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Parole Office Pain(Illustrated)
(A Bud the 'sub' Story)
TJ Ryder
http://www.midnightx.com/
Leon, black bus driver on the downtown line, was getting a
little pissed at the blonde kid standing past the 'no passengers'
floor mark to get off at Central and Madison, and breathed a sigh of
relief when a seat became available and the college kid went back
and sat. He'd already irritated him by his fidgeting around and asking
the time. And he was only a few minutes past schedule, not
his fault, a mid town lane closing. He'd had this boy enough times
on his run to recognize him and he always hung around the driver's
area.
What the beefy middleaged driver didn't know was that Bud had been
trying for eye contact for each of the last runs, and Leon might have
noticed that but after driving a bus for 20 years he never looked
people in the eye. He looked at waist height, where he could see their
hands, the money or transfer. And sometimes he checked out a boy's basket
but never came on to a passenger.
It was Bud's clumsy attempt at a pickup line. The idea of a good
looking white boy like that starting a conversation didn't even occur
to him. But the muscular black man had piqued his interest, and he
took this bus every week to visit his parole officer.
Bud sat on the aisle seat, looking at his watch. He did not want
to be late for his parole visit. Ticking off his preparations for this
visit, he had followed his PO, Mr. Jackson's rules explicitly this time.
Every time for the last month he had been punished mercilessly for screwing
up, and the real problem was the rules seemed to keep on changing, plus
they weren't written down. No, he thought with a trace of bitterness,
they couldn't just print em off. But then, he smiled ruefully, probably
not the kind of thing they want shown to anyone else. Then he tried to
think of anything he missed. Ever since he had done six months at
GardBrook Reformatory which was mostly black and all black run, he had
tried to obey anyone in authority, especially black. Now he had begun
to suspect that parole office visits for a misdemeanour bust, always
the last appointment of the day with the shades drawn, a paddle and
a cane and a mean ugly overweight middle aged black man was more than
just being a rigorous officer of the court. And it was fucking with
his mind as well. He hated Mr. Jackson, did not find him attractive
at all, but he began to fantasize about expanding his dating circle
to more mature black males. And there was that driver up front,
broad shoulders, bald head, muscular thick neck, and huge powerful
hands, and that forceful attitude in dealing with the public!
Forcing himself to think of something else, he went through the
checklist he tried to remember for this PO visit!
Okay, he thought, he was sure there was, mmm, let's see. Medium
buttplug, black color. The flange around it was kind of uncomfortable
on the hard plastic seat. Mr. Jackson himself had mentioned that and the
size. That was no problem of course, not even needing the regulation one
he had been given on his last visit, because he had several black buttplugs
from small to x large. Many days at college he wore a medium just for
the emotional solace, but not riding in a bus. Of course he had to be
scrupulously clean, no makeup, and he always was, touching his cheek where
he had got slapped for merely wearing a little chapstick. Mr. Jackson hated all
makeup, saying it was fem. Bud wasn't really femme, but at times wondered
about the relatively easy switch because of his slim athletic build to go
the tv route.
'Hmmm," he held up another finger, as the commuter besides him wondered
what he was thinking of. No orgasms in last 48 hours. That was hard but he
was okay on that one, shifting his full balls and perpetually half hard penis.
'Panties!' he smiled. Now why would a cop who hated femmes want him in
pink bikini panties? Of course he couldn't use women's panties because
they didn't stretch enough for his cock and full balls, but a gay shop had a
pair that worked. Normally all his underwear were bikini sheer white cotton.
'Flags!' Sure he flew his regular flags, like the BlackRule party
button on his shirt and bookbag, but he took off the earrings and nipple rings
because they were too 'femme'. He wore his hair long although he preferred it
shorter, and that was another one. Finally, the 'Gestures!' He knew these
pretty good because they were like his probation in the BlackRule party.
Little random spontaneous acts of submission and support he must do on a daily
basis. hmmmm, there was one he hadn't done yet, and he must have been crazy
to think he would make a pitch at this hunky black driver that wouldn't get him
thrown off. So, well, he figured with a sigh. Try again.
