********

Chapter 26 - PC Conspiracy.

“Good morning, Justin. Brian. How are you two doing today?” the overly-cheerful-for-that-hour-of-the-morning Dr. Ruby chimed as soon as the men were seated in her office.

“We’re still here, if that counts,” Brian responded as he sipped at the latte he hadn’t yet had time to fully consume on the way to the doctor appointment.

“It counts in my book, Brian. How about you, Justin?” The doctor turned her attention to her actual patient. “How have you been feeling since I saw you on Wednesday? Did you have time to draw me any more examples of what you’re feeling or things that are worrying you?”

“There hasn’t been much time for that, I’m afraid, Doc,” Brian intervened for the timid PC. “Justin was pretty much out of commission after we left here the other day - he spent most of Wednesday night having a total meltdown. Then last night it was the exact opposite - he was busy playing with his new paints and stuff that I got for him, zooming around on a complete high. Not that I’m complaining about the painting, or even the freaking out, really, but what’s with the emotional rollercoaster, Doc?”

“That’s more or less typical for a lot of PTSD patients,” the doctor reassured them as she sat in the big armchair across from the couch where they were perched. “Many victims of trauma experience mood swings and often have trouble moderating their moods. Until we deal with some of the underlying issues that Justin has, that rollercoaster may be a pretty common ride for both of you.” She ignored Brian’s muttering at that pronouncement and carried on. “It also means that we obviously touched on something important last time we met. So, let’s carry on and see where we end up, alright?”

“If you say so, Doc,” Brian groused, acting gruff to cover up the fact that he felt so totally out of his comfort zone with all this psycho-babble stuff.

“Justin, why don’t we start off by talking about some of those drawings of yours. I know that’s not exactly a comfortable topic for you, but my hope is that once we work through some of these issues, it will help alleviate at least some of your anxiety.” Dr. Ruby posited as she held out her hand, gesturing for the sketchbook and then flipping through the pages once it was handed over. “So, last time you told us about the experience you had with Chris Hobbs.” She indicated the picture he’d done of the hand job incident. “Was that your first sexual encounter with another person, Justin?” The boy nodded, looking worried at even the mere mention of his attacker’s name. “Did you have any other sexual experiences between then and when you were bashed?” A negative shake of the head.

“What about all these drawings. Did these things happen to you, Justin?” She pointed to one really disturbing picture showing Bellweather with Justin tied up. Justin shook his head ‘no’ but seemed upset by looking at them nevertheless. “Who is this man? Is he someone you know?”

“That’s the fucker that was about to buy Justin’s contract before I stepped in,” Brian spoke up, letting his tone reflect all the venom he felt towards Howard Bellweather. “Before the auction, this guy was bragging to everyone about exactly what he was planning for Justin after he bought him. How he was going to . . .” Brian had been about to continue with a fully detailed description of everything the man had threatened, but then he noticed the way Justin had started to shrink away from his side, and remembered that he needed to control himself for the boy’s sake. “Well, let’s just say it was highly unpleasant to listen to and I doubt it would have been any more enjoyable to experience in person. The man is vile. I wouldn’t let him own a fucking dog, let alone another human. I couldn’t let him get his hands on Justin.” Brian reached around and began to rub the boy’s back with one hand, although it wasn’t clear to the doctor which man the gesture was meant to comfort. “But, if that’s the kind of man Justin expected to be sold to, then it’s no wonder he’s afraid of sex. I’d be afraid to let somebody like that near me, too.”

“No doubt the problem has been exacerbated by the fact that the only person Justin had been sexually intimate with before he was contracted out ended up attacking and injuring him and was ultimately the catalyst for him becoming a PC,” the doctor added. “Between that and the type of training most PCs receive, you probably have a very skewed sense of what a healthy sexual relationship is supposed to be about, Justin. But what about your sex life now? Brian doesn't strike me as the kind of man who'd treat you like this,” she threw down the book full of awful images. “If he was, he wouldn't have bothered to bring you here. So, have your ideas about this changed at all since you've been with Brian?”

