The Second Chronicles of Kovzland
Book 1:  Return of the Kovz King

Book 1:  The Return of the Kovz King
Book 2:  The Guardians of Kovzland
Book 3:  The Quest for Eric
Book 4:  On His Majesty's Mission
Book 5:  The Prince of Kovzland

Chapter One

    As a rule, it's logical to assume that an eleven year old boy 
waking up alone on a cold town street is likely to be both afraid 
and uncomfortable.  If you add to that the fact that I had no 
memory of how I got there or how I happened to be dressed in 
rags, it's easy to see that I was more than a little bit trou-
bled.

    It wasn't just how I had gotten to be on the street so early 
in the morning that I had forgotten, but everything.  I lay there
in the gutter in some alley, the blackened walls of two tall 
buildings rising to either side of me, and tried to figure out 
what I could remember.  I knew how to speak, that seemed clear, 
and how to think.  Passed that I couldn't remember anything.  For 
a long while I thought that I had just been born, but if that 
were the case then I would hardly be able to speak, would I?  
Still, I had no memory of parents, no memories of a home, no 
memories of how I even got in the run down alley I found myself 
in.  There was a leather knapsack beside me and I couldn't remem-
ber what was in it or if it even belonged to me, couldn't remem-
ber my name or if I had one, couldn't remember what I looked 
like.

    Feeling hungry, I tore into the bundle but I found nothing to 
eat.  The only things in it were a handful of white, silk towels 
and a golden lamp that I couldn't open.  I tried to look down its 
spout, but I saw only blackness.  A pleasant smell came from it, 
but nothing came out when I shook it up and down. I sighed hope-
lessly and returned the items to the pack.  I wondered if I'd 
stolen them:  they didn't look like the kinds of things a boy in 
my condition could afford to own.  At any rate, I couldn't eat 
them and that was what was on my mind at the moment.

    It wasn't even dawn yet, though the fact that the sky was 
getting lighter made it clear that dawn would not be far off.  
Through the tops of the buildings I could see that the day would 
be clear (and hopefully sunny and warm for my small bones seemed 
frozen stiff).  Tentatively, I reached out my arms and immediate-
ly felt the cold morning air rush in a dozen rips and tears in my 
shirt, if shirt you called it.  It would be more accurate to call 
it a cape for it had obviously once belonged to a much larger 
person and hung on my skinny body very loosely.  It stank of the 
garbage from the alley but I was certainly warmer than I would 
have been if my skin was bared to the chill morning air.  I could 
tell that my upper body was in fairly decent shape:  my skinny 
arms weren't scratched in the slightest and moving them ached 
only because I had grown so chill overnight in the alley.

    Sighing, I put my hands down on the cobblestone street I was 
sitting on and pushed myself to my feet.  I was wearing a pair of 
ragged pants, again awkwardly tailored from a much larger pair.  
They were so ragged that they ended mid-way down my calves and I 
could see the pale skin of my legs before they disappeared into a 
pair of well-worn leather boots.  If they were my size then I was 
a boy with very big feet.  I could tell by wiggling my toes that 
there was a lot of empty space in the boots and that there were 
holes in the bottoms of them.  Again, however, they were better 
than being bare and I didn't lament their condition very much.  

My legs, though equally sore from the cold, seemed to work just 
fine and I seemed to be in good condition.  I was dressed in rags 
and there was a gnawing hunger in my tummy, but I was otherwise 
just fine.

    I looked around me, silently taking in the condition of the 
alley. There were some huddled forms of other people in rags 
lying curled up in the corners.  Perhaps they were dead.  They 
didn't move.  I was instinctively afraid of them and made certain 
that I remained very quiet.  Otherwise, there were many trash 
cans, crates and empty pallets.  Garbage was strewn everywhere, 
mostly scattered papers but there was also rotting food, smelling 
unhappily like my clothes.  One end of the alley ended in a high 
wooden fence, aged and weathered a hopeless gray.  The other 
apparently opened on a street.  I tried to improve my appearance 
by adjusting the rags about my body, then picked up my bundle and 
headed for the open end.

    There was a street there, cobblestones like the alley, lined 
with two and three story buildings all of which looked totally 
uninviting and closed. There were a few piles of horse dung in 
the road and I thought about the tall, sleek horses that must 
have left them.  I loved horses even though I had no memory of 
actually seeing one.  I did know what they looked like, however, 
enough to recognize their droppings in the street.

    I didn't feel surprised by anything I saw.  Rather than 
having any expectations, I simply logged the sights away.  There 
were very few people around and those who were all pushed carts 
or carried crates toward the west.  I hitched my pack up on my 
back and stepped farther out of the alley, trying to see where 
they were going.  A carriage driven by two horses was coming from 
the other way and I turned and watched as it went past.  The 
brown animals leading it didn't look very happy.  I wanted to go 
up and pet them, but I knew the man would be angry with me.  He 
already looked upset and in a hurry.  Grown-ups always looked 
like that, I knew.  I rose on my tip toes trying to see where 
everybody was going, though standing on my toes gave me no better 
view.

    The street seemed to open up a few blocks to the west and I 
felt certain that there must be a public square there or someth-
ing.  If there was a square, it would have food and I would have 
to go down there if I was to find anything to eat.  I looked down 
at my clothing again and was surprised to discover that there was 
a small gold medallion lying against my pale white little chest, 
hanging from a thin, gold necklace.  I held it up to my eyes and 
looked at it closely.  The medallion was about an inch around 
with an engraving of two naked boys standing on a hilltop and 
gazing at a sunrise.  They were facing away, the taller, older 
boy's arm draped across the smaller boy's thin shoulders.  The 
engraving was very intricate, down to the smooth, round contours 
of their bottoms and the crack separating their young cheeks.  I 
could even see their shoulder blades rippling against their skin.

    It seemed like an odd engraving for a boy to have on a neck-
lace, but I liked it and it seemed important to me.  I turned it 
over and on the back it had "Kelvin Protect Us" inscribed on the 
smooth plate of gold.  Maybe Kelvin was my name.  Maybe it held 
some clue about who my parents were and I could find out who I 
was through it?  At any rate, I didn't want to lose it, and I 
tucked it into my shirt and buttoned the rags up as far as they 
would go.  A good portion of my little chest was still bare 
through the top button, but the necklace was hidden and I trusted 
that no thieves would see it and take it from me.

    A second startling discovery hit me when I found that I was 
also wearing a gold ring.  It too had engravings on it, but I 

couldn't read them and shrugged.  I was pretty sure I knew how to 
read, but the letters seemed to be foreign and unrecognizable.  
Perhaps I might have to sell the ring to get some money for food.  
Maybe I'd have to sell the lamp and the silk, too.  I didn't 
know.  I wasn't going to sell the necklace, however.  Just the 
feel of the dainty chain wrapped around my thin neck felt com-
forting and I suspected that it held some clue to my identity.  
However hungry I got, I determined not to sell it.  Shrugging my 
thoughts away boyishly, I started toward the apparent opening 
ahead.

    The air was getting warmer as I walked, my joints loosening 
and feeling better.  I felt oddly happy, though I had no apparent 
reason for being so:  I was dressed in rags, I was hungry and I 
knew no one, including myself.  Still, I was young and free and 
ready to face whatever came my way.  Mostly I was delighted to be 
walking along the street and seeing so many new things.  The 
world was big and glorious and I wanted to see all of it.  My 
feet, feeling very tender, scraped against the cobblestones 
through the holes in my boots, but even that couldn't dull my 
boyish excitement.

    A few blocks from the alley, the road ended in a huge square 
as I'd expected it to.  Already a hundred merchants were scurry-
ing about and readying stalls.  They carried or dragged crates 
and pallets of fresh vegetables and fruits, fish and meats, many 
of them accompanied by burden laden boys not much older than me.  
These boys looked about as ragged as I did and I wondered if 
maybe all boys dressed in rags.  The grown ups with them were 
dressed a little better, but didn't seem to like the dirty boys.  
I saw several boys being slapped and ordered about harshly.  They 
didn't look as happy as I felt, but they didn't cry and none of 
them objected.

    I watched the cavalcade of food they carried with a gnawing 
hunger in my stomach, but I was also transfixed by all the activ-
ity and by all the buildings that surrounded the square.  I 
forgot about the food as my eyes scanned the area, taking in a 
hundred sites I had no memory of ever seeing before.

    The largest building there was obviously a church, huge and 
imposing. Though most of the people were hurrying about with 
other tasks, there were occasional visitors to it, huddled as 
they went up the steps beneath the tall, twin towers.  The people 
looked small and pathetic beneath the glory of the cathedral and 
many of them looked as poor and ragged as I did.  There was a 
cemetery beside the cathedral, but it didn't interest me much.  I 
wondered if I might be able to get some food from the priests 
inside, and found my skinny legs heading in that direction even 
as I continued to scan the unfolding bazaar around me.

    "Get away from there, boy!" an angry man suddenly barked at 
me.  I turned and saw him approaching me with a furious look on 
his face, and just had time to realize I was standing near his 
stall of fresh vegetables before his huge, meaty palm struck me 
across the cheek, sending me reeling back against the cobble-
stones.  My cheek burned from where he slapped and I awkwardly 
tried to stand up.

    "I didn't..." I started to explain, but I stopped when I 
realized the man had every intention of giving me a sound spank-
ing.  Instead, I whirled around, pushed myself to my feet and 
managed to start away at a run.  The man kicked me hard in the 
butt as I scurried off into the crowd, but I managed to keep my 
feet and he stopped following me lest he abandon his stall to all 
the other street people lingering near.

    Now why did he do that? I wondered, feeling my eyes filling 

with tears. I wasn't doing anything wrong.  I was just trying to 
go to the church.  I realized that a lot of other people were 
looking at me suspiciously, too, and I tried to keep far away 
from any of their stalls.  The way they looked at me and the way 
they treated the boys hauling the masses of food made it pretty 
clear that these people didn't like boys very much.  Maybe going 
to the church wasn't such a good idea.

    "Hey, kid," I heard a young voice calling.  I looked around, 
but didn't see anyone.  "Hey, kid?" the voice said louder.  I was 
still rubbing my red cheek when I finally saw the ragged boy 
leaning rather casually against one of the stalls.  I thought for 
a moment that he must have worked at it to be so nonchalant about 
being near it, but he looked even more ragged than I did.  He 
looked about fourteen or fifteen, very tall and gangly, and very 
skinny.  Still, he looked very cute and happy, too.  His behavior 
seemed so different from all the other boys' that I felt very 
curious about him.  He smiled at me, a warm, friendly smile that 
made me feel like I had found a friend so soon after coming to 
the big city.  Maybe he would take care of me.  He tipped his 
head toward the entrance to an alley and I found my skinny legs 
following curiously and hopefully after him.

    The alley was narrower than the one I'd slept in but still 
stank of garbage and was littered with ash cans and broken pal-
lets.

    "Come on," the older boy smiled, leading me deeper into the 
alley.

    "Where are we going?" I asked, hitching my knapsack up on my 
skinny shoulder.

    "Back here," he said.  I followed him to where the alley 
ended in a wooden fence.  It was back in behind some garbage cans 
and hidden from view from the outside.  The tall, skinny youth 
stopped near the fence and turned back to me, leaning against a 
garbage can and smiling at me.

    "You're new, aren't you?" he asked.  His voice was changing 
and cracked a little when he spoke.  His eyes were sky blue and 
friendly as they looked up and down my ragged little body.

    I nodded, stopping a few feet from him.  "Are you hungry?" he 
asked.  I nodded again and the boy pulled a shiny red apple from 
his pocket, holding it out for me.  Delighted to be offered such 
a fine gift, I stepped closer to him and took the apple from his 
big hand.  I held it with both hands and took a huge bite out of 
it, watching him as he watched me.  He let me take a few bites 
before speaking.

    "Do you have any friends around here?" he asked.

    I was going to say I hoped he was going to be one but thought 
it sounded stupid and instead just shook my head and took another 
bite.

    "Well, then I'll be your friend.  Come here," he said.  I 
felt his long fingers take hold of my skinny little shoulder and 
he guided me still closer to him.  As I ate, he wrapped one of 
his long arms around my thin shoulders and hugged me against him.  
He felt warm and I felt a comforting glow inside. "That's a boy," 
he said, smiling down at me and pulling me closer against his 
side.  "How old are you?" he asked.

    I thought I was eleven so that's what I told him.  He smiled 
at this. He was really cute and I felt lucky to have made such a 
fine friend in so little time.

    "That's a fun age to be," he said, and I felt a sudden shud-
der of nervousness as his other hand reached out, his fingertips 
sliding slowly across my bare chest through the rags.  I felt my 
heart starting to beat faster and I lowered the apple from my 
lips, feeling a little confused and not even swallowing the last 
bite.  "You're small," he said as I felt his hand rub across my 
small, skinny body.

    I managed to swallow the bite of apple but stood there 
nervous and unmoving as his long fingers slowly reached out and 
unbuttoned my shirt.  I looked down and saw my pale, little chest 
as he unbuttoned the next button and the shirt fell farther open.  
"Has anyone ever played with your penis before?" he asked, unbut-
toning the third and last button and leaving the shirt dangling 
wide open down the front.  I shook my head nervously and wondered 
why a boy would play with another boy's penis.  My eyes grew wide 
with surprise when the older boy's big hand slipped inside my 
shirt and slowly rubbed his palm against my little chest.  "Your 
skin is so soft," he half breathed.

    I knew I wasn't the smartest boy in the world, but this was 
weird.  He rubbed across the little mounds of muscles in my 
chest, across my tiny nipples, over my rippling ribs, then down 
my sides.  "What are you doing?" my childish voice finally asked 
nervously.

    "I want to show you something," he said, reaching down and 
rubbing across my little belly button.  His hand felt wonderful 
against my bare skin, warm and gentle, but it scared me for some 
reason, too.  I could feel my skinny belly shivering uncontrol-
lably and I lowered my hands, watching as his fingers rubbed 
around my little belly button.  "Man, you're soft," he repeated.

    I let out a little whimper of surprise when his fingertips 
slipped down the front of my pants and felt lower on my belly.  
This was strange.  I didn't know what my name was, but I knew 
this was strange.

    When his fingertips finally pressed against my little penis, 
the boy smiled broader.  "You don't have any hair, do you?" he 
asked, pushing his hand lower.  'Any hair?' Of course I did.  I 
could see the yellow bangs falling into my eyes all the time.  I 
didn't get a chance to figure out his question though because 
he'd worked his hand down far enough that he could take hold of 
both my penis and scrotum.  It felt really good, but my eyes were 
as wide as they could go.

    "Yeah," he sighed.  "You're going to like this." He pulled 
his hand out of my pants and I felt oddly disappointed.  It did 
feel good.  "Let's take your pants off, okay?"

    I would be lying if I said the idea didn't appeal to me.  I 
didn't know what my penis looked like and I was curious to see 
it.  Besides, having the boy touch it felt good and I was pretty 
sure he was planning on touching it a lot more.  Still, there was 
a rush of boyish fear and shame in me and the thought of waving 
my penis around naked did seem pretty embarrassing.  In a momen-
tary panic, I quickly broke from the boy's arms and walked quick-
ly toward the opening to the alley.

    "Wait!" he called after me, a pleading sound in his cracking 
voice. "Don't go.  I won't hurt you."

    "I have to meet my parents," I lied nervously, still walking 
toward the exit but looking back at him with an odd sense of 
longing.  "I'll come back later."

    "When?" he asked.

    "Uh, noon," I said, thinking that I was lying but realizing 
that I probably would come back to find him.  He was a nice boy 
and I wasn't likely to find anyone nicer in the square outside.  
So what if he wanted to touch my penis?  If he was nice to me, it 
didn't matter.

    "I'll be here..." I heard him say sadly from the back of the 
alley.

    The square had gotten busier during my brief foray into 
forbidden fruits and purchasers were now walking in and out of 
the aisles of stalls or passing in shiny new carriages.  There 
were boys with them, too, but these were dressed in nice clothes, 
shirts and knickers, ties, even blazers.  They were all squeaky 
clean and adorable and I envied them.  There wasn't a girl in 
sight and I wondered if they hid them or something.  Boys rich 
and poor seemed to be everywhere and into everything but there 
wasn't a woman in sight under the age of twenty or so.  Odd.

    I felt a brief pang of loneliness and stopped in the middle 
of the square.  I should go back to that boy, I thought.  He was 
a little strange to want to play with my penis, but he was cute 
and friendly.  Better to have a good friend who was a little 
weird than no friend at all.  What was I doing before I saw him? 
I wondered.

    The cathedral.  It was still there, standing out higher than 
anything in town.  I had been going there for food.  The apple 
had helped a little, but I was eleven years old and eleven year 
old boys are always hungry.  The boy said he would be waiting for 
me in the alley at noon.  That gave me plenty of time to go to 
the cathedral and get something to eat.  Who knows, it might not 
seem so weird to have my penis played with if I didn't feel so 
hungry.

    The decision made, I continued on across the square feeling a 
lot less lonely.  That boy liked me and he was going to be my 
friend.  Maybe he knew a place for us to sleep and wouldn't play 
with my penis in an alley where someone might come in and see us.  
For now, I would eat.  Later, I would play with my friend.

    I didn't know why I expected food at the cathedral, but 
apparently I had been in a church before because I was quite 
certain that they were supposed to take care of me.  For whatever 
reason, I strolled across the square with my small bag of belong-
ings flung over my shoulder.  Despite my experience with the one 
man at the stall, I tried to smile at people going by but most 
were too busy to notice me.  The ones who did eyed me suspicious-
ly and twice I was scatted away.  They didn't seem to like boys 
very much, which made one wonder why so many boys were permitted 
to run wild around the square.

