Speech and Debate

Apologies that this chapter took a little longer than expected. As you can see, the chapters are actually getting longer and longer each time. There are still more chapters on the way...and a possibility of a side line extension once this main series comes to a close. Fingers crossed!

DISCLAIMER: The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in an area where it is not allowed, depart. Though not observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex.

The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.

~D.A.M~

*****

Carrot or Stick? Yes, Please.

By D A Mackey

For a lot of people, maybe even most people, the week of Final Examinations is full of late night study sessions, Red Bull, espresso and stress fueled panic attacks complete with existential melt downs. For me, it was like closure: a sweet and easy goodbye to a course and a teacher who had helped me expand my horizons just a little bit more. Or, if they hadn't, and I had been bored and coasting or worse, completely uninspired, then it was a lovely "Dear John" letter to end the torment and make a clean break.

I floated about without a care in the world. At least not an academic one. This was my final Finals week and I wanted to make sure I remembered it. It signaled the end of a very significant portion of my life to that point and the changes I had gone through to get there. I pushed the other hypotheticals that buzzed around this transitionary time to the back of my mind.

What would happen to Daniel and I, what the summer might hold in store, and our futures,...I did not want to think on that. Not yet. This week was special to me for a different reason, reminding me where I came from and the person I still was inside, keeping me grounded as the rest of my life swirled in semi-organized chaos.

I was in one of my daydreaming modes, having just handed in my final exam to Dr. Plarston. I was going to miss her after graduation, but she had given me her personal email address in case I wanted to keep in touch in college. I was lost in a fantasy of my future educators, men and women I had yet to meet, when a 200 lb boulder of man flesh crashed into me from behind.

The breath was squeezed from my body like I was an old balloon and I swear I could hear my ribs creak when Ian gathered me up into a crushing bear hug. My feet dangled uselessly half a foot above the ground and he shook me from side to side like a dog with a chew toy until I got dizzy.

"Put me down, jack ass! You're gonna kill me!" I croaked, hoping he could hear me as the darkness crept in on the edges of my vision.

As quickly as it started, it was over and I gulped air into my lungs with audible gasps.

"Dude!" Ian exclaimed, "You are the absolute best!"

"Thanks," I replied, unsure what he was driving at. "I know that already, but it's always good to hear."

I winked at him and he favored me with a broad smile and a punch to my shoulder that sent me reeling backwards. He steadied me with one massive arm and a blush that said he still wasn't always aware of his own strength.

"I just finished my US History final," he continued, "and I think I blew that mother fucker out of the water! At least, I knew most of the answers right off the bat."

I smiled at him with genuine happiness. I hadn't done much to improve his academic efforts. Not really. Just a few pointers here and there about study techniques and ways to remember things for taking tests. It seemed as if my meager efforts had paid off for him. I was thrilled to have provided some minor assistance.

"I'm glad to hear it, Ian," I said and did my best to return his friendly punch to the arm, but with little effect. As I watched Ian's joyous expression begin to return to normal, I saw something from the corner of my eye that caught my attention.

The annex with its cadre of small benches and big lush trees was filled with students milling about between tests. At one of the benches, the one closest to my favorite reading tree, sat a familiar figure.

"I'll see you later today, Ian. I have to go, okay?" I said to the big wall of man that stood between me and my next task. Ian turned and followed my line of sight.

"Be careful," he cautioned, understanding what I was about to do without me saying it outright. "I'll see you later. Text me if you need me."

I nodded and gathered myself.

I stood behind the seated figure for a moment, taking deep breaths and steadying my nerves before I spoke.

"Hi," I said quietly, "mind if I join you?"

Amy looked up at me from her crossed-legged seat on the bench. Her eyes were wide and I realized immediately that I was not going to get anywhere, even with the best of intentions.

Her face twisted in such a way as to actually mar her physical perfection. I didn't think it was possible, but the hatred I read on her features finally made her appear ugly for the first time in my memory. Her arched brows drew down and her mouth became a thin, pinched line slashing across her face. Her knuckles were white as she clenched the leather strap of her handbag to her lap as if it were a life preserver; not for her, but rather for me. If not for the crowd of people around us, none of whom were paying her any attention, I would wager that she would have launched herself at me and torn me limb from limb with her bare hands. Manicure be damned.

