Taming Hyena’s
Will Mackenzie
CW: Explicit Sexual Content
Clear crystals sear nostrils. “Those were some fine fucking leaves right there, Sir. Columbian?’. Cal Cranley was the farmer’s son, fifteen. Pale, skinny, slightly scruffy. A boy, with brown, short messy hair. He spent most of his days milking cows, where he first caught The Sheriff’s eye.
“Venezuelan”, The Sheriff smugly replied, lying naked on a yellowed-white linen bed. Patchy baldness plagued him, and a wiry grey beard covered his scared face from his lifelong law enforcement. His old leathery skin was rough in most places, weathered from alcoholism and tobacco. But, as Cal touched his groin, it still felt smooth and luscious. He rested his head The Sheriff’s beer filled stomach.
Cal looked at The Sheriff’s badge, a shiny gold law enforcement marker that had been kinkily pinned through a thin layer of skin on his bare pectoral. “Now Sir, I have to ask, why-”
The old man put his hand gently across Cal’s mouth and flipped him over onto the bed where Cal lay on all fours. The Sheriff wrapped his arms around Cal’s waist from behind and rested his chin on the boy’s shoulder. “Careful lovely, don’t ask. I’ve got a good vibe on right now”, whispered The Sheriff, his hot breath condensing on Cal’s ear.
The Sheriff climaxed over the young lad’s back, warm spray spattering a skinny spine. “Jesus
farm boy, you were as tight as a Bank Clerk.” The Sheriff sat back, prick receding.
Cal rolled over and began to rub his back up and down on the bed sheets, wiping off the dense, smelly mulch. The old bed creaked loudly with each wipe.
Cal rested his head back onto the weathered man’s stomach, looking up at him like a child. “Sheriff, do you think we could do shooting practice one day this week? When I apply to be a deputy, I wanna make sure I have good aim”.
The Sheriff peered down at the boy, and chuckled, “I just practiced shooting boy, all over your back!”.
Cal laughed with the Sheriff but continued to wait for a better answer.
“Sure Cal, we’ll go shooting or something. Don’t worry yourself though boy,” The Sheriff tapped his nostril with his index finger and winked, “I’ll make sure you’re a deputy”.
Cal beamed, and wrapped his arms round The Sheriff’s midriff, who responded by lightly drawing imaginary lines up and down the young boy’s back with his fingertip.
The two started to fall asleep, when the housemaid, Ms. Jones, let out a heart-stopping scream from downstairs.
The Sheriff bolted up, grabbed a bedsheet to cover himself and reached for his pistol from its holster, which draped over a hat stand at the foot of the bed. He yanked open the door viscously and ran out to the end of the corridor. The Sheriff’s eyes widened as he peered over the banister at the top of the staircase.
The old lawman then warmly grinned, opened his wide jaw and yelled deeply: “Mr. Cranley!”.
Cal’s Dad, Mr. Cranley, stood in the doorway of the Sheriff’s western abode. He stepped into the dark, dry Oak room sweating viscously. He wore a long duster coat over a soaking white shirt with slacks, spurred boots and a large, buckled belt; rugged and engrained with a dragging tiredness.
“Sorry Sheriff, I didn’t mean to frighten you, or yourself Ms. Jones.” Fingertips rubbing against sweaty palms and hat in hand, he gave the Sheriff’s Maid an apologetic hug. “Is Cal about? I know you two have well... been close lately.”
Mr. Cranley looked down at The Sheriff’s poorly covered crotch, foam still dripping. The scent in the house was musty, despite the heat in the air.
The Sheriff tied the sheet around his waist to better cover his nudity, allowing his pistol holster to nestle right over the top. Uneasiness riddled the Farmer with the sight of the weapon. “Well, when there’s no women about no more, a man my age will take what he can get. In this case, your son knows how to please a man alright.”
Cal’s dad turned away from the law officer as he cringed and swallowed back some burning vomit. He turned back, smiling awkwardly. “You two are almost as bad as those damn miners down at Angel Camp in Cali. You know, the ones who hold those big dances?”, he uncomfortably joked. The Sheriff stroked his beard and scrunched his face, thinking hard.
