7Stars

Seek Him What Made Them Seven Stars
Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 100

“The fact that liberty depended on honest elections was of the utmost importance to the patriots who founded our nation and wrote the Constitution. They knew that corruption destroyed the prime requisite of constitutional liberty: an independent legislature free from any influence other than that of the people. Applying these principles to modern times, we can make the following conclusions: To be successful, representative government assumes that elections will be controlled by the citizenry at large, not by those who give the most money. Electors must believe that their vote counts. Elected officials must owe their allegiance to the people, not to their own wealth or to the wealth of interest groups that speak only for the selfish fringes of the whole community.” ~ Barry Goldwater

Due to grumbling among the greater Daniels family from the discontent over the way Billy was treating the new prisoners – with kid gloves, several were heard to say – finally found its way back to Captain Nick and ultimately Billy himself. Several of his close family members were leading the pack of growing dissenters. His own Uncle Nate, backed by Tron Garrett, Billy's beloved Bossman and his posse, agreed Billy was showing them special favors in a blatant attempt to sway their allegiance to work with him and the Daniels family; unfortunately, they were getting damn little in return. His family boldly stood up to Billy and reminded him he would never put up with what them fake NSA men tried to do if it was one of his family members. They reminded him it takes time to insinuate others into a family, and no matter how good he was to them, it just wouldn't occur overnight. Neither could they judge the temperament of man in such a short period of time. They asked if Billy was ready to pay the price if one of them suddenly had a change of heart and stabbed them in the back?

They also strongly pointed out, the family's three punishment slaves started from the bottom and slowly worked their way up. While they were still looked upon as slaves, they were accepted into the greater family because they worked hard, maintained a healthy attitude, and proved their allegiance. Nathan reminded Billy his punishment slaves were on the front row with his warriors fighting them devil beasts under Mount Ararat. They physically carried many of the Fallen Angels onto the ships when there wasn't enough gurneys to do the job. Consequently, from their heroism and need to belong, they enjoyed more privileges and won admiration from the rest of the family. The hard fact was, they worked for it, they earned it, and didn't have it handed to them on a silver platter like Billy was trying to do with their current prisoners.

After the family's return from Retikki Prime, shortly after lunch on Sunday afternoon, Billy called a meeting in the great hall for the military men; the Chiefs of Staff; Judge LaFleur; Sheriff Tate and his men; Captain Nick; Attorney Jack McCormick, and Attorney Grover Parsnip; most of the major players in the Daniels family, including a goodly portion of the younger set. Billy's Cowboy-Angel-Warriors and their husbands, his Watcher-Protectors were included, and many of the major members of Billy's Cowboy-Angels who expressed interest also attended. Jennifer Daniels volunteered to take notes, but Billy assured her everything would be automatically recorded and Seth would print out notes if necessary; however, she was welcome to attend their meeting. Jennifer said she would like to attend to represent the ladies of the Daniels family. Billy agreed it might be a good idea.

Billy also included his new TV crew of Stan Norsworthy, Doug Quilty, and Wes Taylor. They knew a camera was not needed on the Daniels estate. If Billy wanted them to cobble something together later for broadcast, they only had to request the ship's intelligence, Seth, to download the finest camera shots from the meeting. The men seemed to be elated they were given the chance to witness history in the making. The three men talked among themselves and came to the united conclusion, Billy Daniels and his family were the key to a better future for them and their country, and they didn't want to miss a minute of it as it unfolded. Stan came up with the idea of creating a running diary of the everyday progress and especially major moments like they were asked to witness. Only three critters could activate the voice imprint: Stan Norsworthy, Billy Daniels, and Beauford the great Shedu bull.

After everyone was assembled, Billy whistled for the posse of Captain Roy Boynton, Major Bart Langstrom, Lieutenant General Dan Tate, Deek Swanson, Bafra Bootles, and young Cowboy Jack Daniels, who were looking after the twelve false NSA men, to bring them into the hall. Cowboy Jack, with his family's permission started using his Granddad's given name of Daniels. Cowboy Jack showed the men where to sit in the twelve chairs left empty for them on the front row and joined his family standing on the side.

“You men have been with us since Friday morning. We've tried to be hospitable to you as best we could considering your actions against us at Camp Air and the uncomfortable position your false and illegal terrorist style intrusion placed us. Consequently, we've seen little response or indication you're willing to join us on your part. I suppose I've been naive hoping for a miracle which might be a comfortable settlement for everyone; however, as my family so graciously admonished me, miracles don't occur unless you make them happen. The only light from your darkness has been Orin Sawin and not meaning to embarrass him unduly, his major flaw is he's so in love with your leader, it's doubtful in our minds he would cooperate with us without his approval,” Billy said and he watched Orin frown as he shook his head. “You have something to say, Mr. Sawin?” Billy asked.

“You're right, Master Billy, I won't deny it. I'm very much in love with our dear leader, but unfortunately, other than an occasional bone thrown my way, he don't share the depth of my feelings. I doubt he ever will until he does battle with the Mongol hordes riding rough-shod inside his brain until only the strongest one survives. Furthermore, I ain't real sure if the best one of his personas will emerge as 'Victorious Victory.' A little play on words to keep my spirits light, least they dim and become morose,” Orin said and garnered empathetic laughter from several men. Orin continued, “I can only hope his creative persona, whom I've secretly named 'Ruby Keeler,' emerges as Queen of the Mongols. Ruby always blossomed from a little known chorus girl to a big Broadway star in every movie she made,” he said and got another laugh for his analogy. “While I may display all the symptoms of a passionate love and admiration for Victory Bullet Bodega, I can assure you I ain't unaware it's mostly physical. In his current state, I'm afraid Bull Bodega will never fully capture my love. My heart keeps very close contact with my brain, and my board of directors ain't ready to invest either of them organs to his failing love-bank without sound reasoning and strong backing. I ask you, why in the world would I consider filling my tank with Ethyl when I been offered Premium from your pumps? Really, sir, you do me an injustice by underrating me and my stocks!

“Unfortunately, Mr. Bodega looks upon me as a convenient toy which amuses him when he's in the mood to relieve himself or when he feels the urge to attempt an intelligent conversation; however, our minds and our way of looking upon each other is vastly different. I am of one mind while he has multiple personalities up there; a rat's nest of confusing thoughts, each one insisting it should be the leader of the pack; unfortunately, the only pack which will respond to him is sitting before you, and I'm willing to bet less than one quarter is still willing to blindly follow him. To Mr. Bodega's everlasting frustration, my mind is the only part of my body he can't and never will be able to fuck. Aside from my heart, the rest is up for grabs,” Orin Sawin finished and sat down. Several of the men applauded him for his strong words defining his position.

“I knew it! I knew it! I just knew if anyone would rat us out, it would be you, Sawin!” Bodega barked at Orin.

“To which rat in your brain should I respond, Sweetie? Your Ruby Keller cover would never allow you to say something like that! She loves me, and you know it! Ruby and me, we're best girl friends, but Rat Fink Vic hates both of us!” Orin said and leveled the room. Everyone including Bodega knew he took a direct hit right through his pseudo-masculinity and was nailed to the barn door.

“Would you be willing to provide us with the information we need to get to the bottom of who your superiors were and who they really worked for so's we can also rat-fuck them for their unlawful actions impersonating law enforcement personnel, Mr. Sawin?” Billy asked.

“Bet chore' sweet cowboy butt, Master Billy! Much to my leader's consternation, I'll gladly sing like a got-damn canary; not necessarily for lenience, but because my moral judgment tells me, it's the right frick'n thing to do or as you cowboys are wont to say, it's the Cowboy Way!” Orin said loudly.

Orin Sawin captured the hearts of many of the men who gave him a round of applause and a 'Hosanna!'

Spike Mulligan spoke up, “Sorry, Rat Fink Vic, but I'm tap-dancing on the back row of the chorus with Sweetie Pie Sawin. Us back row Betty's will leave you heroes to do yore' big solo number under the spot-light to showcase your hard-nosed ill-considered masculine pride,” said Spike Mulligan, “Sawin's right! Under the circumstances, you're stubbornness don't make no sense. You been sitting on us to keep our mouths shut like we were in the right or preach'n every other false idea you come up with instead of considering the truth of the matter. What government agency would kill its agents to cover their tracks and cover the butts of the leaders? Sawin's right! You gotta' have somebody else upstairs stirring up the pot what blinds you so bad you can't see the hand writing on the wall.

“As I see's it, the odds are stacked against us, but the future don't look so bad if we can manage to hitch a ride with the Daniels family. I went to that other planet with them folks, and I don't care what I have to leave behind, I want me a new life with these cowboys no matter how long it takes me to win their trust. What they got to offer is so much more than I ever had trying to float my boat alone. I'm willing to become one of their punishment-slaves with the hope of eventually becoming a part of their greater family. Hell, I seen and talked with them three punishment-slaves for several hours, and I'm convinced, they ain't got it so bad,” he said firmly, “I can't say's I'm too keen on their sex-control rationing program, but what the Hell, I'm s'damn ugly, I don't never get me that much anyway. Shit, if they insist on butt-fucking me once't a month, I'll be ahead of the game. That's eleven more times than I got last year,” Mulligan finished and laughed. Everyone laughed and clapped for him.

“Count me in, Master Billy!” exclaimed Dalton Bayless, “I'll admit I joined them NSA nasties for the money, but I ain't really the type to be no secret agent. I had my doubts from the beginning, not whether they was legit or not, but why in the Hell they would hire somebody like me what was down on his luck, living off the streets, and hustling every day for my next meal. As you can probably tell, I ain't none too well educated. I never finished high school. It's hard on folks like me out there what ain't got no education or no skills. You take what you can get, and most times you're left standing with your cock in one hand and a bag of bullshit in the other.

“I don't know why you picked me to go with your family to that other world, but I'm grateful. It opened my eyes to other possibilities. I don't have to be dumb all my life and with a family like yours to guide me while working for you a spell, even if I have to become your salve. I done seen how you men treat your regular slaves and your punishment slaves, and quite frankly, to my way a think'n, either position is too good an offer to pass up, sir. I'll gladly tell you what I know, which, I'm afraid, ain't too much. I don't know if you put them blasted chips in your slaves, but I'm willing to bet, if you do it for tracking, it ain't filled with poison to kill us,” Bayless said.

“We ain't got us no electronic ID chips, sir. We got chore' DNA on file, and we can find you in the middle of a Burning Man gathering,” Billy said.

Winston Cravett spoke next, “I ain't sailing in Bodega's leaky boat, Master Billy, especially when you men are ready to throw us a Jim-Buoy and offer us a better life. Truth is, we ain't got us nowhere else to go and feel safe about it. Even if I got to serve some time as your punishment slave, it would be better'n one a them damnable private prisons!” he exclaimed.

Four more of the prisoners, Smutty Potts, Cordell Hicks, Lester Graves – the only black man; and Arnie Percolator spoke up and promised to cooperate with the Daniels family, the law, and the military. The other three, Andrew Grimes, Maynard Blevins, and Ingo Montoya didn't respond. They were waiting to hear their leader say he would concede and cooperate, then they would fall in line behind him in unity, but Bodega stubbornly refused. Orin Sawin nailed it. He was right, only one quarter of the twelve backed Bodega.

“I think the line in the sand has been drawn, Gentlemen, and I'm satisfied you've told us where each of you stand. I've been urged by my family, due to my questionable tactics, to turn this hearing over to them and the military so we can reach a resolution and no longer have to worry or wonder about how we plan to resolve the problem between us,” Billy said, “Therefore, I'm turning this matter over to our military who claimed Martial Law on your case last Friday since they were on an official operation which you so untimely interrupted. Admiral Jan Sparks will officiate,” Billy said and motioned for the Admiral to come forward to stand before the gathered audience.

* * * * * * *
Admiral Sparks told the twelve prisoners, the military representatives were acting as a hearing group, and for what should be obvious reasons, they had no intentions of going through formal channels. It was the Admiral and the rest of the Chiefs of Staff decided opinions, Master Billy's organization gave the prisoners plenty of time to witness their operations to understand the Daniels family and their gathering of people presented no threat to the status quo or the U.S. Government. The Admiral admitted, while the Daniels family possessed advanced powers beyond the average of most people on Earth, their philosophy and track record has proven to be one of benign help for their fellow men in need. Admiral Sparks pointed out Master Billy and his Cowboy-Angels have the power to make the prisoners disappear to another world, or they could alter their DNA to create a new physical appearance so different from their original, no one would be able to recognize them. Admiral Sparks also reminded them he had the backing of civil law from several jurisprudence experts within the Daniels family – the Sheriff of the county, a Judge, two Attorneys, and a host of new attorneys what just passed the Texas Bar exam, who agreed because of the sensitivity of the situation, the protection of the Daniels family, and possible national interest, it would be best to hold court on Captain Nick's ship. Their action would be legal because Captain Nick granted them permission under maritime law. The Admiral went on to tell the twelve men, if they didn't already figured it out, they were on a giant space ship.

Admiral Sparks carefully explained, according to the jurisprudence members who presided over three recent court trials in Mason County, the twelve NSA pretenders were looking at three to five years as punishment slaves depending on their willingness to cooperate and provide them with the information they required. If they refused to tell them everything they knew about their bosses, their operations, and any other raids they made on the unsuspecting public, they would face even longer terms as punishment-slaves. The Admiral stressed they wanted names, times, and places. If they were satisfied they cooperated to the best of their ability, they would still be looking at three years minimum as punishment-slaves; however, if they wished, their hearing board could just as easily pull some strings and have them serve their time in the closest private prison located in Huntsville, Texas. That cheery bit of news made a few of the men shudder like a cold chill ran up their spine.

The court unanimously agreed they were guilty as charged, and they would begin their sentence immediately; however, length of sentences would be placed on hold and not be announced until after they were interrogated and sufficient information was gathered to launch a counter strike on their leaders and bring them to justice. “Can I see a show of hands from those among you who would agree to become a part of a counter-strike against your former employers?” Admiral asked.

Orin Sawin's hand shot up along with Spike Mulligan, Dalton Bayless, Winston Cravett, and the black man, Lester Graves. The others who consented to give information were considerably older men but raised their hands to be included. “Thank you, Gentlemen, we will keep your agreement to cooperate in mind,” Admiral Sparks said and ended the meeting. The rest of the afternoon was spent interrogating the men who agreed to give them information. Afterward, they were taken back to their cell and told to remove their clothing. The cold hard fact arrived. They were no longer free men. Vic Bodega and the three men who refused to cooperate with the military were immediately taken away in restraints to the bunkhouse where the other punishment-slaves were housed.