    The sun had risen quite a bit and the air was warming nicely.  
I realized that my ragged shirt was still unbuttoned and my 
little chest was almost bare, the necklace twinkling in the 
sunlight.  Nervously, I buttoned it back up, looking around for 
anyone who might have seen the necklace and want to take it from 
me.  The boy in the alley didn't seem at all interested in steal-
ing my things; he just wanted to touch my body for some reason.  
I knew that other people wouldn't be as kind or gentle as he was.

    I finally reached the cathedral steps and walked up them 
toward the huge wooden doors.  One of these was open and I peered 
nervously inside.  The room was fantastically huge, more than a 
hundred rows of pews leading from the entry to the ornate, impos-
ing altar.  I stepped slowly through the doors, my booted feet 
scarcely making a sound against the hard stone floor.  A few 
dozen people were spread around in the pews, leaning forward in 

prayer.  Slowly, I moved forward.

    A hand grabbed my skinny arm and restrained me and I turned 
to find a man in his late twenties leaning toward me.  "What do 
you want, child?" he asked, his blue eyes looking at me sus-
piciously.  He was wearing black robes and a cross hung around 
his neck.  Without knowing why, I knew he was a priest.

    "I'm hungry," I said in a soft, quiet voice.  My voice was 
high pitched, unlike the deeper voice of the man who towered over 
me.

    "Where are your parents?" he asked me.

    I shrugged.

    "Are you an orphan?"

    I shrugged again.  I didn't know if I had parents or not.  
Perhaps I was an orphan.  How was I to know?

    "Who have you there, Father Donovan?" another man, older than 
the first, asked coming forward.

    "Another orphan apparently, Bishop," the man said, his blue 
eyes not leaving my face.  The suspicion was flowing quickly out 
of them and he was soon looking into my eyes with a soothing 
gentleness.  Perhaps I could still get something to eat.

    Some of the people in the back few rows overheard us and 
turned to look at me standing with the two men.  The older man 
motioned for the priest to follow him and I was soon being gently 
but firmly pulled toward a door in the side of the entry.  Feel-
ing suddenly afraid, I tried to pull my arm from his big hand.

    "Where are you taking me?" I asked.

    "You're hungry, aren't you?" the priest asked.  "We're going 
to take you someplace to eat."

    I was somewhat more cooperative after that, though I didn't 
like not being able to get away.  I didn't resist, however, and I 
let them lead me through the door and down a long, dimly lit 
corridor.

    "He'd make a great altar boy," the priest said, still holding 
my arm with one hand while the other one started lightly rubbing 
my tiny shoulder through a tear in my shirt.

    The Bishop sniffed.  "Yes.  Perhaps."

    After considerably more twists and turns, down and up stairs, 
and through several long corridors, the Bishop finally opened a 
door and I was led into a plush, beautiful office.  There was 
thick, soft carpet on the floor and a mahogany desk sitting in 
front of huge windows that looked out over the green grass of the 
cemetery.  Father Donovan closed the door behind us and stood 
caressing my shoulders gently as the Bishop went to a cabinet and 
poured a red liquid from a crystal bottle.  He sipped at it with 
a strange sort of excitement as he looked at me and I felt even 
more uncomfortable.  I could feel the priests fingers rubbing 
across my collar bones and over my shoulder through the tear in 
one side of my shirt.  The other shoulder, he just held and 
massaged through the fabric.  It felt okay, but I was feeling 
really nervous now.

    "Take his boots off," the Bishop commanded.


    Father Donovan sat me down in an armchair, my feet not touch-
ing the floor.  He knelt in front of me as he pulled my ragged 
boots off and bared my small, dirty feet.  They were much smaller 
than the boots had been, and there was dirt in between my toes.

    "What does he have in the bag?" the Bishop asked.  The priest 
took the bag from me and poked through it, showing the Bishop all 
of my odd assortment of goods.  "Were you going to sell those 
things, child?" he asked me.

    I shrugged again.  I didn't know what I was going to do.

    "Did you steal them?" he asked.

    I shook my head, my blue eyes growing wide with fear that 
they would think I had even though I didn't remember doing it.  I 
felt oddly certain that I would get a severe beating if I were 
caught stealing; the reaction of the man at the stalls when I 
hadn't even looked at his old vegetables was enough to terrify 
me.  The Bishop smiled at me, a knowing smile that showed he 
didn't believe me.  I felt the priest's hand tenderly stroking 
the blond bangs from my eyes.

    "Once he's cleaned up, he'll make a real good altar boy," he 
said again.

    "If those things belong to him," the Bishop said with a 
gesture toward my knapsack, "then he'll be worth a lot more as a 
slave boy up at Tarsec Village."

    "He's too young for that," the priest said, sounding a little 
emphatic.

    "Perhaps, but he's a Kovz Boy if I'm not mistaken.  Tarsec 
men will pay a great deal to get one of them for their sons, 
particularly one as pretty as this one.  I got a note today 
saying that Master Thorne would be coming into town tomorrow."

    "What for?"

    "It seems one of his boys needs a slave boy to play with.  
He's supposed to marry next year."

    The priest said nothing, just stood gazing at the Bishop with 
an almost pleading look in his pale eyes.

    "Take his clothes off," the Bishop commanded suddenly, sit-
ting behind the desk and watching intently.

    I didn't much care for being stripped naked by the men and 
struggled as Father Donovan pulled me to my feet.  "No you 
don't," he said, his strong hands quickly overpowering me and 
making me stand still as he undid the few buttons to my shirt and 
easily pulled it over my skinny shoulders.  The boy in the alley 
had been much more gentle and I immediately wished I hadn't left 
him.  I felt the ends of my rags peeled over my thin shoulders 
and slipped down my arms and my pale, little chest was fully 
exposed.  I stood there in my ragged pants, my small, skinny 
chest bare.  The glistening, gold medallion stood brightly bet-
ween the small mound of my muscles, looking even brighter against 
my almost white skin.  When I felt the priest's hands reaching 
for my pants, I reflexively pushed them away and started to break 
for the door, willing to leave everything I had behind including 
my shirt and boots.

    "Okay," Father Donovan said, his big hands instantly grabbing 
hold of my skinny shoulders and jerking me back into the room.  
He turned me to face the Bishop and I felt his fingers grabbing 

for the lace that held my pants up.  I felt really confused now 
and frightened, could feel my face burning with shame as my eyes 
welled with tears.  The priest just kept untying my pants, howev-
er, and, when the lace slid apart, he separated the ends with no 
regard for my fear or sadness.

    I heard him pant suddenly as he unveiled my naked little 
penis, slowly pulling my pants down my skinny legs and holding 
them as I obediently stepped out of them.  I stood there naked, 
the men's eyes on my naked body.  They looked at me for a long 
time, the Bishop smiling as his eyes gazed across my pale chest 
and naked little boyhood and Father Donovan gazing at it with an 
intense aching in his face.

    "He's circumcised," the priest pointed out.

    "Yes.  I've heard that all Kovz Boys are circumcised."

    "They circumcise boys in the Southland too.  He probably 
escaped from one of the slavers."

    The Bishop shrugged.  "We could probably pass him off as a 
Kovz Boy one way or another.  See how soft his skin is?" The 
priest nodded.

    "He's still too young to be the playmate of a Tarsec boy.  
They like big penises.  His is almost tiny." It embarrassed me to 
have them talk about me like this and I felt a little defensive 
when they mentioned my boyhood.  I looked down at it.  It was 
very pale, like the rest of my body and I blushed knowing that it 
was tiny.  My little testicles were round and my boyhood lay on 
top of a small, hairless scrotum, innocently oblivious to the 
eyes looking at it.  The skin all around it was smooth and white, 
only the little purple head showing any color between my skinny 
thighs.

    "It may be little," the Bishop said, "but Thorne won't care 
so long as he's a Kovz Boy and wants to play with his son a lot.  
See if he gets an erection," he ordered Father Donovan.

    The priest began panting and I jumped when I felt his big 
hand grabbing the hairless little organ between my legs.  I 
stared in astonished fear and embarrassment as his fingers ca-
ressed my little boyhood, petting the small purple head, fondling 
the little balls in my smooth scrotum.  The way he did it, the 
gentle and attentive way he stroked the head with his thumb, 
evoked a strange sensation in my stomach, even stranger than the 
one the boy in the alley had evoked.  The priest seemed to know 
what to do to a boy's penis.

    "Do you like that?" the Bishop asked, smiling as I stood in 
fear, panting despite myself, allowing Father Donovan to caress 
my most private body part.  I started to cry softly, feeling so 
abused by the men and feeling embarrassed to feel how nice the 
man's fingers felt, but the priest just kept fondling me, strok-
ing my penis until it felt even stranger.

    "Here it comes," the priest panted and I could feel my little 
boyhood stiffening in his fingers.  I stared at it in confusion.  
It felt so odd and the feeling of its stiffness between my legs 
was very confusing.  It was soon sticking straight out from 
between my skinny thighs, pulsing up and down, the purple head 
shining brightly against the pale, two inch shaft.  This was very 
strange and frightening.  To my knowledge, boys' penises didn't 
do things like this.  The man was doing something very strange to 
it.

    "Oh yes," the Bishop smiled larger.  "He's old enough to 

sell, Father."

    "Yes," the priest panted absently in agreement, his fingers 
holding my erection and slowly rubbing up and down on it.

    "That will be enough, Father Donovan," the Bishop said firm-
ly, causing the younger man to release my stiff penis and blush 
in embarrassment.

    "I'm sorry," he said.  "He's so pretty."

    The Bishop nodded.  "Look at him though.  He's a virgin.  
They pay extra for boys who don't know yet."

    "Bishop... must we sell him?"

    "If he's a Kovz Boy, he's worth a hundred other boys to 
Tarsec, two hundred to someone like Thorne" the Bishop said.  "I 
understand his kid is worth a small fortune already.  Having his 
own Kovz Boy would make him the most sought after boy the village 
has ever had.  Thorne will like that.  The child needs a bath 
though.  Put him down with the others and tell the nuns to take 
care of him.  We'll want him looking real pretty when Thorne 
arrives."

    "Do you think that's wise, Your Holiness?" Father Donovan 
asked.  "Most of those boys come from the streets.  You know what 
they'll do to a boy like this."

    "Should I trust him with you instead, Father Donovan?  Or 
with the nuns? Lord, between you and the nuns down there, there 
isn't a child left in the orphanage who hasn't dipped his cock in 
one hole or another."

    "Respectfully, Your Holiness," Father Donovan replied softly, 
"we all enjoy our evenings with one of the boys..."

    The Bishop looked momentarily angered by this, but then 
forced himself to relax and nodded.  "Fine," he said at length.  
"That's why he's safer down there.  See that the more excited 
boys are removed tonight.  Let all the nuns have their choice and 
all the priests, too.  Oh, and Frank:  pick one out for me."

    "Yes, Bishop," the priest said sadly.  He handed me my ragged 
pants and I eagerly scurried into them, tying the fly closed and 
feeling much better.  I could feel my erection still throbbing in 
the baggy pants and felt more confused by this than I was embar-
rassed by my nudity.

    "Father Donovan:  just take him down there and turn him over 
to the nuns.  Make sure they know that he's not one of the ones 
who can be picked.  I want you back up here within five minutes."

    "Yes, Bishop," he said, again with deep regret.  "Come along, 
child," he said, his hand rubbing across my thin, naked shoulder 
blades and leading me back out the door.  He had my shirt and bag 
in his other hand, but he didn't give them to me.

    Again we went through the maze of the cathedral, the priest 
continuing to feel my back all the while.  "Where are we going?" 
my squeaky voice asked.

    "The orphanage," he said.  "You'll like it:  there are a lot 
of boys there."

    "I don't want to go to the orphanage," I whined.

    "You'll like it.  They'll give you some food to eat and a 

place to sleep."

    I felt like crying.  All I could think about was the cute boy 
in the alley and how he would be waiting for me at noon.  I 
almost told Father Donovan about him but thought better of it:  
they might go and force him into the orphanage, too.  I had made 
a dreadful mistake.  There was no sense making him pay for it 
with me, even if it would have been nice to have a friend.

    Finally, Father Donovan opened a door that led into a large 
kitchen. There were several women there, all dressed in black and 
white robes and all busy at one form of work or another.  "Here's 
another one," he said.

    One of the women turned and sighed.  "Lord, where do they 
come from." She put aside a towel and came over to us, peering 
down at me with distaste. Her fingers were suddenly poking 
through my hair and examining my scalp.  "At least this one 
doesn't have lice."

    "Will you see to his needs?  The Bishop wants him ready for 
sale by tomorrow morning."

    The nun nodded in exasperation.  "Of course, of course," she 
complained. "Are those his clothes?"

    "Yes, but they're ruined."

    "Well, they'll have to do.  We have too many boys to clothe 
them all and I won't have a bunch of naked boys running around."

    "He's cute..." one of the younger women said, coming over to 
me and rubbing my shoulders the way Father Donovan had.  I 
blushed and smiled up at her, despite my fear and nervousness.  
"...and his skin's softer than mine."

    "The Bishop says he's to be left alone tonight," the priest 
said, sounding sad.  "He said we could take our pick from the 
others, but no one is to touch this one."

    "He wants him for himself," one of the other women accused in 
a hushed and embarrassed voice.  Despite her soft voice, she 
sounded angry.

    Father Donovan shook his head.  "He's being sold to Thorne 
tomorrow. The Bishop doesn't want him to be ruined."

    The woman next to me ran her hand down my chest to my little 
belly button making me shiver.  "I wouldn't ruin him," she 
smiled, slowly rubbing my shivering belly.

    "I think the Bishop is serious, sister," the priest said, 
sounding more than a little angry.  The woman slid her hand up to 
my shoulders and looked peevish.

    Father Donovan gave her my shirt and bag and, with a last 
longing look at me, left me there with the woman.

    "Well, pretty one," she said, tousling my hair, "I guess that 
means I get to be with Timmy again tonight."

    She said nothing more to me and I soon felt her hands untying 
my pants. She was much less tender about this than the priest had 
been and stripped me naked, pursing her lips with suppressed 
adoration when she saw my hairless little penis.  "Praise God, He 
that gives me cause to rejoice..." I was relieved that the stiff-
ness had left my penis, but was still embarrassed to be naked in 
front of so many women.

    "He's pretty," one of them smiled at me.

    "Look at that adorable little penis," another said.

    "He must be a slave boy," said a third.

    "That'll be enough out of you," the oldest of the nuns com-
manded.  "Get back to work."

    They did as they were told but continued to smile at me when 
they could. Their curiosity made me embarrassed, but I could feel 
their affection for me and that felt nice, so nice that I could 
feel myself exposing my little boyhood to them as much as possi-
ble.  They seemed to like looking at it and I started to realize 
that it was something special, something that could earn their 
affection.  The eldest woman gave my clothes to one of the girls 
to wash and told me to stand in the corner until they were ready.  
I stood obediently and blushed at the girls as they looked at me.  
There was a small cabinet in the corner and I leaned back on it, 
blushing and smiling as I spread my skinny little legs and 
watched the delighted, adoring smiles on the girls' faces.  My 
penis definitely seemed to get most of their attention and I 
sensed it quickly. My skinny, white, little chest and delicate 
necklace didn't attract them much at all.

    It took a while for my clothes to be washed and dried in 
front of the fire and I just stood there naked and blushing 
without speaking.  After almost a half hour of this, the woman 
brought me some food and I managed to eat it without being overly 
rude in my hunger.

    "He's filthy, Reverend Mother," one of the girls said, smil-
ing down at my little boyhood.  "May we give him a bath?"

    "He can shower with the other boys tonight," the woman re-
plied gruffly. "Why are you all making such fools of yourselves 
over a little boy?"

    "He's pretty, Reverend Mother.  Look at the way he blushes."

    I was blushing, too, my face feeling hot.  At the same time, 
I was smiling up at them from beneath my long black eyelashes and 
blond bangs.

    "Oh, nonsense," she replied, but did turn and gaze down at me 
with a slight smile on her lips.  "You all heard what the Bishop 
said.  There'll be pleasure enough for all of you tonight, but I 
won't have this boy touched."

    "Oh, Reverend Mother..." one of the women whined for all of 
them.

    "Oh, fiddle sticks.  If you want a little boy, go pick one 
out.  Lord knows we have enough of them.  For my part..." she 
added with a secret smile to the others, "I think I'll have 
Jeremy this evening..." She said this with a smug smile and a 
twirl across the room that made the nuns giggle.  She looked old 
to me, perhaps in her fifties, while the rest of the women looked 
to be in their late teens or early twenties.

    "He's so big," one of them grinned.

    "I want David," another said.

    Soon, they were all calling out the names of boys and I was, 
at least for the moment, forgotten.  I didn't know what they were 
talking about but wished that one of them said they wanted me 
again.  I liked feeling wanted.

    When my clothes were finally cleaned, the Reverend Mother 
gave them to me and I scurried into them.  The washing had done 
them little good for, though they were now clean and smelled a 
little like perfume, they were even more ragged.  When I moved my 
arms, my entire chest would become visible through two or three 
strands of cloth.  Still, the cut-off pants did conceal my little 
penis and I was grateful for that even if the girls didn't smile 
at me quite so often.  I said nothing as the older woman led me 
out a door into a huge dining room. Worn wooden tables ran in 
rows around the room and she led me around them to a door at the 
opposite end.  We went through this one and down yet another long 
corridor.  This led through still another door.

