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TEXAS 1956 Vol. 1
"I ran into Jake the other day," Hank said, to no one in particular.
"Your cousin in the Adams County sheriff's office, right?" Dirk replied, brightly. "How's that ol' boy doin' anyway?"
"Never a dull moment with Jake, that's for sure," the cadet answered, with a chuckle. "He told me he and another guy are the queer control deputies."
"What?!" Dirk exclaimed, laughing. "A queer control officer? Your cousin? What the hell ..."
"They keep an eye on the parks and the highway pull-overs," he said. "Take note of the queer faggots."
"Arrest 'em on the spot?" Dirk asked.
"Nah, the queer will get a friendly visit from Jake tellin' him to behave himself," Hank said, matter-of-factly. "If it happens to be a cadet, Jake'll tell him that if he don't behave himself then the Commandant will be informed."
Dirk laughed.
"Behave himself, huh?" he said. "I can only imagine what that means!"
"I asked about that," Hank replied. "Jake says he tells the queers that kids are off limits. He says he never washes his own cars or shines his own boots. He's got faggots who do all that and work on his house."
"Probably gets his dick sucked too!" Dirk said.
"Can't say it would surprise me," Hank said, not skipping a beat. "He told me to let him know if I ever want my dick sucked without anyone ever knowin' about it."
"S-s-so, he keeps it a secret as long as they behave?" Clay asked, trying to conceal his nerves.
"Oh yeah," Hank said, casually. "Jake says he don't got nothin' against a queer faggot so long as he knows his place."
"So Clayton, yer secret's safe!" Hank added, with a laugh.
"Hank, come on, he's engaged to be married once he's outta here," Dirk said, with a hint of mockery in his voice. "Clayton here ain't any queer."
The three Marines walked out of the base gymnasium and made their way to the parking lot. The sun was shining, but it was a cool day. As military reservists, they were required to spend a weekend a month at the base located near the next town. In return, they were paid not much more than a bit of pocket money, but more importantly they kept their rank, their benefits, access to all base facilities, and their uniforms.
Brock and Jake cut impressive figures, each standing over six feet tall. Their sheriffs' deputy uniforms clung like paint, the shirts tan, and the pants tan with a wide brown stripe up the side. Everyone called Thomas Gilroy "Brick," for his stature. He was chiseled out of one muscular stone: his complexion and flat-top crew cut dark, his chest covered with a thick carpet of chest hair. He walked roughly on thick legs, his swagger jerking him from one side to another. He had an aggressive, dominating manner, and a gruff, gravelly voice to match.
Jake Haskins was a bit leaner and an inch shorter. Sandy brown hair, V-shaped torso, square jaw, blue eyes. His voice was smooth and almost sensual, like a radio announcer's. Both men were in their motorcycle gear, their thick black leather riding jackets slung over their shoulders as they walked toward their iron horses. This being West Texas, their spit-shined black boots, gleaming brightly in the sun, had tall heels and pointed toes in the cowboy style. Their duty belts were held up by black straps over their shoulders, with sidearms and handcuffs attached.
Brick and Jake were reserve gunnery sergeants in their 20s. They had enlisted in the Corps together right after high school. After serving five years, they had left active duty together and had been immediately hired by the county. The sheriffs department was glad to have them. Their spit-and-polish was popular, and their willingness to take on special projects, including the queer control duty despised by the other three deputies, was appreciated.
In their boots, the deputies towered over Captain Kenneth T. Ridgeton. The manager of a lumber plant and sawmill in Clinton, the largest town and seat of Adams County, he was an unlikely comrade. He was only five and a half feet tall, his eyes barely meeting the top of the deputies' broad chests. Light blond and built tightly – "cute as a button!" a drunken woman in a bar had once exclaimed -- he moved smoothly, cautiously, and precisely, as if hiding a secret. He was 27 years old, but looked like he was still in high school.
The three were acquaintances, seemingly by chance. Brick and Jake used the base gymnasium to lift weights and wrestle each other. The space was shared with an extensive set of gymnastic equipment – rings, a vaulting horse, a balance beam. The captain had been a gymnast in high school, and would spend an hour doing routines while the deputies grappled and grunted and lifted. Over time, the trio would talk to each other. Good-natured ribbing was exchanged, and their acquaintance was deepened by their mutual use of the swimming pool and steam room.