"Um, hello sir!" Leon looked up and scowled, that blonde boy again.
He was standing just back of the white line, close enough for nobody in the
bus to hear.
"Waddayawan, boy?"
"Um, I'm ah, sorry about my earlier question, really, sir!"
"Forget it, your stop comin up?"
"Um, no, um, not for a few blocks. No sir!"
"Sowaddayawant?"
"I'm um," thinking hard for an explanation, "well, um, I'm Bud by the
way."
"Yeah right, so?" He cursed at a taxi, and Bud lurched back, grabbing
a strap.
"Ah, well, I was, um, just wondering how you get that great shine
on your black shoes. Like you must be ex military?"
Leon stopped at a light and looked over at him with the kind of look
designed to intimidate. Bud was just respectfully smiling.
"Ten years in the marines! You got some kind of shoe fetish?"
"Uh, no I don't actually, but um (think, he said, always tell the
truth to a black man) I served a few months at Gardbrook and the staff
that had shines like that were ex military!"
"Gardbrook! So your stop at Madison is the Justice Building, parole
officer?"
Bud blushed and nodded.
Leon smiled, "bet the guards had fun with you, boy!"
To his surprise Bud blushed even more. "Okay boy, whatchu want
with this old niggah?"
"Your'e not old, sir, (he was going to say he went out with lots older
and worse looking guys but did not) I just, well, its like something I
forgot to do this week and my PO appointment is in just a few blocks!"
Leon's brow furrowed, and Bud shrugged his shoulders in defeat and
handed him a printed copy. Leon hesitantly took it, and Bud had
circled number 3.
"Kiss the shoes of a black stranger!"
"Haw, haw! Kind of like a fraternity initiation. Why not just
say you did it?"
"I, uh, I can't lie to him, he'd know and then, well, it'd be a
lot worse!"
"Haw, I'd let you do it but I got passengers!" Leon by this time
had noticed that Bud's swollen bulge had gotten bigger with each
humiliating admission, and he was already shifting his leg so his
thick long python ran straight, but the bulge in Bud's pants was
distracting him enough to miss being cut off by a taxi.
"Shit!" he muttered, pulling out and getting back in his lane!
"Sorry for bothering you sir!" Bud returned to his seat.
Two more pickups and stops and Bud was moving to the front
to get off. Leon had wondered if there was going to be something else.
"Say, um, Mister...!"
"I can't let you do it, boy! Sorry! Your stop coming up!"
for coffee or something, you know, when your shift gets off?"
"Yes sir, but um, " Leon turned and saw the piece of paper
in his hand, "I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to call
sometime after your shift, go for coffee or something?" Bud's
smile was sincere!
Leon Wilson's jaw dropped open. Shaking his big head, he looked
like he was thinking he was being teased, but then he looked with
defiance at Bud's blushing face, and he was disarmed. The kid WAS
coming on to him. Not only that, by the bulge in his worn jeans,
he was kind of half hard as well. How did he even know he was gay,
he thought. None of the guys at the company had the slightest idea
the semipro linebacker was gay. Was it a signal or something?
"Get off my bus, right now!" he said, evenly, and Bud winced.
"Well, um, yes sir," he weakly smiled, "but you'll have to stop first
and open the door." Leon was disarmed again, and almost smiled, the kid
wasn't kidding. Then he took a better look while stopped at a light. He
saw the BlackRule party thing. Okay, he figured, a 'goneblack' faggot.
"Is this like for real?"
"Well," Bud said, "some of it, yes sir. I mean for the BlackRule
party I was kind of hoping to do a couple little gestures. But besides
that, um, I don't really have a steady boyfriend, and, well..."
Just then his stop came up, and he looked at his watch.
"Oh, gosh," he cried, "I have to run, catch ya later, okay?" Leon
watched him take off like a track star, which he was, and left the door open
as he ran the block and turned inside a building.
(continued)
Complete Illustrated Story coming soon to http://www.midnightx.com/
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