* * * * * * *
Early Monday Morning August 1st ~

Master Ironmonger and his slave awoke when Jurgen's alarm went off. Neither wanted to part, but they both had responsibilities. “Come, my handsome Young Slave, we must arise and go to the shower. Don't try to morph until we get there, and I'll help you. Morphing in the shower makes it easier for cleaning yourself, Son. Picard called before you arrived last evening to report you had a difficult time morphing. Not to worry, your master will do it for you until you get the hang of it. No pun intended, Son,” Jurgen said as an afterthought and laughed. He got a laugh from Roy. The young warrior was thrilled his master seemed to have a sense of humor.

Roy spent untold hours thinking about what he would want in a master, and one of his top three 'must haves' was a sense of humor. He remember living under his Granddad's thumb. Buzz Boynton rarely smiled or laughed about anything. Roy came to look upon his own Granddad as a heavy handed, humorless, sadistic master, and his lack of humor erased and canceled what little empathy he held for his Grandson. Roy never accused him of anything because he was afraid of Buzz, but the young man could tell, he was basically his Granddad and Grandmother's meal ticket. Buzz was never successful providing for his family and without the extra income for taking care of Roy, they wouldn't be able to live such a comfortable life style. They couldn't afford it by themselves. Roy never told his dad, but he was sure Buzz's anger the night before wasn't because he was genuinely concerned for his Grandson, he was afraid his son would cut his financial umbilical cord. After the General reassured him he would keep up his allowance, Buzz's attitude changed immediately. It's difficult to hide deceit from a boy as bright as Royce Boynton Junior.

After they got into the shower, Master Ironmonger expertly waved his huge hand in front of Roy's vagina and it immediately morphed into Roy's handsome penis. Three loads of Ironmonger gizz flowed out and down the young slave's leg. “What a waste, they died so young,” Roy lamented quietly and wiped tears from his eyes like he was attending a mass funeral for his beloved master's crotch commandos, and his heart was about to break. Jurgen shook his head and smiled like Roy was the second greatest find in his life. He was sure Roy possessed the heart of a poet and the innocent imagination of a very bright five year old child.

“There will be lots of time to produce more, Son,” Master Ironmonger said and smiled. He handed a wash cloth and a bar of hard-milled soap to his slave. “A slave bathes his master and then himself,” he said.

Roy bathed the big man like he was a god, but he wasn't shy and took his job seriously. He took great care of his master's genitals and his rear. He knelt on his knees to clean his master from his waist down. Master Ironmonger's handsome cock was hanging before his face. “May I relieve my master, so he will sail through his day with a smile on his lips and a song in his heart, sir?” Roy asked like a starving beggar.

“I think we have time, Slave. Make your master proud of you, Son,” Master Ironmonger urged his slave.

Jurgen was almost overwhelmed at Roy's ability to suck his cock. He got blow-jobs from young men much more experienced than Roy, yet the young warrior was going after his master's fearsome penis like it was the most excellent thing he might ever accomplish. When Jurgen climaxed and awarded his slave his prize, Roy moaned and carried on like his master's ejaculate was the finest thing he ever tasted – like it was nectar from a god – or a least, his own personal god, his new Training-Master. Master Ironmonger pulled his slave up into his massive arms, held him, and thanked his slave. Roy was roaring hard pressing against his master's tight belly. “I'm sorry I don't have more control over my penis, Master Ironmonger,” Roy said quietly.

“Glad you don't, Slave. It's sort of like a dip stick in a fuel tank to show your master how much he excites you. When you don't get an erection with your master is time for concern,” Jurgen said and stole a kiss, “Come! Dry your master and then yourself. We need to get you ready to return you to your master. I think, since you will have to change immediately after breakfast to go with your master and your dad to Houston, we'll just put on your harness, and carry your plug in a sack so your master won't have to worry with it,” he said musing to himself.

Jurgen turned and looked into the saddest eyes. He thought his slave was about to cry. “I'm sorry, Slave, that was thoughtless of me. It was your first time, and I was given the honor of taking your virginity from you. Like Italian men hang out a bloody sheet after their wedding night to prove their bride was a virgin, so you need to be recognized as a fully fledged slave. Not to worry, your master won't let you down, Son,” Jurgen said and watched a frown change into a bright smile.

“Thank you, Master Ironmonger, I will think about you while I'm gone. If you should see me on TV, and I got a silly smile on my face, you'll know I'm thinking about you, sir,” Roy said, and then he cried in his master's arms.

“There, there, Slave! We will have some wonderful times together, I promise, Son,” Master Ironmonger soothed his slave.

When they finished getting dressed and Roy was wearing his harness with his codpiece and plug, his master went to a cabinet and brought out a leather kilt and shirt he made especially for Roy. They were just like Master Billy's Cowboy-Angel-Warriors wear and Roy was stunned by the raw beauty of the leathers. He was overwhelmed his master thought enough of him to create something so wonderful. Jurgen helped him on with it and led him to a big mirror to admire himself. Roy was so choked up he could barely thank his Training-Master. After several more hugs and kisses the Dwarf Warrior and his new slave walked arm-in-arm down through the village, into the castle, and into the great dinning hall. Everyone looked up as a silence came over the room.

“Hosanna!” shouted Major Bart Langstrom.

“Hosanna, in the highest!” everyone in the room returned loudly and applauded for Master Ironmonger and his new slave, Roy Boynton.

“I swear on the names of many unknown gods, that cain't be the same cowboy what we sent to you last evening, Master Ironmonger,” Bart said firmly and broke up laughing. Everyone around the table agreed and laughed as they watched Roy blush.

“And what does my transformed son have to say for himself on this propitious morning?” General Heavy-Drop asked and grinned real big.

“While it was really special to claim to be a virgin at my age, it set me apart from other men. It's even nicer not to be a virgin no more, especially after spending the night in the strong, loving arms of the finest master in this hall – no, re-bake my last – make that the finest master on this planet!” Roy exclaimed and another round of hoots, hollers, stomping of boots, and applause filled the great hall.

“May them ancients bless you men and may your journey be long and easy,” Billy said.

* * * * * * *
Immediately after breakfast, people began to go to their jobs or whatever they planned for the day. Master Ironmonger and Roy said their goodbyes to each other. Roy went with his family to get ready to gate to Houston. Master Ironmonger walked back to his cottage to gather some work he was going to take with him to his shop. His heart was heavy like a part of him, perhaps one of his limbs was taken from him, and he missed it dearly. He walked over to the table were he left Master Bart's card the night before. In his excitement and joy getting to know his new Training-Slave, he forgot to read Bart's card. Jurgen picked it up, opened it, and began to read:

Dear Master Ironmonger,

My slave needs training from a strong master. You are the only qualified master our family would consider for the job. Train him and imprint him as if you were training him to become your own slave. Our part of the Daniels family are in full agreement you are the only master we would trust to teach our slave manners and provide him with whatever you think he needs: in particular, firm discipline from an iron fisted, no-nonsense master what wears a velvet glove and knows how and when to reward good behavior. We graciously accept your kind offer to train our slave for six months to evaluate him or more if need be; however, we are not unaware of the possibility, if a Master invests his time and emotions while training a man to become the slave he would like for him to be, a truly caring Master might begin to entertain thoughts about a more permanent bond.

Slave Roy will never be sold to a master outside our family, but our growing comfortable portion of the second Daniels family has unanimously come to consider you, your lovely daughter, and your stalwart family protector as worthy and treasured members of our extended family. As such, we would respectfully consider a bid from you for a reasonable price to meet the universal laws of slave ownership. Of course, if you should chose not to exercise your option, as always, you and your fine family will continue to be welcome within our branch of the Daniels family.

Furthermore, your time and upkeep expenses for whatever our slave requires under your care will be deducted from his agreed upon price. However, until a bargain can be struck, we urge you not to share this information with our slave. Our slave must not learn of his Master's nefarious plans so we might sound him out about his own feelings. If he believes you are only to be his Training-Master and his bond with you grows strong within six months, he will let his heart make his choice for him. Like a heat temperature pop-up button on a baked turkey when it's done, when Slave Roy's love for you is at its fullest and begins to overflow, we will know we have a permanent bond between a fine slave and a good Master.

Should you require more information regarding Roy and my history together, you only have to ask. I will be happy to send you an e-mail which might help fill in the blanks and give you a more solid base from which to approach your task. On behalf of our portion of the Daniels family, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for your thoughtful and generous gifts, your concerned words of wisdom, and your companionship. Enjoy our new slave, Master Ironmonger. It is my firm belief you men are being brought together as Master and Slave at a time in our history when both need it the most. Yours truly in fellowship, your friend and brother,

Major Barton Langstrom, U.S.M.C.

When Master Jurgen Ironmonger finished reading Bart Langstrom's card, he wiped away his tears, held it close to his body, fell to his knees, closed his eyes, threw back his handsome head, and whispered, “Hosanna, in the highest! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Master Ironmonger got little done that morning. Jurgen found his mind drifting from his work to remember the sweetness and the incredibly comfortable release he shared with his new slave-boy the past evening. He locked the front door to his shop four times to walk to a daybed couch in the back to relieve himself. While self-manipulation brought him some relief, it just wasn't the same as having his handsome young slave in his hungry massive arms sharing his love with him. He recalled the cryptic line from an old poem Roy used to refer to himself as a lump of clay who grew tall only to be tragically cut down in the prime of his youth and have his life destroyed by a senseless war. Was he being given this lump of clay to remodel and rebuild into his own slave and companion – his own property? Jurgen considered for a moment his new slave could possibly become his own personal holy grail, his sacred cup to drink deeply from until he quenched both their thirsts?

Master Ironmonger, the strong, bold, brave, yet compassionate Dwarf Warrior had it bad. Was it possible he could become so strongly imprinted so quickly? No answer came to him, but a feeling of great joy, peace, and calm came over him like an unsuspecting visit from a guiding spirit to confirm his arrival at a special moment in the unfolding of the universe. Master Ironmonger felt more like the powerful man he knew himself to be, and was more together than he experienced since before his wife died. A soft voice reminded him to never forget, he was a master of men who was capable of achieving many important goals, and he was given a handsome young slave to love and cherish, a treasured member of a wonderful family, who came complete with a magic key to open his master's heart. Neither should he forget the power of his Slave. Your Slave will become your engine to fire your heart to carry you both to greatness, and together you will achieve miraculous things. Master Jurgen Ironmonger's cup was about to run over again for the fifth time that day. He was exhausted after a full day at his shop, but it wasn't from hard work.

* * * * * * *
After breakfast the other half of the Daniels family, Grand-Uncle Gus and his flock returned to their apartments to prepare for departure to Houston. The rest of the family were already dressed for their day, but Bart had to take his slave back to get him ready to travel with them and begin a new chapter of his life as Captain Royce Boynton Junior of the Marine Corps. A Slave who has begun training must never be allowed to remove a sexual apparatus his Master provided. Only another Master may undress him. It took very little time for Bart to undress his slave and only a little more time for Roy to don his cowboy clothes for his trip to Houston.

Mornings in the Daniels/Boynton quarters was bonkers getting ready for the day. After Cowboy Jack Daniels got his handsome male tackle installed, poor little Jenny was the only female among them when her Aunt Jennifer wasn't visiting, and as hard as the men tried, someone would run past her naked as the day they were born. She became so used to the phenomenon, she rarely looked up from her book to notice. Her Aunt Jennifer asked if seeing grown men naked bothered her, and she replied they didn't bother her anymore than seeing a number of bulls being let out in her granddad's high pasture to graze with the heifers. To no one's surprise, Jenny grew up to be a well adjusted young lady and was not the least intimidated by any cowboy what considered himself to be the biggest bull in the rodeo. Little Jenny had memories of her family's herd of bulls what would put him to shame.

“Ain't cha' gonna' ask about my evening wiff' my Training-Master, Master Bart?” Roy asked.

“No, I don't have to ask. The aura what surrounds your body tells me all I need to know, unless you would like to share your feelings with me. Was Master Ironmonger everything you thought he might be?” Bart asked and grinned.

“So much more than I thought possible, sir. He was awesome, Master Bart. Thank you for arranging for him to take me for my first time. If I'm a little spaced-out today, it's because I'm reliving every minute I spent with Master Ironmonger. I can't wait to be in his arms again as soon as possible,” Roy lamented.

“Did you have any problem or bad feelings about sharing your vagina with him for the first time, Slave?” Bart asked.

“No, sir. Not at all. He took me so gently but strong enough to make it a wonderful experience for me. He told me he would only require about ten percent of my time satisfying him with my cunt, but he was so good, I told him I hoped it might be more. He fucked me two more times after he popped my cherry. The surprising part is, I didn't feel like a woman; neither did he treat me like one. I was just his good Slave-boy what could provide him with either. Other than some problem with me morphing my vagina for my grooms, I was fine. Master Ironmonger morphed me back into a male slave this morning. If it's all right with you and him, until I get stronger with my apps, I'll leave my morphing to my masters,” Roy said.

“I don't have any problem with it. I'll speak with him. I'm almost certain he won't have no problem. He's much like me in certain ways. If someone puts me in charge, I demand complete control, but if my master is in charge, his will must be done. I don't think it's a matter to worry about. I'm glad you enjoyed your evening with Master Ironmonger. We have invited him and his small family to become a part of our growing family,” Bart said.

* * * * * * *
It didn't take Roy long to throw on his cowboy clothes and boots. He grabbed his hat, and he and Bart headed for the main living area. When they walked into the room everyone looked up. Roy saw his double standing near Gus Daniels. Lem opened his arms and walked toward Roy who opened his arms for an embrace. They were far enough away from the others they couldn't hear their conversation, “Did I insinuate too much of myself last evening, Brother?” Lem asked softly and stole a kiss on Roy's cheek.

“No, not in the least, Little Brother. Did you enjoy my new master as much as I did?” Roy whispered in his ear.

“I enjoyed everything. Them two grooms what morphed like them punishment-slaves with them big horns while cleaning out your lower tract were wonderful, and your Training-Master taking you for your first time was out of this world. Master Ironmonger was spectacular. I think you picked a winner,” Lem said and smiled.

