Six In The Bush

This is a revamped version of a story published a few days ago called, "The Experience". Somehow it got fouled when I tried to knit four stories, previously published into one and, each time Bjorn and I tried to correct it, just got worse. We agreed to take it down entirely and replace it with this, new, shinier edition that has all the corrections made.

I enjoyed writing this as it visiting not only my personal experiences as a Bush Surgeon but the sense of being isolated with no idea as to what will happen next. Needless to say, in the Bush in South Africa, what these guys do and what I did aren't the same. Not that I wouldn't have liked to be forced to partner off with a strange man.....

Please find in it the peasure in reading that I did in writing. Hard to remember that the basis, my being in the bush, took place almost 55 years ago-I'll be 80 in a few weeks. 

PJ

I first heard about it at a B.A.S.E. Jump in Shanghai, not much, just some guys talking about “The Experience” and what a kick in the balls it was, nothing like it and that was it as it was my turn to jump. Two months later, at the gym, I heard about it again, nothing specific, just that you had to qualify for it, it was damn hard to get to do it and then some names, a couple of which I knew, of guys who'd applied and not been accepted. That really peaked my interest as these were guys you would think would have been automatically accepted into any program, strong, good shape, smart, willing to take on a challenge but they'd washed out. I knew one of them slightly and asked. He got a goofy look and said that, yeah, he expected to make it, did all the interviews, the tests, both physical and written and then...was turned down. No reason, just a letter thanking him for his interest but he didn't meet their qualifications. I could tell he was pissed off that he wasn't accepted 'cuz, like him, I couldn't think why he hadn't been accepted. Not one reason I could think of. If he hadn't made it, then I had no chance but, out of curiosity, I did ask him who you contacted. He looked at me and I could tell he was laughing internally but just reached into his locker, got a piece of paper and wrote a number on it. His only comment was that he'd called several times over a number of weeks before he'd even gotten a response and good luck....

He was right, no answer other than a machine that took the usual, my name, a contact, didn't bother to thank me for calling just said that “someone” would be in touch. Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas passed and nothing, nada, zip, not a word from them. I called a few times and finally just forgot about it. New Years day dawned with an ugly hangover and the phone ringing at whatever godforsaken hour of the day it was. I was less than pleasant when I answered. A voice told me he was “Max” from the Experience and if I was still interested they were holding interviews for prospective team members in town the next day. Honestly, at that moment I couldn't have added two plus two and only vaguely remembered something about a call I'd made before a bottle of Bourbon got in me. He had the sort of voice that you instinctively obey and it told me to write down an address, which I did, and an appointment time, which I did and then hung up. Even less friendly than their answering machine. The rest of the day was spent in troubled sleep and trying various hangover cures none of which worked.

The next day I tooled to the address I'd been given which proved to be a combination strip mall and office building, the sort where dentists, insurance salesmen and accountants have offices. The one I was looking for was the last in line and had on it,
“The Experience” in average size height-you couldn't read it from the parking lot but if you were wandering around you'd find it. I had a feeling that punctuality got you brownie points so precisely one minute before my appointment I walked in the door. It was the usual waiting room minus pictures on the wall and a glass window behind which usually sat a receptionist. Before I could sit down a door opened and a man I assumed was “Max” indicated I should follow him. No problem. Also no handshake, just through another door to a larger room that looked like a combination examining office, gym and the desk at which you got the sales pitch for whatever they were selling. Max indicated I take the only other seat in the room and cut to the chase.

In short, they put together teams of men who are into extreme experiences, anything from mountain climbing to hard hat diving on wrecks, to training with troops. It was a thirty day adventure and no two were ever the same. He reached in his desk and got out a file which he placed on the desk but did not open. On the cover he wrote my name, rank, serial number, etc, in other words all the basic information you're always asked to give. Max's long suit was not conversation. Taking out some of the papers he looked up and said, “Strip”. I noticed a tape measure in his hand. So I stripped. Just not enough. “All the way, lose the skivvies.” Then followed the most thorough measuring session I'd ever been through. Once I'd had a suit custom tailored in Hong Kong and their measuring seemed almost casual compared to Max. And then we got to the Calipers. Some of what he measured bordered on the personal but he didn't seem interested so when he measured my cock and balls I just stood there. And got hard. “Stroke it down.” Max had a collection vial which he held at the end of my cock into which my spunk splattered. It was capped, labeled and put in a drawer.

Next up was a series of endurance tests, running on a tread mill at different speeds and at varying inclines. No weights but the sort of machines that tested your strength by calibrating your resistance as you pushed again an imaginary weight bar. Sit ups, push ups, pull ups, rope climb, all in all, remarkably thorough-I was impressed. Whatever was ahead they had made damn sure you would have a chance at success. After all that he then took another set of measurements, the after exercise kind, checked my lung capacity, agility after a heavy work out-and it had been-then tossed me a towel, opened a door to what was a small bathroom with a toilet and a shower.

“Take your time, get a good hot one. You've earned it”, was his concession to cordiality for the day. Once in the shower, which was larger than the door indicated, I found a supply of good soaps and shampoos, a fog proof mirror, good sized seat to just relax, the best sort of shower head that could be turned to produce anything from a gentle rain in Spring to full blown Monsoon in the Bay of Bengal. Since I'd been encouraged to do so, I enjoyed the shower, used one of the disposable blades to shave, used the single use body scrubber to really clean up, had a pause while I just sat and relaxed then switched to cold, briefly, got out, dried off and returned to Max who hadn't seemed to notice my absence.

“That's it for today. We'll be in touch if you are selected for the next step.” I found my way out.

Couple of days later I found the guy at the gym who'd told me about it and asked if my experience matched his. “Max?” was his only question which also answered mine, we'd had the same treatment. He added that they'd called him back in about a month so don't bother to interrupt my schedule. The second meeting was almost like the first except there were papers to be signed, a lengthier explanation of “The Experience” and an insistence that in his presence I read everything and then discuss it with him. So none of this “don't worry about the small print shit...they wanted you to know what was possible and some of it's pretty hairy. Sounded great.” About that moment a court opened up and he and his partner went in to play. What impressed me was the legitimacy of it. Legal papers, no discussion-yet-as to what the costs involved were although I wondered if that was so steep they wanted you hooked on doing it before their fee was announced. For a good experience I was willing to fork over a fairly hefty sum; I'd paid the Russian Government about thirty thousand dollars to take a ride in a Mig 29 up to 71,000 feet and it had been worth it. You got an almost fraternity like week in advance in the fighter pilot barracks, some intensive Russian lessons, great workout facilities and, because of where it was, hunting in the winter for big game. Easily worth the thirty big ones. As time away from Max moved on I put it out of my mind.

This time it was only slightly more than a month when Max rang to say that the next day I had an appointment if I wished to continue and, if accepted, which I'd know the next day, I'd have two weeks until departure. I told him I'd be there or almost did as, apparently, my appearance was a fore gone conclusion and he'd hung up.

You could have sold me on the idea that Max was a robot as neither he nor his surroundings had changed one iota. The only difference being that this time we started right in about money and what it would cost me. One month, all inclusive, meals, transportation, lodging, whatever we did, two thousand dollars. He probably had seen the reaction of other guys to this very modest price so he explained, taking a form from his desk, that this was not a competition but a study to see how men as a group react in different situations, some serious, some less so. It would be filmed, he handed me the waivers and permissions to use my likeness, and explained that part of the low cost was because we were on our own, our group of five to forage, camp, do whatever was lined up for us to do. I could expect everything from very high altitudes to extensive under water work and, he emphasized, this was work. At the end, we'd be returned and that the Experience would be over. I suppose it's obvious that “The Experience” was the name of the show. Trying to throw him a curve, or unsettle him in any way, I brought up the guy at the gym who'd told me about this, wondered why he wasn't accepted. In a sentence that probably violated every scintilla of rights to privacy when he said that he was a drug user and that was an automatic out. Otherwise, he would have been accepted. Okay, got that. The things we don't know about people....

We plodded on through the paper work, signing occasionally, asking for clarifications which he carefully and completely explained. After all was said and done, I laughed and said, “Seemed more like the company owned me....”. He almost smiled and said, “yeah, I feel like that sometimes. I'll be with you on this one. Do you want in?”

Of course I did. He stood up, shook my hand, just like a human and then had me sit down for a few details.

