The Complete Bound And Gay Trilogy Read online

  The Complete Bound And Gay Trilogy

  By Hank Wilder

  BOUND AND GAY

  The Boxcar Hobos

  1

  ‘Gotta make it, I’ve just gotta make it.’ The frantic thought fills my brain.

  I hear the train thundering along the tracks. My lungs are bursting and I’m gulping air like a drowning man. I suddenly wish I had taken gym class more seriously at college. My head is fuzzy and in a daze and all I want to do is collapse on the cold, hard ground and rest my aching muscles, but I have to make that train. It winks at me as it reflects the moonlight, almost as if it knows that it holds my destiny in its carriages. I’m done with this life; I want a new one, but if I don’t make this train I’m worried that I’ll give in to fear and retreat back to where I came from.

  My heartbeat is almost as loud as the train and these noises crack the silence of the night. For a moment I cast my eyes to the sky above me. The silvery moon glows amid the inky blackness, and although my vision is blurred by the salty drops of sweat trickling down my face it is one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. I am inspired by a sense of awe and wonder, and I redouble my efforts to reach the train.

  My feet pound against the ground and the force of it reverberates through my body. I feel like I am going to explode but I pour every ounce of determination and focus that I have into pushing my body past its limits. I can do this.

  The train sprints along the tracks below me. I’m so close now I can hear nothing but the echoing vibrations as it speeds along. It’s a hulking brute surging through the country like a bullet, ready to tear asunder anything that gets in its way. If I do not time this right I am liable to be tossed aside like a piece of garbage and flung to the ground.

  I approach it as it passes me, the long tail of cargo stretching out endlessly. No one can see me in the darkness. I’m like a ghost.

  I sprint down the hill and come to a stop when I reach the bottom. My chest heaving, I feel faint and light-headed, but I can’t lose sight of my goal. It’s then that the train whips past me and I’m almost blown back by the force of the wind it generates. It shocks me back into sharp focus and I collect myself as, one by one, the carriages zoom by. I go to leap but every time I’m just a little too late.

  The fear is building inside and my gut is twisting in anxiety. My self-doubt is telling me I can’t do this but I push the voice to the back of my mind until it becomes only a faint whisper. They’re huge monstrous metal crates and they look so intimidating, screeching and roaring as they zoom past on their rails. It’s as if they’re warning me not to do this.

  But I don’t listen to them.

  Each of the boxcar’s has a ladder attached to the side and, finding my courage, I finally see an upcoming space to jump for one. My body is already spent and I barely have any energy left but I manage to muster up enough to push me through the final wall. I inhale deeply and count 1…2…3… and then I take one mighty leap for the ladder.

  My body clangs against the crate at the moment of impact and all the air rushes out of my lungs. I wince as every part of me throbs, but I can’t help smiling as the deliriousness realization hits me.

  I made it. I’m on the train!

  I clutch hold of the metal ladder as the wind whips past me. It’s cold and scary up here but, as I turn my head back and watch the lights of my old town move farther and farther away, I smile. Soon they are merely twinkling dots, like the stars overhead.

  My loose top flutters in the wind, and all of my exposed flesh breaks out in goose bumps. I start to shiver and my teeth chatter as I quickly realize that I can’t remain here for the rest of the journey. I carefully lower myself a little bit and crane my neck to see if there’s any way I can get inside, quickly spotting a small door fastened by a latch.

  It’s risky, but I’m freezing. I gently move across the ladder so I’m as close to the latch as possible and then strain and stretch our across the night air to reach it. My arms are just barely long enough and my fingertips manage to reach the latch and slide it out. I take a short breather and then stretch again, this time reaching far enough to push the door open. Although it’s heavy and made of a thick metal it only requires a little nudge, and then the momentum of the train causes it to slide open dramatically. There’s a loud, shuddering bang as it slides and crashes into the other end of the carriage.

  I blink rapidly as the wind whips my eyes, trying to figure out how I’m going to maneuver my body into the carriage safely. By now the train has thundered along and is no longer on solid ground, passing instead over water below. I make the mistake of looking down at the rippling sea, quickly realizing that, if I should fall, the impact would either kill me or break every bone in my body. My grip on the ladder tightens and my knuckles turn white, but somehow I manage to force my eyes away from the death that lurks below.

  I close them tight and try to remember a happy memory to calm myself down, but I’m unable to do so because anything I think of is from my old life, the life I have now left. Strangely, though, it’s these thoughts that spur me on because I want to create new memories; I want to live a life where I can feel proud and fulfilled.

  With this in mind I force myself to focus. Because of the cold it feels like everything has been heightened and I’m more acutely aware of my senses. The opening is so close that I can actually see inside the warm crate, it’s just a matter of willing my body to take the final leap. Any miscalculation of distance will cause me to fall and that’s what hold’s me back, but I’ve been holding myself back my whole life.