    We passed through it into a huge, dusty room filled with 
half-clothed boys who seemed to be tired and hungry.  The door 
opened onto a walkway that seemed to run all the way around the 
room.  From there, it looked like the entire place was bigger 
than the rest of the cathedral combined.  It was tremendously 
large, disappearing into the darkness and the dust.  There were a 
few yellow lights hanging from the ceiling, but most of the light 
came from windows high on the walls where I could see people's 
legs walking by, showing that we were, for the most part, under-
ground.  The boys were about thirty feet below us on the floor.  
The only way down appeared to be a single ladder.

    One side of the room was piled high with raw grain.  There 
was a large chute leading upward, apparently where the grain 
would be dumped when brought in by farmers.  Some boys would go 
to this pile, fill up a wheel barrow then take the load up a 
steep ramp to the top of a huge grinding machine.  The machine 
was boy-driven and a dozen boys were kept walking along a round 
gear, turning the grinder.  The cracked grain emerged from a 
chute in the bottom, was loaded onto more wheel barrows by other 
boys, and was then led to a giant sifting machine, also powered 
by a dozen boys.  That was as much as I could see of the opera-
tion, but I could tell there was more happening on the other side 
of the machines. From the grinding machine, clouds of grain dust 
were spewing forth and coating the young boys bare chests, abdo-
mens and legs.

    The woman led me up to a boy in his mid-teens.  He was a 
tall, blond haired boy and he looked down at me as we approached.  
He was wearing blue jeans and a shirt that was half-unbuttoned 
showing most of his skinny chest.

    "Jeremy, this is a new boy," she said to him, and I stared in 
embarrassment as her fingers reached into the boy's shirt and 
petted his hairless, boyishly muscular chest.

    "Okay," the boy's young voice said, his blue eyes looking up 
and down my body and making me feel uncomfortable.  He didn't 
seem at all troubled by the woman touching him.  "What's his 
name?"

    "Lord, I don't know.  I can't remember the names of the boys 
who've been here for years.  Just take care of him.  See that he 
gets a cot and a shower tonight.  The Bishop is planning to sell 
him tomorrow so make sure he doesn't get hurt."

    "Okay.  He's awfully small," the boy added, looking down at 
me with a look of disappointment on his face.  "We won't get much 
work out of him but we'll take care of him."

    "That's a good boy," the Reverend Mother said, her fingers 
trailing farther down the skinny boy's shirt until his long 
abdomen was bared and her fingers stroked across his little belly 
button.  "You'll be with me tonight," she said, her fingertips 
petting all over the smooth skin of his hairless young belly.

    "Yes, mam'n," Jeremy replied respectfully.  I could see a 
large bulge in his blue jeans, but I didn't connect it with any 
of the woman's behavior.

    I swallowed my surprise when the Reverend Mother's other hand 
reached down and squeezed the boy's big bulge, a wicked smile on 
her face.  Jeremy swallowed, too, and seemed to rise up on his 
toes a little, his brown eyes staring into the Reverend Mother's 
with fear and uncertainty.

    "Take a shower before you come and don't dawdle to play with 
any of the boys on your way."

    Jeremy nodded and the Reverend Mother smiled contentedly.  
She turned and left me standing with the teenager.

    As soon as she was gone, Jeremy sighed and shook his head.  
"What's your name?" he asked looking down at me again.

    I looked up at him for a long moment in uncertainty.  Knowing 
he'd think I was stupid if I said I didn't know, my childish 
voice softly replied "Kelvin." I doubted I could protect anyone 
as the medallion implied, but I liked the name and it felt com-
fortable to use it.  I hoped no one was going to get mad at me 
for it.

    "You're pretty, Kelvin," he said, his hand brushing the hair 
from my eyes as I blushed.  "I'm surprised the old bat didn't 
keep you for herself.  The boys are going to like you.  How old 
are you?"

    "Eleven," my childish voice said uncertainly.

    "Well, my name's Jeremy.  I'm sixteen and I'm the supervisor.  
If you do what you're told, you won't get a spanking.  Take your 
shirt off."

    The threat of a spanking was enough to make me cooperative.  
I couldn't remember ever having been spanked but I didn't like 
the idea of it.  I quickly peeled off the ragged shirt.  "It's 
too hot for these down here," Jeremy said, grabbing it from me 
and throwing it into a garbage bin nearby.  His eyes gazed down 
my skinny body until I felt my face grow bright red.  For a 
minute I thought he was going to make me take my pants off like 
everyone else had done, but he didn't, just stared at the little 
bulge between my legs.  "God, you're pretty," he said again.  
"What's this?" he asked, his fingers touching my little chest as 
he looked closely at the medallion.

    I didn't answer and the boy didn't push the issue.  After a 
few seconds, he let it go and it dangled on my chest again.  
"Sandy!" he called over the walkway.

    A young boy looked up at him.  He had a wheelbarrow that he 
had just emptied into the grinder and was heading back for more.  
"New boy."

    Sandy looked at me for a long while and I saw him swallow.  
"Well, come up and get him.  You're in charge of him."

    The boy swallowed again and I watched as he came over and 
pulled himself up the ladder.  He was only wearing a pair of 
ragged shorts and I could see small muscles ripple along his 
shoulders, could see the hardness of his chest beneath his small 
nipples.

    Soon, he was standing beside us looking down at me until I 
blushed still more.  He was a cute boy of about thirteen.  He had 

sandy blond hair and blue eyes.  His chest, though small, was 
very pretty and his skin looked soft.  There was a big bulge in 
his shorts and I was embarrassed to realize I was staring at it.  
Like all the rest of the boys in the room, his skin was coated 
with grain dust that caked on with his boyish sweat.

    "Put him to work on loading," Bruce instructed him.  "After 
dinner, get him a bunk and make sure he takes a shower."

    "Is he..." the young boy said, bashfully talking from beneath 
his long bangs.

    "Well, what?" Jeremy asked impatiently.

    "Is he mine tonight?" the younger boy asked.

    Jeremy laughed.  "The sisters are having a boy fest tonight.  
You know they're not going to leave you behind, much less the 
little kid."

    Sandy blushed and looked down sadly.

    "Don't be such a whiner, Sandy," Jeremy scolded him, turning 
to look at his clipboard.  "Shit, you have enough fun all the 
time anyway."

    Sandy's cute face looked briefly angry, as if ready to argue 
with the older boy, but he caught himself and fell silent.

    "You can't have every boy you want, especially when all the 
sisters are out to get you.  Show this kid what to do and tell 
the other boys to leave him alone.  He's going to be sold tomor-
row and our ass is grass if anyone touches him."

    "Okay," Sandy said, his tenor voice cracking.  He looked down 
at me, still through his long bangs.  He looked like a sweet boy 
and I felt a strange desire to hug him and comfort him.  Even 
more, I wished that we would hug and comfort me.  I distantly 
wondered what he and Jeremy were talking about.  I was a boy 
though and boys are used to people talking about things they 
don't understand.

    "Come on," Sandy's young voice finally cracked.

    He led me down the ladder and into the mass of young boys 
hard at work. They ranged in age from about eight or nine to 
fourteen or fifteen.  Jeremy looked like the eldest one.  They 
were all looking at me as Sandy led me to the wheelbarrows, their 
slender young bodies caked with sweat and grain dust like Sandy's 
was.  I could feel the older ones nudging each other, heard them 
whisper back and forth to each other, heard a few giggles through 
the sound of the grinding machines.

    Soon, I was hard at work hauling the grain from the pile to 
the grinder. I wasn't strong enough to get it up the ramp, so 
Sandy helped me.  He didn't introduce me to any of the other boys 
but I could feel them continue watching me.  Some of the boys, 
particularly the older ones, had strong, muscular looking chests, 
but every one of them, muscular of not, looked skinny and un-
derfed. When any of them moved, their ribs rippled against their 
skin and I found myself entranced by them.

    None of the boys had shirts, but they all wore something 
between their legs.  None of the youngest boys wore more than 
underpants and most of these were almost as torn and ragged as my 
pants were, so ragged that I could frequently see their round, 
hairless little testicles slip through the legs and dangle out as 
they worked.  Their underpants, like the rags any of the boys 

wore, were dust covered and filthy.

    The boys didn't even talk to each other as they worked and it 
was very boring.  After several hours, I felt like my skinny arms 
were going to fall off and felt like I had been in the sweatshop 
for days.  Dust from the grain seemed to cake inside my nose and 
I had trouble breathing.  In my sadness, I thought again of the 
young boy I had met in the alley that afternoon, and wondered how 
much happier I might have been had I only stayed and let him play 
with my penis like he wanted to.  Now, I was working like a slave 
and was soon to be sold off like a slave.  I didn't make very 
good choices as a boy.

    I found the other boys a great source of fascination.  Though 
they were all filthy from the dust, their young bodies were 
extremely fascinating to me and I found myself gazing at them, 
not sure why I found them so attractive. They worked hard, their 
bodies, however small, constantly struggling against the weight 
of their loads or steadily walking over the huge gears and driv-
ing the grinder.  Through brief interchanges with Sandy, I 
learned that if we didn't work hard enough, we would be beaten 
or, worse, we wouldn't get dinner that night.  Jeremy, he said, 
was a nice boy, but he wouldn't hesitate to single out the ones 
who were slacking.  These were the ones who got the beatings.

    The cathedral bought the grain from local farmers who would 
deposit it in the chute.  Several times that day, I saw a bright 
light opening at the top of the shoot and a huge load of grain 
came pouring in.  Every time I thought we were almost finished 
hauling it for the day, another of these big loads poured down.  
They became the hated demons in my life.  I kind of thought it 
would be fun being one of the boys walking on the grinders.  They 
were as half clothed as we were, but there were many of them and 
all they had to do was walk around and around on the gears.  I 
thought that I could do that.  I stopped from volunteering, 
however, when I saw how rough and calloused their feet were.  If 
I were to walk on one of those grinders for a day, my feet would 
have been cut up and bleeding something awful.  It was more fun 
to work with Sandy, though, as for that, the boy talked so little 
and seemed so unhappy that it wasn't a lot of fun anyway.

    "What's wrong?" I asked him, at one point during the day.

    He shrugged his bare shoulders and kept working.  "I have to 
sleep with one of those witches again tonight," he said in his 
soft, cracking voice.

    That didn't seem so bad to me, knowing that he was referring 
to the nuns.  "They're nice," I said uncertainly.

    Sandy sniffed.  "I'd rather play with myself... or with you," 
he answered.

    Sleep?  Play?  I didn't see how they matched up and didn't 
say any more.

    Finally, Jeremy rang a bell near the door and all the boys 
let out a sigh of relief.  The boys on the grinder stopped walk-
ing and all the wheelbarrows, shovels and tools were dropped 
immediately where they were.  The young workers all crowded 
toward the ladder and Sandy led me to it.  Soon I was standing in 
a mass of half naked boys, all of them dust covered, the older 
ones glistening with sweat through the dust.  I could smell a 
strange, pleasant scent from these boys that made me feel strange 
inside.  As their long, skinny arms reached up to grab the ladder 
near me, the scent became stronger and I smiled a little as I 
sniffed it.


    All of them, older or younger, were dirty.  As we waited our 
turn at the ladder, I felt their bodies rubbing against mine and 
felt more than one pair of hands rubbing my bare chest or back 
openly and without embarrassment.  They were all talking now and 
there was a din of boyish voices, most as squeaky and high 
pitched as mine, some cracking tenors and baritones, all of them 
sounding exhausted but relieved and eager for dinner.  I didn't 
pay much attention to them.  I was too confused by all the hands 
that kept touching me, all the small boy chests that rubbed 
against my back.  I heard some boys saying how pretty I was, felt 
their eyes watching me with uncomfortable fascination.  If I 
hadn't felt so small and helpless, it might have been nice.

    As I started up the ladder, boy hands grabbed my butt and 
almost made me fall.  When I turned to find out what they were 
doing they told me to hurry. Some giggled.  When I started up 
again, their hands returned, rubbing my small bottom and bare 
legs.  Unable to protest, I just struggled to get up the ladder, 
my skinny, exhausted arms barely able to hold on.  I was relieved 
to get to the top, but the press of boys continued, my half naked 
body nudged between them as we walked like cattle through a long 
hall, my body rubbed against their's, fondled by their curious 
hands.  Sandy didn't protect me from any of this but he wasn't 
one of the boys groping me either.  He walked close to me, close 
enough that the other boys' bare chests frequently pushed my body 
against his.  He didn't complain or look at me with anger, just 
allowed the other boys to keep rubbing their bodies against me.

    The press of half naked boys led me up the hall and into a 
large bunk room off through a side door.  Here, all the boys 
crowded in, taking their appropriate bunk.  The wooden beds lined 
both walls two high with a narrow aisle between them.  Sandy took 
me to a lower bunk on one side and told me to stay there until he 
came to get me for dinner.  After that, he left for his own bunk 
about halfway down the room.  I stood there feeling small, 
frightened and alone. I looked around nervously at the skinny, 
dirty, half-naked bodies collapsing on the bunks all around me, 
but was too confused to do anything for a long time.

    A young boy was lying on the bunk above mine and I looked at 
him helplessly, his cute face smiling at me.  He was as dirty as 
any of the other boys, his bare legs and small chest looking 
smooth and soft beneath the layer of grime.  His ragged shorts 
were so tattered that I could see his small penis when I looked 
up the leg hole.  It lay on his thigh as dirty as the rest of 
him.  I don't know why I was so fascinated by his boyhood, but I 
discovered that I was staring at it.  It looked strange, because 
I couldn't see his penis head.  I thought this was just because 
his penis itself was hard to see in the darkness beneath his 
shorts and with all the dirt.

    "Hi," his high pitched voice said to me.  He was lying with 
his head pillowed on his arm and I could see the smooth skin on 
his small, brown armpit.

    "Hi," I swallowed shyly, blushing and looking away from his 
little penis.

    "My name's Matthew," he said.  "What's yours?"

    "I'm Kelvin," I replied.  There was a moment of silence and I 
found my eyes slowly returning to his shorts, felt them gazing 
nervously down to look at his hairless penis.  He lifted one of 
his legs, pulling the shorts wider apart and leaving his penis 
fully exposed to the light, laying small and innocent against his 
skinny thigh.  I looked up at his cute face and he grinned back 
at me, knowing what I'd been looking at.  I was so embarrassed 
that I crawled onto the bunk beneath him.  There was no mattress.  

The bed was nothing but a piece of plywood.  The blankets were 
made from burlap and were filthy, smelling of boy urine.  I 
looked up and could see urine stains on the plywood above me: 
apparently Matthew wet the bed.

    After a few minutes, Sandy came back and told me to follow 
him to dinner, which I did.  Boys, still filthy and half-dressed, 
crowded against the door and I quickly felt their bodies pressing 
against mine, quickly feeling like I was in a cattle train again, 
unable to do anything but follow along with the rest of them.  I 
thought they looked so cute and their skinny young bodies did 
fascinate me, but I felt so helpless at the same time, unable to 
turn or walk away or do anything on my own.  Their chests and 
bellies pushed against me, flowing in a sea of filthy boy flesh 
down a hall.  I could smell them again, faintly beneath the 
generous smell of grain and through the dust almost clogging my 
nostrils.  It was such a strange smell, and I almost had to fight 
against a desire to get closer to it.  Somehow, the smell of 
their pubescent perspiration made me feel like I was home.

    The river of boys carried me down the hall and through a door 
into the dining room the Reverend Mother had brought me through.  
We ate a thin stew dished out by the nuns.  For the most part, 
the women seemed bored and unhappy. When a cute kid went by, 
however, they seemed to brighten.  They gave more food and bread 
to these boys than to the others, making the skinny, dirty, half 
naked kids blush uncomfortably.

    The boys all seemed too tired to talk very much when we sat 
down at the long wooden tables, but they did anyway.  Mostly they 
were talking about the nuns and how this one or that one was 
going to take this boy or that boy that night.  I noticed very 
early on that the boys who had a lot of food were the ones most 
mentioned as being a nun's for the night.  I didn't understand, 
but didn't say anything.

    I was horribly embarrassed when Jeremy made me stand up and 
introduced me to the assembled boys as dinner ended.  Some of 
them clapped.  Several threw pieces of bread at me and laughed.  
Sandy, who sat beside me throughout dinner, spoke very little.  
He seemed very shy and didn't talk to any of the boys around us 
either.

    "The boy who did the least work today..." Jeremy began, and a 
hush fell instantly over the dining room, "is Kelvin." There was 
a rash of laughter and I felt more bread being hurled at me from 
all over the room.  I don't know why, but a rush of terror filled 
me.  My eyes brimmed with tears, feeling like I had failed and 
knowing instinctively that I was going to get a spanking.  I 
thought I had worked so hard and I was so desperately tired.

    "No," the Reverend Mother whispered loudly to Jeremy, twirl-
ing the boy around and forcing him to look at her.  "Not him!"

    "But it's always the new boy..." Jeremy said, looking half 
his age and very confused.

    "Not him!" the Reverend Mother repeated emphatically.

    "Uh," Jeremy said, looking uncomfortable.  "Uh, the boy who 
did the least work was... Oliver."