His appearance and stature was a sore subject for Captain Ridgeton. His boyish face and petite build make it difficult for him to exercise leadership or authority with the larger and rougher Men under his command. He was underdeveloped, with a flaccid penis less than three inches long, small testicles, and a nearly hairless body. He had married early, but his inability to father children led him to become involved with the local boys' and girls' clubs, where he and his wife had hoped to find a neglected child to adopt.
Brick and Jake had their doubts. Their equipment was at the other end of the scale, each with big balls and dicks more than five inches long when soft. They'd noticed the captain checking them out in the showers, at one point, Brick had even asked him if he might be wanting something.
"I know how it looks, gunny sergeant, but I'm not a queer," the captain had said at the time, more resigned than irritated by the suggestion implied by Brick's carefully phrased question. "I guess I've always felt short changed in the dick department, so I can't help but compare sometimes. Sorry if I made either of you fellas uncomfortable, but it's not what you might've thought."
The deputies had indicated their understanding. They sympathized with the captain when he informed them he had decided to divorce his wife after he'd caught her with another Man. After the split, the captain had maintained his involvement with the youth organizations, explaining that he hoped to find another wife who was more understanding and who would want to adopt. In the meantime, Brick had helped the captain out by steering him to Three Finger Buck's, the whorehouse in Clinton.
"I know ya won't find a wife there or nothin', but at least you'll get what ya need," he'd said. "And ya don't got to worry about not measurin' up. Them gals ain't about to disrespect a Man with money in his pocket."
The deputies still weren't convinced, so they made sure to have the whorehouse owner put the captain in the wired-for-sound room. Regulars at Three Finger Buck's place could reserve rooms on weekends, secure in the knowledge that no one else would be there. Kenneth Ridgeton had begun to make an occasional booking with one or another whore who'd meet him there. Brick made sure it was Room #2, and he'd expected the surveillance to reveal that the captain was one of the town's queers.
The room was a technological marvel for its time. No corner was invisible from its three hidden movie cameras and half-dozen microphones. Jake had prevailed on one of the town queers to set it up. By arrangement with Buck, only he had access to the cameras and recorder, as part of tolerating the establishment. With some help from the queer who'd provided the equipment, Jake grew adept at splicing movies and extracting frames to turn into still pictures.
As the Marines walked toward the parking lot, Brick spoke.
"Hey captain, me and Jake were wondering if we could get yer advice about something we're workin' on," he said, casually. "Got a minute to have a look?"
"Sure thing, gunny," Ridgeton said. He was dressed in his Marine Corps "charlies," the green slacks trimly fitting his thin waist. His open-necked, short-sleeved tan shirt was tight over a T-shirt, and a "pisscutter" garrison cap perched atop his buzzcut at a slightly rakish angle. The effect verged on the comical. The harder the captain tried to look like an authentic military Man, the more boyish he seemed in his immaculate uniform. He came across like a cub scout who had decided to try on one of his father's miliary uniforms.
They reached the big Harley Davidson police motorcycles, and Jake unlocked one of the leather saddlebags next to the rear wheel. He reached inside, and withdrew a manila envelope.
"This is what we could use your help with, captain," he said, handing him the envelope. As Ridgeton reached for the clasp, he was reminded of an ongoing unvoiced gripe with his gymnasium acquaintances. These enlisted Men seemed to take every opportunity to avoid calling him "sir," as military custom dictated. But he couldn't call them out on it, because using his rank was also formally correct. True respect, though, meant using "sir," at least more often these two did.
The captain opened the envelope and saw that there were photographs inside.
"Maybe you could take a look and help us figure out what to do about these, captain," Brick said. "Ran across it in the line of duty. We figured you might help us figure it out, you being in authority and all."
Ridgeton withdrew the pictures and flipped them over. As he leafed through, he froze. He was in the photos. So was the daughter of an alcoholic divorcee he had befriended. He'd convinced her to allow him to take Annie Jenkins, an 18-year-old retarded girl with a mental age of 10, on occasional outings to the local amusement park, the zoo, and other places around town. In some of the pictures, the captain was dressed in white khaki pants whose legs ended at the ankles, white socks and sneakers, and a striped pullover T-shirt -- an outfit that a boy might wear to his elementary school. In others he was naked, and the smiling girl was playing with his very small but very erect penis.
The shocked officer dropped the photos on the parking lot concrete, his hands shaking. The pictures scattered, and began to scatter in the light breeze.
