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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Unspoken - 7. To The Range? - Part 1

[This indicates an electronically produced voice from a speech-generating device]


If there’s one thing I am above everything else I do or are interested in, I would have to admit, not ashamedly, that I am a speedo whore in a way women are for shoes. Seriously, I have an obsession with the things. I really do like to swim, even though I do so now less than I used to. I’m planning to bring up building a pool in our backyard to Nicolo. We’ve got the space for it, as we don’t live terribly close to town we were able to afford a good sized plot of land and house, it could even be a four lane twenty-five meter pool. My father runs a construction company, so I’m sure that even being states away he’d have some contacts that could get us a good deal. I needed to swim more. As much as Nicolo has no problem with my love for the things – we’ve had some pretty kinky times in the swimsuits too – I was starting to feel like I needed to justify buying them like I did. I mean, I had four feet of closet space dedicated to them, and I hung them on multipant hangers, which hold five per hook. Last time I actually counted, I had sixty-five pairs of brief/bikini swimwear. I know, I’m a freak. I probably had every major brand you could think of. Arena, Nike, Speedo, Tyr, Dolfin, Mosconi, Sporti, Jaked, The Finals, even some by Aussiebum and FunkyTrunks. I looked into the more exotic brands: Joe Snyder, Greg Homme, N2N, Andrew Christian, etc but they didn’t make my size. What I didn’t have was any Asian styles. I’ve wanted some for years, but never could find anywhere online that sold them, and I don’t “speak” or read Japanese. I’d seen some really cool designs by the big three (Arena, Tyr, Speedo) and some from smaller Japanese brands like Jump Gakuen, Aqux, Surfblade and Clairvoyance. I wanted those the most, I think, because they’re smaller brands. So imagine my surprise when Nicolo comes home one day, Bryce in tow, and tells me that he needs to fly to Japan for a convention that his production company has been invited to be a part of. I would love to have been able to make it a vacation-ish thing for all three of us, but Bryce could not miss the school. The SOL tests were during those two weeks, and we didn’t have enough notice to arrange alternate test days.

Nicolo had asked many questions about this convention, though, and discovered that it was an annual event. His bosses wanted their production company to have more of a relationship with the Japanese companies that made the animes they’d dubbed, so going to this convention would likely be a continued ‘job’ if it went well this first time, so maybe next year. Nicolo would not be required to be present for every day, so I made it clear that in exchange for him finding and purchasing some fifteen swimsuits, I would be willing to do some of the kinky stuff he wanted to do in the bedroom that I wasn’t perfectly comfortable trying. To be honest I was already caving, and probably would have been willing within the week, but I figured why not have a bit of fun. On the flip side, Nicolo would have agreed to buy me however many swimsuits I asked for, regardless of bedroom antics, but I think he enjoyed the little game.

Not two days later three packages had arrived, consisting of a not-inconsiderable quantity of bondage gear and rope. He’d needed to do more research, and I think he was intending to get some illustrated instructional books from Japan as well. He was going on about ‘shibari’ and ‘kinbaku’ on and off until his flight left. Needless to say there was much staring as we kissed before his flight. He whispered “mi mancherai tantissimo, midge” before turning away and boarding, evading my customary shin-kick. Two weeks without my hunky Italian god leaving a pleasant burn in my backside? THE HORROR! HOW WOULD I SURVIVE?!?!

Bryce gave me the answer of a distraction on the way home from the airport. He refused to stay home, so I was driving the Cherokee. It was awkward let me tell you, I felt like an old lady who could barely see over the steering wheel.

“Dad?” he asked. “Can you teach me to shoot?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked. The first time he’d asked his answer of ‘why’ wasn’t satisfactory. The second time he’d asked, he had a good answer, but I expressed that learning to shoot took maturity. Maturity he would have to show by doing some research before I would let him touch a gun. If he had come to us at a younger age it would have been easier, teaching him safety as he grew starting with Nerf and working our way up to air guns, but that wasn’t the case.