“Thanks for them swell bonding moments. We'll have time to share more later, Little Brother. Let's get 'Operation Payback' on the road,” Roy said loud enough the other men heard him and Lem agreed.

“Jew jes' come up with that operation hashtag, Son?” General Boynton asked Roy.

“Yes, sir. I didn't know if it had a name. I jes' made it up,” Roy said uneasily.

“Operation Payback? Humm...it'll do, Captain! Good tag! Make a note Major Langstrom!” the General barked looking at his watch, “Operation Payback was born at oh-seven hundred-fifteen, August first, 2032. The fat calf is alive, healthy, and taking nourishment!” he exclaimed, like he was putting the period at the end of a sentence.

“Yes, sir, General! Duly noted, sir! May the young bull grow wise and strong!” Bart snapped to attention and replied.

“You might pay attention to the Major's respect, General Tater-Puss. You might learn a few things,” the General growled at his second.

“Yeah! Yeah! I heard him! Now can we please go through the damn gate?” Dan Tate replied like he was disgusted.

You could have heard a pin drop in the room. Every man held his breath. “See? See? Didn't I tell you men I don't get no respect anymore? My God what's a Four Star General to do? Let this be a lesson to you men. This is what you can come to expect when your second in command also happens to be your surrogate rainy-day fish wife?” General Heavy-Drop complained and everyone breathed easy and laughed at his nonsense. “Listen Tater-Puss, just don't come to work in a frumpy house coat, wearing flip-flops, your hair done up in curlers, with no makeup, and a cigarette hanging off the corner of you lower lip!” he barked and got a big laugh from everyone.

“Hell, I only dress like that when you need a piece of my ass, General. I thought it made you feel more at home,” Dan Tate shot back and leveled the dungeon.

“Will one of you men open the damn gate before Tater-Puss grabs one a them attorneys and sues me for divorce,” the General barked and laughed at his own nonsense. And that was the way the warriors began their day and departure by gate for Houston.

* * * * * * *
Everyone went their separate way after returning to Lieutenant General Hank Halfablap's condo. General Boynton went to his suite of offices in the U.S. Military Building in Houston where they held the ill fated meeting with the Chief's of Staff on the previous Friday. He was accompanied by Lieutenant General Dan Tate, Major Barton Langstrom, Captain Royce Boynton Junior, and Captain Emanuel Bartholomew Boynton, cousin to Roy and nephew to General Boynton, Senior. Lieutenant General Hank Halfablap went to his own suite of offices where he met up with his other two members of his staff, Captain Miller, and Commander Pauli.

In General Boynton's office, no one asked any questions about the men not in uniform; however, he did make a brief announcement, the men were re-enlistments and would be in full uniform before noon that day. Anyone doubting his word would play Hell following up on the General's explanation and knew they would probably get their asses kicked for trying. Better not challenge a big dog with a bone unless you want to gamble he might take a bite out of your butt. Dan Tate gathered the necessary forms for three complete Marine Corps Officer's sea bag replacements and ordered his secretary to type them up.

General Boynton's office staff and several other big wigs wanted to know where he and the other Chief's of Staff were over the weekend. The General stuck to their agreed upon story which he knew would corresponded with the rest of the Chiefs of Staff as they arrived at their offices. The General explained they were guests at their newly appointed Brigadier General Hank Halfablap's ranch in the heart of the Hill Country of Texas hunting deer and fishing in the Guadalupe river. The General hyperbolically claimed they were so deep into the interior of the state where no white men and damn few Indians ever tread. He swore they only got land line telephone service last year and that was in the small towns – not in the country. After their meeting on Friday with Five Star General Shylock, since they were already in Texas, they decided to get away from the D.C. bureaucracy for the weekend and no cell phones were allowed. While they might have been challenged about what would happen if an emergency situation arose, Royce Boynton would have told them to contact Shylock. He never listened to their suggestion anyway.

It seemed like a reasonably harmless excuse. It didn't happen very often, and the big-wigs simply absorbed the information like it was in the past and August was the first day of a new century. The most unbelievable part was, nobody bothered to question young Royce Boynton Junior about his full recovery from being a bed-bound cripple, a casualty of the Afghan war, nor did they ask any questions about his double, his cousin, Lem Boynton. It didn't bother the General. He knew, if they performed a DNA check, they would find Lem more closely related to Royce Boynton Senior than his own son.

General Heavy-Drop wrote off his staff's lackadaisical attitudes and disinterest to short-term memory loss. His boy's story was far enough in the past, there were several turnovers of personnel since that time. Most of the General's paper pushing staff weren't even aware he had a son. Neither did they question three officers needing full sea bags. It was not an unusual occurrence. There were a handful of officers who, for various reasons, lost their sea bags in accidents or while traveling. If it didn't concern the non-com's job or their comfortable little niche with rubber stamps at the ready, they weren't interested in pursuing a topic beyond the mundane. Consequently, everything went smoother than anyone might have imagined. The Joint Chief's of Staff were looked upon as demigods and their word was not to be questioned without expecting embarrassment or unpleasant consequences.

The paperwork was done within thirty minutes. Lieutenant General Dan Tate swore in the three men in private, and personally accompanied them to the USMC central disbursing center Officer's Unit which was in a different building within the greater complex of the other military offices. Since the men were accompanied by top brass, they were taken in right away, and the others were delayed. The staff of non-coms were professionals, and they worked at top speed without prolonged coffee breaks. They were so used to outfitting officers day in and day out, they could tell by looking at a man in his skivvies what size he wore. Less than two hours later, the new men walked out in full dress uniforms with a fifty pound sea bag on their shoulder and another bag for their civvies clothing and cowboy boots.

Bart made sure Roy took his medals and ribbons to put on his uniform, and they both shared a couple with Lem so he wouldn't look like a naked novice. Stars and Bars were a shorthand way of telling the experience of a fellow military man – sort of like dogs when they sniff each other's butts, only a bit more socially acceptable. Dan Tate managed to get dog tags stamped out for Bart and Roy, but Lem didn't have a Social Security number. Nevertheless, Dan, stamped one for him without the SS number. He didn't figure Lem was going to need them beyond one appearance at the next gathering of the Washington politicians and the Chief's of Staff.

When the men finally returned to General Boynton's suite of offices, it was less than an hour before lunch. Royce was still on his phone when he motioned for them to come into his office and close the door behind them. He was trying to explain to a White House rep, he and his fellow Chief's of Staff didn't have a clue where Five Star General Shylock and his two men were. He agreed to a meeting at the Pentagon with the President and his staff on either Wednesday or Thursday. His calendar was full for the rest of the week. He promised he would have his staff look into the strange disappearance of the Five Star General, but Royce reminded them this wasn't the first time General Shylock and his men went missing only to find out, on a whim, they decided to go scuba diving in the Bahamas several days and another time they spent a week on the beach at Acapulco without notifying anyone.

The General was careful not to talk bad about the missing Chief of Staff, but he sure as Hell didn't mind pointing out his shortcomings. Royce didn't want anyone pointing a finger at him or the other Chief's of Staff accusing them of forming a conspiracy against Shylock and his staff and making them conveniently disappear; however, he was willing to bet heavily, killing nasty alien critters posing as top military brass pretty much trumped any thoughts of mutiny in the ranks; especially, if the public was brought into the picture and became involved. Boynton made damn sure his bases were covered on that front. He would insist the next meeting with the President, Vice President, the Speaker of the House, the Secretary of State, and their complete staff was televised live from D.C.

General Boynton and his other Chiefs of Staff understood they became mere figureheads in the new one party theocratic-corporate run government. They felt as useless as the giant stone figures known as 'Moai' carved by the Rapa Nui on Easter Island. In essence, they held little power or had much say in the day-to-day operation of the U.S. government or the military they were suppose to represent. Their experience and opinions amounted to little or nothing and most of the major military decisions recommended to the Secretary of State, were made by Shylock and his two lizard bros. The closer they came to exposing the current regime and the alien lizards as charlatans, the more his spirits lifted and more confident he became. General Heavy-Drop's feet yearned and itched to feel his very own handmade pair of lizard skin cowboy boots from Shylock's hide.

General Heavy-Drop was looking forward to the day when the shit would hit the fan and Operation Payback became Operation Liberation from the status-quo, as the American nation and Joe Six Pack kicked back in their Barcalounger recliners just far enough they could see over their beer guts, eating Swanson deluxe frozen dinners in the comfort of their trailer-homes while watching history unfold on their foreign made TV.

The General wanted much more than to just be able to point the finger of deception, treachery, and corruption at the one party oligarchy for corporate theft from vastly over reaching indecent limits of power over the American people and greedily shifting complete control to major international corporate interests to rob them of their sovereignty as a people and a nation. He wanted to be loaded for bear with solid accusations against crimes of treason, tyranny, malicious machinations, grand theft and the slow destruction of the Social Security Administration by privatization, the murder of the middle class, failing to care for veterans, the old, the sick, the poor, and the indigent, by turning over our government to aliens, a cannibalistic race of beings who look upon humans as we might look upon cattle for their use and slaughter.

The General was hoping the country was ripe for a rebellion of Earth-shaking proportions, and with the demand from the majority of the American public, he would easily step into the presidency in a bloodless coop. Royce Boynton knew without asking, he would have the complete unquestioned backing of the Daniels family and the members they gathered including six hundred Fallen Angels who were freshly refurbished, reeducated, and instilled with a solid core of a progressive mien. The Angels who were put-on-hold thousands of years ago might finally get a chance to finish what they were originally created to accomplish to become the shepherds of mankind and guide him on his path from the clutches of the Lords of Darkness and Despair. The Dark Lords felt no remorse while consuming vast resources, wealth, while destroying the ecosystem of a beautiful planet, and forever preaching austerity for the lower classes. Like most religions, trickle down theory was a myth. It was little more than a Ponzi pyramid scheme. The power of selfishness and doing away with sane laws of commerce, the ever increasing power of egregious wealth created the equivalent of the second coming of the Divine Rights of Kings, and they made it known, their word was not to be challenged.

* * * * * * *
General Heavy-Drop, his staff with three new members, and the rest of Chiefs of Staff who hadn't yet left for D.C. reserved a huge table in the Officer's Mess for the noon meal. Lieutenant General Hank Halfablap was sworn in earlier that morning to his new position and was wearing his new stars and bars. The large table reservation was done quite often and the government picked up the check because the time was also used to discuss policy and strategy – as well as gossip, but nobody got upset about it. Only the top brass with their closest staff members could sit at the table. The only men at the table were those who spent the weekend with them at the Daniels ranch. After the men complimented the General's new staff members, they were seated at their table by the Maitre'd and he announced the three entrées available. They served prime rib every day. Conversation was quiet and kept on the down-low.

Admiral Ben Armitage and Admiral Jan Sparks were sitting together across from General Boynton. “I know it's only been since yesterday about this time you men interrogated them NSA stooges, but have you come up with much?” he asked quietly.

“More than you might expect, General,” Admiral Sparks replied, “Ben suggested we interrogate them together rather than individually. I had my doubts, but he made a strong argument researchers found men who were giving information in a group are generally more relaxed and less likely to be singled out and their interaction can sometimes jog another's memory to recall a piece of the puzzle which might mean the key between success or failure of a mission. One thing they brought up was the offices they reported to always stank like the place was once a gym and there were strong, stale, rank, body odors what lingered. After dealing with them three other lizard bastards, that observation immediately raised a red flag with us,” Admiral Sparks said and grinned.

“Oh, Sweet Jesus, please let them bastards be members of the Green Team! Got-damn it! I wont me a pair of them lizard boots! Ever' time I see my Major wear'n his, I get's me a big-old hard-on,” the General exclaimed, put his hands together like he was about to pray and rolled his eyes to heaven, “Is a nice pair of handmade lizard boots too much to ask for, Sir?” he asked like he was talking to God. Everyone laughed at him.

“Yeah, we was think'n the same thing, General. We all want us a pair. My feet ain't been happy since Major Langsrom slammed his pair on that table in the conference room last Friday,” Admiral Ben Armitage replied and laughed.

Admiral Sparks continued, “The men what gave us the information we needed were right about being out of a Houston office, but the address they gave us is in a huge corporate industrial park in a really run down part of town which, according to them, ain't none to fancy inside neither. As a matter of fact, they said it was pert-damn spartan for a government agency as important as the NSA; however, they said their bosses easily explained it away as part of their cover. I suppose it makes just enough sense to fool the gullible. Who knows how they think?” the Admiral mused and continued, “They gave us the names of the four men working out of the office and as far as they know, them twelve men were the only team they hired. They never saw any other agents come or go. We sent several of our men to drive by to scout-out the place in an old beat up truck wear'n shabby cowboy duds. There were four Cadillac SUVs parked in front and a small sign in the corner of the front window what said: Job Opportunity. NSA Hiring Field Officers. Apply inside,” the Admiral said.

Admiral Ben Armitage spoke up, “Under our current circumstances precipitated by last Friday's fiasco, we didn't want to walk in there with guns a' blazing and draw a lot of attention. We thought it might be something we might want to do on the down-low,” he said, “We got us a cracker-jack Seal Team what can do some pert-damn unbelievable shit under the command of my son, Admiral Arthur Benjamin Armitage Junior. We also got us a warehouse in the Fort Hood area just South of Gatesville, and West of Pidcoke, Texas on the Cowhouse Creek where my boy billets his team. It's so secluded and secure he can run simulated exercises and train his men in complete privacy. He can also make anything or anybody disappear without a trace and hold them for a good length of time. They got about a dozen cells for holding prisoners. You might be surprised, they got two crippled Watchers the men rescued and adopted as mascots, a father and his son they named Bogart and Stumpy, who live in one of their cells but come and go as they please. The men take care of them and in return they scare away anybody who tries to break through the perimeter fence. With that bit of patch-work info in mind, you men got any suggestions?” he asked.

“Now's your time to earn that new set of expensive Jarhead threads, Major Langstrom!” General Heavy-Drop exclaimed softly to his new staff member.

