Outed

The day of the first-round finals had at last arrived. Unusually, Coach found himself nervous. To be expected, his first final after nine years of professional coaching.

The team was ready, they’d peaked at just the right time, for today’s game and the championship match next week.

While Stu and Tim tentatively enjoyed a small lunch of their first solid foods, the team were in the locker room preparing themselves to take the field. Coach said a few inspiring words and with that done, the game got underway.

The first half was tight, with scoring opportunities hard to come by. As the half time break arrived only two points separated the sides. As Coach gave his assessment to the team on what they could do better, six officers from Clifton Hill piled into two squad cars and hit the road. They knew who they were looking for, and now knew where to find them.

As Travis and Alex made their way down the ramp and back onto the field, Travis paused just before he crossed the white line. He turned to Alex who had stopped behind him, wondering what the hold-up was.

“If we win this, Coach won’t let us celebrate tonight.” Travis said, Alex shrugged to show he agreed. “Do you think we could wander off and catch a soda after the game, I want to talk to you about something.”

“Well, just as long as it’s not about what a star I’ve been today, and how I single handily dragged the team across the line.” Said Alex, smiling widely. “Frankly, I’m sick of the hero worship.” Travis was stunned.

“Err, no, it definitely won’t be about that!” Came the confused assurance.

The game resumed.

* * *

Part way in to the final quarter the scores started to drift apart. For the first time in the match Coach knew the team were going to win. He’d be at the Championship play off next week! The feeling of getting this far, after years of under-performance was electric. Despite everything that had been thrown at him, especially in the last few weeks, he had prevailed.

He started to relax and look around the ground, it was time to take in some of the atmosphere. He reminded himself he needed to enjoy the journey, not just holding the cup aloft at the end.

He noticed the police in the crowd, that was good. Discipline was the foundation of all he had achieved to date, making sure the crowd was behaving itself was a positive move on behalf of the local constabulary. When he looked again, he realised the officers seemed to be specifically heading for a destination. They must have found a trouble maker already, that was great work! He turned his attention back to the game, as the last three minutes ticked down.

* * *

The locker room was a charged mix of excitement of winning the game, realisation that the team would be playing in the championship, and the physical scents of twenty sweat and dirt covered young men, crowded into a tribal den below the grandstand. As they kicked-back in various stages of undress, Coach moved to the centre of the group. He had a great speech planned, he knew how to inspire these boys, he was a master!

“You boys did really well today,” he started. “A few stumbles in the first half, but nothing we can’t work on next week.” He drew breath.

“I just wanted…”

Bam! Bam! Bam! Came the pounding at the door.

“What the fuck!” exclaimed the coach. He’d left specific instructions he wasn’t to be interrupted. Fuck this! He’d have a piece of whoever had ignored him. He strode to the door and wrenched it open. A Sargent in full uniform stood before him. His voice caught in his throat.

“Stand aside Sir, this is a police matter.” Spoke the officer firmly. Coach backed away and to the side. Four of the officers walked to the centre of the group, astonishing everyone to silence. The two remaining officers took station each side of the door. No one was getting in or out.

“Jason David Matthews and Carl Taylor. Raise your hands.” Boomed the man in charge. Two boys, young men really, did.

“I’m Jason,” said one of them.

“Jason Matthews you are under arrest. You do not have to say anything,” the rest of the monologue continued. When done, the officer turned and addressed Carl with the same statement of rights. “Cuff them,” he directed his juniors.

He tilted his head to his chest radio.

“Unit 16, back up to the rear fire door, we’ll be out in two.” He turned to the officer guarding the door.

“Palmbury, we’re leaving through the fire exit.” He said pointing.

As both stunned boys found themselves about to be in steel cuffs. The officer in charge of Matthews turned to the Sargent.

“You want them with their shirts on?”

“I want them through that door now!” sarge pointed. “They can be fucken naked for all I care.” Both guys were marched towards the door in just their shorts.

Coach finally found his voice.

“Officer, officer what are the charges?” he asked, as the sarge turned.

“Grievous bodily harm, common assault, two counts each. One count each of endangering life.” He replied gruffly. Coach was stunned.

“Assault? Assault of who?”

“One Stu Bolton, one Tim Baxter. Now step aside!” Coach shrank.

“Sarge this is Unit 16.” Squawked the radio.

“Go ahead 16, are you in place.”

“Yeah Sarge, but we’ve got people here who followed for a look see. Recommend you make double time.”

“Roger that,” he said into his hand piece before turning to the waiting constables. “Go!”