I was told that we'd muster at a hangar at a local airport, not to bother to bring anything, all our clothing, foot gear, everything would be provided. He handed me a sheet of information, what to do about my housing, if I had pets, noted that my car would be kept at the hangar until I returned. Very thorough very well thought out. As this was to be televised I was asked not to talk about my participation in advance, not to mention it. And one final sheet, the usual hold harmless should I fall off a mountain, get eaten by bear, that sort of thing, the company wasn't responsible. I acknowledged the very real risks with my signature.

There wasn't any more to do. Max verified the time at the hangar, shook my hand again and said he'd see me there. I knew my way out.

I was excited but..about what? For all the papers I'd signed, nothing specified anything other than to allude to the fact that there was considerable danger-of some sort-involved and the company wasn't responsible. I'd never asked where all this might take place as it seemed as it wouldn't be a question answered. Having been told each one was different, maybe they didn't know. Fuck, for all I knew I may have just signed up to be a mercenary fighting in some war. You could read a lot into nothing and be absolutely wrong. Apart from getting things settled about being gone for a month, life continued as usual. And then it was Saturday, time to go have an experience.

The airport was easy to find as was the hangar. Max was out front and directed me to a car park within a locked fence then escorted me back to the hangar. Inside there was a small room where I removed my clothes and pulled on a jump suit, sneakers and that was it. Max said it was just transfer clothing and I'd get my full set when we reached the site. Then it was time to board the plane, a big, twin engine turbo prop. Up the short stairs at the rear and through a curtain where...I was grabbed, cuffed, my mouth covered with duct tape and I was wrestled into a seat where I was manacled to the legs, my arms cuffed to the arms, a three point seat belt pulled over my lap and chest and a blind fold put over my eyes. In the brief moment before the lights went out, I'd seen two other guys in seats ahead of me. Once I was fully secured, the tape was removed and a gag, shaped like a cock, was shoved into my mouth and it was taped in. My head was put in a helmet which was attached to the seat, in short, I wasn't going anyplace. My first thoughts were that, fuck, this was really an experience and they'd thought a great way to start it. Made to feel like captives on the way to...wherever.

It was hard to tell what was going on but I sensed that at least two other men were boarded and, probably locked down. Then it was take off for wherever. When you're sensory deprived it's really hard to gauge how much time is passing. Also, in a plane, any sense of direction when you cannot look out is gone. I was aware when we took off and, as the place was pressurized, that we were gaining altitude but beyond that...we just flew. And for a long time. For whatever reason we made one stop but what happened or why...no way of knowing.

But all boring things come to an end as we landed and I was aware that the door was opened, there was movement behind me and, eventually, we repeated the boarding process but in reverse. Night? Day? No way of telling. Each of us was led off the plane and across the tarmac then loaded into what I would guess was a military style truck, the sort where you sat on the sides. Again, we were lashed down, our heads hooked to some sort of ring on the side of the interior. Or I guess it was an interior, there was the sound of a door slamming and we started to move. I don't know which was longer, the flight or the drive in the truck. The truck at least had some stimulus in that, eventually, we were crossing on roads that were only slightly improved and, had we not been really latched down, we'd have been thrown all over the interior. Also, I had the feeling wherever we were was significantly colder as the wall against which I was leaning was cold on my thin jumpsuit. Alaska? Seemed like we'd flown far enough and as to driving, distances there are extensive.

All bad things come to an end as did our ride. Just as we'd been removed from the plane, again we were taken out one at a time and walked across quite a distance. Through a door and then into what must surely be a cell or something like it. For the first time the blindfolds were taken out, the gags removed and the cuffs were exchanged for a series of chains that connected our wrists, ankles, waist and, something new, a metal collar around my neck. Once all that was done, my jump suit was ripped off me. One last chain, it was like a cock ring but was padlocked, the chain going through the arch of the lock. This was pulled up and tightened to the waist chain. Max stuck his head in.

“ Ready for your Experience?” Shortly thereafter a bowl of something that resembled oatmeal and a bottle of water brought in. There was a trough in the back where we could piss or shit, a plank went from one side to the other and that was our room. Perhaps an hour later without warning, the lights went out and thus began the first night. Twenty Nine to go. So far it had been an experience although I wondered where this was leading. Too tired to think I fell asleep and stayed that way until the lights came on and the door was opened to admit a man in a medical smock who was carrying a box with a handle. He was accompanied by two guys who got me up, secured me to the wall and splayed my legs and arms away from my body.

“Okay, time to get jeweled.” He took out a long, thick needle which he pushed through the flesh in front of my cartilage in my nose. Hurt like shit. Next was a big ring, in two halves, that he worked through the hole, clipped shut and took some solder in a tube and sealed the edges. Next was a ring about an inch wide that went through my cock, plus two more in my tits. He took a plastic tag and a stapler of some sort and clipped to my ear. It all hurt. A lot.

Turning to his “assistants” he said, “okay, this one's ready, put him on the wall. Uh...use about position 6, the first one is going to be the demo so bring him out last.” I think it was then that I realized whatever the experience was, it wasn't what I'd even come near what I thought it might be.

Hours later there were five of us attached to the wall, gagged and as professionally bound, upright, as it's possible to be. If the number 6 had any relevance, that was the “demo” and was yet to arrive. The room itself was a large square with a drain that ran around the perimeter of the room plus one to the center of the room. Where it stopped, I you looked up there was a selection of chains ending in hooks or clamps or anything that could be used to lift something. I felt it was a body but wasn't sure.

Number Six arrived and was taken to the center of the room where one of the chains was pulled down. Both his wrists and ankles were attached so, if it was wanted, he could be hauled up as basically a hammock but for now he was just stretched out by his wrists only to the point the could barely keep his feet on the floor but couldn't get traction. Gagged, he looked wildly about and could see...nothing that identified anything. Five other guys in a similar locked down situation but on a wall, not the center of attention.

Max had a change of wardrobe and was now wearing a pair of very professional looking khaki fatigues with the right sort of cargo pockets, some of which were clearly filled. His T shirt looked sprayed on, even his moles showed and, under one arm, a serious looking gun in a holster while around his waist was a whip; I would have bet I was going to see it used on the “demo”.

“Gentlemen, welcome to the first of your experiences, a lesson in torture leading to another experience, a most interesting one but not one for all of you. Three of you will be staying here with us at the facility while two others, the ones we've had pierced, are going elsewhere for another kind of experience. Rest assured gentleman, when the two of you get to your next destination, you'll find those piercings are important. Nothing we do here is without meaning however pointless you may think it is. A lot will be repetitive, some of it may be distasteful, but that's part of an experience, having something happen you don't expect. My responsibility is get you ready for what happens and to that end we have this specimen hauled out to give you an overview of some of the things that you can expect. Not all....but some.” Two more men came in pushing a table about five feet square as well as a bag with things that went a muffled “clank”. They looked a lot like Max save that they were naked and clearly spent a lot of time in a gym pushing iron; Their efforts had paid dividends.

“First thing, guys, get a three foot spreader and attach it to his ankles.” While they complied Max put the bag on the table and fumbled in it without revealing just what was in it. Somehow I didn't feel that knowing was going to improve my day and, increasingly the new holes put in me as well as their occupants, hurt like shit. This wasn't a “look” I'd ever even contemplated, popular as this was with some of my friends, I'd never even thought about piercing my ears much less my dick and the other places. But they were pierced now and I imagined the “look” wasn't one I was going to like. The good thing was they could be removed...eventually.

Max, our fearful leader, stood by the table in the center of the room as Number Six was brought in for some sort of demonstration. Of the five of us held against the wall with heavy metals cuffs, none of us believed this was going to be a show and tell on how to make Lemon Fluff for dessert; It wasn’t.

Number Six had his wrists cuffed together, a generous spreader bar separating his ankles further than an Orthopaedic surgeon would suggest, then, from the C ring on his cuffs, a chain came down to which he was attached then only so slightly raised, enough so that # 6 could barely stand on his toes but with considerable play.

“This, gentleman, is what happens when you wash out of an Experience before it even starts. Look at him, great shape, eyes still following me with every word, still has curiosity, doesn’t get it that we got it.” He jumped up on the table and, to the degree it was possible, pried open the mouth of 6-hard not to notice he had no teeth whether that was courtesy Max & Co….but we found out. From the bag that had been tossed on the table a set of dentures was pulled then stuck in the now filled mouth of 6.

