Tool-Shed Memoires

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Author's note: I submit this chapter in memory of ben tover, aka h.s., aka Hank Snow. We were working on the remaining parts of this story when he took ill. He was also doing the editing which is why there has been such a long delay in posting the rest of this story. Unfortunately, he never recovered. I was able to recover these remaining chapters and am attempting to edit them. I hope that you continue to enjoy his humor which borders on zany and his brilliance shown in his method to learn how to spell. If this chapter brings a smile to your face please consider lighting a candle
http://www.gratefulness.org/candles/candles.cfm?l=eng&gi=HankS in memory of Hank and say a little prayer that the Saints in Heaven are now enjoying the Hank Snow show and laughing the halos off!

Woody and Mark arrived a few moments later with Nieves and Denis, and positioned then in a kneeling up stance before Sandy, who was sitting on the edge of the single bunk in the cell, which was itself a sort of mini-dungeon intended to be used for interrogation and retraining sessions. Sandy said, “Thanks, guys ... we need to be left alone here for a while ... I'll ring when I want out later, OK?” and the two cowboys nodded and left, locking the door behind them.

Turning his sober attention to the two kneeling slaves before him, Sandy took a moment to formulate his thoughts, and then said, “You two deserve an explanation before I give you the other news I have. So, here goes

“You fellas were all guilty as hell, of railroading innocent men into jail and prison, and of aggravated cruelty to them in both places, and something had to be done about the lot of you. So, my men and I did something, and now instead of being cops or prison guards, all of you are sex-slaves for the rest of your lives ... 'without the possibility of parole'. Period. That's it.

Before the sex-slave boot-camp-style training could start, we had to take your blood and urine for testing ... and all the slaves in your group came up clean ... except for two men, who tested positive for the retro-virus which causes ... Chronic Spontaneous Metastatic Prolapsia, or CSMP for short. I see that you both recognize the sound of that ... then you both probably know that if it isn't treated, those two men will probably die in a year or two. But they will be treated, and they will live, and they will be around when a cure is found for it. But they deserve the same privacy as any other carrier of this virus, and I'm here to promise you both that your secret will stay a secret, between the three of us for starters, and possibly one or two other trusted hands later, if it becomes necessary.

“The lab results show that those two slaves have the exact same version of the virus ... their viruses have the same DNA ... which means they either caught it from the same person, or one of them gave it to the other recently. So, fess up ... you two been lovers long? Just nod if that's so...” and he paused to await a reaction.

"'Yes, Yes,' said the Fed ex delivery man, as I taught him how to uncork a wine bottle and we toasted the recent departure of his anal virginity and the birth of his first real and perhaps permanent smile. So there, I told you now that we did something, now you tell me, did Sandy score with you?" James tried to plumb DS's dark secrets.

"Naw, we didn't have time to play any golf with looking for all that beef and with all the sex we were having! Shit, I wasn't supposed to tell ya that!." Dark Shadow said a bit dimmed witted.

As their prospects faded before them, the two new slaves both nodded, each sneaking a quick glance at the other, and the tears were openly flowing down their cheeks ... Sandy knew that it would be gratuitous cruelty to deny them a hug ... or maybe even a three-way group hug. He still had a lot of explaining to do here, but it had to be handled, one horrible realization at a time. He reached over and ungagged the two, and then uncuffed them, heedless of any possible violent attack, since he realized that they were to wrecked right now to try something that stupid ... and on the only person so far who'd been up front and honest with them.

They hugged, the three of them, for some time, until the two slaves had cried it all out.

Seventy-five miles away, JS rang a door bell to make a delivery and an elderly women answered. "Why what a beautiful smile you have, young man! Do you always smile so nicely?" asked the older women as she signed for her package.

In the padded cell, the slaves had finished their crying jag and had resumed their kneeling up stance, awaiting Sandy's next words, which were quick in coming.