    There was a united sigh of relief and several of the bolder 
boys jeered and threw bread across the room.  I looked around and 
saw two of the smaller boys nudging and pushing another boy their 
age.  He turned around, his adorable young face filled with fear 
and terror.  He was only about eight or nine with curly blond 
hair and a childish body hidden by a ragged grey shirt and ragged 

grey pants that ended at his knees.  The boys next to him pushed 
him to his feet and he stood up with tears in his eyes.

    He looked at me and I felt a great pain in my chest, as if 
knowing that he was going to be punished for something I had 
done.  His small hands were fearfully knotted in the lower tails 
of his shirt and he stood there like a frightened dear, eager to 
run away but too frightened to know where to run.  He looked 
small and pathetic, his baby blue eyes already brimming with 
tears beneath his mop of yellow hair.  Giving up, he started 
walking slowly toward Jeremy, his tears spilling out his eyes and 
running down his smooth cheeks as he started to sob helplessly.  
This just egged the other boys on still more and they pelted him 
with bread and laughed at him.

    When he reached the steps up to the landing that held Jeremy 
and the Reverend Mother, he stopped and stood pleading up at 
them.  "Please, sir," he begged.  "I worked hard."

    Jeremy looked like he was ready to cry for the small boy, but 
he didn't. Just stood there looking down at him in sorrow.

    "Get up here," the Reverend Mother ordered, stepping down to 
grab the poor boy's skinny wrist and jerking him up onto the 
platform.

    "Please," the boy pleaded desperately, tears spilling down 
his face but too frightened to fight back.

    Jeremy stood off to the side and watched as the Reverend 
Mother unbuttoned the little boy's shirt.  He just stood there 
and bawled and I felt like crying for him too.  Many of the boys 
watched with as much sadness as I felt.  An equal number were 
laughing and jeering at him for being such a cry baby.  The woman 
jerked the ragged shirt over his shoulders and pulled them down 
his arms with little tenderness or affection.  He was a very cute 
boy, with a small, soft chest and little nipples.  He looked 
better fed than most of the boys, probably because he hadn't been 
in the orphanage very long.

    He started crying harder as the Reverend Mother untied his 
pants and roughly jerked them down his smooth, slender thighs.  
The boy's hairless penis fell out onto the round ball of his 
scrotum, looking as innocent and childish as mine did.  Like 
Matthew's in the dorm, his penis head was invisible, nothing but 
pale, white skin running all the way from his hairless belly to 
the end of his smooth shaft.  He didn't fight at all as she held 
his pants at the floor and his young feet stepped out of them.  
His hands did move between his legs and they held to his penis so 
that we couldn't see it anymore.  All the while, he cried help-
lessly.

    "Bend over the table," the Reverend Mother ordered the 
frightened boy.

    "No, please," his soprano voice begged pathetically.  
"Please.  I'll be good.  I'll work harder."

    The woman just twirled him around and carelessly shoved him 
toward the table.  The hairless little boy obediently leaned over 
on it, his back to us, his round bottom sticking out at the rest 
of us.  "Please..." he cried until I thought my heart would 
burst.  "I'll be good..."

    I felt my eyes filling with tears and watched as the Reverend 
Mother pulled a long, skinny stick from her sleeve.  It looked 
like something she was used to pulling out.  "I'll be good, 
Reverend Mother..." the poor, naked boy cried.

    The crack when she struck the little boy's bare buttocks made 
me cringe and the tears spilled out of my eyes.  He screamed from 
the stinging pain and his childish, high pitched voice echoed 
throughout the dining room as he begged for mercy.  "Please," his 
young voice cried.  "I'll be good.  Please!"

    The Reverend Mother responded by striking him across the 
buttocks again and I could see thin welts appearing where he had 
been hit.  The cute little boy just kept begging and promising to 
be good but the woman showed him no mercy at all.  Her whip 
struck over his thighs and skinny, purple welts grew quickly on 
the child's pale, baby soft skin.  The poor, wailing boy could do 
nothing but grab hold of the table and hold to it for dear life 
as the whip descended against his sensitive flesh over and over 
again.

    Little Oliver received ten lashings, the normal punishment 
for the least productive boy of the day.  By the time it had 
ended, he was a sobbing mass of helplessness, his small hands 
leaving the table helplessly trying to soothe the stinging of the 
lash, rubbing over his small butt and thin thighs in front of all 
of us, weeping without embarrassment:  his pain had swallowed up 
all the embarrassment the poor boy could muster.  As he slipped 
to the ground, I could see that his hairless penis had grown.  It 
was bigger than mine anyway and rolled around on his soft testi-
cles as he tried to comfort himself.  He was so pretty that I was 
outraged by what she had done to him, even more horror-stricken 
to know that the beating had been meant for me.  Still, I was 
just a little boy myself and could do nothing but sit there and 
cry with him.

    "Don't cry," Sandy whispered to me, and I realized the cute 
boy looked as emotionless as a robot.  "They'll tease you for 
it." I looked into his pretty eyes through the mop of his blond 
bangs and realized that he was as hurt as I was, he was just 
trying to hide it.  Longing to emulate him, I sucked down my sobs 
and soon was under control.  I swallowed my tears and watched as 
the pretty, naked boy on the platform searched weakly for his 
pants.  The jeering boys soon started to ignore him and started 
talking to each other more than watching him.  I watched however.  
I watched as he sat there and wiggled his rags up his legs, 
watched until his hairless young boyhood was out of sight.

    I couldn't eat anymore and let Sandy have the rest of my 
stew.  He took it stoically, but thanked me for it.  "Someone 
always gets it," he said.  "Just be glad she wouldn't let him 
pick you this time."

    When dinner was over, the cute young boy led me back to the 
dormitory en masse with the rest of the boys.  These continued to 
whisper about me and some still reached out and touched me, 
giggling or whispering to the other boys.  It was all very 
strange.  I continued to wish I hadn't come to the orphanage at 
all.  Surely the boy in the alley would have been nicer to a 
half-starved, ragged boy.

    "It's time for showers," Sandy said to me.  "You can leave 
your clothes here."

    He stood there and I realized he was expecting me to strip 
again. Blushing in embarrassment, I untied my ragged pants and 
slid them down.  As I stepped out of them, Matthew came running 
around the bunk still wearing just his tattered shorts.

    "Are you taking a shower?" his high pitched voice asked, 
giggling happily.

    "Yeah," Sandy answered softly when I remained silent.

    "Me too," the young boy replied, smiling as he peeled the 
soft, torn shorts down his smooth thighs.  He was a very cute boy 
with brown hair and big brown eyes beneath long black eyelashes.  
I glanced briefly at his naked body and saw his bare penis dan-
gling between his legs.  It was bigger than mine, but the boy was 
still hairless.  I could feel my heart suddenly beating faster 
and my eyes were infatuated with his boyhood.  It looked so 
smooth and pretty beneath the dirt, his skin a pale, soft pink 
color that seemed to capture my attention and make me feel funny 
inside.  The strangest thing about his penis was that it had skin 
all the way along its three inch length.  He didn't have a purple 
penis head like mine did.  I looked down at mine and again at 
his.  He seemed to be doing the same thing, smiling as he gazed 
at my smooth little cock. His was just like little Oliver's had 
been and I knew that I was different.  I didn't like the feeling 
at all.

    "Come on," Sandy said finally.  He seemed to be looking at my 
penis, too, and seemed real uncomfortable, his breathing heavy.  
I swallowed nervously as I walked around Matthew who stood naked 
and grinning happily.

    The older boy led me to his bunk where he stopped.  As he 
started undressing, I looked around the dim, filthy room.  All 
the other boys were stripping out of their rags, several of them 
stark naked and already heading toward the bathroom door.  I felt 
more and more confused every time I saw one of them.  Their 
penises looked so pretty and I found myself staring at them with 
a strange fascination.  Many of the boys were about my age and 
were hairless. Their penises were small and pink.  Many more of 
the boys had soft, downy fuzz around their penises and others had 
a small bush of curly black hair.  Their penises seemed to get 
bigger the more hair they had and I stared at them wondering why.  
The one thing that was the same about all the boys was that they 
all had foreskins.  None of them had the small purple head that I 
had.

    The last boy I saw was little Oliver.  He wasn't getting 
undressed, however.  Instead, he was curled up on his hard buck, 
still wearing just his ragged pants, his head buried in his 
burlap blanket as he sobbed softly.  I felt like going over and 
sitting with him, but he had gotten his beating in my place and I 
doubted even a boy as sweet as he was would forgive me very 
easily.

    I turned as Sandy finished stripping and he walked past me as 
my mouth fell open.  His was the biggest penis of all, though I 
saw it only as he passed. It swung between his smooth, hairless 
thighs a full six inches, bigger than any of the other boys.  He 
also had pubic hair:  a small bush in a little circle just around 
the place where his penis joined his smooth belly.  I swallowed 
again and my naked body followed him and the other boys toward 
the bathroom.

    I could hear the spray of water and heard the high pitched 
squeals of boys as we neared the door.  Warm, moist air struck my 
little chest as Sandy and I went through it.  The room looked as 
dirty as the rest of the orphanage, the walls dark and dinghy.  
It was nothing but one large room, the shower heads lined against 
one wall with nothing separating the boys from each other.  Their 
naked bodies stood crowded against that wall, one or two boys 
under the shower while the others stood in long lines watching 
and giggling, their small, uncircumcised penises lying on their 
testicles.

    Sandy stopped at the end of one of the lines and I ran into 
his naked body, so intent was I on watching the other naked boys.  
"Sorry," I said, blushing bright red.  He scarcely looked at me, 

turning back to the front and waiting his turn.  I felt a hand 
touch my shoulder and I turned to find Matthew standing there 
grinning and blushing happily.  I automatically looked down 
between his legs and looked at his hairless penis again and all 
along his slender, soft body.

    "Why's your penis like that?" he asked, making no effort to 
conceal his own or the fact that he was looking at mine.

    I shrugged, looking down at his penis again.  It just lay 
there on his smooth, hairless testicles and looked pretty.  I 
felt a queazy sense of jealousy as I gazed at it, jealous that 
his looked like the other boys' and jealous that it was at least 
an inch bigger than mine.  He giggled when I kept looking at it. 
I thought he was a terribly cute boy.

    "Come here," Sandy's voice cracked as the other naked boys 
abandoned the shower head and his turn arrived.  He pulled me 
toward the shower and his big hands held my skinny body under the 
spray for a moment then pulled me out. "Wash the dirt off," he 
instructed, handing me a bar of soap.  I looked down at his penis 
as I took the soap.  It looked even bigger than it had in the 
bunk room and it was sticking halfway out from his legs.  The 
balls in his scrotum looked equally large and, despite his pubic 
hair, his sack was still smooth and hairless.  I looked up at him 
and he blushed and turned away.  As he turned, his eyes glanced 
across the large shower.  I followed his eyes and realized with 
still more confusion that many of the boys in the shower now had 
hard penises that stuck straight out between their legs, slanting 
upward toward the ceiling and moving slightly up and down.  Even 
some of the little, hairless boys' penises were stiff, just like 
mine had been when Father Donovan was rubbing it. This was very 
confusing.

    "Don't look," Sandy said, when he saw me staring at the erect 
little boys.  "Just clean up."

    I did as he said and started rubbing soap all over my skinny 
body.  It felt nice against my skin and I could feel the dirt and 
the immature sweat of my day's labors being washed away.  When I 
was finished, I turned back to Sandy and was astonished to see 
that his penis was now as hard as the hardest of the other boys, 
sticking out seven and a half inches and pulsing slowly up and 
down.  It was thick, too, maybe thicker than my small hand could 
have wrapped around.  His erection was very straight and pointed 
upward as it throbbed, entrancing me with its rhythmic movements 
and the pubescent beauty of his little bush of pubic hair.  His 
pale foreskin had slid back over his shiny purple penis head and 
I was astonished by the sight of it, looking so big and extremely 
hard.  I looked up at his cute face and saw that he was looking 
at my naked little penis and panting softly.  Matthew stood 
behind him grinning.

    "He likes you," the little boy giggled at Sandy.  Sandy 
blushed and took my place under the shower, me turning as I 
stepped away, blue eyes gazing at Sandy's big, pulsing penis.

    "Come here," Matthew said to me.  I turned and the boy stood 
a few feet from me.  Obediently, I walked up to the naked boy, 
swallowing as I looked into his happily smiling face.  I jumped 
when his hand grabbed my penis and started feeling it.  "It looks 
funny," he said as his fingers probed along its hairless two 
inches.  I felt it getting stiff again and soon the boy was 
holding my little erection.  He just giggled.

    I looked back at Sandy, feeling frightened and confused, 
embarrassed to think that he had seen what Matthew was doing to 
me.  He had:  he was standing under the shower spray, his blue 

eyes staring at my stiff little penis in Matthew's small fingers.  
What was even odder was that he was holding his own gifted cock 
in his hand and was rubbing slowly up and down on it in the slime 
of the soap.  He blushed when he saw me watching him, but didn't 
stop the slow steady rubbing on his penis.  Matthew was still 
fondling my erection, but I just watched the older boy masturbat-
ing.  His fist squeezed his penis and pulled a layer of flesh up 
over his bright, shiny purple penis head, then pulled the flesh 
back again letting the hard shiny thing poke out.  Now I could 
see that he had one at least, but it was so big and so hard that 
my confusion was little removed.

    He started moaning as I stood there and several other naked 
boys turned and watched him, pointing and giggling.  Many of the 
boys also giggled at Matthew who was now fondling both my erec-
tion and his own.  I was very confused and nervous.  When Sandy 
started to moan, his cute face twisted in a strange face and I 
could bear no more.  In fear, I quickly broke away from Matthew, 
feeling his awkward fingers tug briefly on my escaping erection, 
and walked quickly out of the shower, naked boys gazing and 
giggling after me.

    I walked down the center aisle in shame, trying to conceal my 
stiff little erection in my small hands.  Oliver was still lying 
on his bunk with his face buried in his burlap blanket, but he 
had stopped sobbing and was either asleep or close to it.

    Soon, I was back in my bunk and I quickly pulled my ragged 
pants back on.  There were other naked boys in the dorm, walking 
around boldly displaying their penises, joking and laughing with 
the others.  I went straight to the exit door planning to escape, 
but it was locked.  I was trapped with all the other boys.  
Feeling very afraid, I went back to my bunk and crawled under the 
burlap blankets, trying to hide myself.

    Boys slowly began to fill up the dorm as they finished their 
showers and prepared for bed.  I just stayed huddled under my 
blankets and hoped none of them tried to talk to me.  This seemed 
to be working for a long time until Matthew came back.

    "Hey, Kelvin," his high pitched voice giggled.  "You want to 
play a game?" I didn't know what he was talking about and didn't 
say anything or even dare move.  My bare shoulders were turned to 
him and I didn't roll over to see if the little boy was still 
naked or not.  After a moment, he sighed and I felt the bed shake 
as he jumped up onto the top bunk.

    At about the same time, Father Donovan and the Reverend 
Mother stepped into the room.  The boys, many of them still 
naked, all listened attentively as a list of names was read off 
by the Reverend Mother.  As their names were called, the boys 
would giggle or groan.  Most were older boys.  A few were as 
young or even younger than I was.  They jumped out of their beds 
and walked excitedly, sullenly, or obediently toward the adults 
near the door.  I noticed that the younger ones put pants on.  
The older ones walked with their fuzz or hair covered penises 
boldly displayed.  I heard Sandy and Jeremy's names called and 
saw both of them walking reluctantly toward the front, both of 
them wearing ragged pants.  The Reverend Mother called Jeremy's 
name last and the way she said it made him sound particularly 
special.

    When Father Donovan stepped forward, he called out two boys' 
names. First was little Oliver and I felt silently glad that the 
little boy was going to get special attention that night, prob-
ably from Father Donovan.  The other boy was a young pubescent 
kid who strolled up the center aisle with a stiff, five inch 
penis and a tiny bush of little pubic hairs like he was the king 

or something.  He must have been meant for the Bishop.  Oliver 
was crying and rubbing tears from his eyes as he went, looking 
dreadfully small and helpless. When he reached the priest, the 
man tenderly wrapped his arms around him and I could hear him 
whispering to the boy that he would get him some healing potion 
and make him feel good as new.

    "No one is to touch the new boy!" he announced loudly before 
leaving with his prepubescent plaything.  "Anyone who does will 
get thirty lashes!" He said this with strict toughness, but when 
he was finished he looked at me with an aching, weak look in his 
eyes that belied that strength.  He sighed, held tighter to 
Oliver's thin shoulders, then turned.  He left followed by the 
Reverend Mother and a host of forty-five boys bound for the beds 
of the nuns and priests.

    About five minutes later, the lights were turned out.  A few 
late boys scurried to their beds in the dark, then everything 
fell quiet.  I felt like crying, but didn't as I felt myself 
slowly falling into sleep.

    "Matthew," a voice said in my dreams.  "Drop your blankets 
down."

    "Father said no," I heard Matthew's childish voice say.

    "Drop them or we'll beat you up," the older voice ordered 
firmly.

    "Can I do it, too?" the child replied from above me.

    "After us."

    I awoke in terror suddenly, feeling another body crawling 
onto my bunk. I looked around.  Everything was totally dark.  All 
I could see was a pie shaped opening in what appeared to be 
blankets dropped down around my bed.  I could see the dark sil-
houettes of naked boys there, could actually see stiff, slender 
things sticking straight out from beneath the dark shadows of 
their bellies and legs, nervous young voices and hushed giggles 
coming through to me.