"Pick 'em up, captain," Brick ordered, gruffly. "Or maybe you want 'em blown all over this lot for just anyone to find?"
Ridgeton leaned down quickly and complied with the order, scampering around to scoop up pictures. When he was finished, he stood up and faced the frowning sheriff's deputies.
"I ... I ... I ..." he stammered, unable to complete any thought.
"It looks like you've got a problem to help us solve, captain," Jake said, smoothly. Something in his tone seemed faintly reassuring, as if the matter might not be settled.
"Are ... are ... are you going to arrest me?" the captain said, weakly.
"Not just yet," Jake replied. "But the three of us are going to need to have a long talk about what ya been doin' here."
"R-r-r ... right ... right now?" the captain asked, breathing hard, his voice catching, his face bright red with embarrassment.
"We're on duty the rest of today, captain," Brick replied sharply, turning to Jake. "What do you think about tomorrow afternoon?"
"Fine by me, if the captain here can make it," Jake said. "Captain, why don't you make time tomorrow afternoon? Come on over to my place and we'll see if we can get this handled without having to turn these pictures over to the Marine Corps and sendin' ya to a military prison. Can ya make it?"
"Y-y-y ... yes, I can," the captain replied weakly, looking downward.
Jake had donned his motorcycle jacket during the conversation, and was busy writing his address in a notepad he had taken out of one of the pockets.
"Okey-doke, then," he said, tearing off a slip of paper and tucking it into the stunned captain's shirt pocket. "We'll see ya at 1 o'clock sharp. Captain, and be in uniform. If we don't reach an understanding, we can surrender ya right over to the Corps. And don't even think about leavin' town."
"Wha ... what understanding?" the captain asked, pleading.
The deputies donned their helmets, mounted their motorcycles, started the engines, and rode away.
Sunday was another sunny day, and it had warmed up. The captain hadn't slept well, but with the help of a pot of coffee he forced himself to make breakfast. By noon he was showered and dressed, wearing the same uniform he had worn the day before. Dreading what was to come, he climbed into his car and drove toward the deputy's house.
What "understanding" were they talking about, he wondered. The thought of being blackmailed by these enlisted men was offensive and frightening, but he had no choice. His hands shaking, he reached the address. There was nothing but a mailbox with a number, next to a long driveway that seemed to disappear into a line of trees. Drawing a deep breath, he turned in and drove. At length, he saw a metal gate blocking his way, and stopped. Now what, he thought, just as the gate opened by itself. He resumed his passage, and as he saw the gate close in his rear view mirror his worry deepened. He was trapped inside.
He proceeded through the grove of trees back into sunlight. Directly ahead, there was a house. It was a rambling one-level affair, with a two-car garage on the right and a metal barn in a different direction. The driveway widened into a broad asphalt apron, and he parked behind two patrol cars that sat in front of the garage, gleaming in the sun. As he left his car and walked toward the front door, he noted the pristine condition of the patrol vehicles, and the precisely trimmed lawn and shrubbery.
Just before he reached the door, he saw Jake walking toward the house in a breezeway that connected the garage to the house. He was wearing nothing but boxer shorts. His muscularity was striking. Jake saw the Marine, clad in his too-crisp uniform as if he were a schoolboy playing dress-up, approach the door.
"Howdy, captain!" he called out, his tone friendly and casual. "Glad ya could make it! Door's open, so go right in. Yer a little early, so I still got to get dressed."
Ridgeton glanced at his watch. The gunnery sergeant was correct. He had arrived 15 minutes early. His hand shook as he turned the doorknob, and he walked inside. By then, Jake had entered and stood in front of him, his torso massive, a thick semi-erect dick pressing against the fabric of his undershorts. Ridgeton glanced quickly, but Jake caught him and grinned.
"Come on in, captain," he said, brightly. "Make yerself at home. I'll be out in a second."
The deputy walked off, and the captain surveyed the room. It was large, maybe 30 by 40 feet. Near the back, there was a large dining table, and behind it a set of sliding doors leading to a backyard. To the left, there was a sitting area with a couch and some easy chairs. A fireplace along the wall was blocked by a movie screen, and a table next to it held a large tape recorder, with reels set up. Behind the couch, there was a movie projector.
Ridgeton's fear had sharpened all of his senses; he could even smell the house. He heard Jake getting dressed in a back bedroom, his belt buckle clanking and fabric rustling. On the other side, in back, a refrigerator door closed, and ice cubes were being poured into a glass. The other deputy appeared, walking from the kitchen toward the dining room table, holding the glass full of ice and a couple of Coke bottles in one large hand, and a bowl of popcorn in the other. He set them on the table, and glanced over.
