WARNING: This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts between men and MINOR boys. It is not true! The story is not intended to promote illegal acts against minors. I do not condone child abuse, however the love of boys is a different matter. Despite the prevalent attitudes of western society, men have loved boys throughout recorded history. It is my goal to help readers appreciate that love can exist between men and boys. If the subject of man/boy love offends you, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for such material, do not read further!
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Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely accidental. The sexual acts described in the story are the result of my imagination. I have not performed these acts, and I do not encourage others to perform them with minors.
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FINAL WARNING: If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't your thing, then exit now and save yourself from a life of sin!
Speaking at the second annual meeting of Parents Against Pedophiles (PAP), the famous pedophile hunter, Martin Eckleston, announced that the nation's children can finally begin to sleep at night now that the National Institute for Sexual Health's sterilization programs are in full effect across the U.S. "It has taken almost an entire year to overcome some of the obstacles, but we now have clinics serving every major city in the country and a database that covers 93 percent of the nation's children. We are currently in the process of identifying every boy who carries the da Vinci gene, in either its recessive or dominant forms," said Eckleston. The da Vinci gene is found on the male's 23rd chromosome and is responsible for causing otherwise normal men to become pedophiles. "Pedophilia is the largest problem confronting out society. Our mission is to eliminate this evil," said Eckleston. "This year alone, we believe that over a million children will be abused by pedophiles. The depravity is unspeakable. It's only now, with the help of television shows like `The Predator' that people are finally beginning to appreciate just how widespread the problem is."
With over twelve million members, PAP has been one of the greatest supporters of carrying out the N.I.C.E. agenda, which is based on the Natural Intervention to Curb Evil legislation that has been so instrumental to eliminating pedophilia. Mrs. Winton, a Christian Fundamentalist who is president of PAP, said in her closing remarks, "If it wasn't for the President speaking out against pedophiles and taking a stand for righteousness, my children probably would have been raped in their beds by now. PAP stands behind the President Denton's Administration 100 percent. The boys who are being sterilized are child abusers in the making. While some people say it's a pity that they have to be treated in this fashion, if my children are safe from abuse, I really don't care what the cost is. And as for the things we hear about losing a few Leonardo da Vinci's, as far as I'm concerned it's no loss to anyone. A few less artists is no loss at all. The sooner they're all emasculated the better. With the help of people like Mr. Eckleston, we can get rid of pedophilia once and for all."
A line of boys emerged, cheerless and disoriented from the long bus ride. A few boys talked in muted voices, but most of them, like frightened waifs from some cruel Dickensian world nervously surveyed their surroundings. It was unsettlingly picturesque, an innocent beauty of rolling hills and proud stands of trees in farming country, a seemingly infinite expanses of green corn that was already knee high, and boys. Boys who were also innocent in their beauty, and who should have been no less proud than those one-hundred-year-old oaks, instead clumped together sharing the shameful defect that was their allotment in life.
Without more direction than simply following the one in front, fifty-seven boys aged between seven and eleven had congregated by the side of the bus. To a distant observer it might have appeared as if they were gathering to pick up their belongings when the luggage compartment doors were opened by the driver, however the only belongings the boys had with them were in the small backpacks and sports bags they carried with them. The camp was different to other summer camps in that way. Everything was provided, from soft-bristle toothbrushes to three changes of clothes.