I glanced over at him, and held up four fingers.

“Rules?” He asked. I nodded. “Treat all guns as if they’re always loaded. Always keep the muzzle pointed in a safe direction. Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire, and know your target and what’s behind it.”

Lieutenant Jeff Cooper set these as four core rules of safe firearm handling, and developed the modern pistol shooting techniques, as well as helping codify the terminology for how ready a pistol was for firing, the “condition” scale.

As we pulled into the garage, I signed at him to ‘follow, explain,’ as I made my way back onto the driveway instead of in the house. The mail should have arrived. As he trailed behind me, he explained in more detail what the rules meant. He gave good details too. All about safety. All four helped to minimize negligent discharge, and promote good handling techniques. Our short tour took us up to our room, and he continued his explanations as I pulled my rarely used speech-generating device out of the bottom drawer of my night table. I had an app on my phone, but this device was larger and easier to use. Next was the basement, to the wall that sported our three safes. All three were Liberty Lincolns, all three were the discontinued 18 gun size; one for rifles, one for pistols, and the third for documentation. We chose this model because of the 90 minute fire-rating. All three had different codes; Bryce knew the code for the document safe in case anything happened to either of us, but he didn’t know the other two. I had him lean against the pistol safe, so I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was looking away as I punched in the code. He stepped back, and I signed ‘conditions?' to him, before swinging the heavy but well lubricated door open to display our not-inconsiderable collection of pistols. As Bryce resumed his previous position, and started at Condition 4, I pulled out a bag from the top shelf. It was followed by my Webley Mark IV, which was cleared before being placed inside. Bryce was on Condition 2 when the next pistol came out, an H&K USP Tactical, and a can. That pistol was also cleared before being placed in the bag along with the can. An H&K USP Compact joined the Tactical. The last pistol removed was the largest one we owned. A .357 Magnum Desert Eagle Mark XIX. I would have gotten the .50AE but I knew even with my experience I was just too small to handle it. Perhaps I would purchase one for Nicolo. He’d ended up liking guns much more than I expected, but despite his enjoyment he really didn’t have many preferences about what he shot. The only one of our pistols that I really considered mine alone was the Webley; it would only be fair to get him one of his very own. This was not entirely true. I doubt it my P365, my EDC gun, would even fit in his hands. If Bryce proved mature enough, which I expected he would, I would have to get a pistol for him to call his own, and see what he might like about rifles. Our rifle collection was not quite as large as the pistol collection, but I had some esoteric models as well.

Bryce had since finished his explanation of Conditions by the time I swung the safe door closed, spun the gold handles, and cleared the keypad to lock the safe. He followed me back upstairs, to the living room, and I placed the bag on the counter, before reaching over to pull one of the chairs so we could sit facing each-other. I opened the bag, and pulled out the USP Compact, loading the empty mag into it, and placed it in front of him. He did not reach for it. I pulled out the USP Tactical, did the same, and placed it in front of me. He looked between the two guns, obviously curious. He’d played videogames before, but rarely, especially after what I call the DS Incident, and he did not really fall into first person shooters. I pulled the SGD out of my pocket, and waved it at him shortly, before I began to manipulate the controls. A tinny mechanical voice issued forth.

[I am going to show you how to clear a pistol. It’s different for rifles, but all auto-loading pistols are the same. This is the mag release.] I pointed to the small lever at the back of the trigger guard. [This is the slide lock.] I pointed to the large lever above the trigger guard. [This is the safety and decocker.] This was the small lever at the back of the slide. [The USP is a hammer fired gun, which means it uses a spring loaded hammer to push the firing pin into the cartridge’s primer. Some are striker, which use just a spring loaded rod. If the slide is pulled back either with a hand or from a shot, and there is a round in the mag, it will return forward and load. If there is no round in the mag, it will lock open. If there is no mag in the pistol, it will return forward. Do you follow so far?]

