head pressed against his virgin hole. Even well-lubed as it was it took some effort to push his fat cock head in.

Chase gasped at the stinging pain as the prick's big, now purple head stretched his ass open. When it entered he could feel it fill him up, sliding slowly in, until the doc was about halfway in.

"Does it hurt?"

Chase had his head down on the examination table and he nodded. Sweat was pouring off his brow. "It's incredible," he gasped. In his mind's eye, though, he was imagining Ross pushing his giant cock into him. The mere thought of it made him push back against Doc Branson who thrust in deeper until the firm, round ass cheeks were pressed against his hips. He started a slow rhythm, thrusting in deeper and faster as he went. Chase bucked against him, eyes closed, imagining the tall cowboy behind him.

The doc leaned in and bit the boy's shoulder. He held that beautiful bottom with both hands like he didn't want to let it get away, while his hips slammed into it. They were two silent energies in human shape, the only sounds were of hips slapping against ass and the occasional grunt or sigh. But that changed soon enough. Doc Branson pushed Chase forward, onto the table. He climbed up, straddling the younger man, his cock buried deep. One hand held Chase's head down, the other steadied him by pressing down on the small of Chase's back. With his knees planted on the outside of the boy's thighs Doc Branson began to fuck in earnest, slamming into Chase wildly as the boy groaned in pain and ecstasy. The doc started an animalistic growling moan in rhythm with his thrusting hips and then, with a gasping shout he pushed in deep, his hips bunching up the boy's firm ass cheeks. He jerked several times, spilling his load into Chase before he collapsed.

Chase lay breathing hard. His ass was numb, but he knew it would hurt later. He didn't care. He had cum again, a smear of his jism stuck the paper covering of the examination table to his heaving belly.

Finally the doc pulled out with a groan. He staggered to the sink and washed himself off. Chase rolled onto his side and watched. He wanted more. He was like a junkie that had gotten a shot of heroin and loved it. Now he wanted it all the time. The doc sighed and sat down at his desk naked. He began writing in the file. Without turning to Chase he spoke.

"So...what kind of medical malady should I prescribe? Got plenty of choices that will scare the Army away!"


Ross drove the truck silently.  Chase sat in the passenger seat staring out the window. Finally Ross couldn't take it anymore.

"So how'd it go?"

Chase shrugged. "Fine. As expected. I'm healthy."

Ross blinked a few times. "Are...are you sure?"

Chase nodded, glancing at him. "Yep. Fit as a fiddle. The doc was...impressed with my health."

Ross gripped the wheel hard, but didn't say anything. The son-of-a-bitch, he thought. He had half a mind to turn around and go back, find Doc Branson and beat him within an inch of his life. He took a deep breath then glanced at Chase. The boy was sitting sideways a bit, on one ass cheek, staring out the window with a small smile on his lips. Ross gripped the wheel harder. The son-of-a-bitch.

Chase took a deep breath. Doc Branson had confessed, soon after Chase had told him not to lie on his medical report.

"If I don't," the doc said, "Ross will kill me."

"He put you up to this?"

"Well, yes, but because he cares about you."

Chase shook his head angrily. "Did he...did he tell you..."

The doc nodded. "Don't be angry. It was...I don't know...a way to sway me toward lying to the draft board. Ross knows I'm attracted to men, usually older men, granted, but...I mean, I don't normally seduce my patients..."

Chase shook his head. "So he offered me up because he knows I'm homosexual? What am I, a piece of meat?"

The doc grimaced. "So crude. Not exactly like that, no..."

"How does he know? About you?"

Doc Branson shrugged. "Long story. Look, he cares about you, he wanted to help. Don't blame him. And about the whole sex thing. You did seem to enjoy it." He smiled at Chase. "You did. You are no longer a virgin."

Chase nodded and tried to suppress a smile. "True, but..."

The doc cocked his head, grinning. "You did enjoy it..."

Chase sat in the car, his smile getting broader. He turned to Ross. "It's something I've got to do."

Ross grumbled and stared straight ahead. He might just kill the doc. Maybe next time.


Charlie Thomas

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