“Oh shit, yeah I know those ones. Half dress up as the females with those patches over their crotches. Paradise of Bachelor Marriages, my friend.”
Cal joined the pair, fully clothed now. A pursed-lip smile briefly marked his face, “Hi dad”.
“Cal’, Mr. Cranley nodded in acknowledgement.
“Well Sheriff, it was real lovely seeing you.” Cal shook The Sheriff’s hand and bid him farewell with an ear-kiss.
The farmer led the way out of the old wooden building with his son following, into the bustling dusty street of Saunton Haven.
Horse and carriages, businessmen and women, cowboys, drunks. The streets flourished with hot, prickly life from all backgrounds. Thieves conversing with Lawmen, politicians haggling with prostitutes... men hanging from Gallows, swaying in arid wind.
Mr. Cranley used his body to shield Cal from the sight of the hanging men and hurried him along. They continued through town, passing through the densely built rows of various wooded build.
“We could get you a nice wife you know Cal. You don’t have to be screwing no old men.”
Cal smiled wryly, but his dad kept a serious expression.
“I like him though Dad. He’s got experience, he’s comforting. He knows what he wants and
makes me feel comfortable. And, well... he’ll make me deputy one day, just wait and see... he’s–”
Mr. Cranley turned and pulled Cal’s arm towards him, holding him close. “He’s older than me Cal. He will die before you turn twenty. Is that what you want?”
Cal shook off his dad’s grip and continued walking in silence. Mr. Cranley caught up, staying quiet until they were near the Saunton Saloon.
“You’re fifteen Cal. I... I just wish you would at least look around in your own garden pond for a bit, rather than immediately trying to go fishing in the sea.” The farmer rested his hand on his son’s shoulder affectionately, but the boy rolled his dad’s hand off.
Mr. Cranley stopped momentarily and stared through the windows of the Saloon, dropping behind Cal again momentarily. He clenched his jaw while staring into the tavern, gazing upon all the men drinking and the women dancing. He whispered a short prayer and kissed a golden locket which he drew from under his shirt, hanging around his neck. He quietly murmured to himself, “this town has changed so much since you left.”
They walked out of town, down long muddy roads and pathways out towards their ranch, on the outskirts of Saunton Haven. The ranch consisted of a few barns and a main house, all in need of much repair. Rot ravaged the roofs while woodworm worked on the walls.
As they approached the porch, Cal stopped and perched on the railings outside the front of the house and looked out across the mountains, at the orange, evening sky. “You know dad, Joseph Smith said that male friends should lie together at night, locked in each other’s embrace, talking of their love. He even did it himself.”
Mr. Cranley sighed, and went to stand next to his son, leaning on the fence together. “You sure ain’t no Mormon, boy. Those men are all on the run now, don’t let that propaganda get to you. I mean, didn’t you hear about Boggs? About Missouri?”.
Cal looked gloomy, “Yeah, I heard. Governor Boggs hanged twenty Mormon’s in three months.”
“Yeah, well they’re leaving in the thousands now. All going to Illinois, even Smith’s there. So, if you want to lie with your men friends, go to goddamn Illinois”, Cal’s dad replied.
“Better than wasting away in this depressing hole of the land though, right? What do you even do, other than cry about your dead wife?”, Cal spitefully remarked.
Cal’s dad grabbed the back of his son’s neck, spitting as he yelled, “That’s your mother boy! Don’t you ever use that tone against her. No Sheriff could ever, in a million years, match the love she had for you.”
He let go of his son, sighing. The farmer took off his hat and began to walk inside. “I’m just doing my best, what an old man can.”
Cal ran his hands through knotted hair and bit dry skin off his lips. Swirling stomach watching a steady sunset.
“Dad?”.
“What is it Cal?”.
“...you ever lie with a Man?”.