* * *

Within twenty minutes of Matthews and Taylor being photographed as they were loaded into a police wagon, the Facebook link to Stu and Tim’s health status, was overrun with news of the arrests. The information flow went ballistic.

As the local TV six o’clock news went to air that night it was the second story to the lead. Fellow students taking out their own team members for a shot at a championship was huge. On the steps of the police station Taylor’s lawyer was peppered with questions.

“We’re having a break. The police are entitled to question my client for another three hours, I believe that’s what they intend.” Explained the man as the press scrambled to catch a sound bite. “Clearly my client was spurred on by people who should have known better.”

“What does that mean?” asked one of the reporters. The lawyer didn’t say anything else; he’d planted the seed. It, like the rest of the story exploded.

By eight that night, the newspapers and television crews were camped out front of Coach’s house. This was a disaster! How would he get his team to focus now? Those bloody gays have fucked it all up, again! By nine he realised the situation was getting out of hand, the press was starting to insinuate he’d encouraged the bashing. This was ridiculous, he decided to go outside and clarify once and for all, ‘he’d done no ‘encouraging’. This whole event was clearly something dreamed up by mentally impaired youths.

Henry Carson watched the local nine o’clock news with his parents, finishing a very late dinner, the day full of drama. He knew he wouldn’t sleep that night. He didn’t.

* * *

The diner wasn’t busy. Slightly off the main drag, it normally served a lunch time crowd. They did stay open for Saturday nights, but they’d be closed by 11.

Alex and Travis had just watched Coach come out and talk to the media on what looked like his porch? It was the first new footage they’d seen so far. All night it had been repeats of Matthews and Taylor being hauled out in just their tiny tight shorts and then stuffed into a wagon, crying their eyes out. Coach’s words sat uneasily with the pair, as they drained the last of their sodas and ordered another round.

“Weird day huh!” Said Travis.

“They did it though, the fuckers.” Spat Alex.

“I know they did,” offered Travis cautiously.

“What do you mean, you know?” quizzed Alex, with the same degree of caution. Travis swallowed. “Spit it out.” Travis put his head down and started.

“There were five of us, me, two on team and Matthews and Taylor, from the Reserves.” The boy began.

“Five? Doing what? Why were the reserves involved? They aren’t even on team.”

“They were the ones most likely to get promoted to squad, Coach said so, a dozen times.”

“You planned to fuck up Tim and Stu?” tensed Alex.

“Nah, nothing like that. We never talked about anything like they did, not a fucken word! He sighed; Alex believed him. “I was just going to tag their lockers; the other guys were going to leave notes telling them to quit. In their books, their sports kit, that sort of stuff.

“That’s pretty fucked Travis.” Said Alex, without judgement, just observation.

“Yeah, I know. But you already showed me that. I was a jerk, I admit it. When they’re well, I’ll apologise in person.”

“So, Matthews and Taylor went and did this all on their own?” Asked Alex.

“As far as we know. I spoke to the other team guys today after the shit with the police. I think they were telling the truth; they had no idea either. We all thought the same thing, it must have been the criminals, you know, from the other bashing.” Alex nodded.

“I follow all that. But you spoke to me on the field, before all this arrest shit. What did you want to talk about Travis?’ Asked Alex. “You’re dancing around here, and I’m getting dizzy.”

“When we talked about the locker stuff and you kept speaking about looking out for team mates.” He started. “It got me thinking.”

“Good, so what?” Alex prompted spinning his hand to indicate go faster.

“This is hard for me,” defended the boy. “cut me some slack will ya.”

“Ok, sorry, so it got you thinking. About what? Starting a cleaning business?” Alex smiled, Travis didn’t.

“About why I hated them so much, I never had any problems with Stu and Tim before. Then they were outed, and I hated them.”

“Hate is a strong word.” Counseled Alex.

“I fucken hated them!” snapped Travis, to loudly. It surprised both of them, and the woman in the next booth, who got up and moved two booths down.       

“Sorry, just saying that’s all.” Travis offered more quietly.

“Ok,” Alex replied with ultra-caution. “Why did you hate them so bad?” Travis paused for the longest time. Then spoke, keeping his head down.

“Because, I hate that part of me too.” He slowly looked up, his eyes moist with tears. Alex stood, slowly; Travis was instantly terrified he was just going to leave. Instead, the boy pushed him across the bench seat and squeezed into his side. He put his arm around him. The boy cried like a baby, he cried with hurt so deep, it poured out of him in huge sobs.

Twenty minutes and a dozen napkins later, the confessor had managed to pull himself together, a little.