Justin ducked his head without answering, biting at his bottom lip worriedly. Dr. Ruby watched this unexpected reaction with confusion. Based on the boy’s hesitation, she briefly thought that maybe she'd been wrong about Brian. Maybe he wasn't as compassionate and kind as he seemed. The way Justin was acting, it made her think that perhaps the boy was afraid to say anything because Brian had been just as abusive. It was always possible. You couldn't always tell what a person was like from the outside. Especially a PC owner. Maybe her opinion of this PC owner had been wrong?

Just when she was about to speak up and start asking some really hard questions, though, Brian himself cut her off. “He hasn't been with me, Doc.” She looked at him as if the man was speaking a foreign language, so he sighed and explained further. “Outside of a couple handjobs - both of which Justin was in charge of - we haven't done anything.”

As soon as he'd finished with this unbelievable announcement, Brian sat back with his arms crossed and glared at the doctor challengingly. She found herself gaping at him but quickly recalled her professionalism and snapped her mouth shut. Justin remained as he was, sitting there meekly without denying the fantastic statement his owner had just made. It was such an unlikely proposition - how could it be true?

“I don't understand, Mr. Kinney. You purchased a PC - a sexual companion - that you don't intend to have sex with? That simply doesn't make sense. I don't think I've ever heard of anything like that before.”

“It's not like that,” Brian struggled to explain. “I didn't buy Justin because I wanted a PC. I didn’t want a PC at all. I was only at that fucking auction for a business meeting. I'm perfectly capable of getting laid any time I want without buying a damned PC. I told you, I only bought him because I didn't want the kid to lose his virginity while getting gang raped by Bellweather and his fucking party guests. The kid looked terrified and I had to do something. Buying him seemed like the only option at the time.” Brian looked sideways at the boy sitting next to him for a moment before he continued. “But, now that I know him, I’m glad I did it. Justin would be wasted in that life. He deserves more.”

Justin still didn’t look up but his hand did snake over to rest on Brian’s thigh. Brian grabbed hold of it and squeezed affectionately. If you looked carefully, you could even see the corners of the boy’s lips curling up ever so slightly. Dr. Ruby nodded as she watched the interaction between the two. This was definitely something far outside the ordinary.

“Well, that explains why you purchased Justin’s contract, Brian, but not why you haven’t yet had sex with him,” Dr. Ruby pressed on, trying to get to the heart of the truth, and holding out a hand to halt Brian’s incipient interruption. “Regardless of your motivations, you DID buy a Personal Companion. And, despite your conviction that Justin wasn’t meant for this life, the reality is that this IS his life now. As the current owner of his contract, you are, in essence, stuck with him. I’m sure you’re aware of the legalities of that obligation,” Brian nodded in reluctant agreement. “So, what are you saying? Are you telling me that you intend to keep Justin as your PC but never have sex with him? That seems disingenuous to me, Brian.”

“Well, I . . . I . . . It’s not that I don’t . . . I mean, I do . . . want to fuck him, that is . . .” Brian heard himself stuttering and tried to get a grip. “I’m just leaving that up to Justin for now.” When the doctor looked at him skeptically, Brian hurried on to explain, "I know that he’s had it really hard. Which is why he’s afraid of everything, me included. And I get that one of the reasons he feels like that is because he’s had no control over his life for the past year or so. I understand that, better than you might think. So I’m giving him the control back. I told him that he gets to be in charge of when and how we do anything more. It’s not that I don’t find him attractive - shit, a fucking blind man would find Justin attractive - but I’m not going to pressure him into anything before he’s ready. I’m not into unwilling ass. When he’s ready, I just figured that he’d let me know.”

“And in the meantime?” the doctor asked curiously. “How long are you willing to wait around without having sex? If your noble sentiments are to be believed, and you really aren’t going to pressure Justin for more, how exactly do you plan to work this?”