“Certainly, General, but before I begin, I'd like to say, I feel comfortable in these threads, sir, like I belong in this uniform, and I'm proud to be a part of the Marine Corps. I'm ready to respectfully accept my role as an Officer. However, with me, my bonded slave, and our little brother, you also get the extra package, free-of-charge, three Cowboy-Angel-Warriors ready and willing to do your bidding without question, sir – unless, it's one a them bad days when you ain't think'n none too clearly and start shoot'n from the hip. Fortunately, on those days we got Lieutenant General Dan Tate to ride hazer for us,” Bart said and grinned. Several of the other men laughed, “However, before I start, I need to ask Admiral Armitage a couple of questions. For information purposes, sir, has your son been told about us Cowboy-Angel-Warriors, sir?” Bart asked.

“No, Son, absolutely not! I'll whip out ma' balls and lay 'em on the line! I swear to you before these worthy men and all them gods known or unknown, I believe in the Code of the West – The Cowboy Way! While I would trust my boy with my life and the rest of my family, I would never share something as rare as you men's trust without you or your master's permission. He don't even know about me kick'n the bucket and you men reviving me. I been wait'n for the right time to tell him, and if you want to include that info, you got my blessing,” the Admiral said firmly.

“That's good enough for me and my master, Admiral Armitage, but you know we don't pull no punches about our lifestyle. Do you think your son and his men are ready for us, sir?” Bart asked.

“First of all, surely you must know, us Chiefs of Staff have very little or no power at all to give orders to men of lower rank who fall under the Secretary of State in the chain of command. There's a giant break between us, D.C., and the Secretary of Defense. I know it sounds crazy, but we done got our balls cut off years ago near the end of the past century. We ain't nothing but a bunch of figureheads, mostly doing social work for our branch of the armed services. However, my boy does have the power. He's Vice Admiral of the Pacific Third Fleet out of San Diego answerable only to the Secretary of Defense. So, to answer your question, what all that boils down to is, if you come up with something hoping to combine both forces, to get the job done, we have no choice but to bring him on line to make it work,” General Armitage replied, “Personally, I'd like to see it happen, so my boy will know while we're different, we ain't no fly-by-night insurgence group what's illegally trying to overthrow the government,” he added.

“You think he would go along with an unorthodox, clandestine raid without permission from higher up?” Bart asked.

“I think he might listen to me, Master Bart, if I's to lay our cards on the table for my old buddy, Art. There ain't nothing he and I ain't shared at one time or another,” Captain Roy Boynton spoke up.

“Holy crap! I forgot you men went to high school and a played football together! You were best buds. I was afraid you men were joined at the hip. You were either at his house or you men were at ours,” General Heavy-Drop exclaimed, “You been in touch with him lately, Son?” Royce asked his boy.

“Not since well before my refurbishment, sir. He called to wish me a happy birthday in June and talked with me a good while on Skype, but I ain't heard from him since. I send him a funny e-mail from time to time to remind him I'm still out there,” Roy replied.

Admiral Ben spoke up, “I didn't tell him about running into you, Son, nor did I tell him you other men saved my life; however, between the two of us, with your master, and little brother, if we show him the full, uncut version video of the dust-up last Friday, I think we got us pretty solid argument. I agree with you, Captain, I think my boy will hear us out,” Admiral Armitage said firmly. “What's your plan, Major Langstrom?” he asked.

“My little brother, Captain Lem Boynton, here, Captain Roy Boynton, me, and maybe one other man from the Seal team, maybe two, can go checkout them Lizard impostors pretending we's young buckaroos down on our luck what's desperately looking for a job. The three of us can see their auras, and believe me, we got us enough experience to nail them bastards. The four of us pull out our dog whistles, blow their brains out, stun them som-bitches, open a gate and a dual squad of your Son's Seal Team and our Cowboy-Angel-Warriors/Watcher-Protectors join us. We cuff them, lock iron collars around their necks with heavy-duty chains on both sides, gate them to your son's secret warehouse, and keep them in cells until we're ready to introduce them to the world at the big Pow-wow you men plan to attend with the President and them other big-wigs,” Bart said. “If you don't want to produce the real thing, we can provide you with a video to show them. Of course, when you show such an unexpected, uncommon video, you can bet your ribbons your enemies will claim it to be a hoax made by a Hollywood studio using state-of-the-art CGI techniques,” Bart said. “Gating them into the hearing might do right nicely, sir, but I'll leave that up to you, your son, and the rest of these fine officers, sir,” Bart said.

“Sounds like a workable plan to me. What do you think, General?” Admiral Ben Armitage asked.

“If my Major says it will work, you can trust him, it will work, Admiral,” General Heavy-Drop said firmly like there was no doubt in his mind.

“Good, when do you want to get started, Son?” the Admiral asked.

“Is your Son's offices in Houston, sir?” Bart asked.

“He has an office attached to my suite. His main offices are in San Diego, Major; however, he spends most of his time with his men in Texas,” Admiral Ben replied.

“No problem. How 'bout we arrange our meeting in the middle at your son's place on the Cowhouse Creek. In the meantime, I'll put in a request from Master Billy to borrow his protection platoon, and have them on stand-by for the afternoon. Can you set up a time for us to gather?” Major Langstrom asked.

“I'll do my best. I agree with you, Son, the quicker we get this done, the stronger position we're gonna' have when we meet the enemy,” Admiral Ben Armitage declared.

“Well, Got-damn it! I ain't gonna' be left behind while you men are gate'n around the country having yourselves a good-old time. I done seen my Major in action, and he's a wonder to behold. I done checked in with them powers-what-is and told them their favorite scape-goat was still taking nourishment and ready like a slobber'n bull in a pasture of fresh heifers in anticipation for another one of their senseless wars. So until we hear back from them about a Pow-wow time and date, I done strapped on my water-wings and I'm ready to float on down the river with you men. I wouldn't miss this Pow-wow for nothing!” General Heavy-Drop declared. Everyone laughed at him. “By the way, Ben, last I heard, your boy ain't got married. Is he still single?” the General asked as an afterthought.

“Ah, Hell no! He done went and got his'self married all right. He married his fuck'n platoon!” Ben Armitage exclaimed loudly with a bit of disgust and broke into laughter, “I kid ju' not, he's the unquestioned Big Daddy and husband to sixteen of the most intelligent and highly dangerous men on our planet. Trust me, you wouldn't want them for neighbors. You can't get more married than my boy is to them men,” Ben said and and got everyone laughing.

“Way to wrap a strong analogy with a slick metaphor, Admiral!” General Tater-Puss declared.

“Ain't a new one, T.P.! I was going for the Spartan buddy plan, but I'm afraid my boy's men would make them Greeks look like pansies. I already accused him of it, and he didn't deny it. He just grinned at me real big and shook his head like he couldn't believe what I said. He told me I should only start worrying about him when one of his team gets pregnant. That was before I met you men. After spending a weekend with the Daniels family, I'm convinced anything is possible. I'm ready to go out and buy a box of cigars, just in case,” Admiral Ben Armitage said and laughed again.

They enjoyed a good meal and once again Bart saw his General generously tip the Maitre'd and the three waiters. It seemed like such an insignificant action, but thoughtful and gracious. In an instant, the scene, and its greater image imprinted on Bart's analytic mind to convince him he was pretty sure it was a strong indication of what kind of a President General Heavy-Drop Boynton would make. A truly big man would never forget his smaller brother.

* * * * * * *
Monday morning after breakfast at Bubba's ranch, Grover drove Hoss and Doug to Camp Air to pick up the delivery truck and follow them to Brady. They planned to leave it parked behind the furniture store and pick up their pay checks for the last time. Josh and his kids stayed the night on the ship but gated to the Kirkendall ranch to hitch a ride in the rear seat of Grover's crew cab. Josh wanted to get away from the Daniels ranch and work on his place. His system was overloaded, and he wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle on Captain Nick's ship. Josh felt like he needed to be alone for a while – just him and his kids. He needed to work some things out for himself and for the first time in a long while he felt strong and motivated enough to make something of his ranch and his life. He never experienced the level of communication he was enjoying with his children. It was like they were changed to small young adults, who weren't whiny or overly demanding of their dad. Rather than being a nuisance, Josh began to find them delightful companions; however, he too experienced his own remarkable change, and his children were reacting positively to his new found maturity. He was pleased with himself, his children, and his place in the world. Josh felt like he could hold his head a little higher, and no matter what the future might bring, he made a promise to himself, he would never feel unworthy again.

After saying 'goodbye' to Josh and his children, Grover followed Hoss and Doug to the furniture store in Brady, pulled up in front, and parked while his boys parked the delivery truck in the back. After a while, they came out the front door, and from the looks on the two men's faces, Grover knew something was wrong.

“The bastard refused to pay us. He heard his truck was involved in an accident Friday evening at Camp Air, and he said he won't pay us until he has his mechanic check it out to make sure it's in good running condition. It could take several days. We told him it's in better condition than it was the day it was rolled off the assembly line, but he wouldn't even go out and look at it. He's angry with us anyway 'cause he cain't find nobody dumb enough to take our place. It don't take no genius to understand why nobody wants to work for him for what little he paid us. He took advantage of us from the first because he knew we was in a financial bind and couldn't get a job no-wheres else. H'it don't matter none about the condition of his got-damn truck. The bastard's made up his mind, he's gonna' cheat us out of our pay 'cause we ain't got the money to fight him,” Hoss said and spit into the street.

Doug didn't say anything but Grover could hear his sweet surrogate Grandson grinding his back teeth to hold back his rage and tears. “Easy, Son, take a deep breath. He ain't worth a trip to the dentist to fix yore' teeth,” Grover placated Doug, “You men get in the truck and wait for yore' Granddad,” Grover ordered like a bull who just took charge of the situation. He was admonishing his boys to mind him, and he would return in a few minutes.

Doug was sitting in the center of the long truck seat. Out of respect, he always gave Hoss the outside seat to ride 'shotgun.' Without a word between them, when Grover was walking into the store, Hoss grabbed his cousin's hand as a sign of brotherly unity. “We worked our butts off for that money, Little Brother!” he growled softly, but like two good little boys, they sat in the truck and minded their daddy. Grover wasn't gone more than fifteen minutes when he walked out the front door of the place with a big-old shit-eating grin on his face with two checks in his hand he was waving about so his boys wouldn't miss them.

“I swear to you, Little Brother, I'm gonna' make love to, and suck that old cowboy's ass until his head caves in,” Hoss said and laughed.

“Take a number, Big Bro, I seen him first. I done roped, gentled, and saddled him. He sleeps in my barn,” Doug challenged, and they broke up laughing.

Grover got in his truck and handed them their final paycheck. “You boys been talk'n dirty, I can tell. Am I gonna' have to warsh yore' mouths out with soap when we get back to the ranch?” he asked, and they shared another laugh.

“It was all Hoss's fault, Granddad! He told me he was gonna' do something nasty to show you his gratitude, but I told him I called first dibs. I weren't gonna' share you with him, you's all mine,” Doug said, and they laughed again.

“How do you men usually negotiate your paychecks, Boys?” Grover was still playing Granddad.

“Deposit them to our account, sir,” Hoss said.

“Figured as much. Same Bank?” Grover asked.

“Naw, he uses First State. Why, Granddad?” Hoss pressed him.

“Today you men cash them checks at his bank 'afore he gets time to rethink things and places a hold on payment. Let's not give him the chance,” Grover demanded.

Grover spared no rubber driving to the First State Bank, and his boys got their money. After they took the cash and deposited it into their accounts, they took their fine looking Granddad to lunch at the local Mexican Restaurant. They were through for the day. Bubba told them not to come to the ranch until the following morning, and the cowboys spent most of the day with Grover. They gathered the fishing tackle, jumped into the scoot-about with the dogs, drove down to the creek, and spent the afternoon fishing. They caught several nice catfish and cooked them for supper. Grover's boys never found out what their adopted Granddad did or said to get their checks so quick, but they knew they never wanted to be on Grover's bad side. They suspected rightly the old man was a fund of knowledge, good and bad, about everyone who lived within the surrounding counties.

* * * * * * *
Rear Admiral Arthur Benjamin Armitage Junior, known to his close associates as Art, sat in his office in his secret platoon housing and admin building at Ft. Hood, Texas going over some supply papers for his section and saw where his men were trying to keep food costs for their two in-house mascots to a minimum by padding other expenses to secretly transfer more money to the care of their beloved pets. He didn't approve of Bogart and Stumpy when they were first discovered, but they easily insinuated themselves into the minds and hearts of his men and ultimately their leader. Most men would have been happy with a dog, but no, Admiral Art's personal platoon had to adopt a crippled Sasquatch and his even more crippled son. Unique pets for an even more unique platoon of warriors.

The Admiral's cell phone chimed. “You got Three-A number two here! (Admiral Art Armitage the second) he said curtly. “I'm behind on paperwork, and I got a deadline to meet!” he barked.

“Hey, Son, this is 3-A-One here. You got time for your dear old dad?” Admiral Ben asked.

“Always got time for my old man. What's up, Pops?” Art asked.

“Remember a conversation we had several years ago about coded language, and how I might get your undivided attention if I mentioned the words 'Red Rover'?” Ben asked.

“I'm all ears, Admiral. Lay it on me,” Art replied.

“Can't trust cell phones, Son. Me and a couple of my top-brass buds need to meet with you A.S.A.P. for this one. We need your help, muy pronto. Are you alone in your office?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, ain't nobody here but me right now. My men are doing chores and our mess crew is getting supper ready. When do you want to come out to the Cowhouse? I'll make arrangements,” Art asked.

“Right now, Son. Right this very moment. I'm gonna' have Major Bart Langstrom open a Stargate to your office, and we'll see you in a matter of minutes. Try not to mess your pants, Son. I'll be so embarrassed if I have to explain why I have to change your underwear at your age,” Ben said and laughed.

“Dad, if this is some kind of joke...” Art got out and a gate of shimmering blue electrons appeared about six feet away from his desk, and through it walked his dad to be followed by a number of other men in uniforms, the top brass of the U.S. Military, whom he knew well. “Holy shit! Where the fuck did you men get technology like that?” Art demanded.

“From some friendly aliens, Admiral,” Ben told his son, took Art into his arms and gave him a big hug and a fatherly kiss on his cheek. “I think you know most of these men, Son, with a couple of exceptions,” Ben said.