"Just settin' up, captain," Brick Gilroy said in a gruff yet casual voice. "Be just a minute. Have a seat, why don't ya."
The casual, confident tones struck by both Men increased Ridgeton's nervousness. He moved over to the couch and sat down lightly, as if the cushions themselves were dangerous.
"Okey doke!" he heard Jake say, and saw the deputy walk toward him. His tan shirt was the same as the day before, but his tan trousers, not designed for motorcycle duty, were made of a thinner fabric and cut to fit outside the boots, with a narrower brown stripe on the side. There was no Sam Browne belt and no sidearm or handcuffs. Both the shirt and pants fit snugly, and as the deputy walked toward him the captain noticed an outline of the Man's substantial genitals through the thin fabric of the pants.
"Ya did one heck of a job reelin' in that girl, captain," Brick said. "Me 'n Jake were damn impressed. Yer way beyond us, that's fer sure!"
The startled captain did a double take.
"Gunny, after yesterday, I sure didn't think this was the kind of conversation we were going to be having today," he said, breathing an audible sigh of relief. "You two were talking about turning me over to the Marine Corps."
Brick, stood next to the table, holding a beer bottle and a glass.
"Took the liberty of making you a rum and Coke, captain," he said, offering the glass. "Figured you officers like mixed drinks, and that's all that Jake had. Unless ya want a longneck, that is."
"The drink'd be fine, gunny," he replied, with a smile. "You guessed right about officers. Never was much for beer, myself."
"Got a bunch to eat here," Brick said, standing tall in his tight uniform, next to the table. "Jake's got movies, so I made a mess of popcorn."
The captain laughed. It was the first time he had felt relaxed since the day before, and he could feel the tension loosening.
"Fellas, you had me mighty worried there," he said, draining the last of his drink. "Last thing I ever expected would be watching movies and eating popcorn over here."
Brick motioned toward the bottles on the table.
"If ya want another one, there's ice in the fridge," he said.
"Don't mind if I do," the captain replied, and walked toward the kitchen.
"Ya know we were damn surprised," Jake called out. "We really thought you was queer. Never crossed either of our minds about you and girls."
"Hey, fellas, I told you I wasn't a queer," Ridgeton said casually, over his shoulder, as he cracked ice cubes from the tray he'd retrieved from the freezer. The two deputies had followed him into the kitchen, and Brick retrieved another couple of beers from the refrigerator.
"True enough, captain, but come on, what officer is gonna tell a couple of enlisted Men that he'd like to suck their dicks?" Jake said. "I can't say as I quite believed ya about why ya been checkin' us out all the time. Once I saw the movie, it made some sense."
As they moved back toward the living room, the deputies stopped at the table, and Jake spoke.
"Captain, there's one big thing you got to know," he said. "Ya came awfully damn close to the edge. This kinda thing could end in yer losin' yer life. Not kiddin' here one bit."
Ridgeton felt himself tense up again.
"Ya see, if we'd a-known about the girl ya were gonna play with, we'd have warned ya away from Three-Finger Buck's place," he said. "It was only by chance that I was the one who retrieved the movie. If he'd a-found it, you'd be in a world a-hurt right now. Ya can't take a kid over there ever again."
"But she's 18," the captain said.
"Yep, and retarded, and lookin' all of 10," Jake said. "Trust me, there's laws against that shit ya did, both civilian and military."
The captain exhaled sharply, as Brick picked up a folder lying on the table.
"I'm gonna show ya a picture in here, captain," he said. "A couple years ago, Buck caught a different Marine doin' what ya did with an actual 9-year-old. Now, Buck don't mind queers. That's why we sent ya there, when we thought ya was queer. But when he saw the movie of the fella doin' it with the girl, he turned it over to the base MPs. I did manage to keep 'em from killin' the poor guy right here in Texas, but there was nothin' we could do after that. This picture came back through the grapevine from Leavenworth."
The captain opened the folder. He'd seen plenty of gruesome war photos, but this one made him shudder and gasp, involuntarily. The Man in the photo was barely human. Bloody sockets where the eyes had been. Severed genitals stuffed inside the mouth. A bloody mess between the legs. And, for good measure, the bottom half of a baseball bat emerged from the rectum. A chalkboard identified the location as the infamous Leavenworth military prison.