Daniele was one of the last boys to leave the bus because he had been sitting in the second last row. He had spoken no more than a dozen words during the entire trip. Not that he was characteristically taciturn with strangers, for he was naturally outgoing. However, he was one of the last passengers to board the bus and he had found himself sitting next to a seven-year-old boy who was far more interested in playing with his Gameboy Supernova. Even as Daniele sat down he had been apprehensive about his traveling companion. His heart lurched and began to beat a little faster as soon as he saw the stick-thin legs that protruded from the little boy's shorts. The boy, a delicate pale-skinned child with bright blue eyes and silver-blond hair, had looked up at him to catch his eyes and Daniele had been instantly aroused despite his pledge to himself never to do anything with a boy who was younger than himself. The boy looked a lot like Grey, too much like Grey for Daniele's peace of mind. He was beautiful in the way that all young boys were beautiful. To make matters worse, the boy had smiled welcomingly, almost as if he wanted Daniele to continue to look down, not quite flirting yet still sending signals of desirability. And yet, even as Daniele struggled to avert his eyes he was confronted by the unsettling realization that there was nothing he could do to stop the tremendous surge inside him. The urge became stronger, overpowering him. Finally, unable to resist a moment longer, he allowed his eyes to wander. Only then did he realize that there was nothing to be seen of the boy's gender, not even the tiniest bulge between those thin bald thighs to indicate boy, not girl. He tried to relax. Again and again he pushed the memories of Grey and Nicky aside, back into the deep recesses of his mind where his thoughts of having sex with younger boys could hide safely.
And then almost as soon as Daniele's desire had settled down, the boy had asked in a mouse-like suppressed squeak, "How were you done?"
Taken aback by the boy's frankness, that he had even dared to speak to a complete stranger, Daniele had answered with a single nervous word. "Cup."
"I got `jecksuns." The boy sucked on his bottom lip, fiddling with the keys on the Gameboy in his lap. "Only they swelled up something awful." He pursed his lips, remembering the agony when he had woken one morning. "'n then the right one ruptures. That means it burst," he explained. "And so they got cut off. I gotta tran-verse ork-a-ek-tummy," he added, struggling to pronounce the word the way the doctor said it. "So I don't have nothing there now."
"Oh," was all Daniele could say.
He wanted to say something sympathetic, to show compassion, but every boy on board the bus had the same problem. They all had the da Vinci gene. They had all been sterilized using one of the four approved methods. They would not have been on the bus otherwise. He glanced sideways. It was a mistake. The boy's hair was like stands of silver, flecked with gold, the pink of his scalp showing where the hair was neatly parted. His neck was thin. His ears were tiny. He blinked a lot, Daniele thought. Grey leaped back into his mind. Grey smiling and happy, giggling as he lewdly rubbed his body against Daniele's. Or Nicky, precious Nicky in the ice-cream parlor, playing the ice-cream game that had to be a secret, because if the little boy ever told, he would have been in a lot of trouble. He had learned to be ashamed of what he had done with Nicky. He had taken advantage of Nicky's youth. He had done a terrible thing, but he would never forget how silky soft the outside of little boy's penis was even when it was as hard as a nail inside.
Finally, he dragged his eyes away from the little boy beside him. He repeated the promise that he had made to himself after he had talked with Dustin. They had discussed a lot that afternoon when Dustin found him in the toilet with Nicky. The bus was moving again. He glimpsed his mother waving and he waved back, although it was impossible for her to see him through the deeply tinted glass. It was no secret why his father had taken his brother to a baseball game. Then, he saw Dustin. He looked sad and he barely moved his hand when he waved. Daniele wanted not to cry, but he felt his eyes watering. He wanted so badly to get off the bus, to tell Dustin everything was going to be alright even though both of them knew the truth was otherwise. Then, all too soon, the bus surged forward and around a corner, and his best friend in the world was gone from sight. He wiped his eyes, pretending that they were sore and had to be relieved by rubbing. There was an ache in his chest that might have been hunger, but probably was not because he had eaten a hotdog at the bus station.
"Huh?" Daniele stopped rubbing.
He breathed out quietly in a long sigh, silently wishing that the little boy beside him would stop talking, stop reminding him of Grey. He was good-looking too, just like Grey had been, not with Nicky's stunning beauty. And his eyes were blue too, blue like the sky just before it greeted the horizon. What had the boy said, anyway? Something about him being lucky? Him?
"I wanted the cup, but I wadn't old enough."
Daniele glanced back at the boy. He still had most of his baby teeth. He looked younger than seven. His hands were much smaller than Daniele's, making the Gameboy look inordinately large.