“I don’t know. We’ve been doing fine for the past two weeks, so I don’t see why we can’t just carry on the same way,” Brian replied with his usual insouciance. “And, like I said before, Doc, I can always find a fuck. It’s not like I need him for sex. Justin doesn’t have to worry about that shit - he can take as long as he likes.”

Dr. Olmstead noted that, while Brian was saying this, Justin pulled his hand away, crossed his arms over his stomach in a hunched over fashion and looked away again. At the same time, his left thumb started to rub agitatedly over the back of the other wrist and his right leg started to jiggle very slightly. All signs of extreme agitation just barely held below the surface. Clearly Justin wasn’t quite as sanguine about the situation as his happy-go-lucky owner.

If it had been her, Dr. Ruby would have had a problem with Brian’s attitude as well. On one hand, the man had done a truly selfless thing in buying Justin merely to get him away from an apparently horrible situation. And Brian seemed sincere about the fact that he wanted to help his PC - even that he wanted, in some respects, to give Justin some control over his life. But the way he acted seemed so dismissive. In one breath he said Justin was attractive and the next he was saying that he didn’t need him and was happy to find sex wherever it came. To a boy like Justin who was already confused by sex and so unsure of his place in this new world that he found himself in, Brian’s attitude was likely to just cause even more turmoil.

Not to mention the fact that, while Brian was free to find his pleasure wherever he wanted, Justin was constrained by his situation to look only to Brian for ALL of his needs. Because of this, Justin would most likely feel compelled to please the man who held total sway over him. And even if he didn’t, who was there for Justin to look to for his own sexual needs other than Brian? He WAS a physically healthy seventeen-year-old boy - he was bound to want some outlet for his libido. So, while Brian might say that he wouldn’t put pressure on the boy, the very fact that he was the PCs only real option for an intimate partner, was compelling enough.

Dr. Ruby didn’t think that Brian was doing any of this intentionally, though. She would bet anything she owned that he honestly thought he was doing the right thing. He obviously had no idea how much more confused his actions were making the poor bumfuzzled boy. Brian appeared to be the clueless-where-relationships-are-concerned type. From the little she’d learned about him so far, she could already guess that Brian Kinney, although older and more worldly, was almost as naive as his PC when it came to long-term relationships. As far as she could see, neither of these two had any idea how deep they’d already fallen for each other.

It was a good thing they’d found their way to her, or they’d be up shit creek without a paddle.

“Well, Brian, I think that things will likely prove a little more complicated than you expect,” was her politic response. “But that’s neither here nor there. Because, until Justin can work through some of his trust issues, I don’t see that there’s much hope of anything more happening.” Brian conceded the point with an understanding nod. “Before we can get there, though, I think we should talk about some coping strategies to help you get through the more debilitating aspects of your PTSD. Especially since, from here on out, we’ll be digging into some increasingly stressful topics and I don’t want you having another ‘total meltdown’ - as Brian put it - as a result.”

Justin’s agitation level ramped up a few notches just hearing that pronouncement. Brian, on the other hand, looked relieved. Yep, Ruby figured she had a lot of work to do with these two. But she wanted to help them even more than before.

********

“Jim! You finally made it. I was beginning to think I was going to have to eat lunch by myself,” Howard Bellweather stood up from his table to greet his friend with a manly hug and a slug on the shoulder. “Have a seat and we’ll get you a drink as soon as we can find a waiter.”

Jim Stockwell took the offered seat and ordered a Chivas Regal on the rocks as soon as the waiter was summoned. The restaurant they were in was trendy and crowded but as Howard was a regular there, and usually a big spender to boot, they got relatively fast service. The Senator took a long sip of his scotch as soon as it arrived and then sat back in his chair.

“Oh, I needed that. Long morning with my campaign advisors,” he explained to the man sitting across from him.

Howard, who'd been applying himself to what appeared to be his second martini, smiled sympathetically at his friend. “How IS the campaign going, Jim? From what I hear, it's going to be a tough election year for you Conservative candidates.”

“It's going okay. I am the incumbent so I don't have too much to worry about. As long as I don't do anything stupid between now and Election Day I'll be just fine,” Jim promised, lifting his glass in a mock toast to his assumed win.

