Bird Shooting: The Final Shoot Out

"I told you." Barely got back in Serge's car before Billy came rolling up in the County SUV. Big smile as he opened the door so quickly it almost was torn off it's hinges. His Honor was now on his own.

"Well, you ol cocksucker, sure are glad to see yuh here, yessirree. Looking good...."

I interjected. "Thought I'd take him back to the house and get him a change out so he doesn't look so brand new. Keep his things, when he comes back, they'll be ready for him."

"Son, that's one good idea. No offense Your Honor...."

"Billy, call me Serge...."

I could watch Billy turn that name over in his mind. It wasn't a name he'd every heard but he was game. "Serge, well sure nuf I will and you can call me...."then remembered he already called him Billy. "Listen, you haul Serge over ta our place get him more comfortable, use my things if you need to, Billy laughed, get him outa them judge shit and make him over..."He winked at his son. "'n all be over straight away, just got some calls ta make then I'll lock up and be with ya right quick". He slapped the judge on his butt in welcome: I was glad he wasn't wearing dentures.

For what ever reason, showing off would be one, I'd done a U turn back where I picked him up and changed vehicles. So I had the Lincoln-he asked where I got my license and was told I didn't have one but could drive anything with an engine 'n wheels. Just like every kid in the county: I wasn't sure where there was a driver's license issuing office within....maybe a hundred miles. It was a straight shot from the turnoff to 'down town' for our part of the country, a marginal road that I took at around 70. That lincoln rode a whole lot better than anything made by John Deere and went faster as well. If he was nervous, I didn't notice it. One reason may have been because he'd leaned over, undone my jeans, fished out my cock and was licking it. "Just like every hot to trot pussy going to the senior prom with her boyfriend. Get him warmed up for later. I'll lean the seat back, give you more room and, before I get lost in driving and feeling like I'm gonna cum, thanks, makes the trip go faster." I ran my hand through the graying curls on his head. Thick, luscious hair. Shave him and Billy and I'd have a dandy sweater but the colors would be strange. 

"Get ready for a mouthful of Stud Sperm, special blend, only one other man I know makes it and he's about to eat it." I slowed down a bit while the convulstions and spasms of orgams rolled over me then told him to just leave it out, needed airing before we got to town. "Enjoy that?" Serge had one slight drizzle of me leaking out the side of his mouth. I pulled him over, licked it up, smacked my lips...."Nobody makes it like we do." I gave him a salacious look to which he just grinned. Before you go back, I need to milk those balls, something to remember how you taste cuz there's only you and only me..."

"Got something for me to take back?" I looked over and grinned back. "I believe I can work something out, something you can take to court, oh, and when we go to town, I want us to have casts made of our crotch plus individual and pairs of our cocks and balls, two apiece. There's a use for them beyond the shock value.

"That, Sir, is a very good idea. How about this. Get something a little softer than brass that we can wear all day....course, get the brass as well. I imagine you'll give one to Billy....odd but, I bet that's a gift he'll be stupidly thrilled to receive." I laughed as I thought about it. "He'll probably want his done too, might as well, we're the three studs.Want him to have a plug too?"

"Why don't we just sell them online? Maybe something like call one Crime and the other Punishment,....I get to be crime. "

"Damn I miss you. Beyond anything else, you have a warped sense of humor, can always think of something to say and...I get lonely."

"Maybe I can find you a nice lad to raise for yourself. Can't be me, I'm beyond the raising stage but while we're in town, I can scoot around, see what's on the market....Something you can hire or buy and have them live in."

"Sure that's a good idea?"

"Well, if it doesn't work out, I can always come to town and solve the problem....Plus, I think a sale would be best, teach him up front you're not going to hurt him, all will be well. Won't take long before you'll have to look everyplace you sit down to make sure there's no open mouth." I reached over and rubbed his lower abdomen. I'd have gone a little further but we were coming into town." 

We drove for about three minutes then I paused at the only red stop sign-there wasn't one coming the other direction. "Well, you wanted the big beating heart of down town, here it is. See, three street lights on either side, oh, and this is, you could guess this, Main Street. We came in on County Road, no other name."

"By the time you're finished, they'll probably name it after you."

"Hoist up your pants, time to start making friends. "

Which brought us back to Billy. No one ever had a warmer welcome, It was like two Marines who'd been trapped under fire and escaped. After the initial slap on the butt, he embraced him, thanked him for his son, tears in his eyes....there were tears in Serges eyes but more from compression squeezing him out. I finally got a hand, and stamped on Billy's boot, which loosened the death grip. I could see Serge's abdomen explode as it dragged air into his lungs. Billy was winding up to slap him on the back again, which would have knocked him through the front door, but I caught him arm mid swing; Serge was spared having the alveoli in his lungs loosened. 

"Gosh I'm glad to see ya, been too long an I know Bill's excited to." Just how and where I was excited was a subject not to be mentioned. "Uh, Bill said somethin' about changin' yer clothes." Yeah, I see what he means, looks like Sears catalog, the cowboy section. Run him on in, strip him and start from there, might try that plaid shirt of mine. Git him right turned out, show some skin 'n where som other skin might just be a hidin'."

"Want me to haul out a uniform shirt, badge and all?" Billy laughed. Shur, can always use another hand when we're attacked. Tell you what, when you got to git back to town, I'll have you a official shirt, badge, stripes an all. Whataya wanna be? Lieutenant? We got a good lookin' force, all the meat for all the firepower. Yep, Serge, yer gonna fit right in." He looked at the judge for a moment. "Hey, son?"   "Yo, Dad" "Lets you an me really go all out, find some 501's with the chaw sign on the back butt, good heavy belt, maybe one with two sets a teeth to latch in down, shirt just a might too small acrosst the chest, got a good small waist....Hey Serge,. what are you doin' hidin' all the goodies under that dress? We'll turn you back to a man, yessirree bob. Make you the third stud in the county." He reached over and simultaneously hefted my package with one hand and his with the other. "Cain't let the man who give me my son go around with less meat than we got." 

That being his final pronouncement, he headed out the door leaving a confused jurist and a man determined to style him for our part of the county. Some how, I thought he was going to like this, just a bump of intuition which helped me with what I was going to do next.