“Looks good, even to the imperfections that would convince some these were real, after all what sort of idiot would have teeth made that wasn’t ready for the TV camera, right?” In a move I must say I admired, he slapped 6’s mouth with one hand and caught the flying fangs with another, real talent. “Now, smile, he can push a very small flange just at the gum line which says, ‘the next time I open my jaw, take a picture and it does, in fact, it will take a picture every 1 and a half seconds until his mouth is closed with effective will yield a very jerky film. But one good enough to show what, who, where….you get the picture. Remember when I spoke to each of you, discussed the security, the necessity for privacy? He had the same lecture but, as with each of you, I did not mention that a violation of our desire of privacy carried a price. Remember that thorough examination? In that room was a very simple device, much like the ones in markets that turn on lights when you go down an aisle, that read that he had something somewhere and it was almost laughably easy to find.” Without looking he gave him an elbow in his gut that, had he not been strung up, would have caused him to fall and roll around in some pain.

“This, gentleman, is a spy, one sent to find out about you, about us and before you could even get home and collect your accumulated mail, would have you on the air, in print, watched, seen, discussed….by this piece of shit. He likes men, or at least men that he can spy on. Your cocks and balls would have been featured, along with you, on about every gay porn sites not to mention straight porn sites that were of interest to the general public who liked to look at well built, and, need I say this, well hung guys doing something they would never do but fantasize about….that’s what he was put here to do. That’s why until this moment, he’s been with me, taking a dossier of me but getting, spot nothing. Oh, sure, I stripped when I changed clothes, he has some footage of me in the shower stroking it down but….I should say he had it. So easy to block his transmissions, so fucking easy, we wondered what his handlers must have thought when he went off the air….probably never know.”

Max was getting more human, if not more likable, by the instant. None of what he said explained why the five of us were attached to a wall, a plastic ear tag, so like those put in pigs before they’re slaughtered, and with new, large holes in us…..but he had one point that I would not argue, I had no interest in being the centerfold any place in the media undressed or dressed without my knowing about it. Even if I’d done something voluntarily, I’d at least want the chance to give my family a ‘heads up’ before I appeared however I was going to appear.

Then leave town and possibly the planet if I had enough time for their shock to allow that before, collectively, they beat the shit out of me; Some families have no sense of humor.

Mean time, on the platform, #6 was more or less hanging, if one didn’t include the tips of his toes. With no great effort, he pried open the mouth of his fellow table stander to reveal…no teeth. Reaching to the floor, he collected the set of dentures where he’d dropped them which he slid them back into 6 then turned to us.

“Here, just behind the ledge by the gum line is a touch point which, when touched by the minuscule metal bit in his tongue, turns on the studio, sets the teeth to record and broad cast and it will continue doing that until the ledge is touched again or it gets too dark. Why it can’t do infra red…In essence, this set up is like the lights in a frozen food section in a market, as you walk down it, the lights turn on then off as you’ve passed apparently not wanting a turkey pot pie.”

“We found this the first time he was given a physical as the room he was in, that you all were in, was set to detect just this sort of electronic gadget, it’s why you were stripped and given an almost too personal search…but this one…this one was almost too clever. Almost. If he’d been smart and left it off that first time, or even the second time I’m not sure….one thing…that he wore dentures was not just a red flag, it was the whole Chinese Red Army but just to see what the game was, we let it slide all the way to here. We first triangulated to find where he was sending it and then, just as he was getting on the plane, remember how your heads were wrapped? That shut down his ability to broadcast, you gotta wonder, somewhere if guys weren’t going…”what the fuck?” it had all worked so neatly. So what your Mom told you about good dental practice was exactly right, be true to your teeth or they will be false to you.”

He paused, made sure he had our attention-he had-then said, “You are now inside the Experience, you will know everything I know, that the men who set this up will know, no con, no playing you stupid, from here on, well, after some unfinished business with out latter day Dan Rather, and it all begins.”

Some how I was very happy to be stuck to the wall, pierced and all, whatever was going to happen to 6 wasn’t going to be pleasant although that he was going to have an experience…..all I could hope was that he got a refund on his two grand but I doubted that.

Max had been unwinding the whip that was neatly wrapped at his waist; It was a very long whip, the sort that got its name, ‘cracker’ because the speed at the tip exceeded the speed of sound at some point and made a very distinctive ‘crack’; Only an F-22 it would have produced a sonic boom that would have knocked all of us, even attached to the wall, flat.

The table was removed leaving Six suspended but only for a moment. As Max took some preparatory snaps, getting the feel and, when Six touched down, curled the well braided leather around his body, the cracker hanging just below his nuts. It was awesome and awful to watch the whip unwind itself, maybe like an Anaconda who either feels he’s not that hungry or knows it’s going to be there when it’s time for a feed. The whip lay on the ground, quivering from just the slight movement of Max’s wrist.
“Turn him.”

We now had the back view and what would happen was as obvious as breathing.

The first stroke took the end from one shoulder to his left butt cheek leaving a gaping mark. Maybe he screamed, probably did but more in fear of what would come next.

The second stroke was just a hair below the first, just enough so that the two lines couldn’t mix.

The third…almost a disappointment to the audience. I couldn’t help it, I got hard watching as did the other guys. The third started at the right hip then crossed the left thigh before curling around his ankle. Max gave it a sharp tug which, because he was hanging, couldn’t make him fall but did open a gush of blood on his foot.

“Gentleman, notice where and what I’ve done. Three stripes are the sign of a man accepted into a very superior group, something I aspire to and maybe, after The experience, you will as well. What I’ve done is marked him as a traitor, a weakling, something all men who know of these things will recognize. Just two more experiences for him and then we’ll put him out with the trash. We are not inhumane, his handlers will be told precisely where and when to find him and in what condition. Last two.”

The doctor, or maybe it wasn’t, who knew, came back joining Max by 6 who, we could see, was on the verge of shock partially from blood loss and partially from fear.

“In past times, persons who spoke what they oughtn’t had a specific punishment. For out purposes, we’ve modified it but, I think, you’ll agree it’s appropriate.”

He and the doctor opened 6’s jaw, pulled out the tongue and with one swipe of a scalpel, split it in half. “The forked tongue of those who told too much. One last thing.”

The doctor grabbed hold of this scrotum, pulled it down, and, with the same scalpel, opened one side. Even with a split tongue you could see his over arching desire to scream, to protest noooo.. From the incision, he reached in, found the testicle, pulled it out, let it hang by the spermatic cord then cut it off. Placed in the mouth with the split tongue, it was taped shut, 6 was taken down and away, the Doctor following just, I assumed to make sure that nothing medically wrong happened. Kind of them to leave him one ball….at least he wouldn’t be sterile.

Max looked at the remaining five of us. “Remember I told each of you I would be on this Experience? It’s time to convert me to being just like you.”

The two men came back, attached him to the wall, one took a bag and, as we had been done, his nose, tits and cock were pierced as well as a plastic tag was put in his ear. Struggling to speak, “Alright, men, we’re on time locks so in a little while, we’ll be loose and this Experience will begin. Sorry if I seemed a shit back there but now we’re six guys whose lives and a great deal more will depend on each other.” It had been a big day for the dude, anyone understood that, so attached to the wall, he passed out, nothing we could do, just hope his wrists didn’t break. But, as we slightly knew Max, that didn’t seem likely.

In a surprisingly brief period, there was a click and we all were free. First thing, of course, was to get to Max, try and make sure he was okay…4 had been an EMT so he did as careful an examination as possible, said only exhaustion….if we could get some heat over him, that’d help. Only thing was the bag on the table but we scavenged that, ripped it up and, as best we could, covered him. 5 and 6 started looking about for water, something edible while 4 and I hung around Max, nothing we could do but if he came to, maybe would help to see some friendly (?) faces. Also, we all figured that as he’d said, whatever he’d known, we would now know…whatever that might be.

5 and 6 came back with the news that…no idea where we were, seemed to be in foothills but they couldn’t see any mountains. Only track was one that led to this building and, going around it, no other entrance, no doors, no windows, just the interior and, as it was getting dark, finding something for warmth-now that 5 and 6 had found a stream-food and shelter were priorities. Among ourselves we wondered if being alone and isolated was the Experience but all of us voted against that, it was too Scouts, too guys going off to create an adventure then coming back after the weekend was over and telling what a fucking good time it was. Besides, if that was the purpose, there’d be food or some suggestion of shelter….wouldn’t there.

Four men stood there having been told they were to divide into pairs, become more than buddies, learn to sleep and have sex with one another and this while their nose, nipples and cocks still hurt from where large rings had been put in. Oh, and the plastic tag in the ear, much like hogs going to the slaughter house. No one, with the exception of Max and I, was happy but two things over rode any immediate, on the record complaining; Cold and hunger.