When she spoke, it was through teeth clenched so hard that I imagined I could hear them creaking under the pressure.

"Get the fuck away from me."

There was no doubt that she wanted to do me harm. Real, physical, lasting damage. Her voice was pure murder. I suddenly wished that I hadn't approached her alone like that, that I had asked Ian to remain behind the tree and on high alert in case she decided to put her previously threatened machinations into real world practice.

I was just beginning to formulate a response, plan a way to get out of there as fast as possible and reassess the situation when Amy's eyes went wide once more and her face drained of color, even through the makeup. She stared past my shoulder.

"Hey!" Katy chirped behind me. I turned and saw the reason that Amy had been so thoroughly cowed.

"Hi, Katy," I replied. She smiled at me, one graceful hand resting easily on my shoulder. I watched her face transform just as quickly as Amy's had. She looked like nothing so much as a very stern mother figure getting ready to lay down the law.

"People are speaking, Amy. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Amy's mouth hung open and her jaw worked silently. I thought I saw her eyes begin to moisten with what I could not bring myself to believe were tears.

Amy didn't cry. I barely believed she was human, so she COULDN'T cry. But she wore a look that I recognized immediately. I had worn it myself. Many times. The irony was I had usually worn that look BECAUSE of Amy.

But there was no Daniel to come to her aid. No Ian or baseball team to back her up. Not even her army of minions to support her. That was all gone for her now. I know, logically, that she brought it all on herself. She well and truly deserved what was coming to her. Unlike me and the countless other tormented souls on the bottom of the social hierarchy who were treated with impunity for simply existing, Amy had actually accrued the malice that now rained down upon her. But, I still couldn't help feeling a little bit sorry for her. Only a little.

Amy gathered her bag without a rebuttal and stalked off towards the main building. Just like that, Katy was her usually smiling self. It was beyond strange to NOT be on the receiving end of a popular smack down. I felt like I had just watched a lioness turn on and dismember a decrepit former ruler, put her out of her misery for the good of the pack. It was heartless and cruel in a way, but it was the way of the world, both in the animal kingdom and most especially in high school. Which of the two was more "human" is up for debate.

"Are you excited for the last home game?" Katy asked, Amy totally forgotten, no hint of remorse or pity for her former mistress even grazing the edge of her voice. "Everyone is going to be there!"

"Of course," I said quietly, doing my best to keep my conflicted emotions to myself for the time being. "It's going to be a great game, I'm sure."

Katy leaned close and put her lips next to my ear.

"Try and keep your hands to yourself until the game's done okay? We can't have our star player distracted."

She winked one mascaraed eye at me and promptly sashayed away towards the senior parking lot, leaving me a little slack jawed myself. And even more conflicted.

Katy had not been exaggerating when she said everyone was going to be at the final home game.

Our normal audience (yes, I realize that a sports event does not usually call its' spectators an audience, but everything is at least a little bit of theater when you get right down to it) was more than tripled from the 30-40 we normally expected to well over 100 students, teachers, administrators, parents, and friends crowding the aluminum bleachers. I smiled to see that Dr. Plartston even sat demurely on a seat between the Upper School Headmaster and Coach B. Unless I missed my guess, Coach B's leg came into contact with Dr. Plarstons' more often than was absolutely necessary.

After all, it was late Spring; the birds and the bees and all of that.

I felt a little sense of foreboding as the game started. This was going to be the final time I would ever be here, doing this, sitting and chatting with the young men who had inexplicably become my friends over the past few months. I wondered, or rather assumed, that each and every one of them had gone through this end of the season transition countless times before, so the effect was much reduced for them. But for me, this would be the first time that something I had participated in with a group, came to a close. I wasn't exactly sure how to respond, or even if the situation demanded a response at all.