Billy was still making suggestions as we passed through our main room, looking at it, not being sure it was in the sort of taste he liked but I could explain that. Got him in the bedroom, sat on the bed and told him to peel. Boots on up. For once, Serge seemed almost embarrassed; It's one thing to take off your clothes it's another to be told to take them off. Slowly, he pulled off one boot, then another and, mother of pearl, he was wearing banker silk hose with garters. Clearly those were going to be a casualty, might not even make it back to town with him. Jeans came off and, I should have expected this, much rumpled white boxers, another victim of city fashion. I ripped them off him which settled whether they'd ever be worn again. Some sort of Western shirt, the sort with cording on the shoulder and down the placket over a white T shirt. He didn't say anything and neither did I. He still had a great body, just made for fucking and life's little pleasures. Good package-which I was about to improve- good demeanor, no one was going to take him for a cowboy  but...I could at least get some clothes on him that would make him fit in make others not sure he wasn't at least a cowhand. First on, a push up jock. It did wonders for what was already a fine set of cock and balls, as I'd said earlier, between Billy, myself and him, three stallions just pawing to get something to lay. That's not how he saw it but that's how it would look. Next up were some Levi 501s button front. Here I held my breath. Since I'd been in the country I'd hung substantial muscle on me so what I'd started wearing no longer fit. I was hoping that an early pair would do what I had in mind and...they did. Just tight enough down the thigh, nipped in where his waist was and, as these only had  six inch rise, another hard rub on his jock got him  pushed out the jeans making the covering on the brass buttons turn slightly out. While I was there and his britches were down, I knew a way to give him a more cowboy-esque walk. Had him bend over, told him what was coming and put a steel butt plug in him. When he stood up, there was a real smile on his face; Good choice. Thick, wide belt, Plain tan shirt, snap front but only partially snapped up and, right on cue, one cowboy. I whistled for Billy who was getting involved with the meat for dinner but he ambled over, turned Serge around.."Yep, almost hayseed. Good looking cus ain't he, guess under that dress he wears, hard to see he's got a pretty good body. Here.." and grabbed him..."Let me put some Marine turn up in them cuffs..." Ya think we should tear off the sleeves? Show him off? Any ink?" Billy was wearing a shirt much like the one he was contemplating for Serge that had lost the sleeves but showed his much prized Marine symbols.  I thought we'd done as much for Serge as we could or should do-for now- so I got him a cold one, put him on a chair on the porch, showed him how to put one boot up, scratch his nuts with one hand, just casually, nothing serious, then leave it there,  then went back in to change myself. Mine  was easy as it was just an upscale version of everyday. Push up jock, tight 501's, slim cut waist white cowboy style shirt with snaps, pretty much un snapped-Dad liked to see the every growing hair on my chest, sleeves rolled up Marine style way beyond my elbows (Dad did that for me) well shined black boots and that was it. I could look down and see my bulge. Fuck, if I'd been walking down the street, it would have turned the corner before I did. Hard not to notice that Billy had a version of what I had on, just no sleeves to air out his ink.We'd finally hit a pause.

Serge was somewhat overwhelmed by the treatment he'd received. It came to me that however well intentioned it was, nobody had ever taken him into their home, stripped him than put clothes on him that they liked. Frankly, if he'd looked in a mirror, he'd have liked it too; I knew him of old and vanity was a sign he embraced. If I'd had a moment, I would have rustled him back inside and recombed his hair to look like the rest of us,  but there was something about the deep black shot with silver here and there that added to what we'd put on him. Sides, we'd gone about as far as we could go. Next day I planned to take him to Cals Barber shop for a real shave, maybe a clippering for a Marine cut and to get in on the local gossip. On a good day, Cal might give a cut or three but the main purpose of the shop was a gathering place for guys to shoot the shit. At least until the bar opened at five. 

Looking at my watch, a Rolex, which was not normal in these parts but Billy and I each had one claiming to have gotten them as an honor from some wholly fictitious father/son group that admired the way he'd taken me in. The reverse was more accurate, I admired the way we'd taken them in. Some nights when Billy and I weren't screwing, we were laughing at how we'd slipped things into town, paid for with Ace's money that nobody had noticed. I had an idea, ran it past Billy who laughed and said "shor, he's part a the family." 

While Serge was sitting there, I plopped down beside him and put his left hand and wrist in my lap. He looked at me and I looked back-Damn I do innocent well-then I produced a box, opened it and, whaddya know, a Patek Phillipe, never cost less than twenty thousand and, in platinum, it went great with his hair. Took off his old watch-who wears Timex?-and got it around his wrist. One more thing, a sort of family specialty, a bracelet, to be worn by the watch, that was made from two hand cuffs, even needed a key to get it on and off. Having done that I carefully leaned over, theoretically to get something, kissed him on his neck and leaned back. Only one thing left, put his hand back in front of his crotch, other than to scratch a thigh or behind his ear, just like all the other folks. They wouldn't know Timex from the Patek and the handcuff bracelet was a private joke that was actually quite smart willing; wearing it in court could give defendants hiccups.

 We'd had to buy a new gun safe for all the fire power he'd bought-he wasn't a collector, just loved guns. Periodically he and I plus Jeb, Buzz and Sam would grab a box of ammo, six or eight guns go out in a field and mow the sucker damn near flat with flak and lead and shot from the guns. Nothing made Billy happier than to see me heft a Winchester and pick off a target easily more than 800 yards away; I was the only one who could do it but then, I was the only one trained to be a sniper. I could go a lot farther than that but...sometimes you keep an ace or two up your sleeve for when it's needed. 

Once, he and I got in an ATV and found where the first shot I'd fired in his county had occurred. Not even a skull or a bone. Scuffling my boot in the leaves and other crap that had drifted in since that day,  I found what was part of his belt but my instinct said to leave everything where it was; He had been declared dead and for his former son to find remnants of him now could have caused comment. And, as Billy said, "Son, if a belt buckle means anything ta you, well, I got one from when I was in the Corps...."