True to his word, Max led the gunching group to about where members 5 and 6 had found a stream and, they thought, a good place to camp. They were righter than they thought; Ingeniously concealed in trees and bushes were all the things needed for a basic camp, food, water purifier, sleeping bags-someone noticed that they were for two, not one, matches to start a fire, ample sized tents under which the two man bags could go. If you chose to see it as such, we had what we needed including each other-a fact that was grating on four sets of teeth, just not Max’s and mine. He’d told me that, even doing the interview process he’d wanted me and now….we were partnered up for whatever the experience was. Certainly one part, for which I’d not paid, was…Max.

However much he wanted to be just one of the guys, it was impossible not to defer to him; He knew where things were and, most suspicioned, considerably more that would be fed to us on a need to know basis. He’d already decreed a round pound once we were fed, the fire warming us and things settling down. As casually as he would become, he pointed out that a round pound was an American tradition but in our application was intended to break down personal and sexual barriers. He pointed out that as the night grew colder, that other body in the sleeping bag had some real virtue such as body heat. In our bag the only problem would have been making sure the sweat created by getting to know you fucking didn’t cause a chill when we lay side by side and it evaporated.

Whatever was in the cans, thoughtfully labeled “Food”, was actually pretty good. Clearly high in calories that men would burn off but easily edible. The water purifier was another thoughtful addition; Probably could drink from the stream but, as one of the guys, 3, I believe, pointed out, what looked okay was easily polluted with animal waste, even fish shit in the water. Given that information, the purified water was the preferred taste. 3 also said that in looking over the hydraulics of the stream, there was probably a widening not too far down, maybe a beaver dam but even though it would be cold, make a good place to plunge in to cool off and, as you got closer to the edge, the water, not so deep, absorbed more sun and was warmer. No idea what he’d done before joining up but it was quickly becoming apparent why he was with us; His skill sets were obvious and would be useful.

Some one asked about clothes….Max agreed, clothes would be nice but for now and maybe some little while, we were a clothing optional group-the option being we didn’t wear any. I thought I heard a bit of grumbling but….let it pass. I felt so attached to Max, though I tried not to show it, that all these petty considerations such as clothing were of little importance. I’d already figured out, maybe back during the interviews when he’d told me he was to be on it, that he had the capacity to organize both men and equipment.

The cans labeled food were emptied-no niceties such as plates, but each guy was issued a combination fork, spoon and knife called, I believe, a Sporive or maybe a Spork…didn’t matter. There was also the suggestion, you could read this as a warning, that losing it would reduce you to feeding yourself with your hands and, in some places, there wouldn’t be a ready access to water, however polluted, to wash up. Given that this was no ordinary camping trip with guys who were old buddies, the first night, particularly with Max announcing the activity for later, participants were beginning to feel they’d had enough experience, probably enough to last for the remainder of their lives. Max was the stumbling block should anyone decide to leave….where were we? How close to anything? No clothes, staying was at least safer than some dumb attempt at a break out. Privately I thought if something idiotic like that was attempted, Max had a way to track down the departed and what might happen then….?

Someone, 4, had the knack for fire building, not only bright ,not just up but out, guys surrounding it, as we were told to be, were actually warmed and, behind them, the tents with their sleeping bags. Max took me with him and I helped dig three holes, at some distance from the camp site; Our latrines with, as he pointed out, nice, pulpy vine leaves at hand to serve as toilet paper. Again….who spotted the vines, knew their ‘other’ purpose beyond turning carbon dioxide into oxygen. That Max had never been here previously seemed to me, and probably most of the others, impossible to believe.

Back at camp, Max wasted no time in arranging the two un happy couples plus the two of us. For our first time, and given the size of the fire, he arranged everyone so you knew they were there but what they were doing….was their business. In his brief welcome to gay sex speech, he suggested that each partner jerk off the guy he was with, take some time, do some feeling around, concentrate on getting your guy hard then….it was stroke time.

Max and I reversed the process in one sense; We knew we could get hard-we already were-so being jerked off was just a matter of a few ups and downs with the hands and, bingo!, nice fresh sperm. We’d eat ours, learning to do that was a tasty delight the others would have to learn.

One thing, when you’d finished, Max would check for outward and visible signs of production proving all men had cum after which, the sleeping bag and the tent was all theirs and bon soir adding only that in the privacy of your bag and tent, given some time for recovery, you did it again. As a final suggestion, he offered anyone who wanted to know a quick course in edging….

I wasn’t wearing a watch, no one was, but Max and I had gone from the first time to the second time with, after a nap in each other’s arms, a third round. He got back to me stifling laughter. The last pair, 3 and 4 had a helluva time just getting it up but when the hand of their partner was introduced, what had worked so hard to get up got down. As we fluffed our bag, thinking to take a nap on top before we got too cold and crawled in we quietly laughed at the problems 3 and 4 had. One ominous note should you choose to hear it that way, they’d best learn, and fast, to do it as well as like it.

If you wanted to, and we did, it was possible to see what a great place it was which, under other circumstances, he and I could have come up here, built a simple cabin, been…very happy. We were now but that only would last until tomorrow and God only knows what he planned for us then. Even I didn’t know.

There was no reason not to have slept well, the sleeping bags had an inflatable air mattress which, in a place for it in the bag, made a very comfortable, warm sleeping arrangement. Max moved ours behind the tent so we were sleeping under the sky…while he made a kind of gentle love to me that was so arousing he had to quickly duck into the bag to siphon off my production. He was hard bodied-so was I-but we fit together nicely. Not quite coiled up but with hands and arms over each other, we were one sleeping machine. I think it was during that night I realized….what Max had suggested; From the first interview when he suggested he wanted me on this experience, I also wanted him. Nothing but that could have made me throw myself into the physical tests, without realizing it, I was auditioning for him, hoping he’d take me…

He was first up and made pot of coffee that would be strong by any standards. I also noticed that he slipped a couple of tabs into it which, I guessed, was an additional boost of caffeine or some form of chemical stimulant. It was the first time all of us had gathered by the fire which 3 had got going so in the chill morning air, we all kept close to it and each other. It was companionable sitting there, drinking coffee…maybe wondering what Max had in mind…we soon found out; Exercise.

Mens Sana in Copore Sana but the point wasn’t about our mens but a lot about our copore which he intended to keep in the same great shape as it arrived. Clearly no one had slipped in and left, under cover of darkness, a weight room, exercise machines plus a running track but…Max knew and showed how to do things using tree limbs, which we all stripped then, according to him, fixed so were there was not sap, were pull up bars, things were found to lift-one suspicious camper suggested that it was odd, almost planned, that so much fell into place in a seemingly virgin area. Bad choice of words as it opened a topic that the other four were loathe to hear: Their virginity and the lose of same. A show of hands was asked to see who still had their cherry and who did not. Out of embarrassment I turned my back to the group as my hand was not raised; Shame I did as Max announced that was three down and three to get fucked. I wondered who number three of the cherry-less might be? It was easy to figure 4 and 4-based on their jacking off problems were two virgins on the road to getting popped but that still left two.

If you’d watched the sun, through the mounting sweat in your eyes, you knew we’d been ‘working out’ or ‘exercising’ (take your pick, they both made you feel the same: Tired) for several hours. Lunch, or should I say ‘can’ , then sleep, not nap. We were also mandated to sleep out in the sun; Most of us arrived with healthy tans due to outdoor activities we did in our private lives. It’s a quirk of mine but…nothing looks healthier on a guy then well tanned toes; Added to a shaved, tanned head and you had my attention. Most of the guys sported minimal haircuts, crews, butch, flat tops that easily allowed sun in to get that walnut hue. (Max said nothing about depth or hue of tan but I couldn’t help thinking that the deeper the tan the better it might be for you at some point in an unknowable future.

We were allowed to sleep until we woke up, some found their way to the can, some jumped in the stream some just lolled around in the sun. More coffee and those additives…about which I might have been more concerned had Max and I not both consumed them as well. IF they were what I thought, I was almost immediately grateful when it was announced that the balance of the afternoon would be given over to a trail run; Everyone guessed Max knew the trail. Oh, and we’d know when it would be over as the sun would be setting. That said, he got everyone up, started out, set a pace that seemed almost foolishly easily to maintain and off we went.