"If Jake hadn't a-stopped by Three-Finger Buck's on my way in to my shift, you'd have been that fella in a month or two," Brick said. "Take a good look at that picture, because that is how it goes at Leavenworth. I'm sure ya know about the 'gross moral turpitude' rule that makes that kinda crime subject to military jurisdiction if committed by a military member. And if it's an officer, that one applies for life, even after ya leave service."
"No, I didn't know that, gunny," Ridgeton said softly, putting the photo back into the folder. "That's awful what happened to him. Just awful."
"We wanted to make sure that ya knew," Jake said. "From here on out, yer gonna need to give us the who, when, and where in advance. For yer protection, but also for ours. No one needs things like this gettin' out of control. Ya hear, captain?"
Ridgeton paused before he spoke, not being accustomed to taking orders from enlisted personnel.
"So I'm going to need your permission, then?" he asked, testily.
"Yep, captain, that's exactly right," Brick replied sharply, drawing himself up to his full height as he stood next to the officer. "Yer gonna need to look each of us in the eye and tell us, or we'll all be on our way to the base. We ain't playin' games here. Yer gonna have to do as yer told."
Ridgeton paused again, noticing the transfer of authority.
"Well, now that you put it that way, I see your point," he said, looking directly at Brick and then at Jake. "I agree. You'll both know in advance. And thanks for saving my ass, guys. And my dick, and my balls, and my eyes, for that matter."
Jake grinned at the captain's attempt at gallows humor.
"Glad to get that outta the way, captain," he said, as he drew curtains over the glass door to darken the room. "A reason we wanted ya out here was to pick yer brain about how ya reeled that girl in. So why don't we settle in for some movies 'n popcorn, what do ya say?"
The captain let out another sigh of relief, and gulped his drink.
"Fellas, let me tell ya, this has been a hell of a roller coaster since yesterday," Ridgeton said, with a thin smile. "First I'm going to prison. Then everything's o.k. Then I might wind up in pieces. Now it's o.k. again. Man!"
Jake, who had drawn shades over the kitchen windows, chuckled and moved toward the darkened living room, holding his beer and the big bowl of popcorn.
"Movie time!" he said.
The couch and chairs were arranged in a U shape, and Jake motioned toward the couch.
"Seat of honor, captain," he said, taking a chair on one side while Brick sat a couple of feet away from him on the couch. His legs were spread wide, almost reaching the captain's, but Ridgeton drew his legs inward, away from Brick's.
Jake used a control attached to a long cord to start the projector. The images on the screen showed Ridgeton, dressed as a young boy, leading the girl into the large room. They watched the film for a few minutes, showing Ridgeton playing dolls with her, and sharing candy, cookies, and milk.
Jake stopped the film and the tape recorder and spoke.
"Captain, me and Brick here, 'cause of what we do at the sheriff's office, we wind up talking to a few a yer kind," he said. "Watched lots of these movies in our time. Gotta say, you're an artist. Never seen anything like it. You're one a-the best we seen."
Brick chimed in.
"Most a-the girly diddlers approach it from the friendly daddy or uncle angle. No matter how well it works, as soon as they whip it out, the girly gets scared," he said. "There was one other fella who tried to be a little boy. Little guy like you, but he couldn't hide his bein' a Man and he wound up forcin' it."
Jake let the movie go for a while more, as the captain steered the play toward his goal.
"Ya know, captain, it's almost like yer a little boy," Jake said, admiration in his voice. "You really got her trust. Did you take actin' class or somethin' somewhere? Yer really good at this! Just amazin' if ya ask me."
The enthusiastic compliments combined with the liquor helped loosen up the captain, who'd been rattled by the previous conversation.
"As a matter of fact, I did take an acting class in college," the captain said. "Came in handy there, huh guys?"
"So when ya were there, ya really were a little fella?" Jake asked, leaning forward in his chair. "What, like 10 years old? We understand that the girl is 18, but she's retarded and thinks like she's younger. So ya were her equal there, huh?"
"Yeah, something like that," Ridgeton said. "I've got a couple sets of clothes like I was wearing there."
"Oh yeah, captain, it definitely shows," Jake said. "Soon as we saw the movie,
it clicked that ya were in a whole different world there. Yer not her daddy or her uncle, yer her little friend there. Not a Man at all. Just a little boy."