“Oh? Stupid . . . like attending a wild PC party just a few weeks before the election, you mean? *Hahaha*” Howard laughed teasingly, adding a wink in his friend’s direction. “Not that I would ever say anything, but I'm pretty sure that WAS you I saw in my playroom two weeks ago, Mr. Family Values, wasn't it?”

Stockwell smiled dubiously back at the grinning jokester. “There's nothing wrong with me attending a party thrown by a good friend, Howie. As long as I don't get caught with my pants down while I’m there - literally or figuratively - nobody's going to care.”

Bellweather leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “Well it's a good thing that everyone at that party was too busy to notice then, because I'm pretty sure those pants didn't stay belted and above your waist the whole night. In fact, if I recall correctly, you had an enthusiastic moment or two with my boy Rex here.”

“It would have been rude of me to refuse the delightful party favors you were offering up, Howie,” Jim grinned lasciviously over at the darkly handsome young man hovering behind Bellweather’s chair.

“He IS delightful, isn't he,” Howard replied, tugging on the PC’s leash to pull the boy closer and then casually reaching up to grope the youth’s dick through the boy’s shorts.

“It seems like you're getting along quite well with this one?”

“Oh, heavens, yes. I'm very happy with Rex. He's very tractable and well behaved. Aren't you, Rex?” The PC nodded his head mutely. “That's a good boy, Rex.” Bellweather patted the boy familiarly on the butt to demonstrate his approval.

“At least you got one good one out of that deal at the auction,” Stockwell commented as he carefully watched the other man’s reaction. “I heard you lost that other boy. The little blond. Suicide?”

“Yes. It was dreadful. You wouldn't believe the mess. Blood everywhere,” Bellweather shook his head disgustedly as he calmly took another sip of his drink. “I had to replace the entire carpet in the room where we found him, along with most of the furniture. It was so annoying. I mean, if you're going to slash your wrists, at least do it in the bathroom where the cleanup will be easier, right?”

“I remember from back in my days as a cop - those kinds of scenes certainly can get messy,” Jim sympathized. “Too bad so many of your boys end up like that. Any idea how the kid got ahold of a razor blade?” He asked slyly.

Bellweather’s expression immediately blanked out, giving away nothing. “None at all. It's a total mystery.”

“Yes, quite the mystery,” Jim echoed his friend’s noncommittal response. “Although it’s rather convenient for you that this happened now, isn’t it. Well before the end of the thirty day return window. Especially since the seller wasn’t being cooperative about refunding your money on that one.”

“Well, it just goes to reinforce what I was saying all along - that boy was defective. And it just isn’t fair that somebody would try and foist off their rejects on me like that,” Bellweather complained, only pausing for a moment in his diatribe when the server delivered their food. “I’m not even convinced that boy was a virgin, you know. I’m inclined to believe that somebody had been there before me and then, when they realized what a dud he was, they tried to offload him to someone else. But, whatever. I’m just glad the auction house will now be required to return my money without me having to bother with suing that fraudulent seller.”

“Quite,” Stockwell agreed as he sliced into his t-bone steak. I guess you're just lucky that you so rarely have to deal with problem boys. Of course, you do have to deal with those messes whenever they off themselves, though.”

“Well, it can't be helped, you know. Most PCs just don’t hold up very well these days.” Bellweather tossed a french fry at his current PC, which Rex caught and quickly stuffed in his mouth.

“I wonder if that tasty little blond Kinney stole from you would have fared any better? He looked a bit delicate, but at the very least he would have been fun while he lasted, huh?” Stockwell suggested, trying to edge the conversation around to where he wanted it to go.

“Oh, yeah. I’m still regretting that I didn’t push harder to get Kinney to back down at the auction. I just can’t get that twink out of my mind,” Bellweather agreed as he gobbled at his salmon filet. “That pale white skin . . . mmmmmm . . . can’t you just imagine how well a hand print would show up on that?”