“Of course I know our top brass. General Boynton..." Art acknowledged Royce Boynton. "I know Major Langstrom, but he's in a Marine uniform. He was a Navy Corpsman when I knew him. The General's son, Roy Boynton? Roy, is it really you in that uniform? No, my God, there's two Roy Boyntons? What's this, which of you is the real Roy?” Roy raised his hand. Art left his dad and walked to Roy with his arms open. The men hugged, kissed each other, and shed a few tears. “Look at you! You're all together. How did this happen? And Colonel Halfablap? You lost a hand, and your leg, and other unmentionables when your plane crashed in the Middle East. Now you're back together and look twenty years younger. And Roy you got a twin? How is this possible?” Art asked.

“Long story short, Son – we got rounded-up by some Cowboy-Angels!” Hank said boldly as they hugged and shook hands, “We brung several holographic videos wiff' us to show and tell you men the story about what's been going on in our country these last several weeks. That's why we come like this to keep everything on the down-low and nobody will see us come or go,” Hank explained.

“Is the information for Top Brass only or can we share the message with my men?” Art asked.

“Personally, I'm tired of everything being top secret and hush-hush to the max,” General Boynton said, “I think it's become more of a monster than a help mate. Certainly some things should be more protected than others, but it's become more of a fetish than a useful tool for us today. Your men should definitely be included. We need to reinsert the idea of a democracy and not a regime of secrets and terror. After you see what we got, we would expect you to share it with them anyway to get their input whether it's a job you and your team want to tackle. We need their help, as well as yours, Son, and perhaps we can come to your aid if you find yourselves in a bind. That's why we're here, is to gain your confidence and cooperation to share some new technology what's miles ahead of guns and bombs; nevertheless, even with some pretty impressive shit at our disposal, we can't achieve what we plan to do without you,” the General concluded.

“Has this got something to do with the overthrow of our current government, Dad?” Art asked.

“Goodness, we certainly hope not, but if push comes to shove, we want to make damn sure we're on the winning team. As for the maneuver, for which we've come to ask you and your men's help, we could probably do it on our own easily enough, but you got some pretty impressive holding facilities for prisoner containment what's below the radar of most of the other Brass. I won't go into detail about the prisoners and their peculiar holding problems until after you watched our videos. As far as the future of our government and what role you wish to play, we'll let you decided for yourself. All we're interested in doing right now is making damn sure we cover our butts and that of our faithful troops. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you would give the info we brought a fair hearing whether you decided to join us or not. Captain Royce Boynton Junior told us he was sure his buddy would give us a fair shake, and I believe him – just like I've always believed in you, Son,” Admiral Ben replied.

“Well, I will say arriving by a Stargate would certainly qualify as sharing an incredible new technology. Impressed the shit out of me! Let's get things set up. From you men's description, I get the idea this may take some time. We were planning on some basic training drills for this afternoon, but my men can do them in their sleep. More training for them is like taking coals to Newcastle, but it does keep them razor sharp. I'll cancel everything else for the day. Good thing you caught us at a low activity period. The hotter it gets, the more we shift operations to tropical hours and stay indoors during the hottest parts. I'll notify our cooks and you men plan on staying for supper,” Admiral Art said. “An afternoon of videos might be just the ticket to buck-up and strengthen morale of my men,” he added.

“Where's your mascots, Son?” Admiral Ben asked his son.

“Bogart and Stumpy? They's off down to the Cowhouse Creek with their keeper-posse for their regular cleaning. If we don't clean them two or three times a week, they start to get a mite overripe. Ain't their fault, though. Bogart's only got one arm and Stumpy ain't got any. Some'um happened while he was baking in his momma's oven, and he didn't grow no arms. Bogart done his best to take care of him, but it was a major chore with one hand. Them Sasquatch critters got two sets of teeth, a primary and a secondary, which takes the place of the front one's when one goes bad and then starts to grow another on the back row so's they always have a strong set. Stumpy was born with only one set. They got used so much they began to rot early, and he didn't have no back ones to replace his baby set. Bogart has to pre-chew his food and feed him like a mother bird feeds her babies. My men help with a heavy-duty Cuizinart. It's laborious for the poor old thing and takes a lot of time. The big galoot never complains and is always there for his son. That's why we keep them and help them as a constant reminder of our duty to our fellow men.

"They were looking pretty bad when we found them. They couldn't do much to avoid us, defend themselves, or try to get away. They were so down, hungry, tired, weak, and lonely, they just gave up, and I'm sure they thought we were gonna' kill them. If we hadn't come along and took them in, I don't think they'd be alive today. I weren't real keen on the idea, but the men promised they would do the work and take care of them. In a way, I'm glad I decided to let them. They work their butts off seeing to them critter's comfort, feeding them, and making sure they's happy campers. I watched my men change from a well-honed, cold-blooded, no-nonsense, military machine into compassionate humans who care deeply about their world and their fellow man; and, I swear to you, they developed a stronger sense of purpose and come together as a rock-solid family unit than I ever witnessed with any other team before. Long story, short! They're a unique team. I'm damn proud of my men, and I consider each and every one them my brothers,” Admiral Art said firmly.

“Come, Gentlemen, let's go out and I'll introduce you to my men who are still in the main part of our building so they can gather the rest of my men,” Admiral Art said and opened the door for them. Several men of the Seal Team were surprised. They didn't see anyone arrive and were wary, but they saw the uniforms packed heavy with stars and bars and stood immediately at attention. “At ease, Gentlemen, I know you must be as surprised as I am to receive visitors this afternoon, but I'll leave introductions until later after we gather the rest of our people. Gather the rest of the men and bring them back here to central. If they ain't finished with Bogart and Stumpy give them a hand and get back as soon as possible. We're gonna' have us a heap-big Pow-wow with our visiting Brass, and I been promised some impromptu entertainment might be included. Now away with you,” Admiral Art ordered.

“Right away, Admiral,” one said, they stood, saluted their superior officer, and took off for the door.

“Holy Crap, Admiral! Are all your men that big and well developed, sir?” Roy asked.

“Naw, Little Brother, them two are the runts of the litter,” the Admiral said and grinned at Roy. He was right. When the others began to gather, they were much larger and more well defined than the other two. All sixteen of them reeked of hyper-masculinity. They were stunningly handsome and perfect in every way, except one man wore a patch over his left eye. They introduced him as Dead-eye Daniel David Dickerson. His brothers called him 3D. Not only was his left eye dead, he was also a dead-eyed shot with his right eye. He was their number one sniper who left the backwoods of Kentucky to become a Navy Seal. Everyone was gathered except for the kitchen staff and four men on KP duty for their evening meal.

“We need everybody at this meeting, Son,” General Boynton bellowed, “Tell them men in your mess kitchen to drop their pot and pans, lay their aprons aside, and get their butts in here on the double. We'll take you men, and your mascots, out for supper at a unique underground private restaurant not far from here. Major Langstrom, get in touch with Maitre'd Seth at the Hill Country Castle Restaurant and see if they can accommodate approximately twenty-five to thirty more for supper – mostly military and two Watcher mascots,” he barked at Bart.

“Right away, sir!” Bart came to attention and saluted his superior officer. “Seth, old friend and shepherd, are you following us lambs?” Bart said out loud to no one the men could see.

“I am, and may I say what a fine looking group of military men you have gathered around you. I anticipated the General's request and immediately got on line with our Master. His exact words were, “Hell, yes, bring 'em on! I'll make damn sure we got enough to feed them men and the rest of their family, too. Tell them not to leave their mascots behind. We got plenty for them, too,” Seth said. First seating is five p.m. for families and children and the second seating for singles and military types is seven p.m. Try to arrive not later than six-thirty, Major Langstrom,” the booming voice said.

“Is second seating good for you and your men, Admiral?” Bart asked Art Armitage.

“No problem. Will we be finished by that time, Major?” the Admiral asked.

“We will have hit the high spots, Admiral, but a few things might come together over supper,” Bart said and smiled.

“Can we ask where the fine voice you just spoke to came from?” the Admiral asked.

“Seth, show my robo-cams,” Bart said, and immediately three small orbs appeared moving around Bart's head. “Show holo-vid screen at the end of this room to my left, please,” Bart ordered and instantly a huge screen appeared with a three-dimensional video of Bart captured in the huge area. “Thank you, Friend,” Bart said to Seth.

“My pleasure, Major,” Seth replied.

Bart saw the obvious next question in the Admiral's eyes, “One question leads to another. Let us show you men what we got and where most of it originated. The pieces will begin to fall into place and at the end of our presentation there will be the time for questions,” Bart said firmly. “General Boynton, since you are the Top Brass among us, I will turn the floor over to you, sir,” Bart said crisply in a proper military manner.

“Like Hell you will, Major! I didn't pin that Congressional Medal of Honor, that Navy Cross, and three Purple Hearts on your chest to let you get away so easily. I get stage fright and stutter a lot. I know there ain't nothing on this here planet what you're afraid of,” General Heavy-Drop said loudly and laughed. He got everyone else laughing. “You's doing jes' fine as a Master of Ceremony, Son. Beside I got total faith in you to show these men what we're up against. Ain't nobody in this room what can neither put all them pieces together as well as you, nor do it any better,” he added.

General Halfablap spoke up, “Meaning no disrespect, General, but you know damn well when you give my old Hoss the reins, there ain't no telling where he'll will run with it,” Hank said and broke-up laughing. The rest of their posse laughed and got the Seals laughing with them.

“I don't care! I don't give a good got-damn! I've lived through several of the Major's respectful dress-downs, and if I'm fortunate enough and real lucky, I dare say I'll probably live through several more,” General Heavy-Drop said firmly.

“Will that include your 'stripper' number for these innocent young men sitting before you to show us your wares, General Heavy-Drop?” Bart asked in a sober voice without a hint of mirth.

“I see where you're going with this, Major, but you don't scare me that easily. You got my blessing, Son. Who knows, my walk'n them boards might boost their morale a bit. Just make damn sure it's tastefully presented!” the General exclaimed. Very few knew what the General was talking about but most laughed anyway at his repartee with his Major.

“Well, then, Gentlemen I guess you're stuck with me for a Master of Ceremony? May the Ancients bless and keep you under their wings. Help me out here, Men. Why do I suddenly feel like a Judas Goat? I can only warn you, after watching the General's Dance of the Seven Veils, strong men have been struck dumb and caused temporary blindness for hours after the experience,” Bart said, laughed, and got another laugh. “Why are you squirming in your seat, Captain Lem?” Bart asked his little brother.

“I'm beginning to run out of power, Major Langstrom. I need to recharge my batteries, Sir,” Lem replied.

“It must be uncomfortable for you, Son. Come here, Lem, and I'll help you,” Bart said, “Excuse me, Gentlemen, for a couple of minutes,” Bart said and hugged Lem when he walked to him.

“C'moan, lemme' help you off with them clothes, Captain,” Bart said, and the men watched as Roy's double undressed. Bart motioned for the real 'Roy' to give him a hand. Lem handed his brothers his clothes and finally took his shoes and socks off. He stood before everyone stark naked, but he didn't seem to be embarrassed. “If you men would be so kind to supply us with a large towel we'll wrap him in it,” Bart said, and one was handed to him right away, “All right, you have your Major's permission to morph, Son. When you finish, you can climb up into your Granddad's lap and spend the rest of your time naked to recharge your batteries,” Bart said gently and gave him a quick hug. Lem began to morph and shrink in size to his real self of a ten year old boy. You could hear the men around the room let out sighs of disbelief.

“Quick explanation, Gentlemen, our copy of Captain Roy Boynton, whose real name is Captain Emanuel Bartholomew Boynton, is in reality, a ten year old boy with several exceptional gifts. He came with us on this mission because he has the natural ability to see auras which surround every living creature, and he can tell whether someone is real or counterfeit, but you'll come to understand the worth of his abilities as we continue,” Bart said. Lem ran for his adopted dad's arms and found a welcome and comfortable lap to sit on. However, he didn't sit in General Gus Daniels lap for long. The Seal Team's large mascot, Bogart, came and offered the small bairn his one arm to hold him. Lem smiled real big and allowed Bogart to pull him up to sit on his warm lap. Lem didn't hesitate and hooked up to one of Bogart's teats and started sucking away.

“What's he doing? Why is he sucking on Bogart's tit, Major?” one of the biggest Seal Bull Commandos asked.

“You men don't drink your Watcher's milk to keep them producing?” Bart asked like he was shocked.

“No, sir, we never have. I don't recall ever seeing Stumpy sucking on him either,” the big Seal replied.

“Bogart just told me he was starved so badly when you men offered your help, he didn't have any to offer his bairn; besides, Stumpy was way past the nursing period, and that added to his drying up. He could sense Lem was still a dependent bairn morphed to be a Warrior, and it activated his milk making machine,” Bart said.

“You can hear his thoughts, sir?” the big Seal asked.

“Of course, it's one of the many benefits of drinking Watcher's milk. It reconnects some synapse in your brain which have lain dormant for centuries and allows you to communicate mind to mind,” Bart explained.

“And, yes, Young Lem is the adopted son of our handsome, General Royce Boynton,” Bart said and moved on. “Now, if everyone's comfortable, may I see a show of hands – how many of you know or have heard about Billy Daniels?” Bart asked and every hand went up including Admiral Art's. Bart looked at him like he was puzzled.

Admiral Art explained, “Four hours every Sunday, these men are glued to the tube to watch Billy Daniels and his family's Barnyard Concert. None of them express an interest in going to church anymore, but God forbid they don't get to watch Master Billy Daniels make music. Nothing in their lives goes right for a week afterward,” Admiral Art said and laughed at his hyperbole.

“Then I suppose you men have seen him on TV talking about aliens, and the videos he released to the station in Houston?” Bart asked. Everyone agreed they saw the video clips.

One of the Seal team held up his hand, “They really played it down as if Billy Daniels and his people manufactured the video to gain more publicity for their Barnyard Concert Shows, but it just didn't sit right with most of us. His talents alone have him rated as one of the finest entertainment shows in the last twenty years. Why would he need to do something as silly as faking an alien video?” a Seal named Oscar asked.

“Good question, and a reasonable answer. On top of that, you men didn't get to see the whole video. Master Billy and his talented team only let them have as much as they wanted released. He wanted to make an attempt to show the people of our country there really is a threat of an alien invasion, and they're already here. Let us show you the complete video. Seth will you do me the favor of showing our first encounter with them Lizard critters?” Bart asked.

