A Presidential Closet: Going Boldly Where No Gay Has Gone Before Page 5

  “I’m not going back there again. Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “I’ll go with you,” Steve suddenly piped up. “I’ll even be the one to kill it if you want.”

  “No Steve, you mustn’t. You’re injured. You could get hurt.”

  “Sometimes you have to get used to killing,” Steve said ominously, staring at Crandon as the words tumbled out of his mouth. Steve suddenly hated him. He was boorish, mean, oppressive, cruel, self serving, self centered and unfeeling. If any one deserved to be dead, it were him.

  Steve took the knife from Anton and faced Randall. “Grab the torch and let’s get this over with.”

  ***

  The sight of two pronghorns, loitering around the cave entrance, did little to entice the herd into killing them. The bear meat with seasonings found in Randall’s satchel was divine.

  “Do they look more like deer to you or antelope.”

  Steve studied the pronghorns for a moment before answering. “I’d say they were a cross between both.”

  “My assessment as well,” Zeldon agreed. “I love how the brown streaks swirl into the lush white fur. They’re such beautiful creatures.”

  “They’re cross breeded, funny looking maggot scum is what they are,” Crandon exclaimed. “And I thought I told you two lovesick stags to cool it. Your asses belong to my cock. So does your admiration and devotion.”

  “I could never admire a pig like you,” Steve spat out, his face reddening in rage.

  “I was wondering when you would get the spine to challenge me, Stevey boy. Maybe now would be a good time to smack you around a little, and take you down a peg.”

  Steve glared at Crandon and let his fingers run down the blade of the knife dangling from his belt.

  “Blood from the bear’s head I removed a while ago still stains this blade. You’re going to keep provoking me, Crandon, until it gets mingled with your own.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “You’re too stupid to know when I’m threatening you, is that it?”

  Rage now fully consumed Crandon. Two hundred and sixty pounds of rock hard muscle was spread out over a six feet six inch frame. He leapt to his feet, towering over Steve, his shadow eclipsing him.

  Steve pulled the knife and beckoned to Crandon with his hand to come and get it.

  Crandon surged forward, his giant hands outstretched and his muscular thighs flexed with each ominous step.

  Steve let him come close, then dipped his hand into a pouch hidden in his shirt. He scooped up the canine pepper and flung it at Crandon’s face.

  Instant waves of searing discomfort took hold of his eyes, which became temporarily blinded. Steve then side stepped the charging giant and reached down for a large rock, swiping it off Crandon’s right temple with all his might.

  The sickening sound of cracking bone and tearing flesh echoed along the corridors of the cave.

  “Stop! You’ll kill him!”

  “He was going kill me, wasn’t he?” Steve shouted.

  Crandon swung wildly as he went down, hoping to connect. He wasn’t disappointed. He fist caught Steve square on the jaw, sending him reeling. He hit the ground before Crandon did, pain shooting up through his already wounded leg as he fell onto it.

  Crandon clawed desperately at his eyes, trying to regain at least a speck of sight before he could strike again. Steve pulled out the knife and stabbed upward, feeling its razor sharp edge slice up into his rib cage like a hot knife through butter, piercing his heart as blood trickled out along the blade.

  “Hmph,” was all his stunned lips could muster before he clung to his side and collapsed dead onto the ground.

  The remaining stag members leapt to their feet and gasped at the horrific sight.

  Randall leaned down to check his pulse while Anton swept his long blond hair off his own face and shouted, “is he? Is he?”

  “Dead? Yes. Quite dead, I’m afraid,” Randall said, almost in a ghastly whisper.

  Silence then permeated the room. Not even the man Steve loved, Zeldon, could readily speak.

  “Where’s your thrusting antlers now,” Steve said, panting wildly.

  The others seemed afraid of him, and backed away slightly.

  “I guess we’ll have to elect a new leader now,” Anton whispered, almost mindlessly.

  “No need for elections, or retributions,” Randall spoke up. “The herd rules are quite clear. Anyone is free at any time to challenge the leader. Anyone who defeats the leader takes over the herd automatically.”