    A much bigger, older boy was inside the room formed by my 
blankets but I could see no more of him than a dark silhouette.  
His big hands grabbed for my blankets and pulled them off my 
small body then quickly went to my mouth and clamped across it 
just as I was about to scream.  He was a much bigger boy than me, 
perhaps bigger than Jeremy.  I felt his strong, sinewy arms and 
hands grabbing hold of my little chest, felt him crawl under me, 
lifting my smaller body on top of him until my thin shoulder 
blades were rubbing across his soft, muscular chest.

    "He's dressed!" the boy hissed softly, causing the other boys 
to giggle. I screamed against his hand as I felt his other hand 
grabbing for my ragged pants.  I tried desperately to stop him, 
but he was much stronger than I was. He couldn't find the rope 
that held them shut and I heard my pants rip as the boy tore the 
fly open.  Immediately I felt his big, warm hand rub down my 
belly, reaching inside to fondle my little penis.  He moaned 
softly and I could feel a big hardness pressing against my butt 
through my pants.  It felt huge and rock-hard.  "You fucking 
little boy," he moaned in my ear as he fondled my hairless penis.

    I cried out uselessly as he effortlessly rolled me over 
again, this time pressing my face and chest against the plywood 
bed.  He still held my mouth shut as his other hand began grab-
bing at my pants and pulling them down.  He felt so strong and I 
felt so helpless.  He didn't bother trying to take them off, just 

jerked on them hard, the ragged cloth ripping easily in his 
strong fist.  I felt a breeze of cold air blow across my little 
bottom and I cried in confusion against the hand covering my 
mouth.

    "Shit!" he hissed under his breath.  His big hand jerked 
harder on my pants and they finally tore in half.  I could feel 
him pull all of the cloth out from under me, throwing them aside, 
his hand immediately returning to my body, rubbing across my 
back, down my spine, across my small round butt.

    I cried again as his slender, young body laid forward on me, 
trying to cry louder when I felt his big, hard, hairy penis 
rubbing against the crack of my butt.  "Gees, you're little," he 
breathed as he rubbed his penis there.  With his free hand, he 
pulled one of the small cheeks of my butt apart and I tried to 
scream in terror as I felt his big penis head shoving at my 
little butt hole. It was too little to admit him at first, and he 
shoved harder and harder, grunting with his effort.  The rhythmic 
pressure of his big penis head against my little butt hole was 
persistent, and I was terrified when I felt my tiny sphincter 
being forced open, felt the head of his huge penis slipping 
slowly inside me.

    The hand not clamped across my mouth now took hold of my hip, 
pulling hard on it, pulling it toward the older boy, and I felt 
his penis head forcing its way down into my little butt hole.  
"Shit!" the boy hissed painfully as he shoved his penis up me.  I 
cried against his hand, horrified by pain and fear, feeling the 
big cock shoving up inside my immature body.  "Fuck, he's 
little!"

    His baby soft chest was panting frantically as his young 
pubic hair finally pressed against my bottom.  He lay down on top 
of me, moaning and crying.  I could feel his hand caressing my 
body as he lay there with his big penis shoved all the way inside 
of me, my little body feeling like a baseball bat was shoved 
inside it.  I lay there crying against his hand and felt him very 
gently humping against me.  His penis was so big that it scarcely 
moved in the tightness of my body, but the older boy just slowly 
moved his hips back and forth and I cried with every thrust 
however slight.  Soon, I could feel his body growing harder, felt 
him rubbing more quickly against me.

    "Shit!" he hissed again.  It was a whisper, but it was ex-
tremely intense, filled with desperation.  His hips bucked 
frantically against me. Despite the pain in my butt, I could feel 
a warm, slimy liquid squirting out of his penis.  This didn't 
take the pain away, but it didn't hurt as bad.  When the boy 
stopped bucking, his tall, slender body collapsed on top of me, 
heaving for air.  For a long moment he lay there, his big penis 
still shoved inside my little butt.  I lay there crying and 
helpless beneath his one hundred and forty five pound body.  
After a half minute, I felt him pulling the huge thing out of me, 
slimy now with the liquid.  He pulled it all the way out and lay 
down on top of me again, his big, slimy penis lying against the 
crack of my butt, big hand rubbing up and down on my ribs.  He 
was gasping desperately.

    I was still crying, but was so hurt and violated I wasn't 
very loud and he let my mouth go.  "Hurry up, John," a younger 
boy's voice said.  The boy on top of me slowly moved back and I 
was relieved that he was leaving me alone. The crack between my 
buttocks felt cold as air blew against the wetness.  My terror 
jumped up again when I heard another boy crawling under the 
blankets.  I rolled over and tried to back away.

    "No, please," I begged, starting to cry louder.  The dark 

form of the bigger boy just came after me.  I backed against the 
wall, curling into a fetal position and begging the older boy not 
to hurt me.  I could feel the first boy's sperm oozing from my 
butt as the new boy's big hands grabbed my wrists and jerked me 
toward him on the plywood.  He wrestled me around like a rag 
doll, finally rolling me onto his chest like the first boy had 
done.  He was skinnier than the first boy and not quite as 
strong, but he was more than strong enough to overpower a little 
boy like me.  I lay there crying and felt his hands rubbing all 
over my skinny chest and belly as he moaned and giggled delight-
edly. I could feel his penis pressed between the cheeks of my 
butt, becoming slimy as it rubbed in the first boy's sperm.  His 
penis was only about six inches long and the excited boy was 
poking it at my little butt desperately.  Finally, I felt one of 
his hands reaching down for it as the other arm held my skinny 
body on top of him.  He guided his penis toward my little butt 
hole and I felt it pressing against the tiny orifice.  My butt, 
loosened and slimy from the first boy, yielded its innocence with 
less of a fight and I soon felt the throbbing organ between the 
other boy's legs sliding up inside me.  He moaned as he shoved it 
all the way in, his young bush of pubic hair pressed against my 
buttocks.  I felt his big hands holding me tightly around my 
skinny ribs as he started gently humping his penis in and out of 
me.

    I lay there crying and helpless, impaled by the big penis in 
my butt.  I was too scared and too confused to cry very loudly 
and he didn't bother covering my mouth.  The happy kid beneath me 
reached down and fondled my naked, hairless little penis, moaning 
as he rubbed it.  I didn't get an erection but that didn't seem 
to bother him.  He just got off on fondling little boys.  I felt 
his passion peaking and soon his slender, rock hard body was 
jerking frantically beneath me.  More sperm squirt inside my butt 
as the boy ejaculated, moaning happily and loudly, overcoming my 
pathetic cries.

    He rolled me off him and pulled his slimy penis out.  I 
prayed that he would be the last, but as soon as he was gone yet 
another boy entered.  He was about the same size as the second 
boy but his penis was smaller.  "Please don't," I begged softly 
and pathetically as his big hands rolled me over on my stomach 
again and his slender, hard body mounted me.  He felt so soft and 
smooth, his chest boyishly muscular and warm against my shoulder 
blades.  If that had been all he'd done, I would have been quite 
content to stop crying, but his big hand reached between his legs 
and I felt a third penis head poking between my cheeks, searching 
for my butt hole.  "Yeah," he moaned when he found the slimy 
entrance.  "No!" my childish voice cried pathetically, the older 
boy shoving his hips forward and driving his five inch cock down 
into me.  He really rammed it inside in a hurry and I could feel 
his sparse pubic hair rubbing outside my butt.  Like the first 
boy, he drove it all the way in and very deep, then started 
moving his hips slowly and rhythmically up and down.  With all 
the sperm inside, his penis slid easily in and out.  My butt 
hurt, but had lost the tightness it had when the first boy had 
done it.  Now, it didn't even try to deny the boys inside.  This 
boy panted and grunted with his pleasure, his voice sounding as 
high pitched and prepubescent as mine did.  I liked the feel of 
his chest on my shoulders, but my bottom felt like it was bleed-
ing and I kept crying, helpless to defend my little orifice.  I 
knew that he was finishing as his smooth, slender body bucked 
frantically on top of me and his penis ejaculated his young seed.  
I lay there pathetic and helpless, too astonished to even be 
afraid as the third boy was replaced by yet another.  Soon, I was 
so exhausted and my butt hurt so bad that I just lay there whim-
pering as the boys had their way with my little butt.  One boy's 
penis replaced another, the boys rubbing their penises inside me 
until they had orgasms, squirting out their sperm in the in-

nocence of my prepubescent butt.  Fortunately none of the cocks 
were as big as the first boy's had been and the pain got less as 
the penises got smaller.

    Eight boys had stuck their cocks up my butt and ejaculated 
before little Matthew was finally permitted to fuck me by the 
older boys.  I felt his soft, hairless body crawl in and didn't 
move as he excitedly mounted me, his small, hairless penis poking 
for my butt hole just like all the others.  He had to use his 
hand to guide it to the hole and my butt, stretched wide by the 
bigger boys, easily admitted his three and a half inch erection.  
He stuck it in and out of me more than the other boys had and I 
could feel his slender stiffness sliding in and out easily in the 
older boys' sperm.  I lay silent and unmoving and was surprised 
to discover that his slender young boyhood felt good inside me.  
It was small enough that it didn't hurt at all, just felt hard 
sliding inside my body.  He moaned at first but as he got closer 
to climax he started to giggle happily, his high pitched voice 
sounding pretty as he shoved his excited penis up me like a 
german shepherd.  His small chest and belly felt nice against my 
back and I could feel them straining as he pumped his little hips 
up and down, his smooth, hairless pubic mound pressing against my 
buttocks.  I was ashamed to discover that it was fun.  I wished 
the older boys weren't watching and laughing so much because I 
would have laid there quite happily if it weren't for my feeling 
that I was being abused and made fun of.

    Matthew's little body started straining even more desperately 
and he was making crying sounds like it hurt him or something.  
He was trying so hard to fuck me as fast as possible that it 
probably did hurt.  All the while his small butt moved up and 
down and his stiff, skinny penis slid in and out my slimy butt 
hole.  It felt so nice that for a long moment I stopped crying 
and just enjoyed the feel of his rhythmic movements, the pretty 
sound of his excited, prepubescent giggles of excitement.  I 
could feel his elbows holding tighter to my skinny chest as the 
poor boy's body contorted frantically with orgasm.  He couldn't 
pump his hips anymore, so tightly did his little muscles stiffen. 
Finally, his baby soft, slender body started to jerk like the 
older boys' had and I felt his little boner sticking deeper into 
me in short, frantic little thrusts.  I don't know if he squirt 
any sperm in my butt or not.  It was so filled with semen by the 
older boys I would never have felt any thin juice that Matthew 
might have had.  Besides, in my innocence, I didn't even know 
what their pubescent fluids were.  The boy jerked several times 
in orgasm and he was finished.

    He crawled off me right away, giggling and pulling his stiff 
erection out.  "That felt good," he giggled as the older boys 
slapped his bare back outside the bunk.  I watched the silhouette 
of his beautiful, naked body before the blanket fell back into 
place leaving me alone and whimpering in my little hovel.  I 
heard Matthew being lifted up onto the bunk above me and soon the 
blankets were lifted up.  I could hear distant boys giggling as 
they returned to their own bunks with limp, satisfied young 
cocks, but there was no one around mine.

    I didn't understand what they had done to me nor did I know 
what the slimy stuff was they'd shot all over my butt and up 
inside it.  I could still feel the slimy liquid seeping out my 
violated little body as I lay there too sore to move, crying in 
the dark of the orphanage.  A long time later, I fell asleep 
still crying.

    *     *     *     *

    "Who did this to him?!" a woman's voice screeched.


    I woke up, the pain still in my butt which felt plastered 
shut with dried sperm from the young boys.  I looked around 
bleary eyed.  The Reverend Mother stood there, the look on her 
face filled with fury.  She held the swagger stick she'd used to 
beat Oliver with the night before in one hand as she glared 
around at all the half-naked boys huddled around looking down at 
me.  The groups of boys retreated when she turned on them, but 
then crept forward a little bit when she turned away, their 
smooth faces looking down at me as I started to sob on the ply-
wood, remembering the night before.

    "Who?!" she yelled at Matthew on the bunk above me.

    "I don't know," I heard his high-pitched voice half cry 
fearfully.

    "You were sleeping above him!" she spat back.  "Don't you lie 
to me, boy!" I watched her hand reach for the little boy and she 
jerked him clear off the bed.  He had been wrapped in his blan-
ket, but it fell free as he fell to the floor and the frightened 
eleven year old boy lay there naked.  I could see dried semen 
covering his pubic area but didn't connect it with his behavior 
the night before.

    The angry woman half lifted him off the ground by one slender 
arm, the boy's ribs poking through his body, his skinny arm 
looking like it would break off.  She brought the stick down 
across his smooth, pale thigh with a loud whack and the boy 
screamed out in terror as a blue welt appeared where he'd been 
hit. She held him aloft by the same skinny arm and continued to 
strike across his thighs and buttocks, raising welts on the 
crying boy.  His small, uncircumcised penis dangled between his 
hairless legs as he struggled and cried, uselessly begging her to 
stop spanking him, his hands pathetically trying to rub the pain 
from her whacks, trying to hide his smooth, sensitive skin.

    I started to cry with him.  He was the only one of the boys I 
knew was guilty from the night before, but he was so small and 
cute and his penis hadn't hurt me.  I felt bad because I had 
liked the feel of his hairless erection rubbing in my butt and 
now he was being spanked, the older boys all standing around 
watching and doing nothing to help him or even showing any emo-
tion of guilt or sadness.

    When she had vented her rage on the small, naked child, she 
dropped him on the hard wood floor and he lay in a crumbled heap, 
sobbing as he rubbed his welts.  His body looked so pretty and 
soft, his skin so pale and smooth and hairless.  I couldn't 
believe she had hurt him.  My eyes were bleary with tears as I 
gazed at that the small, smooth, hairless penis dangling on his 
testicles as he writhed on the floor massaging his welts.  Why 
was it so pretty to me?

    She started to reach for me and I huddled back away from her 
screaming, small hands pressing forward as if to keep her away, 
terrified that she was going to beat me next.  "Stop it, child!" 
she commanded.  "I'm not going to hit you!" I was so afraid of 
her that I actually stopped screaming and sat whimpering, my 
naked body cowering in fear, the pain of my bottom momentarily 
forgotten.

    She stood back up, not daring to scare me further and looked 
relieved when Father Donovan appeared.  The man didn't ask any 
questions as he came to me, sat on the bed and quickly enfolded 
my skinny, naked body in his arms.  His voice soothed me and I 
cried against his robes.  I could feel his hands stroking my 
blond hair and down my thin shoulders.


    "Beating them isn't the answer, sister," he said, still 
comforting me.

    "Why must they pick on the little ones?" she yelled hopeless-
ly.  "Why do you have to do it to the little ones?!" she suddenly 
lashed out, making the skinny, half-naked boys cower back for a 
moment.  They still didn't look the least bit emotional, looking 
from her to me to the crying, naked child on the floor.

    "Come along now," he said to me.  His arms wrapped tighter 
around my skinny back as they lifted my naked body against his 
chest.  I felt one of his hands slip down across my buttocks and 
holding me there.  He didn't look at any of the other boys as he 
carried me toward the door, his mouth cooing to me, kissing my 
bangs and face as I sobbed in his arms.  He carried me all the 
way to the kitchen where the circle of young nuns immediately 
huddled about to comfort me.

    "Thorne's upstairs," the priest said to them, making their 
eyes fill with shock.  "See if you can make him presentable while 
the Bishop and I stall him." He gazed into my eyes and gently 
stroked my blond hair and thin neck lovingly.  "Get him something 
a Tarsec boy would like." With that, he sighed and turned away 
from me, departing out the door and leaving the orphanage.

    As I sat there looking sadly after him, the young women 
immediately replaced him, their cool hands starting to rub across 
my bare skinny chest and assuring me that everything was alright.  
Even when my fear was abated, I kept crying, instinctively know-
ing that it was my sobbing that kept their tender attention to 
me, their soft caresses, their comforting hugs.  I had no doubt:  
I liked being cared for.  Three of them set about filling a huge 
tub with hot water while the other three comforted me.  I was 
given cookies and a glass of milk and I struggled to swallow, 
slowly deciding that cookies were even better than hugs and 
allowing myself to stop crying so I could eat them.

    When the tub was almost full, the Reverend Mother returned 
with six young boys in tow.  None of them looked old enough to 
have been the boys who raped me.  They were all dressed in nice 
clothes (not expensive but nicer than they usually wore) and they 
were all clean.  None of them looked as young as I was but they 
all looked close.

    "Master Thorne's here," one of the nuns told her.

    "I know," she replied.  "They can stall him with these child-
ren while we get him prettied up.  Is that bath ready?"

    "Yes, Mother," a nun replied from the side of it.

    "Good.  You girls do what you can with him.  Use some potion 
if you have to.  I'll be back in a moment." With that, she scur-
ried the young boys ahead of her and out the door.

    The nuns led me to the kettle and lifted me over the edge so 
I could get in it.  Their soft hands held to my underarms and 
helped lower me down, me ready to screech from the heat of the 
water.  It was soothing, however, and I started to feel better as 
soon as the hot water touched my bottom.  They seemed to get 
happier as they started to clean me, their hands taking turns 
rubbing soap all over me, cleaning behind my ears, my hair, down 
across my bottom.  They even had one woman hold me up while I 
lifted each skinny leg to be washed clean by their loving hands.