"Thanks, Dad but you know my promise, one day I'll go off and Semper Fi for you, get my own set of whatever then. One thing...." He looked at me, we really never talked about his service as there were things in the Sand Box that needed to stay there, "When I get my bars, I want you to put them on me, the old fashioned Marine way." He got sober then smiled an unusual smile for him. 'Son, I'd been hopin' you might ask me to do that.I guess you know the way it's done."

"Yeup, and I look forward to it. Might even have a set soldered on my skin....." We both laughed but my willingness to follow him, to make myself in parts of his image were by then the most important thing in his day or night. By now he actively wanted to be fucked, wanted to eat my milk, chew on my-shaved-nuts and I reciprocated. Some nights it sounded like two animals fighting over the last scrap of meat on the bone. 

One afternoon when he was lost in thought about...the past and his buddies I knew he was headed down a bad path, needed something to pull him out. This wasn't a moment when a beer would do it or sex, but something intimate to him, meaningful, something that would bind the past to now. Only one idea but...at least it was an idea. "Hey, Dad....quiet today and I was just thinking of something you could do for me that, well, I guess no other son ever asked his father to do."

He leaned forward both curious and puzzled. "Son, there's nothin' I wouldn't do fer you, you know should no that. My back was to him and I'd unbuttoned my shirt. "Dad...I, uh, I want ....nah, I can't ask, too much." I turned to face him, my well formed pecs standing out, hard point nipples, just the slightest suggestion of hair. "Son, now yer getttin' me riled up. Goddam it ain't nothin' I wouldn't do cuz yer my world, all I got name it, Son or you'll get the belt, you're not too old or too big cuz I'm older and just a bit bigger. Spill it."

I ducked my head. "I  want you to take a medal, one you got for valor, you know the one, and blood pin it to me. " It wasn't close to whatever he expected and it caused him to sit down, hard, I feared for the chair. 

"Why Son.....I'm uh, what you say? you want me to blood pin you with my Valor medal?"

"Yes sir, right here on my chest, right were you got yours. I know I have no right to that one but...pick something else, I just want you to have my blood on your hands for a moment. I want you to know whatever you want to do to me, it'll be done. Even if right now you wanted to be rid of me, or shoot me or hang me, I'd do it...see, along the way I found out what loving your Dad was really about..." I took off my shirt. He was out of his chair and I was in his arms in less than a second. Said nothing but I could feel his tears on my naked skin. All he knew to do was keep his arms around me, his head against my shoulder and stand there. 

"Ya don't need to back up yer love with proof, I got that every day, every night. It's a grand thing yer offerin' an I don't rightly know, you ain't in the service and I never seen it done else where so ...." 

"Dad this means something to me, it's not just copying what you did, it's not just handing on a tradition, it's my way of knowing I love you cuz I want you to do something that...is just between two men, it was all I could think of. Didn't mean to upset you, bring back the past...."

He had one arm around my shoulder and we were headed indoors, probably for a beer. When Billy drank during the day it had more to do with buying some time for him to think which was fine. Both purposes I'd set out to do I'd done. The past was forgotten and the present was very much alive. I did wonder what he might think of. I had an idea but this wasn't the moment to slip it into the conversation. Was something Jeb and I had discussed, even mentioned it to Buzz who resisted at first but as he thought on it, saw an application. In not too long, he was all for it, just, for now, it wasn't to be discussed.

The day was bringing us to barbecue and beer time. I hauled out half an oil drum painted silver, filled with ice and stock full of maybe sixty bottle of beer and, of course, plenty more. Beyond that, and away from the house-carefully check the wind direction, was the open pit with two hogs on spits turning. Other grills had chicken or would have as well as hamburgers, hot dogs, buns, cole slaw all the proper fixing for this sort of party. The men drifted in, mainly on foot but a few in their pick ups, all anxious to meet the Judge who, he was a charmer, gave every impression of being happy to meet them. I'd stationed him near the beer, plus put a long neck in his hand explaining to him whether he drank it or not, it gave the guys the freedom to drink; If he'd not had a beer, they might have held back seeming to honor his unstated wishes. With a half filled bottle-I'd emptied part of it-just for openers, all was well, he was a helluva man, helluva man, glad to know him, glad he was going to stick around for a few days. Invitations to a rodeo (I had to turn my face when I thought of Serge even trying any of the Rodeo activities.) but it was all well meant. Another one was for a calf fry, one of the ranchers was going to have to steer some of their stock so come on out and have fresh oysters cooked right there. He did know what that was and, not really to my surprise, asked if he could volunteer helping nut them; His next statement had me turn to the wall to avoid anyone seeing my face. What he said was, "Sure, once you nut 'em best time to chow down is when they've still got sperm and blood in them." The rancher, whom I knew slightly, felt he'd met an old acquaintance. Hell yes he could come out, another pair of hands always can be useful and for the fries, his were the best, cattle raised on grass not hay. 

Serge laughed, "Hey everyone's been so fucking good to me, maybe you ought to get out the branding iron and put your brand on me so I won't stray." Peals of laughter, never been a better guest. Buzz, Jeb and I found each other's eyes and looked at each other. The comment was coincidental but preceded what we had in mind for the team by about twenty four hours. Maybe with judicial approval, it would go down better. I planned on telling Billy tonight but now...I wondered.

Beer and barbecue parties, I'd learned, tended to wobble off center as the evening went on, the amount of beer consumed increased and the general aura of good feeling was passed around like a banana split. Serge was the hit of the party, now down to just his pants, his shirt pushed, regulation style, in his back pocket. Peripheral vision allowed me to see what was coming up next and this was going to be a tough one to jump. One of the wranglers from a large spread siddled up to Serge and lolled his head back, turned it toward the judge's ear and said a thing or two. I had a pretty good idea what but couldn't tip my hand, it was up to him to figure out this invitation and how to avoid it. He did the best thing possible, he laughed, clapped the man on his shoulder, said that sounded good to him, a man cannot fuck enough but...and he made a gesture that seemed to includ the group, I can't just wander off, I'm the guest of honor and laughed again. The man joined him and this time I did hear what he said."Well, shor nuff, I plumb forgot that, just don't forget, when you want the A number one pussy in the county, you have Billy get a hold a me and we'll have you mounted up and shootin' cream into the pussy filled milk cans." They both laughed at that one although I was grateful it stopped there.