“Thanks for staying, and for you know, keeping quiet.” He paused. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Let’s walk home slowly, if you want you can talk some more, cry some more, or, say nothing. But, I won’t go until you say you’re ok.” Travis just nodded, they left as the proprietor watched on. Strange, why did all the gay guys come here to come out? It wasn’t a big deal; it was just such a regular thing.

* * *

When Tim and Stu heard who had beat them, they were outraged, and sad at the same time. These were team mates who did this, maybe not on squad, but still team!

Their recovery was beginning to accelerate. The doctors spoke of Tim going home Tuesday and Stu, possibly Wednesday. Tim had stopped arguing about needing to be at the hospital.

Stu couldn’t remember anything after attending training. He’d lost a full hour. The lack of memory was only one part of this whole event. He found himself having odd panic flutters where he would tie himself in knots. He didn’t even know what he was panicking about?

He touched the back of his skull where the doctors had clipped his hair away. He fingered the line where the stitches still sat high, it was tender and oddly satisfying to touch. He realised he was horny; he hadn’t blown for more than a week. No wonder he was getting hard so often, it was obvious! Now the problem was, the more he concentrated on it, the hornier he made himself.

The flimsy, almost see-through gown he was wearing was embarrassing, he was sure that if anyone looked, they could tell he was hard. Maybe if he could get under the blankets? Too many wires and tubes hanging off him! He laid back and tried to think of something else, anything.

He found himself thinking about the game this weekend. He was going to miss out on getting a championship ring. Tim as well.

He saw Coach on TV the other night. There were reporters everywhere, Stu was sure he was speaking from his porch?

His words had seemed hollow, a man letting boys take all the blame. Rage flared in Stu before he found himself instantly tired. His batteries seemed so easily exhausted, he needed to sleep, he closed his eyes and was out to it.

* * *

When Alex and Travis ventured outdoors and began the walk towards home, they found the streets lightly populated with foot traffic. A warm evening had given a few people inspiration to be outside.

“So, you’re gay?” Alex questioned, diving in the deep end. Travis stared at him, as if unable to answer.

“Yes, but I don’t want to be.” He paused, “I just want to be normal.”

“What’s normal?” quizzed Alex, almost rhetorically. “You ever been with a guy?”

“No,” answered Travis, surprised and somewhat refreshed by the bluntness of the question.

“A girl?” Travis shook his head. He had zero sexual experience.

“I’m a virgin too.” Informed Alex, sharing like for like. “So, you’ve secretly thought about being with a guy?” Trav nodded, shocked at how easy it was to talk of his inner most thoughts.

“You want to get with me?” Alex asked. “If you were interested, we could learn stuff together.”

Travis stopped in his tracks. He didn’t trust he had heard what he thought he had. Alex turned and looked back. He locked eyes and held firm.

“You?” Was all that Travis could say. Alex paused, let it sink in then nodded. “But, but you’re the biggest guy on the team.”

“I don’t think size has anything to do with it. I’m gay, Stu and Tim’s stuff just helped me face it. Turns out, it’s not a big deal for me.” He paused.

“And, you would want to get with me?” Asked Travis, almost amazed.

“Trav, I don’t know what you see in the mirror, but you’re fucken hot!” declared Alex, meaning it. “You’re just the right size all over, nice chest, nice bum, nice dick. You’re just hot to look at, from every angle.”

Travis burst out crying all over again. He held his head down as Alex walked back and put his hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong? you're allowed to be hot!”

“I don’t know, I don’t see me like that?”

“Well, that’s how you are, at least to me.” Alex confirmed, “but if you don’t want to play, that’s ok to.” Travis was horrified.

“No! no, I want to get with you!” He said quickly. “I just don’t know why I keep crying.”

“Good, let’s go back to my house and we can have sex all night.” Alex suggested. “Maybe not sex sex, but there’s other stuff we can do. I think I just want to kiss you, a lot.” Travis cried more.       

* * *

The school Principal stood before the interested press, there were more than he had expected. He planned to deliver a short statement, and then to field questions. He was uncomfortable but felt he owed at least that much to the boys who had been attacked by fellow students. Apparently at least one of them was going to plead guilty. His parents shamed by his behaviour.

He’d spent the morning with Coach. The man was simply a disagreeable human, as he argued there was no point in speaking to the press. Nothing happened, we need to focus on winning the Championship.

The Principal had again been assured nothing untoward had taken place. What else could he do? How these boys had concocted such a disastrous plan was beyond any of them.

As soon as the school Head stopped talking, the questions flew.

“So, you’re saying there was no incitement?”

“There was no incitement, I’ve been utterly assured.”