“You two are gonna hafta be quarantined, sexually, from the other slaves and from the Men who'll be wanting to use you all for sex ... but that does not mean the two of you are not going to participate ... the fact that you're already lovers means that you'll have no problem performing as a pair, on demand, for the enjoyment of the Men, and of course, you'll both be available for punishment sessions when a Man needs ta whupp a slave's ass real good. But there'll be no sex for you two or any of your former brother-officers, unless it's been approved by the free Man in charge of you at the time, and none whatsoever when you're in your cells. I'll have a duty roster made up every week that'll discreetly insure that you two don't wind up in a dangerous situation, virus-wise. Any questions from either of you so far?” and he paused for a reaction to this latest in a series of bad-news mini-speeches.

"Man these mini-kisses are bad-news!" DS said as he ate a handful of chocolates, "bad-news for my spare tire that is."

"You can have as many as you like, just as long as you tell me how many times your kissed Sandy while you two roamed the range which your call your home."

"Well, if the truth be told, not many, maybe just two or three times a night. Usually before we had sex. Sometimes when we bathed naked in the mountain stream, damn that water was cold until we heated it up.... now we have hot springs on the back forty!"

"Sounds like a dream come true. Two lonely cowboys, with nobody around for miles...." James sighed as he finally began mincing the pealed onions instead of his words.

"I'll tell ye this, these here chocolates taste better than Sandy's ass pudding." DS said, nodding his head as if to confirm what he had just attested.

In the interrogation cell, Paul quietly and tentatively spoke up, saying, “Sir, you mentioned those medicines, Sir ... ?” but kept his eyes on the floor as he did so.

Sandy almost smacked him for not saying 'Master', but held back as they'd not been told to do that yet ... he corrected that as he answered the question, “You all will always address any free Man as 'Master' from now on and when you don't, all of us know to backhand your balls a few times to correct you. Is that clear to the both of you?”

The both nodded furiously in the affirmative, and both said, “Yes, Master!” for good measure, not seeming to like the idea of having their tender nuggets Man-handled in this way.

Sandy laughed, but was proud of these two for being so quick to accept their slave status ... he was ever-ready to ring for reinforcements, however, should it all prove to be a ruse and they should be up to something. He answered Paul's question, “Yes, you'll both be receiving an implant in your upper arms ... it'll deliver a measured dose of your cocktail, as they call it, into your systems to keep your 'viral load' down ... that's the number of actual viruses you have swarming around in your blood. We hafta keep that number as low as possible ... almost zero ... to guarantee you don't get sick.”

James was racking his brains trying to set up a varied menu. Giving himself a break he decided to catch up on his reading at tickiestories and while reading this chapter got the idea to prepare tender chicken nuggets one night.

"James did you hear about the guy that went to the doctor to have a vasectomy?" DS asked.

"During the operation, which was done in the doctor's office, the doctor was getting sleepy and decided to take a break and get a cup of Java. While he was out, a squirrel came in and ate the guys nuts! When the doc came back, he got real scared, but then he remembered that he had a jar of cocktail onions in his bag which he had bought while shopping to take home. So he placed two onions in his scrotum and sent him home. When the guy came in for his check up, the doctor asked him how it was going. The guy said, 'better than ever!' The doctor was surprised and asked, 'better than ever?' Yea, when we have sex now, we even cry!!!" DS said with as straight a face as is possible for a gay man.

As James half-wittedly awaited DS' reply, Butch took a chance and said to Sandy, “Master, how come you only said 'close to zero' ... can't it get all the way to zero, Master?”

Sandy allowed this, as it was a life-or-death, once-in-a-lifetime conversation they were having ... and he explained, “'Zero' would mean that you're cured, slave ... and they haven't figured out how to do that yet, so 'close to zero' is what we hafta shoot for, OK?” to which Butch nodded and said, Master, thank You, Master.”