The deputy resumed the movie and tape, and the "boy" in the picture had loosened his pants and soon the rest played out.
"Tell me, captain, what's the thrill for ya there?" Brick said. "We always like to hear what the kiddy diddlers say about it. I guess yer not technically a kiddy diddler, but that's how ya were thinkin' anyway."
The captain smiled. His small dick was erect inside his uniform trousers, and he lightly massaged it through the fabric.
"She's so innocent and joyful," he said, breathing heavily. "I wasn't using her, I was sharing something with her. It was beautiful. Even though she's 18, it was like we were a little boy and a little girl, together."
"That's what we hear," Brick said. "It's when they look up into your eyes, huh?"
The captain let out a relaxed sigh.
"Oh yeah," he said. "That's what does it. It's magic."
Brick sprawled out on his half of the couch, spreading his legs farther and clasping his hands behind his neck.
"It's not in my mind, bein' a Man and all," Brick said. "Sounds like yer tellin' us that ya don't really think of yerself as a Man down deep. I can kinda see it with ya, see as how what ya don't got."
The captain blushed.
"Well I'm not a boy, I'm a Man," he said. "But because of the way I look and how small I am, I've never quite been treated like one. I don't get a lot of respect, not even with the Marines."
"Well, at least it helps ya with the girlies," Brick said. "We hear that the young fellas, they're interested in what a big Man's got, 'cause they got it too. Don't take much convincin' at all."
The captain startled, and gave the cop a quizzical look.
"I suppose so," he replied. "Can't say I'd know about that, but it sounds logical."
The two of them continued along that line, and as Ridgeton sat listening, it sank in that they were interested in boys and not girls. It made him uneasy, given their size and their leverage over him.
"Well, guys, I don't know how much we'll wind up having in common," he said. "Sounds like we play on different playgrounds."
"I don't exactly think so, Captain Ridgeton," Brick said. "Yer just the right kinda little fella fer the two a-us, as a matter a-fact. What, 27 goin' on 10, ya are?"
The words hung in the air, as panic surrounded the young Marine officer.
"Uh ... uh ... um, what did you say?" he answered, his voice thin and quiet. "But I'm not a queer. I don't do that kind of thing, not ever."
Brick let out a loud, gruff belly laugh.
"Trust me," he said, "you'll good 'n goddamn well do what yer told, when yer told."
"I'm afraid you're mistaken, gunny!" Ridgeton replied. "The two of you can be as queer as you want, but not with me. No way."
The captain straightened, and moved to stand up. With a casual motion of his arm, Brick shoved him backwards into the couch.
"Sit on down, little fella," he said, chuckling. "You ain't goin' nowhere."
The deputy shifted his weight, and faced Ridgeton. He slapped the captain's face hard with one hand, and followed with another hard slap to the other side.
"And don't you ever even think a-callin' neither one of us a queer never again," he growled at the startled officer, whose cheeks had turned bright red while a tear made its way down one cheek. "That ain't neither one a-us, but it's damn well gonna be you."
To emphasize the point, Brick reached in back of the seat cushion on his side of the couch and withdrew a baseball bat.
"I'll shove this so far up yer backside that yer insides'll come up through yer throat, ya god damn little pervert," he said, his voice low and threatening. "Ya won't even make the train to Leavenworth. I'll bury ya out in the yard."
Ridgeton froze in terror, but Jake interrupted, holding out his hands in a soothing gesture.
"Whoa, whoa, hold on Brick, calm down," he said, his voice smooth, almost syrupy. "That ain't necessary here. The captain here's been jerked to one side and then the other. He needs to get used to all a-this, that's all. Ease off some, buddy. Come on, now, give the fella a chance here."
The captain felt the helplessness in his gut.
"Don't worry too much about Deputy Brick," Jake said calmly to the captain. "He gets worked up sometimes."
The captain's mind reeled. Not only had he just been threatened, but these Men had the power to make their threats real. He was detained in the house behind a locked gate, and they were going to ...
"I ... b-b-b ... but don't you like little boys?" he replied, weakly. "I'm an adult Man. I'm even not what you're looking for!"
Jake pushed some buttons, and rewound the film. The captain could see himself talking to the girl, and he could hear himself talking.
"But you're a Man like my daddy," the girl said, "and daddy says I shouldn't let Men do that."
"No, I'm not a Man at all," the captain replied on the tape, altering his voice to sound younger. "I'm just a little boy, just like you're a little girl!"