“Delicious,” Stockwell murmured leaving it up to the listener’s call whether he was talking about his meal or the idea of spanking the twink’s ivory ass. “Yeah, it’s too bad Kinney swiped him right out from under your nose like that. And then to act so superior at dinner the other night too. What an ass.”

“He really is a total ass. All smug and condescending, like he’s better than the rest of us. I hate his type.” Bellweather actually set his fork down, he was so upset over even the memory of Brian Kinney. “I asked around about him, you know. Word on the street is that he’s the biggest slut on Liberty Avenue. I don’t know why he’d think he’s any better than anyone else, especially with that kind of reputation.”

“You know, it would serve him right if you were to take that twink back from him after all. The way he was acting, all possessive and not willing to share, I bet that would really chap his ass,” Stockwell suggested.

“I’d love to do that. Not only would it put Kinney in his place, but I’d finally get a taste of that lovely twinkie. Who, we both know, should have been mine in the first place. That boy is EXACTLY my type. I wanted him from the first minute you pointed him out to me in the auction catalog. Fucking Kinney . . .”

“It wouldn’t be very hard to work it so you could get the boy back, you know,” Stockwell dangled the bait temptingly and was gratified when he saw Bellweather’s head pop up. “Didn’t you hear Lapointe the other night saying that Kinney needed the bonus he was going to get from the PC Clearinghouse account in order to pay off the balance he owes for the boy’s contract? I don’t think Superior Kinney is really as financially well set as he likes to portray himself. If he’s having that much trouble getting together the money for the boy, what would happen if, say, he got fired?”

“If he got fired and couldn’t meet his bid obligation then, as the next highest bidder, I would get the boy!” Howie crowed gleefully.

“Exactly!” Jim prodded. “It wouldn’t be that difficult to do either, I wouldn’t think. You’re a good friend and an even better client to Lapointe. How much do you drop a year on PCs through his auction house? I don’t care how great Kinney’s advertising skills are, Lapointe would drop him like a hot potato if you said you’d take your PC business elsewhere. All you’d have to do to get your revenge on Kinney is convince Lapointe to take his account to another agency and Kinney would be sunk. Hell, PC Clearinghouse could even stay with VanGuard - who I’m sure owns the rights to Kinney’s work product - but just insist that Kinney is sacked, and then Lapointe would still get to keep Kinney’s wonderful campaign. The end result would be the same. Kinney would be SOL and wouldn’t be able to pay for the boy. Then you’d just step in and . . .”

“And break in that sweet little blond ass the right way!” Bellweather chuckled approvingly. “I like how you think, Jim! Shit! The things I’m going to do to that boy. It’ll make the fun we had with the dead twink look like child’s play. We’ll have to have another party just to celebrate his initiation . . .”

Bellweather was so enthusiastic about his new plans that he didn’t notice how agitated his PC was getting. That really wasn’t unusual though - nobody ever paid any attention to PCs when their particular services weren’t needed. Like most PC owners, Bellweather tended to treat his boys like furniture. He had long ago forgotten that they had any thoughts or feelings of their own, or if he did remember, he discounted them without consideration. But, if he HAD been paying attention to ‘Rex’, he might have noticed the way the PC’s expression had gotten more and more sullen as his Master talked about first the boy that had killed himself and then Brian Kinney’s boy. It was subtle - no PC of Bellweather’s would ever let himself be caught being outright insubordinate, not if he didn’t want to suffer the inevitable punishment - but if anyone had cared to actually look at the boy’s face, they would have seen it.

However, when Bellweather started to scheme about how he was going to take back the sweet little blond boy and break him, Rex was even less pleased. As his owner lifted his wine glass to toast the horrors he had planned for the poor boy, Rex secretly decided he’d had enough. He was already lost. His one friend had been so hurt and degraded that, when given the choice to take the out of suicide, he’d jumped at it. There was no way Rex could just sit there and let Bellweather brag about how he was going to hurt another PC. He might not have much opportunity to dissent, but even a tiny act of rebellion would make him feel better.