  “That can’t be right,” Anton spat out. “No offence, Steve.”

  “None taken,” he countered.

  “It’s just that we need someone with more experience. Someone that can keep us alive. Steve here is so young.”

  “I may be young, but I’m not arrogant.”

  “Crandon was a bastard,” Calvin managed, speaking only for the first time since transforming to human only the day before. “He said he loved us, but it was more like hate. He was sadistic and vile. I’d have no problem taking my chances with Steve here in the lead, except…except.”

  “Except what?” Randall asked.

  “Except that he’s injured, and he’s got some weird green shit starting to ooze from his wound.”

  Steve looked down and spun his thigh to view it. A green puss was indeed starting to flow slowly from the open, gaping wound. “It does hurt like a bastard, that’s for sure. And I am shivering like crazy.”

  “Wait,” said Randall. “There is a small bottle of pure bourbon that Crandon made me save in the satchel for sipping. It’s almost a 100 percent alcohol. That might disinfect it.”

  “I think I’d rather drink it,” Steve joked.

  “I'm sure you would,” Randall said, adding a frown. “But right now, it’s more important to save our leader’s life. Bring some snow from outside. We’ll need boiling water. I’ll clean out the wound then pour in the alcohol. Then we’ll bind it up with some rags.”

  “Do you really think it’s that serious?” Zeldon asked.

  “His fever’s rising. You can see it in his face. It’s covered with sweat. A bad infection, but this might work. We have to try.”

  “If you do get better,” Calvin said gingerly. “What do we do now? Stay here until we change back to deer, then keep breaking our hooves against these rocks? And cutting our lips trying to fish in between them for bits of green leaves?”

  “I say we go back to the good grazing ground,” Steve answered. “That way, when we do change back to deer a few days from now, we won’t be starving.

  “But the hunters, three or four of them at least, with high powered rifles. They’re bound to spot us when we return and change back. That’s probably why those few doe had no stags, all chased off or gunned down!”

  “Well, we’ll just have to gun them down first,” Steve asserted.

  “Yeah, let’s fight! That’s what I’m talking about,” Joey added, “suddenly stepping forward and slamming a fist into an open palm. The only ones Crandon ever fought were us, his own stags. Those bastard hunters were shooting at us, why not turn the tables on them. I’m sick of all this running shit. Let’s nail those hunters while we’re still human. They won’t be suspecting us. We’ll have the upper hand, the element of surprise!”

  Steve stared at Joey’s boyish face. He was the last virgin to be deflowered by Crandon. Steve was determined not to follow in his predecessor’s cruel footsteps, and even more determined to let the herd know about it.

  “And another thing,” Steve asserted. “From now on they’ll be no more of this take by force hierarchy bullshit. We mate with whomever we choose, whenever we choose, however we choose and wherever we choose, regardless of whether or not we’re in human or stag form. We’ll treat each other with respect and dignity. And we’ll love each other as brothers, or lovers if we so choose. But it’ll be our choice. Nothing will be forced on any of us anymore. I choose Zeldon for my mate, if he’ll have me that is.”

>   “You know I love you,” he managed, a lone tear of joy stumbling down his quivering face. “What a happy time it will be, for all of us.”

  “For all of us,” Anton shouted enthusiastically.

  “One for all and all for one and no more of this Crandon dictator bullshit,” Calvin added.

  “I for one am excited about sticking it to those bastard hunters,” Joey piped up. “A piece of my ear is missing from a stray bullet that nearly turned me into their dinner.”

  ***

  The day’s journey back to the rich feeding grounds seemed like a week with the cold and snow biting at their bare ankles.

  “The first thing I’m gonna do is steal some of those bastard’s clothing, especially their boots. We can make more satchels to carry extra clothing in around our necks for when we change back to deer.”

  “Wish we had a gun,” Anton whined.

  “I’m just as good with this knife,” Calven asserted, flipping it in the air and catching it handily. “I can strike any target from five hundred feet and not miss.”