Some of the local ladies, who'd been through these parties before started showing up to claim the carcass of their man while it could still walk, as it were, home. The crowd was thinning out, I stopped refilling the beer container and that, plus gnats not shooed off by the smoke, were gaining hold on flesh, much of which was exposed as shirts came off leaving guys naked or with just a tank top which offered no protection. Sweat was another attracting feature for our friends in the Phyllum Insectae which is why the moment Serge got local and took off his shirt, Billy and I grabbed him, took him in the house and sprayed all of us with Deep Woods bug repellant. Made him pull down his pants, got his legs, his crotch, everywhere the little bastards could slip into. While other men were swatting, itching and saying ugly things about mosquitoes etc, His Honor was sitting there, beer in hand, playing with his nipple. Until I swatted his hand further South; Around here guys played openly with their jean covered cocks and balls even if they popped woodies and went on over the top. But tits? No. Local drill lesson 107.4.

Now, if you were pissed at someone, it was common to see a guy reach onto the shirt of the man he was annoyed with and give his tits a good, hard twist. Almost guaranteed to get a fight started with that move. Everyone just stood around, took a swig, might be some good natured betting and who'd do what to whom and who'd be first up. The guys all knew when it was about to go too far and that was that. Two groups, one per combatant, stepped in, pulled them apart and, if it was handy, sprayed them with a hose or, better, dunked them in a horse trough. It's hard to explain how close knit this place was; I'd even had a tough time figuring it out that, and there were no secrets of any kind. In theory. Just because it was in my nature to know things, I did know secrets, most of them incidental but here and there worth storing against the day I needed to know it for whatever reason. I could even stump Billy sometimes with information that he needed to get something done. His standard answer at first was, "Well, mutherfuck, how'd you be knowin' that?" I wouldn't tell him but as our relationship, on all sides got tighter there was the more accurate answer, "Someone told me who wanted you to know." He'd raise his eyebrows and shake his head. Or laugh. "Sure you din't leave yer life a crime back in the city?" And I just look back, smile, put my arms around him, kiss the side of his neck and say, "Pop, you may have a moment when my past saves your ass and I hope that never comes to pass." Then  just hold on until he put his hands on my arms. 

"You'd kill for me, wound't you."

"Anyway I had to do it...Ya know, Dad, I don't really like killing with guns, no fun. Also, I like to see 'em squeal and squirm knowing  what's going to happen or think they know what's going to happen. Like, you ever nail a speeder, sooo far over the limit your both laughing about it when you get to his window and he's already got papers and license in hand?"

"Yeah, usually just the guys around here, they know'd they'd get nailed now and again so they just shoot on down. No big deal." 

"Ever give them a citation?"

"Shor, fuckers earned one."

"Always?"

There was a flicker of a smile that he tried to shove back in his mouth but with no luck. "Well, not always. No."

I sat down, leaned the chair back until it hit something, put my boots on the spreader bar and waited. Wasn't going to ask me, because I knew he was busting to tell. He couldn't have hidden his smile on Mars. "Get me a cold one, son." The click of my chair legs was followed by the sound of my boots on a rag rug then hitting linoleum, fridge open, cap pulled off, back to him, but then held it just beyond his reach. His smile had become a smirk. "You know Cal jr, barber Cal's son? He was comin' down county road so lickered up, man he was in danger but, natcherly, I had a pull him over. Opened the door and he fell out, all he did was burp and grin, said, "Hey there Billy's hows they hangin?' then passed out.

Sounded like him, we didn't have a town drunk but, if we needed a volunteer for the position it was already filled. "What'd you do?"

"Well, I cain't jus leave him on the road now can I..."

"Nope."

"An I cain't take the chance a him comin' too and gettin' back in so first, I took the distributor caps, then his britches, boots and underwear. Tied his cock to the steering wheel and went on. Someone found him, called Cal an that was that." 

"Dad, you're all heart."

"Yeah, not everyone things so, I'm still the Sheriff. Course, now an again, if I collar em, I just tear up the ticket cuz I know they cannot afford it, got young un's at home and just told him to slow 'er down and have his wife make me a sticky bun or two." That's about what happened cept she made a whole tray full and everyone came by the office got one til I ran out and you know, son...I forgot to eat one myself."

I patted his shrinking stomach, needed him to be slim like his son. "Bill, forgot ta ask you somethin'. Back there a while, you called me Pop..."

Stupid fool made me swallow hard, I didn't want to answer the question but..."Give me a minute, okay? get me a long neck."

"Jon, the man I shot, my father, used to like to be called that. Said it made him more like a father and less like a man who taught his son to be a first class criminal." I paused and remembered some happy times with him. "That's it, just slipped out....guess now you'll want to be 'Pop'...."

"Son, never take another mans place, never. You can call me what you'd a like but....Dad or Billy, jist feels about right. You?"

I got down on my knees, popped open his pants, fished out his expanding cock, looked at him said, "now this is what I call Dad" and blew him. His hand was on my head rubbing what little hair Cal left-he often got confused as to what cut you wanted so it was sort of Dealer's Choice when you got in the chair. Every man in town had some version of the same haircut but, from time to time, and especially if you let it grow out a bit, he'd change it from flat top to full peel to crew to horseshoe....if it was short he knew how to cut it. 

We were being quiet as Serge was on the couch in the living room which I'd purchased as a real comfortable hide a bed. Possibly he could have bunked in with us but...to do that was to encourage just a little too much invitation to whatever which usually meant both of them screwing my ass; Although they didn't know it, when that happened, two fathers just fucked the same son. At leasst it amused me but in general, Serge stayed in his stall and I kept Billy and me in ours; Best to seperate all the stallions before they kicked the shit out of each other. The john was got to from the main room so he had no reason to bother us or we to bother him as there was a side door from our bedroom to the can. 