Seth didn't bother to answer, but at the end of the building a great holo-vid screen came alive and you could see everyone gathered at the front gate and watched the Men in Black shoot one of the Daniels cows because she refused to move to let them by. It was a real ball-grabbing moment and a lot of tension filled the air. It went on and showed Billy and his men disarming the MIBs, binding them, and frog-marching them off to the cells in their dungeon. When the video came to the part where they turned on one of their own kind and ate him, everyone in the room was shaken to their cores and several ran for the toilets to throw up.

They showed them Master Billy's new platoon of Cowboy-Angel-Warriors and their Watcher-Protector husbands who came to clean up the mess and take the remaining lizards away. Bart didn't try to white-wash their positions. He just treated the subject like it was totally acceptable in their world. Strangely enough, he didn't see any of the men trying to avoid the reality of the situation; nor did they seem too worried about the disposition of the Lizards. It wasn't until Seth started to show the rescue of the forty-two children abducted by the Green Alien Lizards when they began to get noticeably engrossed. Their testosterone levels were off the charts and a bitter anger overwhelmed them. Bart called a halt to the video until they could get themselves together. Some were so broken-up by the video they were quietly weeping in their buddy's arms. No one dared to make fun of them or call them on their feelings. When it comes to innocent children, there's a soft spot for every man no matter his calling in life or how macho he tries to appear. The Seal Team cheered when Billy and his men pushed them out of their craft onto the Plaza in Balboa Park, in San Diego.

After they gathered themselves, Bart called for Seth to continue with the meeting of the Chiefs of Staff. Bart explained they would not see him in uniform, because he was at the hearing as a guest to testify to the truth of Aliens being real. It didn't take the men long to spot Bart in his cowboy clothes, and they hooted and hollered their approval. But when they heard the Five Star General Shylock tell General Boynton to swear Bart into the service and give him the rank of Captain in the Marine Corps, they went crazy for a few minutes. They had no idea what was about to happen, but as the video went on, Bart stood his ground against General Shylock and didn't back down. The Seal Team were sitting on the edge of their seats as the tension built.

When Bart pulled off his lizard skin boots and slammed them on the table, there was a roar of nervous laughter and approval, accompanied by an almost evil feeling of satisfaction which came over the men, and the awful looks on Shylock and his men's faces like they couldn't get enough air, and they were starting to choke to death. It was one moment of tension after another until Bart gave his men the signal to use their dog whistles and blow them green scum's brains out. It brought down the house from his viewing audience. They jumped up out of their chairs and a few ran toward the screen to get a closer look at the three Top Brass as they began to lose their morph and were undoubtedly turning into huge green Lizards. They couldn't believe what they were seeing. Admiral Art sat with his mouth open in disbelief as he watched his own dad, his old man, try to get up and move away from the table, but when Admiral Ben couldn't, he grabbed his chest, lunged forward, and his head hit the table with a loud resounding 'whomp.' There was no doubt in Art Armitage's mind his dad's life came to an end in that moment.

They listened to the nervous laughter from the video and the funny comment General Boynton made about Bart. They applauded their agreement with the General. When the General told Bart to check out Admiral Ben, and Captain Langstrom relayed to his General the Admiral was deader than a door-nail, did the audience get quiet. Then, they heard a mature voice of compassion. Colonel Hank Halfablap asked Bart Langstrom if they could save Ben Armitage because he was a good man. Bart replied their master told them many times, if their only choice was to blow their cover as Cowboy-Angels to save a life, then there was no choice, they must save the man's life. They watched as Hank and Bart disappear in a flash and quickly reappeared wearing their handsome leather harnesses with their beautiful powder-blue wings. Then the men really did go crazy. They watched as the men laid the Admiral out on the table, loosened his clothes, and started his heart again. The video showed Master Billy's platoon as they came through a gate Captain Bart opened, they carried the three dead Lizards away. They also took Admiral Ben Armitage on a floating gurney to Billy Daniels ranch to take care of him, and the video soon came to an end. The Navy Seal Team and their commanding Admiral stood and gave the men an ovation. They were impressed beyond words.

“Do you see what we're up against, Son?” Admiral Ben asked his son.

“Everyone in Washington is looking for the great and fearless war-mongering Chief of Staff,” Art Armitage said in disgust and shook his head, “Unbelievable! The implications of the videos you men shared with us this evening are staggering. They're incredibly bold as well as unacceptable; but, not on your part, Gentlemen -- on the conscience of our government. Now let me get this straight, you're having a problem considering what to do about this treachery? Lord help me, I don't know why,” Admiral Art Armitage Junior said and his men agreed. “Does this bring us down to the mission you men are planning?” Art asked.

One more quick video should bring you men up to speed, Admiral,” Bart assured him.

“I can't believe there's more, but share whatever you got with us, Major Langstrom,” Admiral Art encouraged. “By the way, how did you get from Captain to Major in such a short space of time, Son?” he asked.

“It was a field promotion for two of General Boynton's men. Our new Brigadier General Halfablap got his first star and with a small assistance from me – together, we saved the life of an important baby boy – a Pharaoh's son in a tight political situation in another galaxy, sir. It's also why you will find a gold Ankh tattoo on the left shoulder of every man in our extended family, sir, including General Boynton himself,” Bart explained.

“And as General Boynton claimed in the video, is it significant you and Brigadier General Halfablap have the same color wings?” Admiral Art asked and grinned.

“It is indeed, sir, Brigadier General Halfablap is my Master, and I'm proud to share with you and your men, I'm his Slave,” Bart said firmly.

There was a deathly silence in the building for a moment. Then, one of the largest bulls of Admiral Art's Seal Team started clapping slowly. The rest picked it up, and it grew to a frenzy of an ovation with stomping of boots, whistles, and watch-caps being thrown about the room. When the room calmed down the Admiral spoke again, “When I was a young boy just coming into puberty, my daddy once told me, one day my curiosity would turn on me and bite me in my butt, and he was right. I'm afraid that day has come. However, he also told me to keep an open mind, embrace the future, and learn to accept new ideas. I think that bell just tolled for me, and perhaps a number of my platoon,” Admiral Art said humbly.

“If it's any consolation, Admiral, it was not something I planned. I first met General Halfablap before his body was restored and refurbished. Somehow I knew I would come to belonged to him no matter his condition. General Boynton can confirm, I spent eight years of my life on my back from a bad rodeo accident which injured my spine, until a lovely lady from the Daniels family, Master Billy's Grandmother, invited me and a good friend of mine to their ranch for a weekend. Master Billy and his family healed me and gave my life back to me. They did the same for Colonel Halfablap who they later found was a long lost relative of the Daniels family. He is the twin brother to Billy Daniels late Granddad. It's been verified by DNA and family records. His given name is Oran Augustus Daniels,” Bart explained.

“And is it how my school buddy and best friend, Roy, is now in perfect shape?” the Admiral asked.

“Partially, sir, but it's a bit more complicated. Somehow – we ain't real sure how or why – another group of ancient folks gifted that big, gruff, irreverent, funny, endearing, handsome warrior we affectionately give the cognomen of General Heavy-Drop with an even greater power to restore and refurbish humans and Watchers. General Boynton restored his own son, with the help of his current mate, Baug, a giant Watcher who happens to be the restored and refurbished surrogate dad of General Halfablap. Nothing like keeping it in the family,” Bart said and laughed. He got a laugh from his audience, then continued, "Baug was given a second chance at life in a new body by the same advanced civilization, and what may come as a surprise to some, our good General's other helper was the leader of them Fallen Angels you read or heard about in the bible. His name is Metatron. How we come by him is another chapter in the Daniels book to re-write history. We got videos of that dust-up, too. Metatron is a dark blue color with white hair, and bigger than General Heavy-Drop when he morphs into his Watcher form. General Heavy-Drop and his team is also responsible for the further refurbishing of our little brother, Lem, who was trapped and preserved in an ice flow for thousands of years before Master Billy and Captain Nemo, Him-What-Made-Them-Seven-Stars, rescued him and partially restored him. Lem asked to become a part of the General Boynton's family. How could you say 'no' to such a fine, handsome, talented, young cowboy. It's because of Lem we have a defense against them Lizard bastards. Even before he was rescued from the ice flow, he was riding shotgun in our minds to keep him occupied and cut his loneliness. He was the one who gimme' the tip, high frequency sounds might interrupt their shabby morphing techniques. He also has other powers we ain't even tapped yet,” Bart explained.

“Does morphing run in the Daniels family? Can you morph into anyone you wish?” the Admiral asked.

“Yes, sir, it's a learned option. As long as I have a small pin-prick taste of one of your Warrior's blood or ingest one of his bodily fluids, sweat, semen, tears, saliva, or his piss, to sample his DNA, sir,” Bart replied.

“Could you give us a demonstration, Son?” the Admiral asked.

Bart looked to his Master, and General Hank nodded his approval.

“I saw that, Major! You didn't ask your Chief of Staff. I saw you look to your Master for his approval,” Admiral Art said and grinned. His men laughed.

“I would gladly suffer a dress-down from our Chief of Staff than proceed without my Master's permission, sir,” Bart said proudly, and got applause from his audience. He continued, “You, there! Big Guns!” Bart pointed to the largest Seal in the platoon. Piss in your cup and hand it to your buddy sitting next to you, while I strip. Tell him it's for me, and not to steal a sip,” Bart ordered. Everyone laughed, and the big man did as he was told. Bart stood completely naked before everyone in the building. He felt no shame. He was proud of his newly refurbished body. Master Billy beefed him up considerably more than he was before. His workout routine was beginning to show. His audience was impressed. The younger man walked to Bart and handed him the cup. Bart tasted it and grimaced. “You got a sugar imbalance problem, Bull, what needs to be corrected before it starts to give you trouble. No problem, you're with the right group of men. We'll take care of you later,” Bart said and chug-a-lugged the rest of the cup. “Over all, your nectar finished-off quite well, Bull. Too bad you have to waste your handsome body's brew,” Bart said as a compliment.

“Beg'n your pardon, Major, he don't have to waste all of it. I claim my fair share, sir,” his younger partner said, and blushed a deep red color. He brought the house down with approving cat calls and supporting applause. The big man wrapped his huge muscular arm around his smaller partner, pulled him close, and bussed a kiss behind his ear. It only made the kid blush a deeper shade of red.

Bart began to morph and didn't stop until he was a perfect copy of the big Seal Warrior. The men were flabbergasted and applauded loudly for Bart. The Admiral told the big man to strip. Bull didn't hesitate. He stood next to Bart, and the men couldn't tell the difference. Bart was a perfect copy. “Somehow, this just don't seem right to have two bulls standing in front of you good men. Bart took his huge cock into his hands, wagged it around at the men as they laughed and applauded. “Too damn much cock! I'd venture, old Bull here's got enough meat to satisfy several slaves; am I right, Gentlemen?” he asked his audience, and they responded in agreement, “What say we change things up a bit?” Bart put to his audience and turned his back to them. He told Bull to stand in front of him, and he did. Bart waved his hand in front of his own genitals, and a grin crossed the big man's face. He blushed a bright red color, threw his head back, and let out a groan that was purely sexual in content. The audience had no idea what was going on.

“Son-of-a-bitch!” he exclaimed and immediately apologized to the Major.

“No problem, Lieutenant, I get that a lot. Shall we reveal our little secret to our audience?” Bart asked loud enough his audience could hear.

“I'd be downright proud to stand with you, Major!” Bull replied. Bart turned to the men to show them his fine little cunt he morphed for his huge, masculine body. Everyone in the room went crazy.

“Now you men understand why I made my Major your Master of Ceremony?” General Heavy-Drop roared over the crowd, and they applauded for him and Bart.

“Should I keep the Lieutenant's DNA on file, Master Gus, in case you might like to have a piece of Heavy-Duty Seal cunt for a bit of variety some evening when you feel really challenged, sir?” Bart asked his master and brought down the house again.

“Absolutely, my Good Slave! I'd fuck that fine Lieutenant's cunt anytime you'd like to serve his fine body up to me, Son,” Gus said exactly the right words to make the greatest impact on the men. Bart made a pretty damn good impression on them as well. Together, Bart and Gus gave the impression, sex was a fluid thing. Why settle for the same thing night after night when you can have an endless variety of possibilities?

* * * * * * *
Bart didn't bother to dress and maintained his morph as the big Lieutenant with a cunt. He knew soon enough the men would become engrossed with the video and forget about Bart being naked. General Heavy-Drop got the biggest grin on his face. He knew what Bart was doing. He was saturating the Seal Team so nudity might become the norm rather than the exception. Royce shook his head. He never knew what to expect from his Major from moment to moment.

Bart showed them the pile up at Camp Air and the explosions. He explained Joshua filmed the entire sequence, even the Grays trying to kidnap his two kids for food for their Lizard overlords. Bart told them they were welcome to look it up on the Internet. He explained the video contained only a slightly edited version of the incident. Several copied down the URL to check later. They watched as two of the Cowboy-Angels flew up and grabbed the kids from the beam and Cletus diverting one of the beams back to the ship. It produced a rather large explosion which made it crash land in a nearby field of goats across the road. They got to see Master Billy take charge of the situation and made them Gray critters dance a Cowboy buck-and-wing. It got a lot of laughs. It was a tension breaking moment for his audience. It also showed the cowboys capturing them and frog-marching them critters though a gate.

“You still got 'em, Major?” General Art asked.

“Yes, sir, they's in the cells in our dungeon, but we's hoping to turn them over to you men,” he replied, “To be honest, even though we have close associations with the military, the greater Daniels family don't see itself as a major military threat to anyone, sir. That just ain't what our family is about,” Bart added.

Bart showed everything in the video about the care and restoration of the folks in the crash. The audience was more impressed than ever, and they could see many men and Watchers working together in harmony to reach a common goal. They saw hundreds of Cowboy-Angels, Warriors, and Watcher-Protectors standing as conduits and capacitors catching and holding the healing rays from the ethos to pass on to those doing the actual healing.

Later, when the men returned to Camp Air and the confrontation with the false NSA men occurred, the men in Bart's audience shared a good laugh when the impostors found out several of the men were from the real NSA offices in Houston; to say nothing of the Sheriff of the County, and the highest Top Brass in the nation. Their timing couldn't have been worse. One Seal said it gave the word 'snafu' new dimensions, and everyone laughed. Bart finally shut down the video and gave a brief update to the present. He explained they held a trial. All twelve of the false NSA men were found guilty as charged and would become punishment slaves for the Daniels family; however, the length of their sentences would depend on how much information they were willing to provide.