  “I make out just three of them hunters in all. I’d guess they’re at about a thousand feet away,” Randall asserted. “That tall chubby one there has two rifles. One he’s carrying and the other slung around his shoulder. If you can get him, without the others knowing about it, we’d have a great chance to pick up his rifles and shoot the other two, before they even know what’s happening to them.”

  “I hate the idea of killing, though,” Zeldon said softly, his glazed deep brown eyes saddened.

  “And just what do you think they would do to you if you were in stag form?” Randall asked. “They’d put a bullet in your brain, that’s what. Then they’d carve your skin up while you’re still twitching and rip off your fur and show it to you.”

  “You see how that chubby guy we’re eyeing is always lagging quite a ways behind? I’ve got an idea,” Steve said, a smile suddenly forming on his frozen face. “Anton, you and Joey get out over that ledge and when I give the signal, shout as though you’re injured and need help. Calvin, I won’t give the signal until they’re less than five hundred feet away. When I do, toss your knife at once. The other two will be so busy running toward the cries for help, that they won’t even know their chubby comrade’s fallen. Then, Randall and I will scoop up the rifles and nail the other two.”

  “But how will you reach in time? Your leg?”

  “It’s getting better with the work Randall did on it earlier. I think I’m going to be okay. Now, everyone, get into place.”

  Joey tapped Anton on the shoulder and the two of them ran towards the ridge.

  Calvin moved to an edge in the clearing where he could get a clear shot with the foot long knife.

  Zeldon followed Randall and Steve as they made a bee line behind the chubby target.

  Within minutes, all was falling into place. Steve waved at Joey and Anton to start up the ruckus and they did as they were supposed to, shouting for help as though one of them were injured. Sure enough, the front two hunters jogged off quickly in the direction of the cries for help.

  Calvin took careful aim and slung the knife with all his might. It missed, whizzing past the back of his head and lodging into a tree stump. The chubby hunter, unaware of his close brush with death, kept trudging towards his two comrades, wheezing as he went. Steve motioned at Calvin to fetch his knife but he was frozen stiff with fear, his eyes locked onto the state of the art hunting rifle that could stop a charging elephant. Randall tore after the chubby fellow, making ground as he tried to keep hidden within the route’s confines of dangling branches as best he could. Seeing Randolph run snapped Calvin out of his frightened trance, and he trotted quickly after the knife lodged in a far away tree.

  The chubby runner suddenly paused, hearing a crackling twig from Calvin’s running. Another crunch in the snow from Randall made him realize that someone was behind him as well. He turned in the direction of both sounds, but saw no one, not even Randall off to his left, creeping closer behind rows of birch trees and rotted out tree stumps.

  By the time he saw Randall it was too late. He lowered his gun to fire but caught a fist to his jaw instead, knocking him to the ground. His rifle fell onto the frozen snow, sliding away from Randall, who had to run a few feet to retrieve it. He finally reached it and picked it up off the ground, just in time to see the chubby hunter struggle to his feet, pointing the rifle around his shoulder at Randall’s head. The two rifles fired off simultaneously, with each bullet reaching its intended target. Within seconds, both men lay dead.

  The other two hunters had just reached Joey and Anton, but now turned in a panic, upon hearing the gunshots, moving toward their fallen comrade.

  It was now Steve’s time to freeze, standing directly over the chubby dead man, trying to tug the rifle out of his riveted death clasp. The first hunter raised his rifle, finding Steve in his sights. Steve froze like a deer caught in the headlights, knowing he should dive out of the way, but being unable.

  Calvin had, however, by this time retrieved his knife from the tree and was determined not to miss a second time. A moment later and the man dropped his rifle before having a chance to fire, the knife lodged firmly in his chest.

  Anton and Joey were next to spring into action, jumping the remaining hunter until they managed to wrestle his rifle away from him. One bullet was all they needed to silence him for good.

  A sudden calm seized hold of the snow covered forest.