Cal’s dad looked at the ground, turning further away from his son. “Since your mother died, I’ve not sought out anyone else.”
Mr. Cranley stepped into the house, leaving Cal to ponder and stare across the horizon at the
dwindling light behind the mountains.
“Venezuelan”, The Sheriff smugly replied, lying naked on a yellowed-white linen bed. Patchy baldness plagued him, and a wiry grey beard covered his scared face from his lifelong law enforcement. His old leathery skin was rough in most places, weathered from alcoholism and tobacco. But, as Cal touched his groin, it still felt smooth and luscious. He rested his head The Sheriff’s beer filled stomach.
Cal looked at The Sheriff’s badge, a shiny gold law enforcement marker that had been kinkily pinned through a thin layer of skin on his bare pectoral. “Now Sir, I have to ask, why-”
The old man put his hand gently across Cal’s mouth and flipped him over onto the bed where Cal lay on all fours. The Sheriff wrapped his arms around Cal’s waist from behind and rested his chin on the boy’s shoulder. “Careful lovely, don’t ask. I’ve got a good vibe on right now”, whispered The Sheriff, his hot breath condensing on Cal’s ear.
The Sheriff climaxed over the young lad’s back, warm spray spattering a skinny spine. “Jesus
farm boy, you were as tight as a Bank Clerk.” The Sheriff sat back, prick receding.
Cal rolled over and began to rub his back up and down on the bed sheets, wiping off the dense, smelly mulch. The old bed creaked loudly with each wipe.
Cal rested his head back onto the weathered man’s stomach, looking up at him like a child. “Sheriff, do you think we could do shooting practice one day this week? When I apply to be a deputy, I wanna make sure I have good aim”.
The Sheriff peered down at the boy, and chuckled, “I just practiced shooting boy, all over your back!”.
Cal laughed with the Sheriff but continued to wait for a better answer.
“Sure Cal, we’ll go shooting or something. Don’t worry yourself though boy,” The Sheriff tapped his nostril with his index finger and winked, “I’ll make sure you’re a deputy”.
Cal beamed, and wrapped his arms round The Sheriff’s midriff, who responded by lightly drawing imaginary lines up and down the young boy’s back with his fingertip.
The two started to fall asleep, when the housemaid, Ms. Jones, let out a heart-stopping scream from downstairs.
The Sheriff bolted up, grabbed a bedsheet to cover himself and reached for his pistol from its holster, which draped over a hat stand at the foot of the bed. He yanked open the door viscously and ran out to the end of the corridor. The Sheriff’s eyes widened as he peered over the banister at the top of the staircase.
The old lawman then warmly grinned, opened his wide jaw and yelled deeply: “Mr. Cranley!”.
Cal’s Dad, Mr. Cranley, stood in the doorway of the Sheriff’s western abode. He stepped into the dark, dry Oak room sweating viscously. He wore a long duster coat over a soaking white shirt with slacks, spurred boots and a large, buckled belt; rugged and engrained with a dragging tiredness.
“Sorry Sheriff, I didn’t mean to frighten you, or yourself Ms. Jones.” Fingertips rubbing against sweaty palms and hat in hand, he gave the Sheriff’s Maid an apologetic hug. “Is Cal about? I know you two have well... been close lately.”
Mr. Cranley looked down at The Sheriff’s poorly covered crotch, foam still dripping. The scent in the house was musty, despite the heat in the air.
The Sheriff tied the sheet around his waist to better cover his nudity, allowing his pistol holster to nestle right over the top. Uneasiness riddled the Farmer with the sight of the weapon. “Well, when there’s no women about no more, a man my age will take what he can get. In this case, your son knows how to please a man alright.”
Cal’s dad turned away from the law officer as he cringed and swallowed back some burning vomit. He turned back, smiling awkwardly. “You two are almost as bad as those damn miners down at Angel Camp in Cali. You know, the ones who hold those big dances?”, he uncomfortably joked. The Sheriff stroked his beard and scrunched his face, thinking hard.