“Now we get down to the reason we're here. All but four agreed to provide us with as much information as they could. We know the offices of the the fake NSA are still operational and open for business. The small sign in the window says they're hiring. We're almost sure, from the descriptions from the men who wished to cooperate with us, they're being staffed by morphed Lizard Aliens. We need to confront them unaware, subdue them, and remove them to your cells here. Then we gate in a team of mixed-marriage warriors to capture any information we can gather from a quiet raid on their facility. We hope to learn where their base of operations is and who's in charge; however, we don't want to make even a ripple on the lake. Any mistake might raise suspicions, the alien infrastructure would surely collapse, shut down, and we'd be left holding the bag with little more info than we already acquired. Secondly, if we have them held captive and the powers that be try to claim the demise of the Chief of Staff and his men as only a glitch in the bigger picture, we have tangible proof, physical evidence they do exist, and they're very much working as a hidden infrastructure of our government.

“Why don't we agree on the power we want to do the job, surround the place, go in and arrest them?” Admiral Art asked.

“Who you gonna' find to authorize the strike, Admiral, without a shit-load of explanation?" Dirk Evant, the bull asked, and continued, “You know as well as we do, that's civilian territory. It has to be left to the local authorities, and what's gonna' happen once you use the word 'alien.' We may be convinced they exist, but it's been so ridiculed in the news, nobody wants to believe. Look what they tried to do to the Daniels family,” Evant said, “Meaning no disrespect, sir, I think these men got a damn good idea. We iron out the wrinkles, and if we work with them, we gather both sets of them critters. Who knows, we might hold the magic key what these men just might need to change our government around. I don't know about the rest of our men, as we ain't allowed to discuss pay grades, but I can only speak for me and my team-mate. Patterson and me, we done talked it over and decided we can't afford another drop in pay and look forward to a comfortable retirement if'n we ain't killed first. We heard they're more than just talking about pay reductions in Washington, the legislation is in the works. With the unelected government we got, there ain't no doubt in my mind it will pass,” Evant said firmly.

“You men are coming upon your time to ship-over within ninety days. I heard rumors some time ago. All of us has heard the talk, and I'm afraid you're right, it probably will pass and we'll suffer another pay cut. I won't try to talk you men into ship'n-over, it has to be your decision, but because of camaraderie and appreciation for men you've worked so closely with for many years, I'm concerned about what you men will do on the outside?” Admiral Art asked.

“Don't chu' worry yore'self none, Admiral, while we can't speak for the rest of our platoon, me and Patterson would high-tail our asses to the Daniels Ranch as quick as we could get there and ask for a job as cowboys. We ain't picky, neither. We'll take whatever the Hell we can get. Fuck the battlefield! Fuck medals! While I can admire them and the courage of the man what's wear'n them, I don't care how many Major Langstrom's got pinned to his chest, if a man's got the courage and guts to do what he done this afternoon and morph into my brother with a cunt in front of these men, you can bet chore' bottom dollar I'd follow this man to the ends of the Earth to learn what he knows and how to do it,” the big bull warrior said.

“Hear! Hear!” several yelled. Everyone jumped up and applauded for their fellow Seal.

“On the name of some unknown God, Major Langstrom shore' as Hell ain't no Saint, Son!” General Heavy-Drop declared loudly, slapped his knee, and broke up laughing. He got everyone else laughing.

“He's close enough for me and my faithful Slave, General!” Dirk Evant replied strongly over the laughter.

“Wait 'til you see him morph into his Kagoli Demon form. You might change your mind,” the General said.

Everyone looked at Bart for a response, watched a wicked grin cross his face as he rolled his eyes, and once again looked to his master. General Hank returned his grin and nodded his head in approval. Bart began to morph and grow into an enormous naked Kagoli Demon with a magnificent set of horns. He didn't stop growing until he was about twice as big as Evant, the bull, sporting an enormous penis with a spiral of black speed bumps from the base to the head. The men on the seal team were flabbergasted, but Evant wasn't intimidated a bit. He figured correctly, it was still his brother inside. He went to Bart, and they enfolded each other with their arms. “Son-of-a-bitch, you look awesome, Major!” the bull exclaimed, “Major Langstrom has only provided us with another reason for becoming a part of the Daniels family, Admiral,” he said and a roar of approval and applause went up from the men.

Lieutenant Evant continued, “What ever you decide, Admiral Armitage, you know us men will follow your orders, but me and my mate call first-dibs on the Away-Team what goes into that office with Major Langstrom, Captains Roy, and Lem to subdue them lizard bastards,” Evant said to his commanding officer.

“Agreed! You and Pat got point, Evant. I agree, we should join these men in their mission and give them maximum support. I can empathize with your and Pat's situation. I'll admit what we seen so far is staggering, and I'm beholding to them for saving my dad's life. As I understand it, they managed to tack a number of years onto his life as well. That's good news. With their gates, they're sharing with us a remarkable tool to get in and get out with no one being the wiser. There ain't no need to get the local authorities involved; after all, it's what we been trained to do.

Bart morphed back to his old self again and put on his clothes. Lem was sleeping peacefully in Bogart's big lap holding him close with his big right arm while he sang softly to him. It was another first for his caretakers. They never heard a Sasquatch sing before, but there was no doubt in their minds, Bogart was singing a lullaby to the young boy.

The men sat down at a large conference table, and it was decided the five men to go into the Lizard's office looking for a job would be Bart, Roy, Lem, Dirk Evant, and his mate Andy Patterson. They would each carry a dog whistle with them. After it was confirmed and the Lizards were subdued, four armed Seals would walk through the gate Bart and Lem would open, and they would have four representatives from Master Billy's platoon, two Cowboy-Angel-Warriors and their two Watcher-Protector husbands by their side. They would be carrying cuffs and heavy-duty chains and four anti-grav floating gurneys to use if necessary. There would be a stand-by team of four more Seals and four more of the Daniels warriors for backup and to clean out the place of all information and furnishings. But they were not to move furnishings before being scanned by the Daniels team for explosives.

It didn't take as much time as Bart thought it might, and it was still early afternoon. For some unknown reason, he didn't know why at the time, he was told by some outside voice to prepare General Heavy-Drop for his trip through the gate. He called everyone's attention they had one more thing to take care of but he promised the Seal Team a good time. The General sat down in a chair and pointed to his shoes. Bart and Roy walked to the General and knelt before him. Roy followed his Major's action. They each took one of his big feet and placed his military shoes on their knee. They proceeded to untie and unlace his shoes, and when they finished, took the General's shoes and socks off, and set them aside.

“Now, continuing as your Master of Ceremony, let's give our Top Brass Four Star General of the Marine Corps a hand to encourage him to strip for us, show us his wares, and then he will have a surprise for you after his big finish,” Bart said, and he and Roy started clapping. The men joined them and whistled. General Royce Boynton grinned at Bart and Roy like he wasn't the least intimidated. He stood and took a bow to more applause and whistles.

“Seth, our fine companion, let's have a little music for our Top Brass Military as he undresses before a very special platoon. How about that old tune by David Rose from around the middle of the last century called “The Stripper.” That should get the old man's heart pumping and make him want to kick-up his heels,” Bart said and laughed.

The music started and General Heavy-Drop didn't back off nor was he shy. He gave a bump and grind, teased the troops with a boffo performance what would make any Broadway stripper green with envy, throwing his sacred uniform hither and yon, and finally sailed his undershirt into the audience. He was having a ball and the men were responding with cat calls and whistles, but they were, for the most part, respectful. When he finally shoved his skivvies down, took them off, and slung them over his shoulder, he slowly turned around for everyone to see him completely nude. Royce Boynton Senior was a sight to behold, especially since Billy increased the size of his penis to that of a young stallion. What Billy never shared with the General was, he also enhanced his son Roy's penis to the same size. As the men whistled, stomped their boots, and applauded, General Heavy-Drop morphed into one of the largest Watcher they ever saw. Even Bogart and Stumpy were impressed. Once again, the troops were flabbergasted by another member of the Daniels family.

Bart walked over to the huge Watcher, threw his arms around as much as he could, stood on his toes and gave the General a big-old wet sloppy cowboy kiss as the men went crazy again. “You done good, General. You can always be on the front row of my chorus. Us mere mortals appreciate the talents of a near godly critter what you done brung to us this afternoon. Let's hear it one more time for our talented General!” Bart hollered, and he brought down the house. The men seemed to enjoy and were easily brought into the fringe of the greater Daniels family though fun and appreciation for each others skills. There was still a lot for them to absorb, but Bart felt comfortable they would take everything in stride equal to their current amazement and approval.

General Boynton went to Stumpy, took him into his enormous arms, and rocked him as he hugged and stole kisses from him. Stumpy knew he was in the presence of not only a great military man of the humans, but also a kind, understanding, and compassionate, member of his own tribe. Bart took the sleepy-man, his little brother from Bogart, and the big Watcher joined the General and Stumpy. You rarely see a Watcher shed tears but the men were in awe when both their pets cried in the General's huge arms. “I promise you, my Brothers, you will not go another day without being whole. Me and my family will restore you to your proper forms,” General Heavy-Drop said loud enough everyone could hear him, and they cheered loudly.

* * * * * * *
It was four o'clock in the afternoon when the General, in his Watcher form, ordered his Major to notify Seth to open a gate to the dungeon in the castle. Master Billy and most of his posse who weren't working on a project met him in the great dining hall for some refreshments to await the military men. Many of the children from the raid on the Lizard base on the West Coast were there including Baug and several others. Seth related to Bart, they were ready to receive them, and he opened a gate.

“Listen up! For first-time travelers by gate, right after you pass through the blue wall of excited electrons, and you're safely on the other side, grab your cock and balls to make sure they came along with the rest of yore' body. If you're missing anything, let us know, and we'll be happy to see what we can do for you gentlemen,” Bart said and everyone broke up laughing.

“You men better let me know,” spoke up General Hank, “My slave has developed an insatiable taste for sea food – Seal balls in particular – the bigger, the better,” he said and got another laugh from the men.

Everyone made it through and no one lost their balls. Several checked to make sure and were laughed at. Billy and his posse, along with the kids, several unusual family members, flying Sun Bears, and talking dogs created mass confusion. The new platoon of military men and their General were flabbergasted with the variety of people and critters living in harmony with the Daniels family. Bart tried to warn them before they left the Cowhouse facility, they were in for a cultural shock. He didn't go into details but stressed they would soon know they weren't in Kansas anymore. They were almost overwhelmed.

Baug came to the dungeon area and kissed his husband. Everyone knew from his description, Baug was General Boynton's main squeeze. Lem was with the General and climbed into Baug's huge arms to get some more milk. Billy gave a whistle and his platoon of Cowboy-Angel-Warriors and Watcher-Protectors came marching in. The Cowboy-Angel-Warriors were wearing their kilts with their handsome sleeveless tops and their tall raw-hide cowboy boots. Each was carrying a sword in a leather scabbard by his left side. Billy's unit developed their bodies to the max, and they were a far cry from the first time they walked through the gate from Retikki Prime. To say they were stunning would be an understatement. They were together and magnificent to behold.

“Swords? Really?” Admiral Art asked and grinned.

“Zak! Take out the manikin target over to the far side of the auditorium, Son,” Billy commanded.

Zak, the youngest and still the smallest of the eight human Cowboy-Angel-Warriors, unsnapped the strap to his sword with his left hand and reach over with his right hand, retracted it, aimed, and a bolt of blue-white electricity flew from the point, hit the manikin squarely in the upper portion of the body and destroyed it in a great explosion. It flew into a thousand pieces.

“Holy crap! My apology, Master Billy. Is your platoon for sale?” the Admiral asked and laughed.

“Would you sell your family, sir?” Billy asked and grinned.

“Other than their choice to move on, I wouldn't let a one of them go,” Admiral Art declared.

“Then you know, you don't buy family, you create it and earn their affection a little at a time,” Billy said.

“I understand, sir, and I'd like to thank you and your men for saving my dad's life and refurbishing him. Our home is your home, Master Billy,” the Admiral said humbly and shook Billy's hand. “Is that them, the Gray critters over there in that cell, sir?” he asked.

“That's them, Admiral. If you choose to take them off our hands, I will send a couple of Mentats with you to keep watch to control them. If you don't know what you're dealing with, they will get into your brain, scramble your reality, and then they control you. It could become a disaster. When the big one, their leader, tried that on me, he got more than he bargained for. I made him and his men do a silly cowboy buck and wing dance. Our Mentats are much stronger and more powerful than them,” Billy explained.

“You mean 'Mentats' similar or like the one's in the story 'Dune' by Frank Herbert?” the Admiral asked.

“Exactly, sir. They acquire the ability after drinking Watcher milk for a good while. They can also speak mind to mind with each other if they choose,” Billy said.

“Do you drink Watcher milk, Master Billy?” he asked.

“Ever' damn chance I get. I married my Watcher slave and made a baby with him. We got us a lady living with us from a planet called Fort Adam Lear what's acting as a surrogate mother for our little boy, Billy Augustus Daniels Junior.”

“How did you learn about these people and come to work with them?” Admiral Art asked.

“I didn't go looking for them. They came and found me. They been working for the good of our planet to protect us from the more predatory critters in the universe. We teamed up with them some time ago, and we ain't regretted it yet. If you want to know more in depth, we got full videos you can sit and learn about us by the hour. We ain't got no secrets. We don't have to. We ain't omnipotent, but we're way ahead of the life-choking vermin we got for a government today. By the way, Admiral, I've heard some damn good things about you and your platoon. If worse comes to worse, you and your men ain't got no where's to go, come to me, and we'll find a place for you. I could always use another crack platoon. I'll pay you men a higher salary, a good living wage you should be making,” Billy offered, “...and I ain't just blow'n no smoke up yore' handsome ass. I mean what I say, and I say what I mean...that is, until my little brother comes along, shoots my legs out from under me, and tells me I'm full of shit!” Billy said and laughed.

Billy took the men into the great dining hall and offered them some Texas Tea and Hosanna Cakes. The Admiral's platoon were delightfully taken in by everything. They talked openly with the children and carried on conversations with the dogs. Jurgen Ironmonger heard the General and his military men returned for the evening. Jurgen closed up his shop early and walked the short way to the castle. When he entered the area he caused quite a stir. No one in Admiral Art's people ever saw his likes before. Jurgen was one of the most remarkable and handsome humanoids they ever saw. Master Ironmonger paid little attention to the men. He was looking for only one young man, and he found him with his master Major Langstrom and his dad who was morphed into a huge Watcher. The men watched as Roy Boynton Junior walked to Master Ironmonger and fell to his knees before him.