As with many things that seem easy up front, out back are exhausting. Beyond lactic build up in our calves, periodically we’d all stop for a ‘rest period’ which consisted of calisthenics. He was particularly fond of doing push ups, Marine style on the finger tips and jumping in the air. To be fair, he did grant one genuine rest stop in that you got to lay on the ground, adjust your breathing and, as a solo, jack off. Not seeing one another-laying on the ground helped-made this easier than the night before as all men jerk off so this was just another Woodie to be worked up and shucked down. Being semi-exhausted didn’t help but all got it done; Had there been some slackers, Max said that at camp fire there’d be a special moment just for them; One they would not like and that came with his guarantee. Six plumes of silver white blew in the air in remarkably short time.

Base Camp or Home, take your pick, was littered with bodies laying on the ground in the twilight of the day and, some might have thought, of their lives. 3, I liked him more and more, staggered around, found more dry kindling plus dry wood and got the fire going. Max got up, helped him, put a filial arm around him and whispered something…something I didn’t hear but wondered if I should. So I asked. The answer, they always are to the suspicious mind, simple, was that he was appreciative of 3 and what he did, how he did it and he told him to assume duties as he saw fit that he or I were not doing. I also learned he was the third man to be without his cherry.

Max-like him or not-you had to admit he did take excellent care of his troop of Experiencers even if some of them weren’t pleased with what some of the experience had included. Next up on the DIY sexual list was having your virginity removed….if you still had it. Since there was a three and three split, I wondered if those who had would ‘do’ those who had not. Nope, to be fair, Max would take each man away from camp for a bit, fuck them, have them fuck him and then return. As much as I wanted to be part of that exercise-privately I hoped Max needed someone to keep him up-volunteers were not asked for.

For the first time 5 and 6 stayed very close together; I wondered if they might plan a bit of mutiny? They had been the least cooperative both as a pair and singly so thinking they might make an attack on Max-only a fool would have tried to get away without him…alone or in a pair to where would they go? Quietly I found 3, name of Sean, sitting by the stream and carefully enlisted his help, if he would, should there be problems.

He was nice looking kid, the only one whom I could describe as looking like a kid; the rest of us, while hardly antique, were in our late twenties, early thirties but Sean? Maybe 20, a bit more, I reckoned he’d have to be over 21 to be accepted to have an experience. Quiet, staring at the water, clearly he needed to unburden himself and, God help me, I’m the person to whom people always say, “I feel I can talk to you.” And they do. On and on and on….some don’t even notice that I’ve gone to sleep or walked away, but, since I looked so conversationally inclined, that’s what they do. Sean didn’t use the preface but quietly explained that he’d come along when his former partner had signed him up. Sean had thought this was something they’d do together, turns out, partner wanted him gone for a period of time so he could move out of Sean’s place and in with a hair burner called ‘Vernell’. I would have bet money that Max knew this and would have done whatever necessary to include Sean; Fortunately, he came with all the right stuff and was an easy pick, hell, I would’ve picked him just to take home, put him in bed, given him a stuffed bear and tucked him in. Then tossed out the bear and fucked Sean until his beautifully eyelashed grey eyes cried for joy. As I was having these thoughts, he leaned over, put his arms around me which opened the water works. It was so instinctive to return the arm holding, well, that’s what I did. This was a moment when ‘clothing optional’ was an inconvenience; We were both getting hard, pre cum was evident and, well, I’m not sure I can say who fucked whom first or last but that’s what happened. In the moonlight. By the glittering stream. And left me with a galloping case of feeling sooooo disloyal. Even as I bent down to blow him, I had tremors as to how Max would react when I told him and I would tell him; In addition to being the person to whom others talk, I have an honest streak that hasn’t always worked in my favor. You may have heard the expression, ‘too much honesty can be bad for you’? Believe it. (Examples on request.)

Could it get worse, at least from my aspect? Well, yes it could and it did. After some rather strenuous, uhm, sexual exercise, Sean and I lay by each other sound asleep. At least that’s what we were doing when a rather concerned Max found us. On the immediate, there was no explanation I could offer as what had happened was obvious; In the bright moon light, the traces and lines of ejaculate were frozen on our legs, faces…Along with all my other questionable traits of being a good listener and honest, there’s one more; I can and do look guilty as whatever sin I’ve committed when I’ve committed it. My parents used to say that…they never worried about my lying about this or that as, while I could lie, I could not look innocent; Max was just discovering that.

He put a finger over his mouth, pulled me up, walked us a hundred yards away from the softly, lovely Sean…..kissed me and put his arms around me.

“Max, I…”

“Scotty, you did what I would have had to have done, Sean showed up with a problem and you just solved it. Buddy, for all that I care for you, we’re not a mated couple, you don’t owe me some sort of moral fidelity, it’s nice that you feel you do but not necessary.”

“You’ve never called me by my name before….why does that surprise me?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know, known it ever since the first day you applied…I suppose I try and keep a certain space, not distance, between myself and those going out….remember, this is the first time I’ve ever been part of the Experience, in one sense, I’m learning as I go along.”

“Be that as it may, you know a lot more than any of us and, as time goes one, it’s pretty obvious that if you wanted to, you could say what was up, what was ahead…”

“I couldn’t and wouldn’t. Listen, any experience is that because you don’t know what will happen. Sure, people say I’ve never experienced this or that but what we’re doing here is having a real experience with all the mystery of what a good experience is, a surprise. I will tell you one thing, and I didn’t like it when I found out…it’s the things in our ears. Much debate….some wanted the guys to have a chip put under their skin but…that’s too much what you dog or cat would have…we needed a way to keep track of the guys, it hasn’t happened but…someone may wander off or, I guess the thing I worry most about, get fed up or pissed off or both and decide, fuck, I’ve had and just leave. Straight up, I’m not really sure where we are. I do know where our goal to get is and, roughly, how to get there but beyond that…so the plastic has an emitting diode in it for tracking purposes. Pretty soon, when we get to our next site, they’ll come out as they’ll not be needed. As to the other piercings…”

And he wandered off verbally. Whatever else, I knew considerably more than I had and was strangely content not to know. Waited for the experience to take me over.

He bent down, gently shook Sean, leaned in, kissed him, picked him up and held him in his arms. There was a strange smile on his face. “He’s a tired little Teddy Bear….someone gave him a real work out.” Can you see someone blush in the dark, Jesus, I hope not.

We walked up the bank and toward the camp. Almost conversationally he commented that there were now no more virgins, cherries popped and he’d been fucked, to varying degrees of pleasure, three times. Because I wondered if 5 and 6 resisted…he just smiled, “4 was very helpful, he’d just learned the, uh, pleasure of a cock up your ass and wanted to make sure they learned the same lesson….6 is still spread-eagled and staked down…got him covered and gagged…didn’t want to annoy the other sleepers.”

Sean had turned and put his arms around Max; I thought it was kinda sad that he didn’t have a man, was going back to….no one. In a sense I could sense Max, or should I call him 1? And I, 2, were going to take Scotty….and I stopped, wondering how I thought I meant “take…”?

“Hey, lope ahead and see if 4 is in their bag? Roust him and get him ready for incoming….”

We slid Scotty, still asleep, in the bag with 4 and, I think, both of us were glad to see the two of them instinctively cuddle. Two tired little Teddy Bears. Max had one arm around me, leading us to our bivouac, when he stopped, reached down, got me hard, turned, bent over, spread his ass cheeks….”I need one for the road…like doing it like this….”

Tired and drained as I was, I did my best although the climax was something of a dud. Finally in for the night he rolled over, held me, I could tell I was being looked at. “Damn, I made the right choice…” And then we were both asleep.

Facing three newly de-virgined men-6 had been released but with a warning about what?... plus the three who came already fucked, Max, after can/food announced that today we’d take our buddy and sex partner-5 and 6 cringed-go out and find some sex toys or something that could be used as a sex toy which all would demonstrate tonight at campfire.

Even I was puzzled. I’m a trifle embarrassed to admit it but I never saw a sex toy I didn’t like and, not infrequently, didn’t acquire; Until I moved out of my parents and into my own place, two closets were locked as well as having a wide strip of wood across the door held in place, at both ends with elaborate locking systems. Okay, so elaborate that once I had to call a lock smith and suffer the embarrassment of his discovery of what was behind doors numbers one and two. He pointed out that at least everything I had was dead as opposed to a couple of times when adventuresome couples had decided to do it in the dark and failed to notice there was no door knob on the inside. One upside of his visit, for rather a lot of money, I acquired an amazing amount of lock smith tools plus a set of about seventy keys that would open just about anything from a pickup truck to a time lock at a bank. It seemed only fair that, beyond accepting his card for future reference I give him the pick of what he saw before him and instructions on how to use it. Such an apt pupil. Got hard part way through instructions and, of course, that had to be attended to. He’s on my short list of people to ask back for a beer and whatever else someday.