I was propped up in bed, not wearing much save my shirt which, for some reason, I hadn't taken off. Billy was scrunched over his books which always maddened him and, sometimes, I'd lean over, change a decimal point or re-add a column, then it worked out. Tap at the door, Billy, who knew who it was, looked happy then called for the 'judge' to come in, we was just about to have a cum contest, he could judge who shot further then laughed. Serge laughed too but looked at me. "Mind if I borrow Bill? Tomorrow and the deal at the ranch...I need to know the drill." 

Billy just made a sweeping motion with his arm indicating I should shove off and go explain the local dynamics of a branding, castrating and calf fry. Okay, I could do that. 

We went further than the living room, he wanted to sit outside and, as we passed the front door, I grabbed a hoodie and some spare jeans I kept there for moments when I needed to run outside for a moment. 

He held up his phone. "See that area code?" I did. "Recognize it?" Yep. "Motherfuckers, they traced the car and...they're coming for you, wouldn't break their balls if they got me, too." I flopped my head back, exhaled and wondered aloud if he had any idea of how many, what would they be in and when could we expect this unwelcome 'company'. These were the men I fucked over when I shot Jon, these were the men who wanted to take a shot a me or, better, just take me and then...better not think about that. "You too?"

"Pending cases, I'm gone they get transferred to another judge maybe, if their attorney can work it, another jurisdiction." Which translated into they'd found another jurist who'd give them what they wanted. Fuck. I rapidly drummed my fingers on the back of his chair. 

"Got any ideas? You fucking run this place. Got the Sheriff, the Deputy....who else?" Well, that question didn't get answered because it was none of his fucking business. I didn't run the town, I helped a group of friends see that things ran smoothly, that's all. Putting the butt of my palms over my eyes, I thought and wondered and thought. I did have an answer and I knew it would solve everything but not here, not on Dad's front porch and not with my toes freezing. "What if they grab you, too?"

"Then they'd find two collections of bones, muscle, gristle, teeth here and there, no skulls, no hands, no feet...."

"No cocks and no balls...." I finished the list for him. 

"Yeah, and I don't want to think of the order in which they'd whack 'em off. Let one of us watch what was going to be done next to them. Cute. Jesus these are bad motherfuckers.:"

I kind of knew the group, after all, they caused me to shoot Dad number two, or One for most of the world, and I'd known they were waiting for a chance to even the score. Probem was buried here in the stix, there was no way to me unless they clipped an F-16 and strafed the place which wasn't going to happen. "Get down on your knees, I want my nuts washed, my cock sucked and every bit of cream I have in me moved to you while I think."

"What about Billy?"

"He'll have to get in line. Get all those bull balls in there and start the washing, I gotta get a clean handle on how I'm going to do this and I think better when I'm being sucked. Always been that way. I'm betting a father would like to help his kid save his ass as well as his own...and, as you said, only two of us make that kind of milk. Go."

An hour later I left Serge on the porch laying on it, unable to close his jaw. Time would take care of that and it was time I didn't need to help him. Back inside, crossed the room, slipped into our bedroom-Billy was asleep, quietly closed and locked the door, looked at him and prayed this would work as there would be only one chance. Into our communal closet, I took out some black parachute cargo pants, black jacket, black boots, took two guns from the gun safe, filled the cargo pockets, thought about a rifle but didn't want to carry it, remembered something, looked in the drawer where it was all rolled up, took that, and, what the hell, pulled out two more pistols and more ammo. Grabbed a black cap, some of his night vision binoculars-changed to a cargo jacket with eight pockets, continued filling it with more guns and more ammo, dropped a knife, shielded, down the international full contact wrestling jock I'd put on, held on to my boots  and slipped out the window. Thought about peeking around the edge of the house to see if the judge had recovered but who cared. The watch I had on was made for troops under fire and told you quite a lot plus being carefully illuminated so it could only be seen with the binoculars. Knowing it would get squashed, I shoved a rolled up map down one leg and started to one of the few people I knew would help me and still let tomorrow play just as it was already planned. 

I slid in on the floor, reached up and grabbed Buzz covering his mouth and carefully pulling him out of bed. Once he realized who it was, all was well. Jeb was sound asleep which was just as well for, just then, I needed another adult and while I knew I could count on Jeb, his part was yet to be played. We slipped through his apartment, I stopped and made him dress warmly and also in dark cargo clothing-something I'd been carefully seeing that all the team had. Once out his front door, we got walked down the road and "borrowed" Cooley's truck. Or at least the camper topper on the back. With all the shades blacked out I explained the problem to Buzz who was frightened but knew and trusted me. I handed him two guns and filled two pockets with loads then pulled out the map and explained how this had to go down. His main problem was going to be to steal a car then junk it-we would live in one of the few hamlets that wasn't even near a junk yard.

I wished I had copies but, from a pocket, pulled a reader which I rolled over the significant parts and places then handed to him. I estimated how many of the team he'd need and guaranteed he'd have a pretty clear field as most of the men, not the young men, would be at the Colyers for the branding/Castrating and Oyster feed and party for hiz honor for most of the afternoon and into the evening. I needed someone to get down two county lines over and 'remove' six bottles of un flavoured Vodka and stow them near where the party would be. We thought and realized that Jeff was one of the men who spend the week bunking in with a family here so he didn't have to drive forty miles each way everyday. I was sure he knew were the grog shop was and, because I'd taught all of them, he'd know how to get in and out without bothering anyone. All of them had pickups so getting him there was a cinch. 

The wrecked car was something to worry about but, it was night and he'd get a couple of team members to slide out into the country and find a farm that had some sort of vehicle that wasn't a pick up. It could be hidden until it needed to be wrecked right where I showed Buzz it would need to be. I had some wiggle room on this for my purposes, almost a yard to be precise. He shuddered. He looked at me, no longer the frightened almost man I'd met some while back but a cool, confident man who could run other young men for me. I'd given him the team he needed for on the field and...for off. His only question...."Would this put an end to everything for me?" All I could say was it went one of two ways and, either way, yeah, it put an end to all the crap and worry. 

It was almost comfortable in the pop top. Someone had apparently been using it for other things as Buzz pointed out a used condom plus a bottle of lubricant. Not one of ours, they knew better and how to do it all better. I looked at my watch and was surpised at how early it actually was, not yet midnight. I punched some buttons on the side then rolled toward Buzz.