Sandy's cock was so damn hard, just watching these two slaves kneeling like this before him ... their whole lives now in his hands ... and they knowing it. He'd never had such a satisfying feeling of power before, but he was aware of the pitfalls power brings, having read Machiavelli's “The Prince,” and that famous quote, “Power corrupts ... absolute power corrupts absolutely” ... unless you're Bush who as a follower of Calvin believes he is destined to be God's instrument against the evil empire in spite of public opinion. (Public opinion sounds so negative, but isn't democracy based on public opinion?)

"Come on, James, tell me how you got into the Fed-Ex's pants," DS pleaded, as he popped more kisses into his mouth.

"You keep eating all the paraffin-filled chocolate, which your body can't digest, and all that paraffin has to come out through the pores of your skin ... you're going to become one huge zit or purple derple!"

“It wasn't easy,” James continued, “but once he was pleading with me to watch his balls ... ah, remind me to put spaghetti and meatballs on my menu ... I had him stand up, drop his shorts and underwear, so I could watch them, and then I began to soothe them with gentle strokes of my tongue ..." James described his good luck with the private post-man's privates.

Sandy felt for these two slaves ... it was the first time he'd ever had to convey news like this to anyone and he was justifiably moved and disturbed, after all ... but justice was blind, a hard cock has no conscience, and they had properly earned their enslavement. He went on, saying, “You two are gonna hafta learn how to do as you're told, sexually, regardless what you've ever done before with each other ... Butch, I want you to fuck Paul up the ass right now, and it had better be good, slave. I love smacking balls ... a lot ... so remember that!” and smiled at them, knowing how difficult his orders would be to follow.

"So then what happened?" asked the Dark Eye Shadow with some of his teeth covered by chocolate stains.

"On no! If you want to know more about what I did with JD who have to tell me more about what you and Sandy were up to around the camp fire where the deer and the antelope play." James said as he called in a order to the butcher. "Yea send me about 5 pounds of of Flemming's leg."

"Oh we buy meat by the whole steer or in this case venison and then have the butcher send us what we need. I was not going to cook the boss's hind quarters!"

"Now, back to the deer and the antelope... what did you guys do out there?" Gossip columnist James Smith insisted on more details.

Butch, in the meantime, was sweating bullets ... Paul and he had only ever done oral stuff together and both had thought that anal sex was 'too queer' for their tastes ... although he'd secretly always wanted Paul to fuck him in the ass, he'd never confessed it to him. But this order ... to fuck Paul himself ... was going to be real hard. He reached down to start jacking, to get himself hard for the act, when Sandy guided him with, “No, slave ... use the other slave's mouth to prepare your cock for fucking ... it looks hotter to a Man watching and it's good practice for a slave to suck as much cock as possible. Do it!”

So, Butch slapped Paul's ass and ordered, “Get this hard for me, slave so I can fuck ya wit' it! Move yer ass!” and Paul was momentarily moonstruck by Butch's sudden aggressive assertiveness ... but pleased with it, too.

“Well, when we were lying with our heads close by and looking at all the millions of stars and a comet shooting through the skies, there was not a cloud in the sky, and we had no discouraging words, well, we sort of turned towards one another and I could see the stars and the moon in his eyes! Before I knew what was happening, I was buck naked, on all fours, and Sandy was trying to break the bronco in me."

Paul pivoted around to get at his soon-to-be cherry-popper's cock hard for him with his mouth, something he was familiar with doing from past get-togethers, and virtually inhaled the musky, uncut slab of Man-meat to the root, causing Butch to jerk just a bit in pleasure. Butch grabbed his head with both hands to guide and instruct him as he sucked on the throat-challenging cock, driving his ever-hardening baby-maker down Paul's throat. It went deeper each time as it erected, until he was making his slave-buddy gag with the enormity of his ass-splitting weapon of cherry-poppery. Paul was lost in the task early on, and wasn't aware of the excitement his gagging sounds were causing both Butch and the ever-vigilant Sandy, sitting by and observing each step in the deflowerment with rapt fascination.

"So Honey, horny Sandy reamed your ass with this python of a cock?" James exclaimed.