“Oh shit, yeah I know those ones. Half dress up as the females with those patches over their crotches. Paradise of Bachelor Marriages, my friend.”
Cal joined the pair, fully clothed now. A pursed-lip smile briefly marked his face, “Hi dad”.
“Cal’, Mr. Cranley nodded in acknowledgement.
“Well Sheriff, it was real lovely seeing you.” Cal shook The Sheriff’s hand and bid him farewell with an ear-kiss.
The farmer led the way out of the old wooden building with his son following, into the bustling dusty street of Saunton Haven.
Horse and carriages, businessmen and women, cowboys, drunks. The streets flourished with hot, prickly life from all backgrounds. Thieves conversing with Lawmen, politicians haggling with prostitutes... men hanging from Gallows, swaying in arid wind.
Mr. Cranley used his body to shield Cal from the sight of the hanging men and hurried him along. They continued through town, passing through the densely built rows of various wooded build.
“We could get you a nice wife you know Cal. You don’t have to be screwing no old men.”
Cal smiled wryly, but his dad kept a serious expression.
“I like him though Dad. He’s got experience, he’s comforting. He knows what he wants and
makes me feel comfortable. And, well... he’ll make me deputy one day, just wait and see... he’s–”
Mr. Cranley turned and pulled Cal’s arm towards him, holding him close. “He’s older than me Cal. He will die before you turn twenty. Is that what you want?”
Cal shook off his dad’s grip and continued walking in silence. Mr. Cranley caught up, staying quiet until they were near the Saunton Saloon.
“You’re fifteen Cal. I... I just wish you would at least look around in your own garden pond for a bit, rather than immediately trying to go fishing in the sea.” The farmer rested his hand on his son’s shoulder affectionately, but the boy rolled his dad’s hand off.
Mr. Cranley stopped momentarily and stared through the windows of the Saloon, dropping behind Cal again momentarily. He clenched his jaw while staring into the tavern, gazing upon all the men drinking and the women dancing. He whispered a short prayer and kissed a golden locket which he drew from under his shirt, hanging around his neck. He quietly murmured to himself, “this town has changed so much since you left.”
They walked out of town, down long muddy roads and pathways out towards their ranch, on the outskirts of Saunton Haven. The ranch consisted of a few barns and a main house, all in need of much repair. Rot ravaged the roofs while woodworm worked on the walls.
As they approached the porch, Cal stopped and perched on the railings outside the front of the house and looked out across the mountains, at the orange, evening sky. “You know dad, Joseph Smith said that male friends should lie together at night, locked in each other’s embrace, talking of their love. He even did it himself.”
Mr. Cranley sighed, and went to stand next to his son, leaning on the fence together. “You sure ain’t no Mormon, boy. Those men are all on the run now, don’t let that propaganda get to you. I mean, didn’t you hear about Boggs? About Missouri?”.
Cal looked gloomy, “Yeah, I heard. Governor Boggs hanged twenty Mormon’s in three months.”
“Yeah, well they’re leaving in the thousands now. All going to Illinois, even Smith’s there. So, if you want to lie with your men friends, go to goddamn Illinois”, Cal’s dad replied.
“Better than wasting away in this depressing hole of the land though, right? What do you even do, other than cry about your dead wife?”, Cal spitefully remarked.
Cal’s dad grabbed the back of his son’s neck, spitting as he yelled, “That’s your mother boy! Don’t you ever use that tone against her. No Sheriff could ever, in a million years, match the love she had for you.”
He let go of his son, sighing. The farmer took off his hat and began to walk inside. “I’m just doing my best, what an old man can.”
Cal ran his hands through knotted hair and bit dry skin off his lips. Swirling stomach watching a steady sunset.
“Dad?”.
“What is it Cal?”.
“...you ever lie with a Man?”.
Cal’s dad looked at the ground, turning further away from his son. “Since your mother died, I’ve not sought out anyone else.”
Mr. Cranley stepped into the house, leaving Cal to ponder and stare across the horizon at the
dwindling light behind the mountains.