"Sorry buddy, but you're about to get pounded, I'm up to there with energy and my balls are almost dragging to my knees, gotta get calmed and relieved." He smiled, looked at me, leaned forward, kissed my face. 

"How do you want to start? Ass up? Down, Sit on you?" All good questions as he stripped. "Maybe I better let you blow me..." I could do that knowing it would introduce simple sex and from there, we could go on up the mountain. Besides, I liked Buzz's cock, he had a sweet flavour and was a willing, even anxious to be  emptied. I did that, then roughly rolled him and didn't bother just apologized and stuck him. 

The very quiet back of my watch expanded and contracted making me aware of the time. We'd been sleeping for a few hours and, as I'd thought, I was much better, calm, determined. He wouldn't know it but I kissed the back of his neck and at the same time, slipped a small needle into him. One of several that I needed to hand out that night.

Home was an awfully good sight. The judge had, apparently, come to regained his strength enough to get up and go to bed. Fine, I was going in the back through the window. Not surprisingly Billy was fully awake and when he saw me dressed as I was had only one question or maybe it was an axiomatic statment. "It's real bad, ain't it son." It was a stark statement that said everything about us, that night, the future and how much he may have guessed. "They comin' for you ain't they, you and Serge."

"Yep, they are going to try that, grab us both, and...you don't want to know what might happen IF that happens." I counted to ten. "But it won't." 

"Dad, on this one thing you must do precisely what I tell you to do and however much you may hate doing it, well, there's only one way out. You have the single most important thing to do as you're the one who will save my life." I stopped and gave him the Stare that few people saw from me, the Stare that went into your soul, the Stare that said I have you by your balls and I love you but you will do this thing. 

"Shit, to save your life, son, to save your life? What the fuck is the matter? What's going on? Why are you crawling around with an armory stowed on you?:"

I slugged him to shut him up then fell on him to make him know he was my Dad, I loved him but I Had To Call The Shots.

"Son, that's one helluva right cross." But, even with the pain, I could see the sparkle of laughter. I threw myself into his arms just for that moment to be his little boy whom he would protect from the big bad wolf. His warm body, his hands holding me, his gentle whispering in my ear that it didn't matter a fuck, we were father and son and by shit, he'd do whatever I wanted just so long as it didn't involve handling snakes. Damn he hated snakes. 

We moved to his desk, I rolled out the, by now, badly wrinkled map and told him alone the whole thing and what I hoped would happen. 

"Hey, Fucker, why ain't you the head of the CIA or somethin' like that?"

"I think you have to be thirty five, besides, I promised a man I'd be his Marine. And I keep my promises." 

"Yeah, ya do. You may have told a pack a lies but never once been anything but straight with me." I hated what I had to do next only because it implied a certain lack of trust. 

"Dad, I need to mark you so lean forward, this will only sting a very little." he did and I slid a needle into his neck. "Okay, now look at this. Under what looked like a neatly stack pile of clothes I pulled out a very thin screen which I touched and it was immediately glowing the sort of green that's hard to see with the naked eye. I handed him my binoculars, told him to look again.

"Mother fuck....what...who..."

I took his index finger and put it on a glowing dot. "That's you and, notice it pulses. Don't need to tell you who all the rest are cuz some of the haven't been stuck yet. Only last about 36 hours then they dissolve and no longer emit. I've been putting all this together against this day wondering if it ever would come and now it has. Dad, these men are coming not just to kill me but take me, torture me then, maybe, kill me cuz I did them out of a kill they wanted."

"Yer Dad." I just shook my head. As he looked at the screen two more points lit up. "Does he know?" Well, he knows they're coming and I'm working on it. Which reminds me...." I turned off the panel so the room was dark, opened the door and did one quick errand then came back, turned on the panel and another point lit up. 

"Damn, he don't even know you did that do he?" I just looked at him, smiled and shook my head. And suddenly I was exhausted. Thanks to Buzz he'd got me through and got me home, all that I could do for now was done. Three more points lit up.

"Dad, please, just for tonight, may I be your little boy who's played all day and is so tired....pick me up in your arms, hold me take me to bed, take off my clothes just like you would a little boy. Put me under the covers, kiss me goodnight, tell me the bed bugs won't bite then crawl in next to me and take me in your arms until I sleep."

He smiled as fatherly a smile as I'd ever seen on his face. I felt his strong arms around me then I was weightless as he gently moved me. Laying on the bed, he pulled off my boots, my socks, kissed my toes, undid the many buttons, belts and snaps on my pants then pulled them from me being surprised when they hit the floor with semi-metallic thud. He looked over, figured out what had happend and continued. My cargo jacket, handled more carefully-he now knew what might be in it then pulled the T over my head and dropped it on the pile of clothes. The last thing, he eased off my full contact, no holds barred heavy duty jock to join the pile. Gently he exercised my little boy cock and balls, not realizing they'd already had a long evening, finally straighening me out on the bed, rolled me on my side, put a pillow under my head and another for me to hold. 

I liked it when he was naked as he had been all through this time. He went round got in, came to me put one arm across my chest, kissed me good night and there was silence.

The coffee smelled good,  Dad made great coffee, indeed his best meal was breakfast. Serge, now used to our usual clothing habits, was sitting at the breakfast table in a ragged jock of mine and a T shirt that must have been the pride of some school until all the lettering wore off. Where did Dad get all this shit? No time to wonder. The three of us sat there all trying to be calm and doing a pretty good job of it. 

The conversation revolved around the branding and nuttting party that afternoon at Shep Collyers. Dad was casual about it, God knows how many he'd been to, but, for the sake of Serge, he went into some detail that we all knew and thought nothing about. However, if you'd never done this, however easily you thought it might be to watch, even help, the reality was different. We told him not to bother to shower, shave if he wanted, but there was nothing dirtier than being out in a field with a bunch of nervous cattle who sensed this was not all in their best interests. Men were swearing, riding around, trying to round up strays, get them in pens, keep them there. Keep fires going for the branding irons then move them on to be nutted. Billy put his coffee cup down, to hear his version it wasn't much more than overseeing messy children in a dirty playground but that didn't even approach reality. Shit was thrown everywhere while the cattle, nervous, frightened, bucked, tried to bull each other-their last chance at that-generally made messes. Most of the ground was saturated with piss when mixed with shit...you knew why everybody was wearing a wet cloth over their nose and mouth. Not only to try and suppress the smell but to avoid having feces get in. Then there were the bugs attracted by all this. 