"Well, I reckon that is one way to say it. It felt more like he was parking his bus in a space reserved for sub compacts!"

"Yipes, he probably caused your some internal injuries. Have you checked yourself for hemorrhoids?" James said hoping to manipulate the dark one's imagination.

"Hem er oids? What the fuck are them d're things." Dark shadowed boxed with the word.

"Piles, they are called piles in the bible.¨ James retorted while thinking that it would be a good idea to make some lemon tarts for dinner.

"Well, yea, he sure did pile drive into me, until my whole body got so stiff and I began to shiver all over." Said the Dart Continent.

"Naw, I was hotter than a branding iron right out of the fire, I was shaking all over from what he was doin to me... the drilling finally found my oil reserve and my well gushed out of me so violently, that I felt the earth move beneath me and the stars and the moon were the gifts he gave to a dark and endless night.... my love!" Said Shadow darkly romantically as he verbally assassinated a beautiful song as only a gun toting cowboy can.

Sandy was about to get physically involved as the two former lovers continued the pre-fuck fellatorial demonstration, and Butch was getting very aggressive with Paul's throat, which was a real turn-on for Sandy ... especially when Butch would withdraw completely and Sandy could see the huge apple which passed for the head of his cock ... Sandy could only imagine the challenge it must be for Paul to take it down his throat as he'd been doing. But he was totally shocked when Butch said, “C'mon, slave ... ya know it's only half-way there ... make it nice and big for me so I can split that ass proper for ya!” and then slapped Paul's face hard enough to leave a large hand-print on his cheek.

Wanting to see what this monster looked like at 100% efficiency, Sandy got behind Paul and got a nice encouraging grip on his balls, and squeezed down tight, saying to Butch, “Work him hard, slave ... show him who's in charge of that throat!” and while Butch nodded and increased the intensity of his assault, Paul was now struggling to handle both the nut-crushing in back and the throat-packing in front, his gagging and attempts at screaming both growing more frequent and louder, to the pleasure of both Sandy and Butch.

"You had better drop your pants and let me check you for piles, you wouldn't want to let something like that go." James said authoritatively.

The Dark one innocently dropped his pants quickly and hopped up onto Dr. James examination table, on all fours. James slipped into his white cooking smock, and found a speculum among his other cooking utensils and used some lard to lubricate it before he pressed it up into the Shadow's poorly lit cave in order to examen him throughly.

"You should be so lucky. uh-oh, I think I see some piles, but they seem small enough to removed." Dr. James Kildare, said removing his instrument. "All I have do do is push them out with my medicinal meat."

Sandy was utterly spellbound watching Butch's cock continue to swell up ... there seemed to be no limit ... until, at last, after much reassurance had been given to Paul's tortured balls along the way, Butch said, “Master, this slave-splitter is ready to do it's dirty-work now!” and he continued to batter Paul's throat while awaiting Sandy's answer.

Sandy was very reluctant to let go of Paul's balls ... but, he did, and promptly delivered five seriously uncalled-for backhand-blows to the slave's balls when Butch was all the way down his throat, getting a very visible and delightful reaction from both slaves, and then he said to Butch, “Go ahead, slave ... but make it good! You just saw how much fun I have with slave-balls!” and Butch nodded, saying “Yes, Master! Looks like Master really likes smackin' nuts, Master!” and he grinned inappropriately at Sandy, who grinned back, nonetheless.

Dear Readers: Please cut and paste and send to the authors,

so that they may better serve you all in the future!

( ) I enjoy the deep philosophical underpinnings of this parable.

( ) I was moved by the metaphysical analogy between Flemming representing the status quo of a complacent government and the growing unity of third-world nations in their global concern over the warming of the planet.

( ) Forget the political critique and get back to the pure sex for which you are both are famous. Love your other stories on Nifty.

( ) I prefer to read more about cowboys out on the range where the buffalo roam.

( ) I can't answer this poll because my hands are covered with Vaseline and I don't want to mess up the keyboard.