    As one of the nun's hands rubbed across my chest, she looked 
at my necklace and smiled down at it sitting on my soft skin.  
She didn't touch it except when it ran against her fingers as 

they reached beneath it to rub my boy chest.  By the time they 
reached my penis, I was feeling so much better that I giggled 
when they fondled it, rubbing it with the slimy soap and smiling 
with me, delighted by my happy face.  They looked a little more 
disturbed when I got an erection, but when they saw the confused, 
frightened look on my face they smiled delightedly and assured me 
that it was normal for little boys and not to be embarrassed.  
That said, they kept washing me all over, including my erection.  
In fact, my penis was probably the cleanest part of me because 
they kept washing it for a long time.  I loved it despite my 
embarrassment.  It gave me a strange pleasure that was a little 
unsettling but very nice at the same time.

    The hot water soothed my butt a great deal.  I was very 
disturbed when they stuck a tube up inside it, but all they did 
was flush hot water inside me, washing out all of the boys' sperm 
and making it feel clean again.  By the time the Reverend Mother 
entered, I was a happy boy, giggling at their jokes and affec-
tion, my naked body shining clean and pink.  I became more quiet 
when she came in as did the nuns, but we still smiled at each 
other.

    "Very good," she nodded at my skinny, naked body standing in 
the kettle. "Dry him off," she commanded.

    The nuns helped me out of the kettle and I stood near the 
fire as they rubbed me down with towels.  One of them even 
brought out a comb and fixed my hair.  Their tenderness kept me 
excited and when the Reverend Mother called for me to come over 
to the table, my penis was still turgid and throbbing.  She paid 
little attention to it.  I was surprised by her strength as she 
lifted me onto the table and set me down on top of a thick, 
cotton cloth.  "Roll over child," she instructed.  Feeling 
strange with all of the women watching my naked, excited body, I 
did as I was told, laying on my tummy and holding my self up on 
my elbows.  My legs were hanging over the end of the table and 
the Reverend Mother spread them wide and stepped up between them.  
I blushed fantastically when I felt her fingers rubbing some cool 
cream across my small buttocks and jerked when one of her fingers 
slowly poked up inside my butt and rhythmically spread it all 
over inside me.  Her finger was more slender than the older boys 
cocks and felt almost as nice as Matthew's small erection had.  
Wherever her fingers spread the cool cream, the pain vanished 
and, by the time she was finished, I felt like I had never been 
raped at all.

    I felt her finger slide out of my butt with a little regret.  
"Lay over now," she said and I sat down on the table.  "Lay 
back." She pressed gently down on my little chest and I lay there 
blushing, my penis still throbbing, my skinny legs hanging over 
the edge of the table.  She dipped her fingers into a glass jar 
and pulled out more cream.  I started gasping in wonder and 
surprise as her loving fingers spread the cream between my legs, 
all over my little erection and little testicles.  The nuns 
smiled at me, blushing themselves as they saw my excited penis 
being caressed like it was and even more by the frightened and 
confused excitement in my childish face.

    "He really likes that, Reverend Mother," one of the young 
women said, smiling at the astonished look of wonder in my blue 
eyes.

    The Reverend Mother smiled, too, her fingers rubbing the 
cool, slimy cream around the hairless base of my penis, over my 
thick, childish scrotum, up my skinny, two inch shaft and ever so 
gently across my rock hard, purple little penis head.  This felt 
so strange against my sensitive skin that I panted fearfully, 
feeling like my stiff erection didn't belong to me anymore but 

had become a strange other person.  It felt so good that it 
scared me.

    She worked the cream well into my skin and I started making 
little crying noises, my penis feeling so good I thought someth-
ing really weird was going to happen to it at any second.

    "Oh, he's going to have an orgasm," one of the girls giggled 
adoringly and they all huddled closer to watch my naked little 
body starting to squirm uncontrollably.

    "Not if I can help it," the Reverend Mother said.  I felt sad 
when her tender fingers left my penis, leaving my erection throb-
bing and glowing a bright red from excitement.  My sensitive 
little glans looked like a purple mirror, reflecting the light of 
the kitchen.  "He's got to be a virgin for that Tarsec boy."

    "Oh, Reverend Mother," the women whined.  "One time wouldn't 
hurt. Besides, look at him:  he needs it..."

    She did look down at my throbbing erection and up into the 
confused, hopeful look in my blue eyes, and I thought she looked 
a little disappointed, too.  Instead of rubbing on my penis some 
more, however, she just pushed the blond hair back from my fore-
head and gently stroked my cheek.  "Well," she smiled, "we'll 
pick up another little boy today and we can all play with him."

    "Street boys have all done it before," one of the nuns 
sighed.  "They won't be as cute as he is."

    The Reverend Mother chose to ignore her.  "Well, that should 
make him as good as new," she said, still gazing at my naked 
body.  "Lift his legs, sisters." I looked about in confusion as 
two of the young women lifted my legs and spread them apart, me 
lying there with my stiff penis poking straight out at my face, 
my little butt before the older woman's eyes.  She just sighed as 
she looked at my hairless little testicles, then reached down and 
lifted the white cotton fabric up between my legs.  The nuns 
lowered them and the Reverend Mother pulled the cloth up tightly 
between my legs.  She produced two safety pins with little bun-
nies on them from her habit and used them to fasten the diaper's 
corners together.  She apparently had a lot of experience with 
this for the diaper fit very snugly, feeling a little tight 
against my testicles and penis. It was very thick, the fabric so 
soft that it felt nice against my erection which wasn't at all 
visible through its thickness.

    "Jump down now, child," she said, and I did so, the confine-
ment of the diaper making my erection ache a little when I moved 
my legs.  I stood there with my waist wrapped tightly in the 
diaper, my skinny chest bare.  My hair was drying quickly in the 
heat of the kitchen and the blond strands were soon falling down 
in my eyes again.

    "He's so adorable, Reverend Mother," one of the nuns said, 
smiling at me in love and trying to pet my blond bangs back.  
"Can't we keep him just as an altar boy."

    "Not if the Bishop has his way," the older woman shrugged.  
She actually smiled at my confused eyes and stroked my hair.  
"You are a sweet child," she sighed.  "Do we have a nice shirt 
for him to wear?"

    "Yes, here, Mother." One of the nuns handed her a t-shirt and 
she rolled it up, lifting the arm holes for me.  I blushed as I 
stuck my skinny arms in them and she pulled the shirt down over 
my skinny body.  It was a white shirt and I felt embarrassed when 
I saw that it had little blue bunnies and little yellow ducks on 

it:  it was a baby's shirt.  Soon I was standing in it and my 
thick diaper.  Another nun silently brought over a pair of bunny 
slippers complete with floppy ears and I sat on the table again 
as the older woman tenderly slipped them on my dainty feet.  To 
complete the baby picture, a frilly bonnet was tied under chin, 
my yellow hair still falling down over my forehead. I might have 
been eleven years old, but the nuns had dressed me like an inf-
ant. My thin, hairless legs and arms did little to argue against 
the impression.  The only thing that kept me from feeling like a 
baby was the frantic pulsing of my hairless little erection.  It 
felt like it was angry with me, like it wanted me to do something 
to it.  The feeling just confused me, however, and I wasn't about 
to experiment with it in front of the nuns.

    "Here," a young nun in her teens finally giggled, producing a 
pacifier. My pale cheeks flushed in embarrassment as I felt the 
rubber nipple pressed between my thin lips.  I just sat their 
shyly, however, and tightened my lips around it.  It did feel 
nice and, before I knew it, I felt my small chin moving up and 
down as I sucked on it.

    "Oh," one of the nuns smiled at me, clapping her hands to-
gether.  "He's so adorable."

    "Well," the Reverend Mother sighed, again stroking my yellow 
hair and gazing into my blue eyes with adoration as I rhythmical-
ly sucked on the pacifier, "I suppose we could hope Thorne does-
n't want him..."

    "Not likely," one of the nuns sighed glumly.  "They like 
pretty boys."

    They all said goodbye to me, looking sad but trying to smile.  
I just blushed as the Reverend Mother led me out the kitchen and 
back through the corridors that led away from the orphanage.  I 
was glad that I didn't have to return there and have the other 
boys see me dressed as I was.  I might have been young and might 
have had little memory, but I knew eleven year old boys shouldn't 
be seen like this.  The diaper was so tight that it chafed 
against my smooth thighs and I felt extremely silly in the baby 
slippers and bonnet I was wearing.  I kept sucking rather com-
fortingly on the pacifier, however, and thought how nice it felt.

    I wondered if there were any way that I could yet escape.  I 
was unlikely to get far dressed like a baby, but I doubted I was 
going to get many chances once I was sold.  I saw several poten-
tial routes of escape and even thought I could identify a way out 
of the cathedral but the woman was holding my thin shoulders 
tightly and I knew she was much stronger than I was.  If only I 
could go back to the alley and relive the past twenty-four hours, 
I thought.  My whole life would be different.  I walked glumly 
along, my little chin rising and falling as I sucked on the 
rubber nipple.  Soon, we found ourselves back at the door to the 
Bishop's office.  She knocked and gently pushed the door open, 
leading me in by the hand.

    The Bishop was standing near his desk.  He shot me a nervous 
look then smiled with satisfaction.  I felt ashamed and blushed, 
sucking faster on the pacifier to relieve my embarrassment.  Such 
a sight I must have made with my bare skinny legs framed against 
the bright white diaper and happy bunny shoes, my eleven year old 
face and yellow hair framed by the frilly baby bonnet and the 
pacifier stuck between my lips.  I would have taken the pacifier 
out, but sucking on it was the only part of the experience I was 
enjoying.

    The six boys she had brought earlier stood in a line against 
the wall near the fireplace.  All of them had their pants pulled 

down around their ankles and a man was walking along the line 
examining each of their penises.  He did this with his hands, 
stroking the boys and looking closely at their small, uncircum-
cised boyhoods.  All of the boys were bigger than me but only two 
of them had peach fuzz, the other four were just hairless little 
boys.  The two with peach fuzz had small erections that throbbed 
intently between their pale young legs.  All six of them looked 
frightfully embarrassed but not half as much as I did.  They at 
least had regular clothes on.  I was dressed like an infant.

    We stood there a moment in silence, the Bishop saying nothing 
to introduce us.  The strange man, suddenly realizing that 
someone had entered, turned slowly.  His eyes looked at the 
Reverend Mother with impatience, then slowly moved down and 
looked at me.  His eyes softened, looked momentarily confused.  
They didn't leave me as he let go of the hairless little penis he 
had been fondling and slowly stood up.  I blushed brighter and 
felt my chin sucking faster on the pacifier with embarrassment.

    He was a tall, handsome man of about thirty and just the way 
he dressed told me that he was a man with a lot of money.  He was 
in riding boots and had a swagger stick like the Reverend Moth-
er's.  I had a frightening image of that stick being used to 
spank my smooth, skinny thighs and felt very much afraid of him.

    "And who is this child?" he asked.  His eyes seemed to be 
stripping me and I felt naked despite my clothing.

    "Ah, that's our new altar boy," the Bishop said, beaming as 
he crossed over to us and put a tender hand between my shoulder 
blades.  "He's the first Kovz Boy we've ever had here.  I'm sure 
he'll make a fine addition to the service.  Kelvin, say hello to 
Master Thorne."

    I couldn't speak with the pacifier in my mouth and was too 
frightened of him to remove it.  The Reverend Mother took hold of 
it and tugged it out of my lips leaving a long trail of slimy 
saliva connecting them for a moment.  "Hello, sir," my childish 
voice whimpered, wishing I could suck on the pacifier some more.  
I could feel my little body backing up closer to the Reverend 
Mother, half hoping the man wouldn't like me and I could stay in 
the orphanage.

    Thorne didn't reply, nor did his eyes leave me.  He came 
closer, looking over my face and small body.  "How much?" was all 
he said.

    "We couldn't part with him, Master Thorne," the Bishop 
sighed.  "Surely you can see how special a boy he is."

    Thorne nodded absently.  "May I see him?" he asked.

    The Bishop shrugged.  "I don't see why not, but you under-
stand that he's not for sale?"

    Thorne didn't reply.  He came over to me, towering above my 
five foot, eight inch frame.  He must have been six foot, two.  I 
felt his big hands taking hold of my head, poking through my 
hair.  He turned my face up toward him and pulled my lips apart 
to examine my teeth.  I just stood there blushing.

    He leaned over and his hand took hold of the hem of my t-
shirt, lifting it up and baring my small belly and ribs.  He 
pursed his lips and pulled the t-shirt higher revealing my little 
chest and tiny pink nipples.  His other hand reached out and 
rubbed my body, causing me to shiver, only my embarrassment 
keeping me from giggling at the ticklish feel of his caresses.  
Worst of all was when his fingers petted the baby soft skin 

around my little belly button, the pale skin quivering uncontrol-
lably.  I stayed quiet, however.

    He bent his knees and knelt close to me as his hand took hold 
of one of the safety pins.  I was shocked to have my boyhood 
bared once again, but I felt the Reverend Mother's hands holding 
my shoulders to restrain the nervous wiggling of my body, making 
me stand still and let the man unveil my hairless little penis.  
I hadn't been aware that I still had an erection, but my penis 
was throbbing its boyish two inches and glowing red with pres-
sure, the little head still shining like a purple mirror.  Thorne 
actually gasped as he touched it, his fingers feeling all around 
the hairless base and small testicles.  He even pulled on the 
loose skin along the shaft, trying unsuccessfully to get it to 
cover my immature purple glans.  It felt so good that I awkwardly 
let out a little cry of pleasure, my skinny legs feeling weak.

    Thorne smiled up at my childish pleasure.  "Did you train him 
to do that?" he asked.

    "As you can see," the Bishop shrugged, "the child is very 
sensitive."

    "Hmmm," Thorne said.  He took another look at my erection 
then stood up. As he walked back to the line of other boys, the 
Reverend Mother leaned over and refitted my diaper, pulling it 
tight and refastening it.  She pulled my t-shirt back over my 
hairless belly, too, and I felt very grateful when I felt the 
pacifier, slimy now from my earlier saliva, slip between my thin 
lips.  I started sucking on it immediately, watching the man 
nervously.

    "How much do you want for him, Bishop?" he asked.

    "As I said, sir, the child is not for sale."

    "Fifty pounds of gold," Thorne said immediately. disregarding 
the Bishops denials.  After a moment, he turned to look for the 
Bishop's response.

    "I'm sure I couldn't let him go for two hundred, sir," the 
Bishop shrugged helplessly.  "Kovz Boys are extremely rare and 
you can see how special this one is.  Surely you understand my 
position."

    "Yes, I'm sure I do," Thorne said with a wry, almost angry 
smile.  "But you surely don't expect me to pay more for him than 
I would pay for a hundred boys.  My son could get in a lot with a 
hundred boys."

    "A hundred would not be a Kovz Boy.  Since you have been a 
good customer in the past and since you do have pull with the 
Tarsec Army, I might be persuaded to go as low as 150 pounds."

    Thorne thought about it, looking at me again.  "He's only a 
little boy. He's probably too young for my son."

    "One hundred and twenty-five," the Bishop shrugged, "for his 
growing years."

    "And if he doesn't grow?  Some of them are little boys forev-
er."

    "If he doesn't grow, you'll rent him out to your neighbors' 
sons for a hundred years," the Bishop smiled knowingly.  "And if 
he does grow, you needn't be concerned about your investment:  
he's a pretty boy, sir.  They'll pay as much for him as they will 
for your boy, one day, with a guarantee that they'll have nothing 

but male offspring.  As to his age now, I think his erections are 
proof enough of his willingness to please."

    "Then he's been used.  I want a virgin for my boy.  Eric's a 
pretty special kid, too."

    "If you can look in this child's eyes and tell me he's been 
used, sir, I'll make the price 100, but I assure you he has never 
been touched."

    Thorne looked at me.  I didn't know what they were talking 
about and just stood there in blank confusion.  He sighed and 
looked away.  "You hadn't told me you had a Kovz Boy for sale," 
he said.

    "He's new.  An orphan."

    "Then how do I know he's not a Boylover?" Thorne said turning 
on him. "The legends say there was a boylover named Kelvin..."

    "Your Dairean legends aren't my concern, sir.  We all know 
about Kovz Boys because, unlike Boylovers, they've been around, 
albeit rare, since the beginning of time.  Boylovers are, to our 
religion, nothing but creations used by your Old Ones to scare 
your boys into obedience.  We're not concerned with them."

    "You speak blasphemy!" Thorne said, eyes wide.

    "Blasphemy to Daireans only," the Bishop replied without the 
slightest fear.  "I'm a Bishop of the Order of Analeeya, not a 
Dairean priest.  If you want your son to have his own Kovz Boy to 
play with, here he is.  If not, the other boys are there for your 
inspection."

    "I know about Analeeyan priests," Thorne spat.  "I'd be 
surprised if any boy your priests or nuns look at is a virgin for 
more than thirty minutes!"

    "At least we don't breed our boys like animals as soon as 
they start ejaculating and then send them into battle as soon as 
they've spawned a dozen offspring," the Bishop countered, his 
smile dripping with venom.

    Thorne looked like he was going to fight harder, but didn't.  
He looked at the other boys, all still with their pants pulled 
down, all as confused as I was by the discussion.  "A hundred 
twenty-five," he leered shaking his head. "It costs me that much 
to raise a boy to manhood."

    "You don't have to spoil the child, sir," the Bishop said.

    "I do the way Eric coddles the little things," he said almost 
under his breath.  He looked back at me and sighed.  "Do you have 
his toys?" he asked, his voice still tinged with anger.