  A tree hopping squirrel, late in starting its winter’s sleep, hopped wearily into the hole in the trunk, depositing its last nut before the arduous snowfalls should begin in earnest.

  Steve watched it’s head bob in and out of the tree hole, sensing the apprehension it felt, not knowing whether it would emerge from its approaching sleep, alive or dead.

  Still, at least for the time being, they could shake off all such apprehension for the next four days. As long as they were in human form, they had the guns and soon, when they changed to stags again, the hunters would be gone and the food supply, more than plentiful.

  Still, Steve wasn’t naïve enough to believe that the question of whether or not more hunters would come, would not be always on their minds. The dead hunters obviously had friends and family that would come looking for them. For now though, Steve imagined Zeldon’s thick, long cock laying across his fast beating heart. He was the love of Steve’s life, but the suppression of that love was no longer to be denied. Steve was determined that tonight would be the night they both lost their virginity.

  ***

  There was no cave, but they did manage to find the hunter’s tent about a half mile back. There, they found lots of coffee, beef jerky, freshly killed rabbits, and cigarettes and whisky, luxuries they hadn’t seen in such a long while.

  “It’s so much better with you as leader,” Joey piped up, munching on a can of apple sauce he’d found in one of the make shift cupboards.

  “This whiskey’s making me giddy,” Zeldon boasted happily, his naked body awash with a light sensual sweat, formed from knowing he and Steve were finally going to do what they never dreamed possible, and that was make love.

  As members of the stag herd, they had no qualms about seeing each other naked, and even less concerns about being next to a couple involved in noisy lovemaking. Crandon had made a habit of having sex with whomever, whenever, right in the midst of the herd. It was something they had all gotten used to, and so the lack of privacy did not now bother them.

  With Randall gone, Calvin was the odd man out. But he didn’t seem to mind. He was happier than a pig in mud with a glass of whisky in one hand and a pack of smokes in the other.

  Joey and Anton were making goo goo eyes at each other, while Zeldon snuggled next to Steve, his head on his rippling abs and his lips gliding up and down on his steel hard cock. “Let me know if my lips get too sweet,” he mumbled. “I don’t want you to come any time soon. We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

  “That we do, my lo
ve, that we do.”

  Steve gently pulled his head up and kissed his lips carefully, letting his fingers play in his hair. “You’re right, your sexy mouth was getting dangerously sweet.”

  The words of Joey a few minutes earlier suddenly haunted his mind. His insinuation that things were so much better with Steve as leader were ringing strangely hollow. They were now down to just five members. As much of a bastard as Crandon had been, and as miserable as their existence had been, at least they were being kept alive.

  Steve sighed and pondered over the logic of his latest round of decision making. He had taken the defenseless herd up against three heavily armed, well experienced hunters. Perhaps they had been lucky to lose only Randall this time. He sighed once more. Perhaps, the next time, the five remaining stags would not be so lucky.

  “How’s your leg?”

  Zeldon’s voice snapped Steve out of the morass of deep thought that was weighing him down. “I’m much better now thanks.”

  His lips were full, lush and ultra horny. They met steve’s handsome, moist mouth with a force that made his spine tingle with excitement. Their tongues intertwined and their naked chests gently collided, building up a sensual film of salty sweat that felt good against heated air from the roaring fire.

  Steve squeezed Zeldon’s bum cheeks and then let his hands roam freely over his muscular thighs and trembling hips.

  “We’re still virgins,” he managed, half panting. “I’m so thrilled we don’t have that bastard Crandon around any more to stop us from making love.”

  “Why don’t you two get a room,” Calvin said jokingly, his mind obviously swimming in the whisky that was now half consumed.

  “Why don’t you get a room as well, Calvin, so you can push that bottle up your ass.”

  Calvin laughed and took another swig. “Maybe I will,” he asserted. “Once I finish it that is.”

  The sound of Joey and Anton’s moist lips, sweetly smacking together, was making Steve really horny. He glanced over and became wide-eyed at the sight of Anton’s giant cock gliding in and out of Joey’s bum.