I actually contemplated buying a little autograph book and having all the team members sign it for me. But, thankfully, I thought better of it and decided a simple masculine handshake and a hope for continued friendship would suffice. That's what people did in these situations, right? No emotional outpourings or sincere showings of true feelings. That just wasn't done.

Apparently, High School sports are at least somewhat of a rigged or choreographed spectacle. This was the final game of the season and a send off for a large chunk of the team as they headed into college. They wanted to go out on a bang, so to speak.

Thus, Coach B had arranged for the opposing team to be a rather underfunded, brand new, 2-22 team. Most of the guys that lined up to shake our hands before the game began wouldn't need to shave more than once a month. Their largest and most developed player would just barely give me a run for my money, and I'd never swung a baseball bat in my life. The fact that Coach B felt that he didn't even need to stay with the team to coach the game, but rather sat in the stands with Dr. Plarston spoke volumes of what he thought of the other teams' chances.

Daniel got to pitch a few innings as well as take a turn at shortstop. Watching Daniel in his tight white baseball pants lift his leg and hurl that ball towards the terrified freshman at home plate stirred something in me. I had to remember Katy's advice and struggled to keep my hands to myself.

Ian, however, followed no such logic. He smashed an over-the-fence home run in the fifth inning and, after his victory lap and fist pumping machismo, returned to the dugout where he promptly slapped my ass so hard that my feet left the ground; I yelped like a puppy who just got his tail stepped on.

We won the game handily and I completed filling out the stats sheet I was charged to keep before the final runner had crossed home plate. I handed the sheet to the assistant coach and took my seat on the dugout bench while the rest of the team lined up single file for the "good game" handshake that was customary.

"Get up, dude," Ian commanded from outside, his body far and away the largest in the long line of athletes. "You're a part of this team too. Get out here and shake some hands."

I had never taken part in this ritual with them previously. When our games ended, I always just began my duties of packing up the equipment and tidying up the dugout while my teammates completed the ceremony.

Daniel looked at me and smiled broadly. He jerked his head and motioned for me to come and join them. I rose and walked towards him, still unsure of my place in all of this, or if it was really okay for me to be there. I stood in front of Daniel and behind Ian near the back of the line with the rest of the Senior players. Paul and Gordon were last in line.

I felt Daniel's fingers on my shoulders, his strong grip kneading the tension and unease from my muscles. He leaned forward and placed his lips close to my ear.

"Don't worry babe. Just breathe. It's alright. You deserve to be here."

Before I could stop myself, before I thought of the possible ramifications, I felt my hand rise and grasp Daniel's own on my left shoulder, squeezing him tightly in my fingers.

"Thanks," I whispered, struggling to control the ever growing mass of emotions that swirled inside me.

An above average intellect does nothing to prepare you for the undulating sea of hormones and feelings that growing up can sometimes be.

In fact, now that I think about it, intellect may actually be a hinderance.

"You two sure have gotten close since Prom," Tall Paul quipped jovially from just behind Daniel.

Ian burst out laughing, a raucous and booming chuckle that drew eyes even from the still cheering crowd behind the chain link fence.

"Dude, you need to get your eyes checked," Ian shot over his shoulder, shaking his head in disbelief at Paul's apparent obliviousness.

Daniel and I turned to look at Paul and Gordon who exchanged confused and bewildered looks. To his credit, Daniel's hand never left my shoulders until the first player of the opposing team held out their palm to him.

The final walk to the locker room was a clouded mixture of elation tinged with the sadness of an ending. Jokes and jockeying were exchanged all around, of course, but the light hearted boyishness that usually pervaded the air after a game was lessened.

For my part, I began to shelve the bags of bats and balls and clipboards as I normally did. I took my time now, trying to remember the feel of everything, the smell, the detail of the mesh bags beneath my finger tips and the plywood storage shelves I threw them onto. I doubted I would ever have the opportunity to do something like this again. Though it was never something I had ever thought I would do in the first place, it was amazing how quickly it had become almost precious to me.