Dad painted as grim a picture of a supposed "good time" as he cold but Serge just lit up more as the diatribe about meat production hit lower spots. Well, he'd been warned. 

The Colyer place was about twenty miles from town and Shep, trying to be the genial host in a shit storm, suggested we all show up around one or two. This was serious and tho we were invited guests, we were expected to work. Same happened with every other farm or ranch that did this. Everyone was invited, you worked your ass off then got fed a good meal. Oh, and, usually, there was a place where a water truck had been brought up where you could strip and get a cold shower which felt real good just then. Everyone brought two sets of clothes so when the mess of the day was over, all looked reasonably clean, stood or sat around having a beer or a drink waiting for whatever was on the menu; This time it was Mountain Oysters or to put it bluntly, balls from recently castrated calves. Plus barbecue, potato salad and on down the country food line. 

Generally, the younger boys/men weren't there as, in several cases, the calves being  branded and cut were 4H projects that had become almost pets and, everybody understood, how'd you  like to watch your best friend have his nuts cut off? Most of the guys, my team, drifted in and out. Buzz stuck near me, Jeb was on his horse riding out to shoo in strays. The first part, the branding was the easiest, at least for those doing the work. Not that it was fun, but compared to the mess that all this was making, it was at least easier. Also, each year some liquored up cowboy would drop his drawers and bet someone they wouldn't brand him. It was a bet he always lost and maybe he regretted it, maybe not. 

This year, based on what he'd said about being branded to be part of the community, Shep had a surprise for the Judge. Six laughing men grabbed him, took him toward the fire where the irons were kept, one special on was pulled out and, just as he almost panicked, a book was shoved under his jeans right where the hot iron went on. Everybody got a kick out of that includin Serge. 

There was a pause between the branding and the nutting largely to give the hands a chance to rearrange the fences that were used to guide the soon to be steers into the cutting area. This is why everyone in the neighborhood showed up; Moving those fences, which were steel, wasn't easy and took real muscle. Plus they had to be either anchored down or held in place. Back at the front of the area, a chute was fixed between the branding pen, the area for the cutting and the pen  into which, after they'd been done, the calves would be turned loose. 

The business part of this was where men grabbed the calf and, depending on the method for castration used, put it in position. Even though it had no idea of the unpleasant surprise coming, they'd already been hit with fire on their ass which didn't sit well with them. About them, there was a brief pause, people had a beer, checked the equipment, counted just to see if all the live stock was there, the work of the day. Serge was getting off on this and, during the pause, was involved in setting up the cutting area-I could see a bulge in his britches that suggested to me he wouldn't mind catching some man and repeating what he was learning today. Branding and all. 

And then it started. Dust flew up, screaming of cattle, men yelling, snapping ropes, holding fences and pens. The guys doing the deballing in were sitting on what looked like a milking stool but had to be ready to move double quick or get kicked and potentially seriously hurt. The guys who did this did it often and had for years. You could learn to do it, easy as it might seem but once you were in the small enclosure with a knife or a burdizzo or elastrator, it all changed and fast. Things moved by you or came at you, blood spattered everywhere and gloved hands tossed double yoked cow nuts into buckets with iced water. That year there were almost a hundred calves which took most of the afternoon. 

When it was over, and before anyone bothered to head for the water truck, you just fell on what you hoped was reasonably clean grass, laid on your back and breathed. There was still a cacophany of noise but whatever else, the work, the worst of it, was done. All the newly neutered animals were herded into one large field where they calmed down although their pain ratio made the noise quotient go up. 

Serge was next to Shep and now realized everything we'd try to tell him was true. Everyone was too tired to do much more than lay there or strip and stand under the water then lay back down clad or not. The cooks were working now, steaks, chops, all the usual and, of course, the Mountain Oysters. 

No one was shy about helping themselves, this year there were more than enough, probably could have a few left over to send to a specialty meat market in the city.  While the party for the men got under way, most of the team was elsewhere. Billy was easily spotted as he had worn, or put on after working, his Sheriff's uniform shirt, was his usual happy self, seemed right with it until he stumbled backward, clutched his ankle and limped away saying thank yous and aw shits at the same time. That left Serge at the party not noticing that the people he saw most often..weren't there.

Several miles away I lay on the top of a slight hill that looked down on the road that led to town. Since cell phones didn't work this far out, we had a series of guys with walkie talkies lined up to keep everyone posted as to where and what and who was going on. MacDonald one, by the sign, reported a 'foreign' car turning off and headed for our area. Moving too slow but in the dusk and our shitty road, that wasn't too significant save that the tag was from a state far away and, as it passed Station one, two white males were reported, one seemed to be holding a map. 

Below me I could see the crashed car moved into postion with orange cones set up for about two hundred yards back forcing any traffic to move into a very narrow strip and slow down. At the end of the cones, just before the crash, was a deputy with a flashlight waiting. We all waited. Station three chimed in that the car had passed, slowed down a bit, maybe five minutes. 

I flattened myself on the ground holding my rifle with a laser sighting pointed toward the crashed car. Buzz, as the officer, could see the red  dot which meant all was in place. All we could do was wait and not long. The car pulled up, could see the "accident" waited while the uniformed Buzz came over, big smile holding his Sheriff's hat....I could hear the conversation as we'd micked him. 

"Shore sorry fellas, won't be too much longer, got a tow comin' now."

"Can I pull around this, I got a meeting in town with my cousin Bill, haven't seen him in a coon's age." That was all we needed to hear but there were one or two more bits.
"You mean ol Bill, Sheriff's boy, that Bill?" 

"Yeah that Bill the Sheriff's kid, we got some papers for him and it's important we get around. Now." 

In my ear piece I heard one word, "Gun!". 