I was glad to have Max to work with although, as he candidly admitted, he didn’t think this exercise up, it was just part of the experience. Between us we figured out that nothing we could find could be used to shove up or press in an opening on a body. Tempted as we might have been to impale both 5 and 6, things used to impale, a sharpened stick for example, would not qualify as a ‘sex toy’. I looked at Max and got a sly look back that said….’of course, if we wanted to go outside the strict rules…’.

It became a matter of where to look that offered the most possibilities; the stream was out as was our modest campground but only because it had been stripped of anything usable. In the end, and accidentally, I had an idea that Max found appealing and very quickly figured out exactly what to do. Cans. Food. They were metal, could be worked into something but his idea was simple, worked nicely into BDSM as well as CBT, might have taken us two hours to put together and, even if we were watched, would be hard to figure out what we were doing. It was a matter of minutes to salvage the cans-even though we were naked men in the middle of nowhere and reasonably desperate-we’d been slightly tidy so all the cans were in one place. I found some strong vines, Max took a tree that had a fairly good trunk on it, removed all the limbs up to about seven feet, tied some vines in appropriate places and…we lay down to get some sun, go for a swim, fuck each other, get some more sun, have a food can some where around noon to two, enjoyed a sun worshipping 69 and just lolled about. Both of us finally went to sleep and wakened only when our ‘Teddy Bear’ started sucking Max’s dick and then mine. As a way to be wakened….I’m sure there are better ways but right off hand…all I can say is that an alarm clock doesn’t cut it.

We didn’t ask what he and 4 had thought up however in seeming to nuzzle Max, he told him that 5 and 6 had come up with something…thanked and shooed away, we scuttled down to the stream where there was an over hanging fir under which you could be comfortable and also unseen. If you were quiet, people could get within inches of you and never notice….Sean cleverly maneuvered the back pair to the edge, said he wanted to let them fuck him for practice and because he admired their big cocks….

Secrets only remain as such if you don’t tell another. 5 and 6 apparently didn’t realize that or thought Sean was too dumb to know what he was being told. As Max, Sean and I had thought, their plan had little to do with sex toys and everything to do with pouncing on Max and seeing what he would do to be released; They told absolutely the wrong person, not because he wouldn’t tell, with the two of us almost up their asses in terms of distances, they annealed him into protecting Max.

That left one person, 4, who was, as he had been, the cipher, the unknown. Max could remember everything about him from his application, Sean said that he’d genuinely tried to do as told, although the introduction to sex had been hard on him….but….he didn’t know anything. And so the sun started down, Sean did his usual, made a great fire for a sex toy evening, everyone picked up their ration-it was almost impossible to eat two cans full-and we seated ourselves around the warm, glowing fire waiting for whatever might happen next.

I knew that Max had given hard thought as to who should go first; As our leader, maybe he should, to give the others an idea of what could have been done. That was also the logic for going last, only then it became what should have been done to fulfill the assignment. He asked for volunteers and, surprisingly, 5 and 6 stood up asking only that they needed a ‘subject’ and since this was Max’s idea, would he mind….?

I could see Sean... knew that he and I thought the precise thing, that this was a trap, an inept one, but a trap none the less. There was only one thing to do so Sean did it; He volunteered. 5 and 6 were taken aback as this wasn’t their plan, everything weighed on having Max and now…they were stuck with someone who didn’t help what they had in mind, indeed demolished whatever was on their program.

The other side, which became perfectly clear, was that they had no ‘sex toy’, their game had been to bag up Max and dicker for whatever they wanted, most probably out. Funny thing. Even if you don’t like or want to do something, finding others just flat out didn’t do it turns you against them. Pointedly, and by then, the only person who hadn’t voted with the majority was 4 and now he did.

Languidly, he was a Southern man and they do languor like no other group in the USA, got up, shambled over, took possession of Sean, held him, pulled up his dick and peed on them. “That’s our sex toy.”

That seemed to settle the issue so he and Sean returned to Max and me. “Brace, that’s me, don’t know why I didn’t get around to mentioning it but. Fuck, I figured he knew and the word would get around.” I was the only one who didn’t know this so it was my hand he shook. For once, Max seemed taken wholly by the unfolding event, all he could do was find a stash, hand out food cans-throwing two not over, through the fire with a satisfying noise and epithet from the other side-put one hand on Brace’s shoulder then opened his can.

“Hey”-All Southerners begin every sentence with ‘hey’-‘how bout after supper we all go down, get cooled off then fuck each other. I hear, least Sean told me, about something called, he looked at Sean for a prompt, ‘fisting?’ got that right? I almost spit out whatever was in my mouth. Sean smiled his angelic smile, looked at Max for…what? Permission? Instruction?

“Well, I’m good with the swim and after that….Sean?”

“Uh, I done it some, well, a lot and I was telling Brace about it, he seemed interested and I thought, well, you never mentioned it but…”and he stopped not for lack of interest but for lack of where to go next.

“Let me see your hands…”

Sean did what a good fister does, showed them fully opened then finger by finger went to the closed fist, tight, ready to make the trip up the anal canal. Max inspected it then turned Brace, bent him over, spread his ass and placed Sean’s hand, still fisted, at the entrance.

“Buddy, I can’t let you do it, his ass needs to be stretched and…between now and when we leave, there’s not enough time, you know that. I knew when you applied you had been into fisting, your tail told the tale but…to take a rookie and shove it up, uh uh. Sorry. However, there is a bright side, that’s one fine looking ass and you’ve got the meat to fill it…I think he can accept substitutes.”

I’d heard him say something, something I wanted to revisit. “Max…’ between now and when we leave here?’…wanta tell us a little more?”

He thought, torn between what he knew and the camaraderie the four of us suddenly had.

“You paid money to go on this, we promised an experience that you could not just go out and do so…however extreme this may appear, it’s just a camping trip, stripped down and sexed up. Also, and each of you were told, nothing, let me say that again, nothing we’ve done here is without a purpose at some point. Truth is…after a point, I don’t know much. My job was and continues to be to get you out here, maintain your condition, break down some sexual barrier-and no, I’ve no idea, I guess, when I was being told to do the recruiting, that’s why I signed on. Some of the other things, all fascinating but this one came with an unspoken edge that…well, I just couldn’t resist and, of course, Scotty here applied and I knew I saw a partner for this and maybe….”

He trailed off but picked it back up. “We’ve got about four, maybe five more days here, then a helluva a trek to the next point which is a small harbor…don’t actually know how far but I’m told to allow for six or eight days to get there. Then, gentlemen, we come to the end of my line, that is in terms of cruise director” We all laughed “And someone else runs the show, I just become one of the guys along to see what happens next. That’s really about all I know, well, some technical detail, where to find what, I guess everybody pretty much figured that out….”

The next morning he made the same speech only to all five of us. What 5 & 6 thought, no one cared. One thing he added was that from here on we all did what he told us to, hard, wearying, against our taste and wishes, it would be done as he said. One example. He talked about an experience the bulk of which was diving on the sunken Japanese fleet in Truk Lagoon. Preparation for that took eight weeks and this started with men who already had all sorts of certification in SCUBA diving. Even with that, they almost lost one guy who did just what he was warning about, not do something he was told to do. With that he told everyone to finish their can and coffee and get ready for a morning of tough exercising.

He wasn’t kidding. Whatever had gone before was merely the overture, a selection of what could be made harder, done longer and with more intensity. With no clothes-never again would I cast aspersions at guys who routinely wore the humble jock-not only did the calluses on my finger tips develop a life of their own but my cock and balls also grew hard tissue; When I jerked off sometimes I felt it was fighting back.

Food, or cans, were tripled in ration but hunger was pervasive. No way of figuring the calories each of us burned but probably, converted to BTU’s we could have each heated and cooled a home in the suburbs for a week with just the output of one day.

Night was just as, well, hard, no pun, just that fucking and sucking became and after dinner event, just before we went to the cold stream for water aerobics, a pre bedtime event as well as something one did in the a.m. and had to prove you’d squirted or none of his enhanced coffee; Whatever he put in it, I wanted him to put more.

Then it was over. One morning he announced that we’d spend the rest of the day breaking down our home away from home, no fire, just food tonight and at first light we’d load up and head for the point of departure for the real Experience.