As Bellweather lifted the glass in his right hand, prepared to clink with Stockwell over his proposed PC Initiation Party, Rex ‘accidentally’ shifted forward a half a step. With his head down in the usual submissive pose, it seemed like maybe the PC just hadn’t noticed that his owner’s glass was in the way when he went to transfer his weight to the other foot. Unfortunately, even that small movement was enough to knock into the hand holding the wine glass - which happened to be the third or fourth, and that didn’t count the two martinis while they were waiting for their food, so the hand holding the glass wasn’t that steady in the first place - causing Bellweather to spill the entire glass of wine in his lap.

“What the FUCK!” Bellweather erupted angrily, standing up so fast that his chair fell over backwards and the now empty wine glass crashed to the ground. “You stupid little cow! Look what you’ve done! My pants are ruined!” the irate man screamed at the PC.

Rex backed away, but not fast enough to avoid the backhand across his cheek. That blow caused him to fly backwards into the next table, which toppled over with an even bigger crash. The added ruckus sent Bellweather into an even greater rage. He grabbed hold of Rex’s arm and threw him into the wall, adding in a punch to the boy’s midsection and then a kick once the PC was all the way down. Luckily, Stockwell managed to pull his overwrought friend away at that point, hissing at Bellweather that he was causing a scene and needed to stop.

“Fucking stupid, moronic idiot!” Bellweather continued to hiss even after the server and Stockwell had him pulled away from the grovelling PC. “Look at my pants. They’re ruined! How can anyone be such a hopeless klutz!”

“Howard! Hey, man, calm down. You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” the Senator murmured as he tried to get his friend to sit again.

“I will NOT calm down, Jim. I’m leaving. I have to get out of these clothes. I’m not going to sit here covered in wine while everyone around is laughing at me!” Bellweather shook off his friend’s constraining hand. “Get the fuck up off the damn floor!” he ordered his PC, who scrambled to his feet. “We’re leaving. Now! Go!” The boy trotted off towards the restaurant’s front door, pulling his cloak around him to try and stay warm once he was outside despite the inadequate clothing he was wearing. “I’ll call you later, Jim,” Bellweather barked as he strode angrily after his boy.

“Fine. But don’t forget to follow up on what we talked about, Howie. I still want an invite to that party for your new blond boy!” Stockwell called after the departing man.

“Will do!” Bellweather responded without pausing in his steps.

After Bellweather’s exodus, the restaurant quickly returned to normal. The guests at the neighboring table - the one that had been upended - were reseated at another table, given free drinks and served a second lunch. Jim resumed his own seat and continued on with his own lunch, thankful that his steak hadn’t suffered from the incident. Fucking Bellweather and all his damn PC drama. But, whatever. Stockwell had accomplished what he’d come there for and was happy now to relax and enjoy the rest of his lunch without the crass fairy to distract him.

All was peaceful, once again . . . At least until his cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he decided he needed to take the call.

“Stockwell . . . Yeah, don’t worry. I handled it . . . I don’t know how he figured it out. All I know is that the nurse at Anne’s uncle’s nursing home called and told me that Kinney’s office had been sniffing around asking about ‘Ron Hutcherson’ . . . Well, I’m not going to take that risk. I don’t care what he knows or doesn’t know. I’m in the middle of a reelection campaign here, damn it. I can’t just sit back and hope Kinney doesn’t figure it out . . . I’m not exactly eager to go to jail either, Taylor . . . No. I told you, I’ve handled it. Trust me. Your faggot son won’t be a problem for very much longer and neither will Kinney . . . Yes, I know . . . I know . . . Once Bellweather gets his hands on the kid, we’ll be fine. I can assure you, he knows how to keep his PCs in line . . . Yeah, yeah. Just don’t call me again, you hear . . . Exactly!”

Jim Stockwell terminated the call and put the phone back in his pocket. He was sure that everything would be okay. He’d pulled all the right strings with Bellweather. Now he just had to sit back and let the nasty little fairy do his dirty work for him.