I wasn't used to endings like this. The closest thing I could compare it to was that sinking feeling I got when I finished a really engaging novel, turned the last page and had to say goodbye to the characters and plot lines I had grown so fond of as they came to life in my head. But even that kind of ending was different; that literary sadness was tempered by the knowledge that I could always turn to the first page once more and find myself right back there, in their world, part of their life. There was no turning back to the beginning now. This book, this chapter, this piece of my life was coming to an end; when that back cover slid shut, there would be nothing left but memory for me to relive.

If you ever find yourself in a place like that, where you KNOW for certain that this is the last of something, do your best to burn it into your heart, for it can keep you company and warm your soul in the darkest of times.

"Get in the shower, Mr. Manager," Gordon's voice suddenly slurred from the doorway to my storage closet, shaking me from my rather dark internal philosophical musings.

He had a length of white towel wrapped around his waist but was otherwise naked. Even in my heightened state of emotional conflict, my eyes traveled over his smooth and toned torso, slid down to the outline of his average cock beneath the terry cloth.

"Hmm?" I asked, raising my eyes so as to not stare. Well, not for too long.

I'm only human, after all, and a gay one at that. Anyone with working eyesight would stare.

"Come on! Don't be shy. We've all got one. Plus we've already seen yours," Tall Paul added, his head popping into view above Gordon's shoulder, a smile on his pale and newly-freckled face. The warmer weather and increase in sun exposure was not easy on men of Irish descent like him.

"You guys go on. You're the one's who got all sweaty."

"Don't sell yourself short," Gordon admonished lightly. "Math and stats and filling in paperwork is sweaty work too. Come on. It's just us Seniors."

Paul and Gordon both looked at me with open, questioning eyes. They weren't eager for me to join them for any nefarious or even remotely sexual purposes. I got the distinct impression that they actually wanted me there because they truly felt I belonged. I felt my throat clench and my chest tighten, the sincerity of their overture hitting me harder than I would have anticipated.

So I nodded, flipped the light switch to the storage room, closed the door behind me for what I guessed would be the last time and followed my friends down the hall towards the already steam filled Shower Room.

Paul and Gordon dropped their towels and headed to their respective shower heads without stopping to see if I followed. Though I had seen the guys in the shower many times before, it was still a bit of a surprise to have that much taut and tantalizing man flesh on such ready display. Like stepping into a real life wet dream.

Paul twisted under the stream of hot water and turned to urge me to join them beneath the spray with a jerk of his head. I did my best not to watch his long, thin cock dangling between his lean thighs. I had no such luck with Daniel.

He was in the middle of the group, Paul and Gordon to his left, and Ian to his right. Like the Sun beside a flashlight, he was all my eyes could truly see. He was facing me, his black hair pushed back from his face and glistening like ebony silk. His beautiful brown eyes drank me in, standing in the doorway, still in my uniform. He raised his eyebrows and his face took on a air of lust and starvation.

I kicked off my baseball shoes and stripped my socks from my feet, uncaring where they landed or even if they got wet. I wouldn't be needing them any time soon anyhow. I kept my eyes on Daniel while the other guys chatted and washed themselves as if we didn't exist.

I fumbled with the button of my pants, unzipped them and pushed them to the floor. I watched Daniel's eyes follow them as I stepped out, shivered a bit as his gaze traveled up my calves, my pale thighs, and came to rest on the bulge in my white jock strap. I grabbed myself and pushed my cock and balls towards him a little, loving the way his pupils widened.

My shirt followed quickly after and finally, I pushed my jock to my ankles and took a step towards the shower. How many times had we been here before, the two of us? Naked together in this very shower, the rest of the world a forgotten blur outside the tiled walls?

The tip of Daniel's tongue traveled across his bottom lip and I felt my skin tighten in goosebumps. My body seemed to recognize our surroundings, wanted to commence with what it normally did when it was here, in this room with Daniel.

The little rivers of soapy water that flowed across Daniel's hairy chest reminded me of watching my own cum drizzle slowly over him. I felt my cock twitch. Daniel's dark brown nipples stood out, hard and erect on his rounded pecs, and my mouth watered, my teeth wanting to bite down on the little nubs of skin and taste him on my tongue.