As in everything, Max was demanding plus he revealed a streak of green sympathies that meant we left the camp as pristine as possible, no trash, no anything that suggested man had ever been there. Privately I said to Brace and Sean….what did he plan to do about the copious lashings of human male semen that had penetrated his virginal patch of earth? This, too, was another lesson-by now everything was-in how to live stealthily. It was the only thing he’d ever said that might, just might, allude to what was to come. However, before it came we were off on the road the next morning, each of us with our heads pulling sleeping bags, tents, left over food…I was amazed he hadn’t cooled the embers in the fire pit and had someone bag and haul them.

Everyone had wondered about the road that lead away, the road we’d arrived on, admittedly unable to see it. Now was our opportunity to study another part of where we were and…it was a disappointment. Looked just like where we’d been, same trees, same undergrowth, the only distinction was the road which was almost back to nature itself; I remembered thinking on the drive in that my innards might need to be realigned if we ever stopped bouncing.

Two days of trekking, stopping for exercise, Max never forgot that, and nights with sex. As much as I enjoy sex, programmed, demanded sex, loses considerable even if the person with whom you’re doing it is really very skilled and Max was; I could only hope he was enjoying me, at least until it became overkill, as I was enjoying him.

The third morning there was a derivation in that we turned a hard left and into the forest. IF you know how and where to look there was a path, admittedly one animals might have trouble finding, but it existed and we were on it. Max’s only encouraging words were that at the end of this, we were done with this part; I was too tired to care.

The march through the forest was in some respects easier, even bare footed, the floor was covered with fallen bits and pieces that made a softer footing if one trickier to navigate. One of us was always falling or stumbling…since I seemed to be as sure footed as a mountain goat, I was put in the back to catch the fallen, brush them off, inspect them for bruises or wounds-not that Max would have cared-and then hustled them on back into our line of travelers headed God knew where. Or Max did.

Day six felt and smelled slightly different; Clearly we were near an ocean which meant the port he had said was our goal. Apparently the reality was just over a hill or around a fallen tree. That night we came to a spot clearly prepared for us. Fire, big pot of boiling water, food and drink that wasn’t in cans and…several cans of shaving cream and disposable razors.

After food, and before going into the port the next day, everybody got a shave, a full body shave leaving only your eyelashes and eyebrows. Considering the growth on each of us, a couple of the guys had almost full beards and we all were more than in dire need of a shave….just our whole bodies wasn’t what we had in mind.

If I hadn’t been so fucking tired, almost bored, steadily losing interest in any Experience, the body shave might have been pleasantly erotic; Max tried his damndest to make it so but it just wasn’t there to happen. In my ear he whispered that desire and lust would come back, and quickly once all this was behind us. Thinking that, newly shaved and actually farting the result of the change of diet-we all suffered that-sleep was easy and soon. The only drawback being that the newly clean us realized how grimy and odor encrusted the bags had become; I slept on the ground with my bag over me.

Morning and coffee and no Max with a daily torture routine; Rather he sat quietly, one arm around me, looking at the woods, almost, maybe, sorry that his part was over.

“What now?”

“Get dressed, walk into town, find the boat…” I reached around him suddenly wishing we could go back, back to the day I walked in and first interviewed. This had been my experience, I had Max and whatever came next…probably find it interesting, whatever the complaints about the first part, impossible to say it hadn’t been interesting, even engrossing. I thought about what he’d just said.

“What clothes?” Seemed a valid question for someone to whom nudity had become the standard.

“Over there, maybe two, three hundred yards, they’ll be a pallet, clothes on it, some other stuff. When the other guys are up, had their morning’s morning, we’ll get over, suited up, go into town.

It was there. One four by four wooden pallet, only way it could have been moved was with a fork lift, must have been there before we arrived, you could have heard it for some little distance. Max looked around, everyone seemed if not wholly with it, then awake. He announced time to get clothing and get on.

We all learned something; In our time training, working out we’d each of us changed dimensions, in some cases, quite a lot. My usual 32, 33 waist was now a bare 30, a medium T. formerly an XL, clung to me except across the chest where it almost popped open and the waist where it hung like a shroud. It explained why there were so many pieces; Whoever put this together had no way of knowing what sizes would now fit. One thing, we all looked like muscled studs but with a sleekness that said hard work…I thought of a picture of a farmer, naked to the waist, the V of his abdomen going into jeans that barely hung on his spare frame and yet…he was clearly strong, big biceps, in way, the blue print for what we were but we had more meat, more obvious muscle; Max had done a terrific job. Whatever we were going to do clearly needed our strength and flexibility…but the sex? Well, that’s what experiences are about, learning new things.

Almost automatically we formed our line and moved out down the now obvious path, around a hillock, down an incline, around a stand of fir trees and then we were virtually at the pier. There was a pause, I suppose we all wanted to take it in then forward and for the only time…I tripped.

In the air I realized I had been hit in the ankles which had caused the falter. Before I could think that through, arms and hands grabbed me, hands over my mouth, my eyes, dragged into the forest…the others going on ahead.

There was a sort of bench, the old fashioned kind you find outside ice cream stores. Very quickly I found myself cuffed to it, my legs also secured but the hand over my mouth stayed put. Field glasses were put to my eyes so that I could see the guys walk onto the pier…..

They were set upon by eight or ten men. Each one put in a strangle hold while manacles were slapped on their wrists, chains on their legs that went from man to man. Forced up the small gangway, there was a wisp of smoke as they passed somebody who pulled down their shorts; They were branded. Onto the boat, almost like a Coast Guard Cutter, all the men piled on after them, no one even took up the gangway then the craft leapt forward, I could hear the engines racing as they spooled up and…they were gone.

A voice. “Scotty, we never wanted you on that ship. Do you know what you’ve just seen?” All I could do was shake my head in dumb stupor, I didn’t know….

“They were sold, that’s the experience. Just off the horizon there’s a normal looking container ship but some of those containers are cells and that’s where those five men will go and stay in them until they’re delivered to the purchaser. Five men, five million dollars, just not you.”

I couldn’t understand it, sold into slavery? This didn’t happen, not in this century and yet…there were always stories, stories you couldn’t really believe, about men or women who just…disappeared. Was that what I’d seen? The proof of rumors.

A man sat beside me started unlocking me, shaking me, making sure I wasn’t harmed. Nice looking son of a bitch, shame I was too deep in shock to do anything except sit there and watch the boat quickly disappear.

He turned my head and looked into my eyes. “I couldn’t have sold you and… the order was only for five so…” I had no questions, no anything, no understanding of what I’d just seen and heard. He stood up.

“Come on, shows over, nothing left to see. I’ll explain it to you as we go back to town.” He didn’t mention we’d go back, at least the first part, in a helicopter with ‘The Experience’ painted on the fuselage. Through the head phones in the chopper he started the explanation which was just about a straight forward business; Some guy in the Orient wanted five in shape guys for his own purposes and his group had delivered them. First time they’d ever done that, all the other times ‘The Experience’ was what it billed itself to be. But…five million dollars? They couldn’t turn it down.

I looked at him, closely, forgot all that had just happened, found my soul just got hard. “Why me?”

“Because I want you…have from the first time you asked Jimmy at the gym if he’d applied. He told me about you, I made a point to see you, without your knowing…and here you are.” I just looked at him, looked at fate and leaned back. It is a good thing to be wanted.

His name was unimportant and he ran The Experience. There in the chopper, he knelt down, pulled off my shorts, took out my cock ring, blew me, looked up, smiled, reached out removed the bull ring...got back on the bench seat with part of my cum on his lips and we both looked out the window. To seal it, I put my hand in his crotch and squeezed his nuts. He smiled.

Several months later I was behind a desk in an office combined with a gym. Well dressed, tailored suit that at once showed off my body but portrayed me as a gentleman. Good broadcloth shirt with a London Spread collar, highly shined gents boots that went to my knees. The outer door opened, I asked them to come in, sit down in the straight chair opposite my basic Steel Cabinet Desk.

“I’m Max, lets get started on your application for The Experience….”

We were grabbed, branded, made into a chain gang, gagged and shoved below deck. Heavy weights were applied to the chains making it impossible to do more than twitch, feel the man next to you. I could see 3, who looked stunned, done up as we were clearly not sure what now.

The boat almost lifted from the water as we moved away from the small dock and toward the notch that lead to the ocean. The first wave hit us and, given the speedy forward motion, almost made it seem as if we would roll over backward. There was laughter from somewhere, probably the men or the crew who'd fallen on us then put us in these chains.