  ‘You’ve made a mistake,’ the voice says. I push it down, screaming at it in my mind to be quiet. I reach out a leg and wrap my foot around the edge of the door to the crate. It’s sharp and it digs into my skin, but right now the pain is actually a good sign, because if my foot goes numb then I’ll lose any chance I had. I press my face against the metal as I reach out with my hand, the rhythm of the train banging my head against the side. I try to ignore the pain and focus on reaching out with my fingertips, which barely reach the edge as I manage to curl them around and achieve a solid grip. I carefully edge my body across the ladder as far as it will go before I have to let go completely.

  For a second I realize how ridiculous I must look, my body stretched out in a star shape along the side of a cargo crate. Hurtling through the night, I’m suddenly just glad that nobody is around to see me.

  When I can stretch no further I begin to pull myself into the crate. My plan is to swing my body, and as I swing I’ll get more grip on the door and my momentum will be enough to propel me into the crate.

  The first part of the plan goes well and I think I’m going to make it as I slide my hand across the inside of the boxcar, but there’s nothing to hold onto and my hand suddenly slides back. I feel myself falling and just barely manage to catch the edge and hold on. My head is whipped back and as I open my eyes I see the lake below me, calling for me, trying to pull me down. For a moment I think I’m about to let go, my body lacking the strength to pull myself back up… but then suddenly I feel a hand grab my arm. I squeal as I’m roughly pulled into the boxcar and collapse on the floor.

  I roll over on the hard surface as the door slams shut, struggling to catch my breath and process my new surroundings. My whole body aches and my mind is in a whirl at having treaded so close to death, but the presence of several other boxcar inhabitants suddenly pulls me back to reality. I slowly turn my head as they speak.

  “Well, well, what do we have here?” One of them says in a deep, southern drawl.

  “Looks like a pretty boy got himself lost,” another says.

  There are four of them staring at me; rugged, dirt covere
d men. I retreat into the corner and jump as I feel the hard wall against my back.

  The first man who spoke approaches and leans down towards me. He’s got a scratchy black beard and a scar running along his cheek, along with the most piercing blue eyes I have ever seen. When he smiles at me a shiver runs down my spine, but there’s something about him that’s both unnerving and alluring all at once. It confuses me.

  I glance at the other men. The one next to scar face has sandy blonde hair. He’s leaner than the other guys, more toned, and I quickly notice that his eyes are running all over my body. Could these guys be gay? Or just hungry for anything that crosses their path?

  The other two men remain in the darkness but I can make out that one of them is much younger; while the other is bald and stocky.

  I can’t help but shake my head, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. The ocean was dangerous enough, but I’m afraid that this situation might be worse.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” I say, trying to keep my voice even and failing. The man in front of me looks offended.

  “No trouble here, buddy, but I think that if you’re climbing along the side of a train then trouble is one thing you’re after.”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” I stammer.

  “So do a great many things, man.” The man laughs. “I see you’re a newcomer at this. Well, we’re always welcome to new folk. Life is tough out there; people like us have got to stick together.”

  I’m not convinced that I’m much like any of them, but my initial fears are quelled as he seems friendly enough.

  The grizzly man introduces himself and his friends. “I’m Jack. This is Lee, Bobby and Razor.”

  “Razor?” I ask. “Really?”

  Jack shrugs.

  “I’m Ethan,” I reply as he takes my hand, squeezing it slightly. His skin is coarse but it feels good against my own. I haven’t had any human contact for a long time and the sudden sensation of warmth that flows between us is welcome and surprising, even slightly erotic. I breathe a little easier and begin to relax.

  “So what brings you to the rails?” Jack asks. I debate whether to tell him the truth. After all, this is the first opportunity I’ve had to build a new life for myself. I can be anyone I want.

  “Ambition I suppose, or boredom. You ever been anywhere and just feel like there’s nothing left for you? Like you don’t belong? I just had to get out and this seemed like the best way. Well, the best way when you don’t have much money anyway…”

  “We’ve all been there, Ethan’. You made the right choice though. This is the good life; you get to choose where you’re going and when to leave. It’s true freedom, not like those penny pinchers who slave away in an office just so they can have a hot meal every night and a comfy bed to sleep in. They’ll never know what it’s like to sleep under the stars and have the whole world as their home. We’ve all been through something similar.”

  “What are your stories?” I ask.

  Jack sucks in air and looks at each of the men in turn. He then looks back at me.

  “That’s a tricky thing. I mean, we all have our own secrets. If you want to know you’re going to have to take the oath.”

  “What’s the oath?” I ask, curiously.

  “It means that you swear to keep our secrets safe, it’s like joining a brotherhood of the people who ride the rails. It’s a very exclusive club.” Jack’s eyes twinkle as he says this. I’m not sure if he’s telling the truth or just playing a game with me, but I’m willing to be entertained.

  “I never knew there was such a thing. How do I take the oath?” I ask.

  “It’s very simple.” Jack tells me, placing his large hand against my chest. A tingle of arousal washes across my body in a wave. “All you do is put your hand on your heart and swear to uphold the secrets of anyone who rides the rails. And, if the situation presents itself, you will do everything in your power to repay your debts to those who have helped you along the way.”

  “I swear.” I tell him, placing my hand over his.

  “See, that was easy.” Jack says, pulling away.