“May I have permission to show homage to my Master's boots, sir?” Roy asked in a normal tone of voice so anyone interested might hear him.

“You have your Master's permission, Slave,” Master Ironmonger replied.

Roy didn't rush and took his good time, not only to do a good job but also to perform for his family and new members to show his homage and appreciation for his Training-Master. One of the first things his master taught him was never to be ashamed of being a slave to a fine master – and Roy just happened to have two of the finest. When Roy was finished and his master bid him come to his arms to show him his love, he and his master joined in a kiss which said it all about what their budding relationship and growing affection meant to each other. There wasn't a cock in the dungeon which wasn't dripping. Several of the visiting platoon asked instructions to find the nearest head. (No Virginia, not that kind of head! A 'head' in Navy-speak is a toilet or restroom.)

“Will you be staying the night, Son?” Master Ironmonger asked after they broke off their kiss.

“I'm not sure, Master; however, I'd very much like to share my evening with you if my other master will allow me. I hope it don't sound like a corny line, sir, but my body craves to feel itself being surrounded by the large protective arms of my Training-Master while I offer what comfort I might provide him,” Roy replied.

“I will speak with your master, Slave,” Master Ironmonger said.

“I would appreciate it, sir. Now, I must return to my first master. I think we will be removing our clothes and morphing our wings to gather energy for my dad to heal the two Watcher's who live with the Seal platoon. They're in pretty bad shape,” Roy said.

“Then I must offer my wings to our Master. They probably need all the energy they can gather,” Master Ironmonger agreed.

“I could be wrong, sir, but I heard they had six hundred new Angels arrived at the different ranches. Nevertheless, it wouldn't hurt none to offer assistance,” Roy said, they hugged again, and parted.

* * * * * * *
Several of the military platoon members ambushed Roy on his way to confer with his first master. “Who, in the Hell, is that hunk of male flesh you just paid homage to and kissed so passionately, Captain Roy?” they asked.

“Master Jurgen Ironmonger? He is my Training-Master. He's our local leather craftsman and cobbler. He made them fine Lizard boots for Master Bart, and he also made a pair for Master Billy. I don't think Master Billy's took his off since Master Ironmonger gave them to him. He's very proud of them boots and says they's the most comfortable pair he ever owned,” Roy explained.

“You men seemed to live charmed lives. Half our team would pay homage to that man's boots for one lick of his cock,” one particularly handsome Seal said and the others agreed with him.

“I don't know about 'charmed lives', but we live as a close knit family,” Roy replied.

“You don't know how good you got it, Captain,” one of the other Seals said and shook his head in disbelief.

“Is it really that bad out there for you men?” Roy asked innocently.

“Worse than you might imagine. We live from paycheck to paycheck, and that ain't high on no hog neither. If we weren't supported by the military for basic needs, we couldn't make it. Do you think your people can help us?” the big Seal asked.

“If you like what you find good in us, work with us in the same manner, you will become a part of us, but only if you want it to happen,” Roy said and had no idea where his words came from, “I ain't trying to sound vague or cryptic, though I will admit my last sentence came from outer-space, my words were meant literally. Them voices also told me to tell you to learn our ways and accept us as we are, and we'll accept you the way your are,” Roy finished.

They stood and looked at Roy in awe. “We'll try, Captain. We will surely try, sir,” the biggest one said.

* * * * * * *
Billy called for his Cowboy-Angels and many of the new Angels who hadn't even been introduced to their earthly master. They filled the dungeon area. It was packed with many Cowboy-Angels and almost as many Watchers. Since Billy's family were going to help their beloved pets, the Seal Team asked if there was anyway they might participate. Billy explained to them he could use everyone of them as storage vessels for the healing particles which the Cowboy-Angels attract and gather with their wings. They would have to stand naked and barefoot before one of their great Watcher beast, who act as capacitors or storage vessels, so they can control the amount of storage and when to allow the free flow of the energy when it is called upon by the healers – mainly, General Boynton in his Watcher form. Billy also told them if they asked kindly of their assigned Great Beast for some of his milk, it would greatly heighten their experience. They were eager to participate and were assigned to sixteen of the Watchers who were placed closest to where the General and his healing posse would be working to refurbish their surrogate children. The men of the Seal Team used the term with Master Billy and he smiled, “Who among us has never thought of a wonderful pet, who depends upon us for their care day after day, as their child?” Every man on the Seal Team agreed with him.

Billy showed them to one of the large empty cells and told them to shuck their clothing. He promised them, no one would bother their stuff. Eight of them were placed before the Great Warrior-Protectors and another eight with the personal Watcher's of individual couples or single caretakers. Even Admiral Art Armitage insisted he wanted to be a part of his team's venture. The men weren't shy about asking their beast for some of his milk, but their greatest surprise was the delicious taste of vanilla ice cream, and they drank until their belly's were full.

Everyone was in place and the four healers came forth: General Boynton, Baug, Metatron, and Commander Hunk of the Essenguard. They took Stumpy first and placed him in the middle of the four healers. Billy called upon his grooms to sanitize and clean them again. The Seals did a good job earlier in the day, but holding them close to other warm bodies for a couple of hours required a thorough cleaning. Both beasts were the cleanest they ever were and Stumpy managed to drink some of his dad's milk which relaxed him and canceled any fear he might have.

As they were beginning, the great beasts enfolded their additional storage tanks, the sixteen Seal Team and one leader, with their huge arms and their massive paws placed with the right one on their chest and the left one on their abdomen. Then they pulled the Seal Team members in close to them until their backsides were embedded within the Watcher's soft luxurious fur. It was one of the most sensual feelings they ever experienced. They watched in awe as the five mixed species lifted off the ground and slowly began to rotate. They were even more in awe when they saw the umbilical cords in the five began to grow toward each other like five cobras swaying back and forth in a sacred dance. When they conjoined in the middle, the General gently stroked them to meld with each other to exchange fluids and the healing began. With the enormous amount of power being produced from the added number of Cowboy-Angels, Watchers, and Seal Team members, it only took them two hours and twenty minutes to grow both limbs and two new sets of teeth for Stumpy and only an hour and ten minutes to grow another arm onto Bogart's shoulder.

Last, but not least, they called for 3D, Daniel David Dickerson, to give him a new eye. It only took them forty-five minutes, and they were through. Bart asked for an adjustment for Lieutenant Evant to correct his sugar problem. It only took ten minutes. While the Seal Team were dressing, they decided it was one of the most remarkable experiences of their lives, and it gave them a totally new perspective on the world in which they live and their place within it.

They timed the corrections and refurbishments perfectly so they were through about thirty minutes before the first bell for supper was rung. When they went into the great hall for their evening meal, the new men noticed the Watchers sat on tall stools next to large shelves attached to the wall around the room where they could sit their large metal bowls and equally large metal cups similar to old root beer mugs. They were heavy duty, as the big beast could be clumsy at times. The Seal Team noticed the Watchers were eating different food which looked like golden nuggets of some kind of dog food with a couple of biscuits on top.

“Your Watcher's eat different food?” Admiral Art asked.

“Yes, we feed them slave chow and two nutrient biscuits. It's the same as everyone eats for our noon meals. They love it, and it meets more than their daily requirements to keep them healthy,” Billy replied.

“We never knew there was such a thing. We just been feeding ours whatever we eat, but we noticed they won't eat somethings. I'll be curious to see how Bogart and Stumpy responds to it. If they like it, it would be much easier on us and better for them. Your Watchers certainly don't look malnourished – on the contrary, I'd say they're thriving,” the Admiral said.

Bogart and Stumpy devoured their large bowl of slave chow and biscuits. Their brothers were watching and smiled at each other. Billy asked them if they could eat more, and they handed him their dishes. Billy had one of his kitchen helpers fill them with chow and two more biscuits. They finished it in record time, but after that, they decided they were full. They would touch each other from time to time to make sure they weren't looking at a fabrication of their mind. They were both fully whole again, and they couldn't be more pleased and happy. They thanked General Boynton, Baug, Metaron, whom they called 'Meat,' and Commander Hunk numerous times. Then they would hug Admiral Art and the sixteen men who took care of them. They were grateful beyond words. Dead-eye Dickerson no longer was dead in his left eye. It worked perfectly and he was much obliged to the four healers who brought him around right. He was still a dead-eye shot with a rifle.

* * * * * * *
It was decided the following morning Major Langstrom, Captain Roy, and Captain Lem would gate to the Navy Seal's facility in civilian cowboy clothes. There they would pickup Lieutenant Dirk, and his bonded mate, Petty Officer First Class Andy Patterson. They would then gate to Brigadier General Hank Halfablap's condo. Hank would drive them within a couple of blocks of the office, drop the men off, and they would walk from there.

Billy offered Admiral Art and his Seal Team to join them in the hot tubs. He declined but promised he would take Billy up on his offer when this looming problem was behind them. They agreed not to take the Gray prisoners with them until they could learn how to handle them. However, they would imprison the Lizards at their facility if that's what they turned out to be. Billy said from interviewing the false NSA men, he was pretty sure they were Lizards. As they were getting ready to leave, two of the Daniels kitchen crew pushed out an anti-grav gurney with two sacks of slave chow and one of nutrient biscuits for Bogart and Stumpy. Billy gave the Admiral a business card from the company which made the two items. The men were grateful. They shook hands, shared a quick hug, and left through the gate. When the gate closed behind the men, they stood for a few minutes in silence. No one ventured a word for several minutes. It was so quiet you could hear a roach fart. The team and their mascots looked at their Admiral for a word.

“Does anyone else feel like we just left part of our family?” Admiral Art Armitage asked quietly.

His men nodded their heads in agreement. “Yes, sir, they's a tough act to follow; especially, when you ain't real sure how much longer your own boat will remain seaworthy,” Dirk Evant said as the team turned and walked silently to their rooms. No one needed a translation of Lieutenant Evant's words. Every man in their Platoon was in the same boat. Rear Admiral Arthur Benjamin Armitage felt terrible about the reality of his Lieutenant's words. Something snapped in him, and he threw caution to the winds.

“Master Billy offered us jobs,” he said quietly, like he didn't know if he did the right thing.

“What were his terms, Admiral?” Lieutenant Evant asked.

“Three times more than our current pay grade. The amount we were making before the austerity programs and military cutbacks, which were mainly done to the common man for the weak excuse it was to balance the budget. Master Billy promised to pay us the same salary before they began to cut our pay,” the Admiral replied.

“Jesus H. Christ, what are we waiting for?” Evant asked.

“I'm with you, Lieutenant. I'll admit, it's a tempting proposition. I've been informed the Daniels family has the money to back up his offer. Let's see how tomorrow goes down, and we can talk some more. We will consider it like everything we do – as a family,” the Admiral said.

* * * * * * *
Roy spent another wonderful night in his Training-Master's big arms. They decided to throw Master/Slave protocol into the tank. Master Ironmonger told his slave to get his Master's consent to stay the evening with him, leave his slave harness and plug behind, come to his Training-Master's door as quickly as possible, and his master would take it from there. Roy followed his master instructions, gained his First Master's approval, and was knocking on his Training-Master's door within the hour. Jurgen opened the door and welcomed his handsome slave. Master Ironmonger invited Roy in and after his slave paid homage to his boots, Jurgen announced his slave would attend him in the shower. Roy assisted his master undressing and quickly kicked off his cowboy boots and removed his own clothes in record time. They went to the shower and Roy bathed his Training-Master. They talked as they cleaned each other.

“How did your day go, Slave?” Jurgen asked.

“Busy from the time we got to the offices until we gated here this evening. We got everything done we were suppose to. I think we're ready for tomorrow, but I walked around like I was in a fog daydreaming about my Training-Master and what he might be doing,” Roy said sincerely.

“I'm afraid my day was quite similar. I was worried about you and every time I thought about sleeping in your wonderful little cunt, I would get an erection which would not be denied. Try as I might, I couldn't get rid of it. Neither could I get anything done until I satisfied its hunger. I would lock the front door of my shop and race to my large sofa in the rear to relieve myself. Once or twice would have been understandable, but half-a-dozen times was a bit over the top,” Master Ironmonger confessed and laughed. Roy was moved by his master's honesty.

“Then my master shall have what he most craved today. I was serious last evening when I told you I thought your calculations were a mite slight about morphing my genitals and using my cunt for your pleasure. I thoroughly enjoyed my evening with you last night and would certainly enjoy a repeat. My body responded much the same today, but my body would get an erection thinking of you rooting around in my cunt like it was the most wonderful thing we experienced in years. Am I a greedy Slave to want more of that feeling this evening, sir?” Roy asked.

“No, not at all. It means your master is taking care of your needs while taking care of his own. You can't beat a winning combination like that, Slave,” Master Ironmonger assured his slave.

“Please, Master, will you do me the honor, sir?” Roy asked.

“Gladly, Slave,” Jurgen replied and ran his rough hand over Roy's genitals and his large cock began to shrink and continued until it was a small clitoris.

“It feels wonderful, Master. When I was lying in bed alone for a number of years, I used to imagine I was a man with a cunt, and I would seek out porn on the Internet where there were videos of men who had operations or were somehow trans-gendered. However, most of the time they never met my personal image of what a real man with a cunt might experience. If they wore women's clothes, I immediately sought another site. However, there was one body builder who was born with a small cunt, and he made several videos with his bodybuilder mate. They were extremely exciting to me. I never thought I might get to live my dream, but thanks to Master Billy and his family and a Training-Master, who knows how to use his slave for his and his slave's maximum potential, makes me a very lucky young slave,” Roy said and stole a kiss from his master.

“I think we're both very lucky, Slave. We're finished here. Let's move to my dungeon and get you fucked,” Master Ironmonger said strongly and growled. His deep voice sent chills up Roy's spine, and the young warrior looked forward to a long night of wonderful sex with his Training-Master.

End of Chapter 100 ~ Seek Him What Made Them Seven Stars
Copyright ~ © ~ 2017 ~ Waddie Greywolf ~All Rights Reserved
Mail to: Waddie Greywolf <[email protected]>
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09/16/2016
01/21/2017