The questions flew back and forth for twenty minutes. When close was called, neither party seemed satisfied.

* * *

Henry Carson had not slept much for two nights. It showed in his features. His alarmed parents automatically assumed he was doing drugs. As a default, they always assumed that!

When he saw Coach and the Principal on TV that night, he retreated to his room and worried himself to another restless slumber.

When he woke on Wednesday, he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He trudged to school knowing he was at last going to do the right thing. He hadn’t done right by Stu at the start of all this drama. Maybe he could fix some of that now.

When he walked into the school’s administration block the receptionist chastised him.

“Henry Carson, its barely the first period and you’ve got detention already!”

“Umm no, I need to speak to the Principal.”

“Oh, that’s different. Let me check if he has five minutes.”

“Henry,” said the Head as he emerged from the office door beside reception. “Detention already? It’s hardly the first period.”

“Umm, it’s not detention.” Said the boy, flushed. For the first time the headmaster looked at the youth and realised he didn’t look well.

“Are you alright, you look, disheveled. Are you involved with drugs?”

“No. I need to show you something.” Said the unsure boy, quietly.

“I see, Mavis, can you hold my calls for five minutes. Come in Henry.” The boy entered, pulled his brand-new Samsung phone from his pocket, and sat down heavily. He found he was having difficulty talking,

“What’s wrong?” Asked the Headmaster.

“This is the last year I get to play for the Championship. Dad says I have to go into the family business next year.” Started the boy.

“Well, it has been a long time since the school has been in this position, everyone is excited. Unfortunately, some of your team mates took that too far. When this...”

“I think Coach is lying.” The boy interrupted. “I think he wanted Stuart and Tim off the team. Maybe not in the way it happened, but he still wanted them gone.”

“Why do you say that?” asked the Principal cautiously.

“He just watched as they got picked on,” offered the youth, beginning to get wound up. “He didn’t say anything, he just walked out.”

“I’m sure that’s how it look...”

“Then he called everyone together and said this.” The boy opened his video folder, placed the phone on the desk and hit play. 

* * *

As Henry was with the Principal. Coach sat in his cubical at the back of the staff area. He was reviewing the team list, looking for yet another two squad replacements. He was feeling more confident. Now he’d dealt with all this other shit, he could get on and win the game. He was sick of the distractions.

As soon as he had solved his team list problems he decided to go and scout out the opposition, he’d found out they were open field training, as a way of getting a few more drill hours under their belts. They were only forty minutes away and any advantage was worth that sort of trip.

As he turned out of the staff car park his cell rang. He picked up the unit and saw it was the Head calling. What on earth could that dickhead want, he thought. As far as Principals’ went, this guy was a light weight. He was always pandering to minority groups and politically correct Nazis. He’d ignore the call and see him this afternoon.

* * *

Josh was one of only three male nurses who looked after Stu. The guy, who didn’t seem much older than his patient, was rostered on this morning. Stu liked him, he was always friendly and ready to have a laugh. Even so, Stu looked forward to going home tomorrow. Tim had been discharged yesterday and had been texting almost hourly.

“Let’s get you wiped down.” Said Josh, as he drew the curtains and created a fabric cubical.

“When do I get to shower? Stu asked.

“You can have one this afternoon,” answered the nurse. “Doc wants to do a final review of your head stitches later; he doesn’t want them damp.”    

Josh unclipped Stu’s gown down each rib cage seam. He slipped it out from under him and sponge in hand, started to wipe the boy’s face, shoulders and chest. One by one he took each arm and cleaned them from body to finger tips. Stu felt himself getting hard, real hard.

“Umm, sorry,” he said, “I’m getting a hard-on.” He blushed.

“Don’t worry about it man, happens all the time.” Comforted Josh, as he moved down to his stomach.

“Just sort of horny,” continued Stu, “nowhere around here to, you know, take matters into my own hands.”

“Do it now if you want.” Josh offered. “no one will come in with the curtains drawn.” He paused, “Only if you feel comfortable with me here, that is.”

Stu automatically reached down and took his rock-hard dick in his right hand. He stopped when he realised what his was doing. Josh just nodded.

“Keep it going, you’ve started now.” Stu began working his meat up and down. It felt so fucken good, he wasn’t going to last long.

Stu felt his balls start to tingle, oh my god, he thought. I’m actually going to blow in front of this guy. The idea pushed him over the edge. He blew in long ropes, more than he’d cum in, forever! It was fantastic, electric, an utter relief! Oh my god, that was so good!

Wait! Under the guy’s scrubs, was Josh hard too?