“Yeah dad,” Bryce nodded, his face an image of concentration. “An empty mag will stop the slide, otherwise it returns forward.”

[Exactly. So, follow me and do exactly as I do. Since the mag will be ejected, you will have to push up the slide lock after you pull the slide.]

I set down the SGD, and picked up the USP, keeping it sideways as I held it, and he did the same with his USP. I put a hand near the magwell, so I could catch the mag as it slid out of the gun. It did so smoothly, and I set the mag down, otherwise not moving the pistol. Bryce copied my actions. I gripped tightly, and pulled the slide back with my free hand, using my thumb to engage the slide lock, before letting go of the slide. It stayed locked in place. He copied, and the gun shifted as he pulled on the slide. Not used to holding the grip and knowing where to apply pressure, it bucked a bit in his hand. He kept it pointing sideways, though, and managed to lock the slide back. We both set our guns down on the table.

[Since we can now see that there is no round in the chamber, and there is no mag in the gun, they are cleared. If anyone ever hands you a gun, you do this. Clear it. Treat all guns as if they are loaded. Understand?]

“I understand, dad.”

Before pulling out the other two guns, one of which I expected him to be surprised about, as we’ve seen The Matrix Trilogy, I carefully and slowly pulled out my SIG P365 from the back holster in was in. It came around my body smoothly, muzzle pointed down and I held it pointing towards the bag. I dropped the mag, which fell into the bag, and I racked the slide to eject the chambered round. That too, fell into the bag, and I picked up the mag, and reinserted it into the pistol. I didn’t charge it, though, before reaching forward, and nodding to Bryce to take the pistol. He, with deliberate slowness, took it from my hand, and dropped the mag before locking back the slide. He set it down sideways next to the USP Compact. I smiled widely at him, picking the SGD back up.

[Good. Remember. Outside of a situation where you may need to shoot it, you clear any gun handed to you. Even if you’ve watched it being cleared right before-hand. Now this,] I paused to pull the Webley out of the bag, setting it down, [is a bit different. It’s a revolver, but not a normal revolver. It’s a top-break, which means instead of a lever dropping the cylinder out sideways, it flips down.] I reached down, picked it up, and deftly pushed the lever, flipping it open. I set it back down, still open. [Unlike many autoloaders, if you look at the cylinder from the side, you can see if there are any rounds chambered. Should you clear it?]

“Always!” Bryce chirped, nodding vehemently.

[Yip-cha! Now this, is something that you won’t be trying yet, but I wanted to show you before we go too far in depth.] I pulled out the Desert Eagle. His eyes shot open wide in recognition. [Eventually you’ll have enough experience to shoot this. But not today.] It went back in the bag. [Come here, sit in front of me.] He stood, and made his way around the table, noticeably reaching down to move the USP compact that was in front of him so he did not walk in front of the barrel, and slid in front of me, sitting down. I had to reach my arms over his, and to see over him I had to rest my chin on one of his shoulders, but this position would be easier for explaining more parts and functions of the gun. [Before we start, I want to show you this as well.] I reached in, and lifted out the can for the USP Tactical. [This is a suppressor. It is not a silencer. Gunshots cannot be completely silenced. Please do not call it a silencer. You legally cannot even touch these, so do not under any circumstances do so, okay?]

He nodded lightly. “I got it, dad.”

[Good, now, I’m going to show you how to field-strip a USP and a P365, show you what parts there are, and the differences between the two, the USP being hammer-fired and the SIG being a striker. This is going to be an info dump. If you manage okay, we can get to the range today. You ready?]

“I’m ready dad. Hit me with it!”

I picked up the USP Tactical in my hands, and started to field strip it, so he could watch and learn.

Ahhhhh, minimal Italian in this chapter.

"Mi mancherai tantissimo" - I will miss you a lot.

It drives me insane when I hear people call a magazine a 'clip,' and when I hear them call a suppressor a 'silencer.'

Copyright © 2021 Late to the party; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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