  “So do I get to know your stories now?”

  Jack laughs. It’s a warm laugh that rumbles from his belly and pours out from his mouth, filling the entire boxcar.

  “Of course. Lee here got divorced and doesn’t want to pay alimony. Bobby got tired of college and wanted to experience life rather than read about it in a textbook. Razor, well, he murdered a man in a bar fight. From what I know the guy deserved it but Razor didn’t have much faith in the law so he ran.”

  This revelation chills me to the core. I don’t get the impression that Jack is joking as my eyes slowly drift towards Razor, who gazes off into the distance. I look down at his big paws, imagining them battering someone to death.

  “As for me,” Jack continues, “I just wanted to feel alive. I didn’t want to be tied down with anything traditional so I just hopped on a train one day and that was it. I’ve been riding the rails ever since and have been all across the country. I can’t tell an innocent young man like you about everything I’ve seen, but some of the good stuff is just beautiful. I’d love one day to get on a boat and become a stowaway to somewhere more exotic, or maybe get down to South America on one of the cross-country trains but for now I’m still happy to explore the good ol’ USA.”

  Jack loves the situation he’s in, and speaks with absolute reverence for the rails. I never really imagined that anyone could truly want the nomadic life; the only reason I’m doing it is to get somewhere else where I can put down roots. Yet these men all seem to actually enjoy it.

  As we speak late into the night, I find that this crew of companions is unlike any I’ve ever met, and they soon have me howling with laughter at their wild stories. By now I’ve been accepted into their clan, and we all sit in a circle on the floor, trading stories and jokes casually. It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted from a group of friends.

  As the train trundles on we bond even tighter. Razor and Bobby come forth from the darkness and join in with the camaraderie. I’m beginning to wonder whether living a life on the rails would actually be a better option than stopping off at the next city, like I had originally planned.

  It’s a life with few responsibilities or cares, where I can simply be myself and not have to worry about being judged. I feel comfortable with the group now, and the more I talk with them the more I’m drawn towards the guys, especially Jack, who has something magnetic about his rugged charisma. He exudes masculinity, and there’s just something about the way he looks at me. He makes me feel desired; he makes me feel like a rugged, gay man’s man.

  I catch the others staring at me, as well, and I’m certainly flattered. Obviously, they don’t get many clean cut young men just falling into their laps like I did.

  As the night grows even later, Jack scoots towards me. I catch his aroma and my heart beats faster as he begins to speak in a low tone.

  “There’s one other matter we need to discuss,” he says.

  “Oh?” I ask, innocently.

  “The thing is, the brotherhood operates on an honor system, it’s all give and take, you know? And, well, we saved your life tonight.” Jack explains.

  “And I’m very thankful for that.” I tell him.

  “You’re welcome, but we feel like there should be some kind of reward.” Jack tells me, a devilish grin crossing his face.

  “What were you thinking?” I ask, but when the guy glance at each other I know exactly what’s on their minds. I look away coyly but my thoughts are already racing with possibility. Locked up here in this boxcar, it seems like we’re endlessly far away from the rest of the world, hovering in a place where anything goes.

  “Living like ghosts isn’t the best way to meet women, sometimes a handsome young guy like yourself will do just fine. Men like us have big appetites and it’s been a long time since we’ve had our fill, if you get my drift.” Jack tells me.

  “I think I cou
ld do something to oblige you, what did you have in mind?”

  I’m not quite sure what they expect to happen, since the crate is quite sparse and not especially comfortable. There are a couple of rugs on the floor and not much else in the way of bedding, but the thought of fucking one of these men while the others watch turns me on so much that I can literally feel my cock start to ache. I look at Jack and follow his gaze around the boxcar. My eyes settle on a couple of rings that are embedded into the side of the car, and as I look down I notice that Razor is playing with a thick rope. Jack winks at me and offers me his hand. I take it.

  He hauls me up and pulls my body close to him. I can feel his hand wrap around my toned frame and the air rushes out of my lungs. I’ve always felt there was a wild side of me that had been waiting to be unleashed, and now I finally get a chance to explore that part of me.

  As Jack holds me he looks in my eyes and our lips are so close that I can feel his hot breath wash over me, but just as quickly he pushes me away and presses me hard against the wall.

  “Whoa!” I cry out, not entirely sure what’s happening.

  Jack holds me tight and spreads out my arms high above my head while Razor approaches menacingly. Razor doesn’t utter a word as he wraps the thick rope around my wrists. It bites hard into my skin but the pain feels strangely pleasurable, a terrifyingly arousing reminder of just who’s in charge here. Seconds later, the ropes are yanked through the rings and then tightened, binding me to the wall by my wrists.

  The four men surround me, looking me up and down with insatiable lust in their eyes. I gasp as Jake whips out a knife and approaches. He angles the blade and dips the point against my skin as my body shivers. I’m helpless as he drags the knife along my cheek, neck and chest, then brings it down in one swift movement, tearing my clothes apart. The fabric hangs loosely about my body but is soon torn away, along with my underwear as I’m left naked and exposed. The men stare at me, drinking in my toned, masculine physique.