    The Bishop motioned to Father Donovan who produced the knap-
sack I'd been found with.  "My son deserves the best," Thorne 
said sifting through the things. "He's a big boy and he's only 
thirteen.  I'll pay you one hundred and twenty-five pounds for 
the child."

    "Very well," the Bishop smiled.  "Fifty for the toys."

    Throne whirled on him with eyes wide and burning with fury.  
When he saw the Bishop's confident, almost arrogant smile, howev-
er, he softened, cursed and turned away.  "One hundred fifty, 
then," he said, already walking over to me and starting to exam-
ine my teeth and looking down my throat again.

    "The child is your's, Master Thorne," the Bishop replied with 
a smug smile.

    The men didn't speak any further.  The Reverend Mother gave 
me a hug and wished me well, her eyes glistening ever so slightly 
as her fingers stroked my cheeks.  After that, she told the other 
boys to pull their pants on and led them away.  I never saw her 
again.

    Thorne's valet entered and produced several large bars of 
gold which were given to Father Donovan.  The priest just watched 
as I was sadly led away by the valet.  Thorne stayed behind as 
the valet walked me out to the carriage. We appeared on the front 
steps of the cathedral and the sun seemed so bright that for a 
moment I thought it would blind me.  The man paid very little 
attention to me.  His hands held to my shoulders like vice grips 
as he led me to the carriage and put me inside.  I instantly 
popped into the window to look around.  The carriage itself was 
very nice, lined with mahogony and gold, the interior carpeted 
with satin benches.

    The square looked much as it had the previous day, filled 
with angry people pretending to be happy as they dealt with their 
wealthier customers. There were still street boys around, almost 
everywhere, and I thought that I had glimpsed the boy from the 
alley for a moment.  I was about to shout to him, but he soon 
disappeared.  I wondered if I could slip out the carriage doors 
and make a run for it before the valet could catch me, but decid-
ed against trying.  The carriage was nice.  Master Thorne seemed 
a little stern, but I didn't think he would beat me.  Perhaps it 
was worth it to stay put for a while and see how things turned 
out.  I stayed put and didn't make a sound until the man arrived.

    "Where are we going?" my childish voice bashfully asked the 
man as he took his seat across from me.

    He didn't answer.  Just stared at me for a long time until I 
sat back on the bench and wished he'd stop staring.  The horses 
started off and the man was still looking at me.

    "How old are you, boy?" he asked me.

    "Eleven," I replied, unable to look at his burning eyes.

    "Are you a Kovz Boy?" he asked.

    I didn't know what one was and had to shrug in answer, still 
looking away.

    "Are you a Boylover?" he continued.

    I just swallowed.  What was a "Boylover"?

    The man sniffed derisively and I looked up to see him leering 
at me.  I looked away again.  Maybe I should have escaped when I 
could.  "Man, Eric's going to eat you alive, boy," he said final-
ly.  He didn't speak to me again.

    We spent that day and evening in a hotel near the big square.  
My arms and legs were bound.  The shammy ropes weren't tight and 
didn't hurt, but I wasn't able to get away.  Thorne slept in a 
large comfortable bed and left me lying in my diaper and t-shirt 
on the carpet in a corner.  They had taken the bunny slippers 
from me and my feet were cold, but I was tired and slept through 
the night, still sucking on the pacifier like it was the only 
friend I had in the world.

    The next morning, they fed me and we got an early start 

toward Thorne's village which I learned was located high in the 
mountains near a dwarven city. Neither Thorne nor the valet spoke 
to me except to ask if I was hungry or if I needed water.  They 
put me in the carriage with Thorne who sat on one side while I 
sat with arms bound on the other.  Despite being afraid and tied 
up, I enjoyed the ride.  Since Thorne ignored me, I was free to 
watch out the window at all the farms and hills going by.

    On the second day, we began climbing into the mountains and 
the lush green lowlands gradually became drier and less populat-
ed.  At night, I was left to sleep under the carriage with a 
blanket, the entire inside becoming a bed for the man.  It was 
cold, but I wasn't badly treated and didn't mind except that I 
didn't know where I was going.  I was only a boy, however, and 
didn't know any other way of life.  Soon there were no more farms 
and no more people.  The mountains seemed bare compared to the 
lowlands, nothing but sparse trees and brush.

    Late on the third day, the wagon pulled to a stop and I 
leaned out the window to see what was happening.  There were 
several short, bearded men, no more than three feet tall, talking 
to the valet/carriage driver and checking papers.  When they 
finished with him, one of them came back to the carriage, hopped 
up on the running board and looked in.

    "Thorne," the little man nodded curtly, looking me up and 
down.  He was so funny looking that I giggled which didn't seem 
to make him very happy.  He glowered at my naked legs and diaper.  
"That Eric's boy?" he asked.

    Thorne sighed.  "Yes, if you must know."

    "Kind of young, ain't he?" the dwarf asked.

    "He's old enough," Thorne replied.  "Our papers are in order, 
Sergeant. If you will please let us go, I won't feel it necessary 
to contact your superior officer."

    The dwarf glared at him angrily, but jumped off the running 
board and motioned for the driver to pass through the gate.  I 
leaned out the window and grinned at the small people.  They were 
delightfully funny looking and I wished I could stay and play 
with them, but I wasn't going to ask Master Thorne for permis-
sion.  Instead I sat back down and remained silent.

    It was dark out and I was dozing before we finally pulled 
into the Thorne estate at Tarsec Village.  Thorne just sniffed at 
me and crawled out of the carriage.  "Bring the child," he told 
the footman who held the door for him.

    "Yes, sir," the man said crisply.  Torches ran all along the 
cobblestone drive that led to the huge mansion and their light 
flooded into the carriage as the footman looked in at me.  He 
smiled at me and I smiled back.  All this did was make him shake 
his head and smile bigger.  "Kovz magic," I heard him say to 
himself.  He took me by the arm and pulled me out of the car-
riage.

    "Is that him?" another servant asked from the front porch.

    "Yeah.  He's a cute little guy, isn't he?" the footman said 
leading me toward the door.

    "Lord, he's just a child."

    "Master Thorne paid a hundred and fifty gold for him."

    "A hundred fifty?!  What is he, a Kovz Boy?"

    The footman nodded solemnly and the other man looked im-
pressed.  He looked down at me, pulling my chin up to look at my 
face.  "Pretty, alright. Nothing but the best for Master Eric."

    He opened the door and the footman led me into the house.  
Outside, it looked huge and impressive with tall white columns 
and bright torchlight. Inside it was just as impressive.  We 
entered into a marble entryway.  The stone felt cool beneath my 
bare feet as I plodded along beside the footman, staring in awe 
at the gold framed paintings, the crystal chandelier, the plush 
red carpet. Everything was so clean and shiny that I felt very 
dirty and out of place.  I was dirty, too.  The nights spent 
sleeping on the ground had left my diaper and the t-shirt looking 
filthy.  Adding to my embarrassment, Master Thorne had refused to 
stop the first time I'd asked to go to the bathroom and I had, 
quite helplessly, wet the diaper.  After that, Master Thorne 
would ask me if I needed to poop or pee.  The only time he'd tell 
the driver to stop was if I said I had to poop.  Otherwise, he 
told me to just go in the diaper.  Being boyishly honest with 
him, I frequently found myself sitting in the carriage as my 
penis tinkled into the thick cotton.  By the time we'd reached 
the village, the diaper was stained with urine and I knew every-
one around me would be able to smell it.

    The footman led me to a room off to the left and knocked on 
the double doors.  Thorne called for him to bring me in and the 
man obeyed.

    The room we entered was as ornate as the one we had left, but 
it was also furnished with crushed velvet chairs and couches, a 
large marble fireplace, and various tables and crystal sculp-
tures.  The footman left me standing there with my arms still 
bound and closed the door behind him.

    There were five people in the room.  The first was Master 
Thorne himself who stood in his riding clothes in front of the 
couch eagerly lighting a pipe as if he hadn't smoked since leav-
ing the village, which, to my knowledge, he hadn't.  Sitting on 
the couch was a woman who was about ten or fifteen years older 
than him and a teenaged girl, both with the same dark hair as the 
man and both with beautiful, sculptured faces.  Against one wall 
was a very cute boy who watched me intently.  He was holding a 
book in his big hands but he slowly put it aside when I entered.  
He was a little older than me, his legs and arms looking long and 
awkward, his hands looking too big for his five foot, three inch 
body.  He looked thin in a pair of slacks and shirt.  Another 
boy, a couple of years older, stood a few feet from the first.  
He was a little more than five and a half feet tall and looked 
muscular in his suit.  He took a few steps toward me and looked 
at me with deep brown eyes.  The way he looked at me made me feel 
naked and I blushed brightly and looked away.  All five were 
looking at me and I blushed uncomfortably.

    "He's awful little," the older boy said.

    "And filthy," the girl added, looking a little disgusted.

    "They're all like that, Gary" Thorne replied to the boy, 
looking me up and down.  I felt silly in my dirty diaper but I 
didn't say anything.

    "You didn't say you were going to buy a Kovz Boy," the older 
woman pointed out.  Her voice sounded sweet and pleasant, but 
even I could hear the hint of displeasure in her voice.

    Thorne sniffed.  "What do you think, Eric?" the man asked, 
ignoring her.


    The younger boy blushed when his name was mentioned and he 
stood up.  He looked at me beneath long, dark eyelashes, looking 
as bashful and nervous as I felt.  "Well, speak up, boy," Thorne 
said.  "I bought him for you."

    The boy just looked more nervous and swallowed uncomfortably.  
I looked at him remembering that Thorne and the Bishop had said 
that Eric was going to be my new owner.  This seemed hard to 
believe because he only looked about thirteen; that seemed too 
young to own a slave to me somehow.  He was extremely cute, 
however, even cuter than the boy in the alley and cuter than 
Sandy, too. His young face looked extremely soft and beardless 
and he had a naturally dark complexion like the rest of the 
family.  He looked so shy and bashful that I found myself liking 
him right away and the pale rosy glow in his cheeks was adorable.  
He was wearing slacks and a dress shirt that hung loosely against 
his thin frame, and his young body looked very awkward.  If I had 
to be a slave, I thought I'd want to be Eric's slave.

    Thorne looked at him in disappointment, shook his head and 
looked back at me.

    "The dinner will be tomorrow night then?" the woman asked 
smiling and lifting her eyebrows, pointedly looking casually 
away, her demure voice not lost on the man.

    "No.  The following night," Thorne said.  "I want enough 
notice for everyone in town to see what I got for Eric.  I tell 
you, Elouise, it'll heat the bidding war for him right up through 
the roof.  By the time we're finished he'll be worth three times 
what we got for Gary."

    The older boy blushed at this and didn't look very happy 
about it, but he didn't say anything.

    "He's very little," the woman pointed out.

    "I tell you he's old enough.  I checked him myself."

    "...and filthy," the girl said again, though she seemed to be 
smiling at me through her disgust at my dirty body and pee 
stained diaper.

    "We've been on the road for three days.  What did you expect 
him to look like?"

    "What's his name?" the younger boy finally asked.  He looked 
down at the floor as he asked this, his high pitched voice so 
soft and quiet, I was uncertain if he had actually spoken.

    "Well, what do you know, it talks," Thorne said sarcastical-
ly, scowling at the shy boy.  "Kelvin," he added as an after-
thought.

    "How old is he?" Eric asked.

    "Who knows?" Thorne shrugged.  "He's an orphan.  They all are 
you know. He doesn't know about it though, Eric, I promise you 
that.  You'll have yourself quite a little treasure there."

    This made the boy blush even brighter and he didn't say 
anything more. The family seemed strange in ages.  Master Thorne 
looked young himself, in his early thirties at the oldest, while 
Mrs.  Thorne looked to be in her mid-forties, perhaps older.  
When you considered that the girl was in her late teens, Gary was 
perhaps fifteen or sixteen, and Eric was thirteen... well, even I 
figured Master Thorne must have been fourteen or fifteen when his 
daughter was born.

    "I think he's pretty," she said, smiling at me suddenly as 
she ignored my dirty diaper and made me blush.  "Does he have to 
be tied up all the time?"

    "No.  Not always," Thorne replied.  "Just until Eric's got 
him housebroken.  He's very valuable and I don't want anyone to 
risk him escaping. These boys don't know what's good for them."

    The door opened and a large, middle-aged woman entered.  She 
had silver hair and warm, friendly eyes.  She looked a great deal 
like the rest of the family and I thought she must have been a 
relative somehow.  She strolled in gazing at me with a big smile.  
"What an adorable child," she said gazing at me.

    "That's the boy I bought for Eric," Thorne said proudly, a 
casual glance at his wife on the couch.  "Will, you make sure the 
announcements get out, Mama?" he asked her.  "I want to have the 
dinner the night after next."

    "Of course," the woman said still smiling at me.  Her hand 
stroked my hair and down my smooth cheeks.  "What a precious 
boy," she said, her voice sounding gentle and loving, "even if he 
is a bit filthy.  Why is this child tied up?" she asked, suddenly 
realizing I was bound.

    "I paid a hundred and fifty gold for him.  I don't want him 
getting away."

    "A hundred and fifty gold?!  John, have you lost your mind?" 
the woman exclaimed.  This time it was Mrs. Thorne's turn to look 
at Thorne.  "He's a pretty child, but one hundred and fifty 
gold?!"

    "He's a Kovz Boy, Mama," Thorne explained.  "You women just 
don't understand things the way we men do.  Why, my father would 
have paid twice that if he could have gotten a Kovz Boy for me, 
and I would have been grateful, too. Why, we'll be renting him 
out while we've got great grandchildren bouncing on our knees.  
He'll make us several times what I paid."

    "Posh," the woman said with a shrug, obviously as unimpressed 
as Mrs. Thorne was.  "Well, the damage is done.  I can tell Eric 
likes him," she smiled looking over at the blushing boy who, 
though his head was turned downward, was looking up through his 
dark bangs and long eyelashes at me.

    "Will you get him cleaned up and put to bed, Mama?" Thorne 
asked, sounding a little angry and disappointed that he wasn't 
being praised for buying me.  "Put him in the room next to Er-
ic's...  and make sure the door's locked."

    "Why are you locking the door?  You bought him for Eric, 
didn't you?"

    "Yes, but not until the dinner.  I want the town there."

    Mama shrugged.  "Fine.  Looking at Eric, I don't think you 
could keep him away from this child if the door weren't locked." 
The young boy blushed still brighter at this adult teasing, 
looking like he wanted to cry in embarrassment.  There was a huge 
mound between his legs that he was awkwardly trying to hide with 
his big hands.  "Carolyn, child, you want to help?  A boy's 
sister is supposed to help with this sort of thing."

    The girl blushed slightly, but smiled.  "Sure, I'll help," 
she said.

    "First we'll get these bindings off," Mama smiled at me as 

she turned me back toward the door, Carolyn coming after us.

    "Boy!" Master Thorne said stopping us.  I turned to him, my 
blue eyes gazing at him uncertainly.  "I want your promise that 
you won't try to escape."

    I didn't know why I would try to escape or where I would go 
if I did so I said, "I promise."

    Thorne looked at me suspiciously for a long moment.  "You 
like Eric, don't you?" he asked motioning toward the young boy 
with his pipe.  I looked over at the lanky boy as he blushed and 
looked away, still covering the bulge in his slacks with his 
hand.  I did think he was very cute, but did that I mean I liked 
him?

    "I don't know," I answered honestly, fearing the man would 
get angry with me.

    Instead, he just sniffed through his nose and a knowing leer 
came to his face.  "Well, you will like him.  You're going to 
like him a lot."

    The way he said it made me embarrassed and I looked into his 
eyes with all my pathetic innocence.

    "Come on, now, honey," Mama said, turning my thin shoulders 
away from Thorne and leading me out into the entry way.  As soon 
as the door closed, she turned to the butler.  "Untie the child," 
she ordered, shaking her head in memory of Thorne.

    The older man arched in eyebrow, but silently pulled the 
knots free from my bindings and I felt them fall aside.  My hands 
were always untied when I ate or when I had to go poop, so I 
hadn't been tied up all the time, but I was still glad to have 
them free and I rubbed my skinny arms happily.

    "Does he talk?" Carolyn asked as Mama walked us up the 
stairs.  "Can you talk, sweetheart?" she asked, her gentle hand 
rubbing my back.

    I blushed up at her and nodded.  She laughed; it was a soft 
delicate laugh, however, and I wasn't offended.  She was like the 
nuns at the orphanage and I knew she liked me.  "He smells," she 
said over the top of my head as if I couldn't hear her.  I 
blushed brightly, but kept walking as if I hadn't heard her.

    "He's just wet his diaper," Mama said, smiling and squeezing 
my shoulders as if knowing that I was embarrassed.  I was more 
than a little worried that they would think I wasn't potty 
trained, but didn't say anything.

    "I don't think Eric will like it if he wets the bed," the 
girl said simply, ignoring my embarrassment.

    "Oh, Eric's going to like this boy no matter what he does," 
Mama dismissed her.  I wished that they would ask me if I wet the 
bed so I could tell them I didn't, but I was too shy to say 
anything without them asking me a question.

    They led me to a bathroom and I nervously realized that they 
were planning to bathe me.

    "You take his clothes off and I'll have them bring the 
water," the older woman said, walking out of the room and leaving 
me alone with the girl.