Over and over, he reassured her that he wasn't a Man but in fact was just a little boy. Finally, he pulled his pants down.
Jake stopped the movie and leaned forward in his chair.
Ridgeton's lip quivered, and his face turned bright red.
"B-b-but ... but that was different," he pleaded, his voice faint and soft. "I d-d-didn't mean it the way you guys think I did."
Jake kept talking.
"It ain't about bein' queer when yer a little boy, Kenny," he said, dispensing with the captain's military title. "Little fellas just get interested in how Men work. Just like ya been with me 'n Brick. Down deep, little fellas like it when a Man's tellin' 'em what to do."
Jake turned to Brick.
"Ya mind freshenin' up Kenny's Coke while I have a private word with him?" he said.
"No problem, Jake," the partner said. He leaned over and scooped up the captain's drink and then stood up, his erection now full and outlined in his uniform trousers. He slid past the Marine who had sunk into the cushion, making sure the "boy" saw it as he passed.
Jake moved out of his chair and sat on the couch next to Ridgeton.
"Uh, um, um ... what do you want me to do?" the Marine asked. "Am I going to have to suck your dicks?"
The deputy said nothing. He put his arm around the captain's shoulders in a fatherly way, and began softly stroking the far side of his neck. He reached up and tugged at an earlobe with a couple of fingers, then returned to the neck. He was staking his claim to territory, humiliating and menacing all at once. The forced sweetness of the moment deepened the threat, both knowing that Ridgeton was trapped.
"You'll get to do what little boys do when they're real interested in a full-grown Man, Kenny," Jake said, his cloying tone too gentle for a Man, let alone an officer. "Yer gonna need to be a real, real well behaved little fella. Yer gonna need to remember yer 'please' and yer 'thank you.' When the three a-us is together, there'll be two Men and one well-behaved little guy, startin' right now."
He felt the deputy's fingertips exploring. They wandered around his cheek and his neck, and now they scratched lightly and playfully at the hairline of his crewcut near his collar. Panic mixed with pure humiliation, and he knew he had no choice. He was terrified and humiliated, yet his dick was hard.
"Alright, I'll be your little boy," he said, irritation creeping into his voice. "I guess you've got me."
"Now, Kenny," the deputy said in a gently reproachful tone, "yer gonna need to be thinkin' like the little boy ya really are. Come on now, little fella. Did that little girl tell ya, 'You've got me' like she was some sorta prisoner? Is that really how ya think yer gonna talk to a Man, little fella?"
"No, I guess not," the captain said, the humiliation rising.
Jake put his lips close to the captain's ear.
"That's right, little Kenny boy. We don't want to see a little fella like you go to that prison," he whispered. "Don't ya want us to protect you? Hmm?"
The Marine, fearful, breathed heavily.
"Y-y-yes," he finally whispered back. "I need to be protected from that."
"Yes what?" Jake said, still whispering sweetly.
The captain looked at the deputy, puzzled.
"Yes sir," Jake replied, softly. "You say, 'Please protect me sir,' because that's how a little boy talks to Men. A little fella calls a Man 'sir,' Kenny. That's how boys talk to Men, little guy. They say 'yes sir' and 'no sir' and 'please sir' and 'thank you sir.' "
The captain's humiliation was complete. He was being stripped of his Manhood, piece by piece.
"Now what do ya say, little fella?" Jake whispered.
"Please protect me, sir," he replied softly, his face hot and flushed and his dick rock hard.
The deputy squeezed the whimpering captain close. He gently turned the "boy's" face toward his own.
"There ya go," he whispered. "Yer not a Man around us. Little Kenny's gonna do as he's told, and he's gonna learn all about how Men work. Kenny's gonna be thankin' the Men fer showin' him, and Kenny ain't ever gonna forget his yes sirs and his no sirs. Ain't that right now?"
"Yes sir," Kenny whispered.
"Yer gonna do as yer told," Jake said, sweetly. "Ain't that right now?"
"Yes sir," Kenny whispered.
"Now we know ya happen to keep a set a-them boy clothes in the trunk a-yer car. Same ones ya wore fer Ty Jordan," Jake said. "Now, I want ya to go outside and think things over, 'cause ya got a choice. Ya can change into then boy clothes out there and then come back here and do yer best actin' fer me, or ya can come back in here in that uniform and Brick can fuck ya good 'n deep 'n hard. Yer call, Captain Kenny."