It was then I noticed…..Scotty wasn’t with us. Where he was? Had he been taken separately? There was no one to ask and, even if there had been, I doubt I’d get an answer.

Some were seasick, the stench from which made all of us sick, but the ride was very short, maybe half an hour. What I could see was that we had pulled along side a very large container ship certainly waiting for the few pieces of cargo to loaded on board and that was us, not men, cargo. We were herded on deck to be confronted by a series of hooks that were looped through the chain. Regardless of where our chains were on us, we were hoisted up then swung onto a deck between several of the stacks of containers. The container crew detached each of us and we were separately led away-I never saw any of them again.

I was frog marched to an open spot on the deck, stripped, sprayed with water to clean the muck and the smell, quickly examined, handed a roll of clothing, led inside to a quiet place filled with what appeared to be concrete cubes each about seven by seven by seven, The whole front opened and on it was a strip of metal that was removed, placed around my neck and riveted in place. After that, pushed inside the cube, the door was closed not to open for a very long time. Food and water came through a lazy susan affair in the door, there was a prison style toilet and sink in the cube as well as a cot attached to the wall.
The opposing wall was covered with work out instructions that were noted to be done everyday-the cube was monitored and failure to do so would result in punishment. Sure, like I believed that. We had all worked out enough to last through the next millennium so that shit on the wall? Left over from some previous occupant, the way prisoners write stuff on walls.

24 hours later I was shoved back in my cube, my shorts in my hand, five very red marks on my ass where I'd been caned. Do the exercises everyday, failure to do so will result in more discipline and this was the base level. No one asked if I understood. Only thing I noticed was that there were four men, no two of which seemed to be ethnically the same. Somehow I'd expected Orientals or Flippers, the derogatory words for men from the Philippines. Only bit of advice, beyond do the exercises, was that sitting on the metal toilet might cool the sting.
What I could surmise, and I'd had a brief look at it, was this was a typical, very large container ship the keel to which could have been laid down anywhere from South Korea to Finland. My brief excursion to punishment central had shown me...nothing. We passed at least sixty other cubes, all with their metal tags missing so I had to assume they were occupied by men....got from where? Going Where? I had reached up to touch one and got my hand swatted down. I heard, no or cuffs Some people are just picky about touching the furniture.

Days were hard to calculate. Exercise, once, fed twice and sleep...whenever. Only once did I forget the exercise-I overslept-and the same as before only this time I was caned seven times. Clearly, they'd had experience with malingerers before and wanted to make certain we understood that, yes, there was an up tick for each infraction. Fresh clothes were handed in every so often, I was removed, made to stand by the cube and cleaned, one particularly unpleasant part of that was a sprayer up my bucket and used at full tilt. On one occasion, after cleaning, someone, possibly some sort of ships medic, did a cursory exam specially checking to see that the brand had not developed infection. Back in the cube.

Sometimes I was aware that the ship might not be moving, might be in port but so ingeniously constructed were the cubes that sound from the outside did not exist. The sound of my own voice, the slap of my sweating chest when I exercised, that was it in terms of noise. While I had no desire to be taken out and caned, loneliness can drive you to do things you know will not help your situation. This time it was ten strikes. No conversation.

New clothes were pushed in for me and there was a note to put them on immediately. This followed a cleaning day so, possibly, I was to be released or....what? I was knocked to the floor as the cube was lifted then moved to...another ship? The dock? A tractor trailer? But nothing. Two meals, exercise, two more meals, fresh clothes but in the new style. Also no movement.
The front was opened and I was hauled out, cuffed, gagged, blindfolded and manacled. Following this I was placed in what seemed to be an ordinary chair but was chained to it. The chair was on wheels so I was pushed along, pausing for doors-I could hear them-to be opened and closed then left someplace...I was used to time having little or no meaning so just being in a chair, chained or otherwise, was a change, one I explored as best as was possible.

Voices around me, not English but not Oriental. Hindi? Nothing European but foreign to me, not something I'd heard. If I could read anything into the conversation, it seemed to be about me and what or where or....some sort of disposition and these speakers were decided that. I felt a needle go in my butt.
Had I guessed, I would have guessed that I'd wake up fully immobilized in some sort of position and I'd have been right. It was a bright, shiny room, vaguely medical given the frosted glass windows at the top of the tall space and I am on an X frame, carefully covered all but my head. I can see and hear but not speak.
There is a clatter of feet, a pair of doors opens, people wearing surgical masks file in and surround me. One, probably the, well, whatever he is, makes a kind of welcoming speech that includes the fact that this facility, at some great cost, has acquired the specimen on the frame for their usage and training. This is all in English although with a distinct accent. French?

He points out that their various services have selected them as the most motivated, the most skilled in what they now do to increase their knowledge and abilities. Failure... he inserts a pause that they apparently understand, success and they will return to their individual units with an advancement in rank, more pay and more important work.

That said, he launches into a speech about the human body, what it does, what it can do and what it can be made to do. In one swirling movement he reveals all of me, naked, held down, hairless.
'As you can see, this is one European Male, excellent body condition, appropriate BMI, all his internal systems are in perfect working order. He has been trained to accept more that ordinary discomfort-as you can see, certain modifications have been made which, at your discretion, you may use. Today we'll give you the opportunity to study him, palpate him, make sketches, take photos, whatever you feel with be of the most assistance to you in the coming days.”

“A few words about the specimen. This will be the first year we have tried this so it's something of an experiment for us. The getting of quality specimens is very difficult so....after your work on him is done, we will turn him over to our medical facility for as much restoration as may possible. For that reason, for the first time, no body parts will be allowed to be excised, no blinding, the usual that you might do in your work. We do understand that in your everyday practice of interrogation, whatever you need to do to get what information you need is....what you do.”

“I feel we are tying one hand behind your back when I tell you what you cannot do with him, that is, castrate him, blind him, cut off anything. In thinking about this, we've come to the conclusion that the threat of the things mentioned is better than the actuality of doing it. You have all doubtless experienced that once you do what you've threatened....well, if you don't know what you want before that, might as well have some fun for we all know what the next step is.
You are here to study the application of pain, new ways to do it, where to do it, when to do it. As mentioned, each of your groups, unless you are a solo, will have time with him to apply whatever you've considered. For your study and convenience, texts on the human anatomy are, of course, available. There are also transcripts from other interrogators working in hostile forces that were captured after a war or whatever the hostilities. You'll find these fascinating as the men they worked on, of course, were never seen again and could not reveal what had been done with and to them. You'll be amazed at what was actually done versus what you've heard was done.

As to the body....all his hair has been removed and, to the best of our chemical crew, isn't likely to grow back. I know some have tried setting fire to chest hair or the crotch but...I think we'd all agree that produced nothing other than the unpleasant smell of hair burning. He's been branded-this was done before we had full control of the specimen. Doing that had no effect other than we had to check him for infection.”

“You will notice he's been heavily pierced, this was done to mislead the men, there are four others who were sold to other consumers for other purposes, into just wondering why they'd been done. As your groups-or you singly-work with him, they may be removed at your discretion. One thing, they must always be returned for the next group.”

“Sex. He's been broken to accept all forms of deviant sex, at least as he thinks of it. We know there's lots more and if that's part of your methodology, fine, use it. You may just have fun with him, that's part of your usual work so fuck him, force him into...whatever. Your work is hard, can be tedious, have some fun with it.”

“Medical supplies, whatever kind you need. Again, sorry, but no organs can be removed or damaged. Any drugs you want to try, find but, with this codicil, whatever you use must have no lingering effects for the next person or group.”

“And what else? Questions, see me privately. Concerns about the guidelines you were given, same, see me. So, welcome, we hope to provide you with an extraordinary experience in that, as opposed to your usual work, this time one of your aims is to force him to tell you what hurts or makes him anxious to tell you what you want to know. Of course, he knows nothing to tell you but we tell you that up front.”

In short, he is your every prisoner who must be made to talk or give information. You know the common practices of torture, it is your job to find new ways to implement whatever tools you may wish to use on the specimen. Each of you will have a section of the body, each of you will have a specified time to try what you have conceived to make the prisoner talk. Gentlemen, your business is torture, your subject awaits to be tortured. I wish each of you great success and, need I add this? we have a decimal reader to register his screams. “

You may begin your examination, keeping in mind that the person who comes in last....may be the specimen next year although this one has been so well prepared, I may be tempted to, heheheh, take him for my own special purposes.

“Enjoy Yourselves!!!!!”

As I was rolled off to wherever I would be taken to become a laboratory rat for torture I wondered….’Who would be playing Max?”