    "Come here, sweetie," she said turning me to her.  She looked 

down at my nervous face as I slowly walked over to her looking 
down at the floor in helplessness.  "Are you scared?" she asked.

    I shook my head.

    "Well, don't be.  Nobody's going to hurt you." With that, she 
pulled the hem of my shirt up and stripped it from my belly and 
chest.  "There we are," she said soothingly.  "Oh, you have a 
necklace," she smiled seeing it lying between my little, pink 
nipples.  I looked down at it as her slender fingers took hold of 
it, seeing how dirty I was between my ribs and how filthy the 
diaper was.  She looked at the medallion on both sides, but put 
it back with a smile.  "You should have one of the dwarves put 
something on that," she said. "Necklaces are prettier when they 
have a picture or inscription on them."

    I was about to tell her that it did have an inscription and a 
picture, but my belly twitched as I felt her cool fingers reach-
ing for the safety pins that held my diaper shut.  She undid 
these very daintily and I could see a look of displeasure on her 
face, her small nose wrinkled and wanting to turn away from it.  
Finally the pins came undone and she pulled it from my slender 
hips, holding it away from her as she dropped it off to the side.  
I stood there naked and blushing, my hairless little penis limp 
on my little testicles.  It was dirty, too.  Despite how tight 
the diaper had been, dust had crept down the top and my smooth 
thighs and hairless penis looked almost brown from dirt.  I 
waited for her to fondle my boyhood like everyone else seemed to 
do but she just smiled reassuringly at me.  "There, now, that's 
not so bad," she said, her hand tenderly holding to my skinny rib 
cage and hugging it softly until I blushed and smiled.

    Mama came back in followed by a string of girls carrying 
buckets of steaming water.  The girls started emptying the scald-
ing hot water in the huge tub and Mama turned on a faucet that 
ran cold water in with it.  "Well, are we ready for our bath?" 
she asked.

    "You bet," the girl smiled for me.  "Uh, Mama, come here a 
second."

    The woman came over and Carolyn pointed down at my penis 
still smiling at my nervous face.  "What did they do to him?" she 
asked.

    "Well, I've never seen a circumcised boy before.  I've heard 
they do it in the Southland, but not in Tarsec.  Are you from the 
Southland, child?" she asked me.

    I didn't know where I was from, so I shrugged my skinny 
shoulders, embarrassed that they were looking at my little penis.

    "Well, no matter," Mama said.  "I'm sure it still works." She 
seemed to think this was a joke, but I just blushed.

    "But why is it like that, Mama?" the girl asked, still con-
fused.

    "Oh, honey, they just cut off the skin," the older woman 
said.

    "Didn't it hurt him?"

    "I don't know honey," the woman said impatiently.  "They 
probably did it when he was just a baby."

    "But babies feel things, don't they?"


    "I don't know," Mama said again, obviously not caring for the 
whole thought of boys being circumcised.

    "That must have been scary for a little baby," the girl said, 
her eyes filled with concern as her hands gently stroked my 
little shoulders.  After a moment, her concern for me slipped 
aside and she turned back to the woman. "What if Eric doesn't 
like it, Mama?" she asked.

    "Girl, if you saw that boy the way I saw him just now, he's 
not going to care what the child looks like down there, just 
whether or not it works."

    I didn't understand too much of what they were saying other 
than that it was about my penis.  I stood there blushing as they 
took off their shoes and socks, their legs bare below the knee.  
When the water was about a foot deep, Mama led me up some steps 
on the outside of the tub and down some other steps on the in-
side.  Soon the three of us were standing in knee-deep water, all 
the servants gone.  Both of them took up bars of soap and started 
rubbing them across my bare skin as I stood silent and blushing.

    "I remember when it was Eric's turn," Carolyn giggled and the 
older woman laughed.

    "Well, we'll give Kelvin his real bath before the dinner," 
Mama said. "We'll want him to be all ready for Eric."

    I stood silently as I felt their slimy hands rubbing all over 
my body, up into my hairless armpits, up and down my legs.  
Mama's hands were rubbing across my tiny nipples and she looked 
at the silver medallion on my small boy chest.  She held it in 
her slimy fingers as Carolyn had done and looked at it on both 
sides.  She shrugged and put it back.  I thought it looked pretty 
against my smooth, white skin and looked down at it as their 
hands rubbed my body.  I didn't know what else to do so I just 
stood there.  My body shook when Carolyn's tender hands started 
rubbing around my little penis.

    "It's okay," she smiled at my childishness.  "I'm just going 
to clean it." Her slimy hands rubbed all over it, rubbing my 
hairless scrotum and all around my belly, scrubbing the dirt from 
between my legs.  "Oh," she giggled when we both felt my erection 
growing.  She lowered her hands and she and Mama both grinned as 
my little penis quickly stood out at attention from my hairless 
pubic mound, the little thing quickly throbbing up and down in 
the lather. "Well," she laughed, "it works." They both laughed 
and my head hung lower in shame.  She started to rub soap on it 
again and I was soon crying softly.  My penis felt so good and I 
was startled by the pleasure that filled it.  It felt like it had 
when the Reverend Mother had rubbed the cream on it and I found 
myself hoping that the girl wasn't going to stop the way she had.

    "Oh, be careful, girl," Mama said, suddenly pulling Carolyn's 
hand away from my erection.  "I think that had better do it for 
his boyhood." Both women laughed.  "Yes, Master Thorne picked a 
fine boy for Eric."

    Carolyn started cleaning my thighs still smiling as my stiff 
penis continued to throb.  "It's awful little though, isn't it?  
Eric's is so big, you know."

    "God, yes, child," Mama laughed knowingly.  "But this boy 
will grow. With a boy like Eric around, I wouldn't be surprised 
if he's making babies in a week." They laughed again.  I was too 
confused to even be embarrassed.

    "Do boys ever do anything but play with each other, Mama?" 

the girl asked.

    "Of course not, honey.  Not when they're Eric and Kelvin's 
age."

    "They're kind of like puppies, aren't they?  I mean, you 
can't really talk to them or anything."

    "That's true.  But they get around one way or another and 
they are pretty."

    Carolyn was washing my legs and looked wistful.  "I hope I 
get a good husband some day."

    "Oh, you will, child," Mama smiled.  "Master Thorne's got 
enough money to buy you the nicest boy in town."

    "What if he buys me a hairless little kid?" she asked.  "What 
if I have to spend all my time making sure he isn't playing with 
little boys?"

    "Nonsense," Mama sighed.  "Master Thorne's going to get you a 
big strapping boy, one who's done with childish games."

    "I hope so..." Carolyn sighed.

    Soon they were rinsing my naked body off, my hairless erec-
tion now poking out clean and pink as the water ran along it.  
"Lord, child," Mama shook her head at it.  "Even Eric's wasn't 
this active." I didn't know what she meant, but I was embarrassed 
anyway and blushed crimson.

    They washed my hair and rinsed it and I still stood with my 
painful little erection.  It might have gone away, but I couldn't 
take my mind off it. It felt nice when it was hard but it also 
made me want to do something and I didn't know what.  I was very 
confused.

    When I was finally clean and all rinsed off, they took me 
back out of the tub, stiff little boyhood still sticking straight 
out from between my legs as I walked.  They dried me with towels 
and combed my hair then covered my body with a cool cream that 
felt like the magic potion of the orphanage.  Unlike the orphan-
age, however, they rubbed it liberally all over my body and it 
made my skin feel real soft and made it smell like baby powder.  
When Carolyn started putting it on my penis, I immediately gasped 
in surprise at how good it felt and my legs almost buckled with 
pleasure.

    "Do it quickly," Mama said, and the girl's fingers quickly 
coated my erection and testicles.  The quick motion of her fin-
gers up and down on my penis made me cry again and made the 
pleasure between my legs grow quickly greater.  I wanted to beg 
her to keep doing it, but she finished and quickly stopped touch-
ing me down there.

    "I don't think he's going to make it through the night, 
Mama," Carolyn smiled at my frantic little boner.

    By the time they had finished working the cream into my skin, 
my hair was dry and Carolyn mussed it up and grinned at me.  
"You're ready for my little brother right now, aren't you, Kel-
vin?" she asked.

    I didn't know what she was talking about and just stood there 
blushing into her brown eyes.  "Daddy really outdid himself, 
Mama," she said.


    "Honey, with this child I might actually start believing all 
those stories about Kovz Boys.  Let's see what he has to wear." 
She poked around in my bag and pulled out the silk scarves uncer-
tainly.  Only the panties seemed recognizable.  "Well, I suppose 
he can sleep in these.  Do you wet the bed, child?" she finally 
asked, and I was relieved to finally get to shake my head: I 
hadn't so far.  She held the panties low to the ground for me and 
I stepped into them.  She pulled them up my slender, hairless 
legs and they covered my erection.

    "Mama, maybe he needs a diaper anyway," Carolyn said, tread-
ing gently around accusing me of wetting the bed now that I had 
said I didn't.

    "Oh, nonsense," Mama said easily.  "If he wets, he wets.  
Eric did until he was twelve.  Hmmm.  He doesn't have a night 
shirt though," she said, uncertainly feeling through the silk 
cloths.

    "He's just sleeping," Carolyn giggled at the woman's concern.  
"It won't matter.  Boys sleep naked most of the time anyway."

    They seemed satisfied by this and they led me out of the 
bathroom.  We walked down the hallway and stopped at a door 
halfway up it.  We were about to enter when the door to the room 
next to it opened and Eric poked his head out. He looked at my 
little body standing between them, naked save for the panties 
that left a small, skinny bulge between my legs that showed how 
little my boyhood was.  He was still in his suit but I found 
myself enchanted by his pretty face.  "Well?" he blushed to 
Carolyn.

    Carolyn grinned from ear to ear and held her hand up in an a-
ok sign. The pretty boy blushed brighter, but smiled.  He looked 
at me with his deep brown eyes.  They were beautiful eyes, clear 
and deep and looking tender and loving as they gazed into mine.  
Away from his father he didn't seem quite so shy and I could feel 
his eyes gazing over my little chest and down my skinny body, a 
faint smile on his slender lips as he saw the slender bulge of my 
erection in my panties.  "He has a boner already?" the young kid 
asked, blushing brighter but smiling.

    "Yes, child, he has a boner," Mama admitted, shaking her head 
at the boy's excitement.  "If it makes you feel any better, he's 
had one from the moment we left you and I'm pretty much willing 
to bet he'll have one from this day on.  Does that make you 
happy?"

    Eric blushed still brighter, his soft brown cheeks growing 
rosy red, but the boy still smiled at her and looked very happy.  
"Yes, Mama," his high pitched voice replied, repressing a giggle 
that Carolyn shared.

    "Well, thank the stars!" Mama exclaimed, throwing up her 
hands in mock exasperation.  "He's an angel, child," she suddenly 
said in a more serious tone to the young boy.  "You're daddy did 
good for you."

    Still blushing brightly, Eric looked at me again.  For a 
moment, his deep brown eyes locked on my pale blue ones and I 
felt my small body eagerly wanting to melt into the adoration I 
saw in them.  Slowly, however, the young kid's eyes scanned down 
my almost naked, skinny body and I felt naked again, as if all he 
was thinking about was my penis and me without any clothes on.  I 
didn't mind this, mind you.  The boy in the alley back at the 
city had been thinking the same thing and I had so often wished I 
had stayed with him over the past four days.  If I had to let 
Eric play with my penis in order to have a home, I was already 

prepared to do that.  More than that, I found myself gazing into 
his face with a strange feeling of fascination and boyish infat-
uation.  He was very cute.  I wanted him to be my friend as much 
as I'd wanted the boy in the alley to be my friend, even more so.  
If that meant letting him play with my penis, I was all ready to 
let him do it.  I would have done anything to have a friend.

    "I'll see you tomorrow," the kid's high-pitched soprano voice 
smiled to me finally.

    "Bye," I said, awkwardly trying to hide the boyish infatua-
tion I felt for him.  Everybody seemed to know something I didn't 
but it all pointed to the idea of Eric playing with my penis.  I 
didn't understand it all, but it sounded okay to me.

    Mama opened the door we had been standing in front of with a 
smile at Carolyn and gently pressed my back, pushing me into the 
room beyond.  My eyes hung back as long as they could, soaking in 
the warmth and affection from Eric's, but the door frame got in 
the way and I reluctantly left the cute boy standing in the 
hallway.

    "Here you are, child," Mama said, crossing the room and 
putting my bag down on the big bed.  It was the most amazing room 
I could imagine:  far nicer than the room at the orphanage.

    "Is it all mine?" I asked walking about in awe.  There were 
even a dozen teddy bears sitting on the bed and I resisted the 
desire to dive into them and cuddle with them.

    "It is for now," Carolyn smiled.  "I think Eric will want to 
start sharing a room with you real soon."

    This was fine by me.  The room was more than big enough for 
two of us. It was big enough to house the whole family.  Both 
women kissed my forehead and excused themselves, wishing me a 
good night.  There were two doors in the room: the one we'd 
entered and another one that must have led to Eric's room.  Mama 
went to this one and locked it with a key, smiling as she slipped 
the key into her apron pocket.  "Just in case he gets a little 
too eager," she smiled at me as if I knew what she was talking 
about.  That done, she and Carolyn exited into the hallway and I 
heard the lock to my room being turned.

    I looked around the room, gazing in boyish wonder.  I would 
have poked into everything, but I saw my bag sitting on the bed 
and I was curious about it again.  I hadn't had time to look in 
it since I had first woken up and I'd almost forgotten what my 
little things looked like.  Someone had cleaned it at some point 
in my strange travels and it now felt soft, almost new.  I pulled 
the towels out first, the white silk things billowing easily as I 
swung them around.  There were eight of them.  They were pretty 
to look at and felt nice but I couldn't figure out what they were 
for.  Were they clothes or something?

    Suddenly, I knew what they were:  they were clothes: magic 
clothes.  I didn't know where this enlightenment came from, but I 
soon felt my hands moving as if by their own accord.  Just by 
thinking it, the ends of the light fabric seemed to knit them-
selves together without any sign of seams.  Soon, I had formed 
and unformed a dozen outfits, all perfectly fitted to my small, 
skinny body.  It only took two, three or four of them to cover 
me, depending on how intricate the outfit.  This was strange, 
too, because I found my fingers and the magic of the silk forming 
outfits I couldn't remember ever seeing before, some very fash-
ionable and some so skimpy they made me blush.  I was astonished 
by this.  I couldn't remember ever doing it before and yet I was 
obviously very good at it.  The only problem was the color.  I 

liked white, but I also like blue.  My eyes widened as I watched 
the silk fading from white to blue.  I experimented some more, 
and discovered I could make them turn any color, even several 
colors.

    The silk entertained me for more than an hour.  The only 
disappointment I had with them was that they couldn't make any-
thing as normal and boyish as a cotton t-shirt or a pair of blue 
jeans.  However I shaped them and whatever color I made them, 
they were still just silk.  That meant that they tended to drape 
against my skin and even around my penis.  No matter how they 
were fashioned, they made me feel embarrassed.

    Finally I set them aside and picked up the lamp.  It looked 
valuable, but it didn't seem to do anything.  I sniffed at the 
opening, shook it, polished it, anything and everything I could 
think of.  Nothing happened.  It was just a nice lamp.  Again, I 
examined the necklace with the two naked boys on it.  This too 
produced no solutions.  I thought about the inscription and 
realized that I couldn't possibly be Kelvin:  I couldn't protect 
myself much less whoever "us" was.  And why hadn't Carolyn or 
Mama noticed the inscription, anyway?  Neither of them seemed to 
have been able to see it or the two naked boys looking at the 
sunset.  Were they blind?  They were right there.  And whatever 
else the necklace was, it certainly looked like gold to me:  why 
had no one stolen it from me?  Even the boys in the orphanage 
were completely uninterested in it. Why not?  It was very pretty 
and I thought it was probably worth a fortune.  I just shrugged.  
Some mysteries are too big for a boy to solve.  Finally I looked 
at the ring, but it too just seemed like a normal gold band, save 
for the strange lettering around it.

    I suddenly felt very sleepy and looked down at the bed.  I 
pulled the blankets down and the soft fragrance of clean lenin 
greeted me.  Putting my things aside, my half naked body slid 
between the sheets and felt their coolness caress my bare skin.  
The pillows were down-filled and I lay on them amazed that I 
could ever be so comfortable.  This was no bed at an orphanage.  
This was the bed of a king.  I felt happy and safe as I closed my 
eyes and drifted quickly and easily into slumber.

    "Is that you, Kelvin?" A man's voice asked in my dreams.

    "Yes," another voice answered.  It was deep, too, and sounded 
mature and full grown.  For some strange reason, however, it felt 
like it was my voice.

    "You're in a dangerous place," the voice said.  "I didn't 
expect to find you here."

    "That's too bad," I replied.  "I'm here."

    "Are you old enough to do any fighting?"

    "No," my adult voice said.  "I'm just a puppy."

    "This is going to be really dangerous, Kel," the voice said.  
"I don't know if I can save all of you."

    "All of us?" I asked.  "I haven't seen any of the others."

    "No, I understand.  Don't worry, Kelvin.  Everything's going 
to be all right."

    "Wait, Eric," I replied feeling the presence of the other one 
pausing in its retreat from me.  "What's going on?"

    "I'm sorry, Kel," the man replied.  "It's bad enough that 

you're here. I can't tell you any more right now."

    The voice started to fade and I didn't stop it.  "I under-
stand," I said distantly as it departed.

    "Be ready to move, Kel..." the voice said softly.