The red dot moved to the back window of the car and I squeezed off  two shots. Even at distance I could see the men flop over, dead. Buzz had to jump just to avoid being hit when the car lurched forward, a dead foot must have hit the gas. 

I lay there hearing Buzz say, "Got 'em right where you said you'd plug 'em right at the base of their necks......"

I could hear the foot steps then the voice. " Good shooting son, real good, thanks for taking care of that problem for me there's just one left. Roll over, I want to shoot you right between the eyes, never did admire a man who shot another man in the back. 

"Okay, Dad, I guess this is where it all ends. Sorry you have to do this I'd like to suck your milk, our milk once more, leave me dead with the taste in my mouth. The Judge laughed. 

"Now that would be sporting, hook you up to my hose and just when I come you go...." 

The third blast of the day rang out and the judge, part way through pulling out his dick fell over, not quite dead. Slowly I stood up, I'd put down the rifle, and picked up a double barrel over under fully choked shot gun. I kicked him so he was flat on his back then shot a hole right through him. 

I could hear a desperate voice screaming "Son, son...son..." then the arms of a big man flew around me, held me kissed me but he had one thing he wanted. 

Took out a knife, cut off the judge's pants, cut off his balls and stuck them in his partially open mouth. "Eat hardy, they say, mens nuts is the best eatin'...."

Then the noise started. ATV's from everywhere or so it seemed. Buzz and Jeb were climbing the hill, down the road came all the team hoping to see just what they saw. 

Of course so few had known that we had to lay it out. I had trusted my team, whom I'd trained, though they didn't know it, for something like this. I knew it wasn't all behind me but when Serge showed up and wanted me to come back I knew then the fix was in. My only hope was to stay home and set the bait, the trap then spring it. All the wonderful men had done what they had to do without knowing they were doing it. I hadn't even told my Dad until the night before the role he would have to play and he did, just as I told him, save my life.

How, was the question, how did I know? Well, explaining about the judge and my paternity wouldn't help things but I cast him as a crook who'd set up my father for a mob hit. I found out and shot him myself to spare him what they would have done to him. In the now official version, he did know I was going to shoot him which is why he'd given me that overpowered shotgun and picked the moment. I said we'd set it up, he was to turn, face me so his whole chest was exposed, wink and then....\

The judge did not plan on Billy, did not plan on the adoption and he sure as hell didn't plan on my manipulating the trusts out of is reach which was why I'd had him hand ove all the cash. He must have seethed.

In the end it was one stupid mistake that blew it for all of them: A cell phone. No one in our town had one because there was no tower, no service. But, in going through his things, an art he'd taught me himself, I found a satellite phone which he could have used from the Antarctic. Using a simple walkie talkie I patched in on his phone so knew, approximately, what and when..sort of. The party at the Collyers, if you can call branding and castrating a party provided the perfect setting. In all the dirt and mess and with people from all around, many of whom did just come to help hoping they'd be helped when they needed similar work done, no one was missed or noticed except the Judge, the star of the afternoon. I'd been there longer than all the rest except Billy so when the filth and the flies and the dust blew everywhere, I did an army maneuver of crawling on my belly until I could get away. Soon as I was out sight from the work, I got up and ran to the hill top where, I could see all was set up. The rifle was there as were my binoculars as well as the walkie talkie. I knew the Judge would probably notice I wasn't around but how long...that was a crap shoot. But before that, Billy faked an injury hoped in his truck and drove away. Or, drove to a heavily branched tree about a hundred yards behind me where he had a deer stand put up about twenty feet so I was covered. He let the truck roll away and, right on cue, the car pulled up, Buzz did his hick sheriff routine called out the gun and that was when I proved that one of the things I did best was be a sniper. 

I have no idea how close he was when he heard the two shots that took out his guys but he knew, must have known, I was the shooter. Knowing how Jon had almost pathologically trained me to work alone, he never figured I'd back stop myself and put Billy in the tree where he became an easy target. The rest? Well, Dad and I kind of had our fun with the son of a bitch, he knew what was coming and he was right. 

Eventually the Judge was reported as a missing person, and I know that as I reported him. Ever the dutiful God Son I was worried. They hit men he'd sent out? No one was looking for them anyway so they were incinerated in a beat up car by the side of a road no one much traveled. Just like the last time, Billy and I looked up and saw Vultures and assumed there coyotes near by. 

That Spring in our brand new Baseball uniforms on our magnificent diamond with bleachers you could safely sit on, people came to see the amazing little team from no where beat the shit out of every team we played. Some decisons had been made, for one, we threw out the old name and mascot and, Dick Decisions, became " The Cocks" Our mascot was intended to be a Rooster but some said he was a strange bird, almost like he had nuts. We won our league, went on to district then to state where we did lose but that was okay, As we drove back to town, not in yellow school busses but a fleet of very comfortable RV's I lay on the bed in the back wearing my custom embroidered jock that said, above the stitched mascot, "The Cocks" I counted the money from the bets I'd laid off. 

While we rolled down the road nobody travelled much in our deluxe travel units, nobody heard me caw with laughter as Billy and I lay on the bed-he had a jock that said "Sheriff Cock"- and threw money into the air. Still had football season next fall and, I'd heard, there was a summer soccer league. Buzz is getting quite good at coaching and in his leather jacket, with Coach Cock on the back, the school has given him a ten year contract. Jeb and Buzz are happy, Sam is happy with a number of cowboys who come into town and, well, I think the happiest person is my Dad, Billy. 

It was hot one day and we were laying naked on the new back porch with the pool-open for all the team at all times-plus the hot tub, Dad was running his fingers through the hair on my chest and wondered when I planned on graduating from High School? I thought about that, looked at him admiring his new tat of a mascot cock that almost had nuts, and said, well, I'm not even a senior for two more years and I believe I promised my Dad I'd come home one muscled up jar head Marine all ready for him to take me to get my tats, just like his. 

"Yes, son, you did say that and you always keep your promises."

That's what fathers and sons are for, to keep promises and get tats. At least in our small town down a road nobody much travels that's how we do it. Oh, and the town council finally decide on a name, course, some didn't like it but for others of us, it's just fine. They called it "Studville". Sorta fits, don't it?