"I turned six last week," the boy added in anticipation of Daniele's question.
Daniele shrugged with self-imposed neutrality and tried to look out the window on the other side of the bus. Yet, he could feel the urge struggling for dominance inside him. Six years old. Six, like Grey. Six, like sex. His small body was soft and smooth and very sexy... The need to look at the boy again was overpowering.
"I got this for my birthday," the boy said as he worked the levers and buttons on the Gameboy.
"Cool," Daniele said.
He had to make himself look away again. He managed to avoid thinking of Grey and Nicky with the greatest difficulty. This time, he extracted a book from his back-pack, opened it and began to read. He stopped after a few lines.
"Why weren't you old enough?" he asked uneasily.
"You gotta be seven fer the cup," the boy explained. "My dad wanted me done straight away once he found out I had it. I guess so I'll grow up used to it."
"Oh," Daniele said glumly.
The man who he had always thought of as his father had barely talked to him after the test results came back. Since his treatment they had exchanged less than a dozen words. A dozen words for an entire week. It was like Daniele had ceased to exist. Indeed, it seemed to Daniele that his father went out of the way to avoid him. He knew why, of course. Being emasculated was something to be terribly ashamed of. He was a neuter. Almost. Although the requirements had been met for the family to receive the tax credit, it only became official once the cup dropped off. Something about the results of his treatment being verifiable before it was legal. It was more than not being able to have children of his own, or not growing up to become a man, but that he was,... Daniele swallowed. People had to be able to see what he was,... They had to be able to verify that he was a neuter. His fists clenched in impotent frustration, filled with rage at a world that had decided he was flawed. He tried to read the book for the rest of the way to camp, trying to ignore the snippets of conversation that went on around him. Every time the urge came to feast his eyes on the skinny pale legs beside him, he stared out the window. He could never allow himself to think of Grey or Nicky again, or any young boy for that matter.
Now, standing in the warmth of the sunshine, Daniele Webster glanced around him, taking in the rustic setting as if he had never seen a farm before. In keeping with the rural theme, a split- rail fence followed the gravel road they had just driven up on. The fence wavered, yet kept a comfortable distance from the road until it disappeared from sight just beyond a bridge that crossed a tree-lined stream. In the other direction, the fence continued towards a cluster of wooden buildings. On the way it changed to a post and rail fence that enclosed a number of fields, mostly long grass, although there was a bare earth paddock adjacent to what was probably the barn. However, the agricultural association was misleading. They had passed through a forbidding tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire shortly after leaving the main road.
Across the road, Daniele could see a quadrangle surrounded by tall oak trees. There was a flagpole to mark the center and half-a-dozen cabins on the periphery. The grass had been recently mowed as if visitors were expected.
"Good afternoon boys."
Daniele turned quickly. The man who had spoken was bearded and overweight and many of the boys shrank back instinctively despite the fact that he beamed and nodded at them. He looked like Santa Claus, but there was no other similarity. He glanced from one young face to another, scanning the group. Gathered behind him were a number of counselors. One or two of them were young and quite good looking, but the rest were nondescript. All of them looked vaguely disagreeable, although it would have been difficult to determine what about them that was objectionable.
"It's my great pleasure to welcome you to ETC Camp Six. This will be your home for the next few weeks, boys. I'm not going to wish you a pleasant stay. I'm sure you all know why you're here. Your time here won't be a happy one. What you have, or perhaps, I should say what you don't have,..." He stopped and waited as if someone would laugh. No one did.
".... What you share sets you apart from normal boys. While you're here you'll receive education, training and conditioning so you can lead socially acceptable lives when you return. What you will learn here is far preferable to being a pedophile. It's my job to make sure that everything proceeds properly. If you'll line up we can get started," he instructed. "I want as nice straight line, from there, to there," he said pointing indiscriminately, but leaving no doubt that the infractions would not be tolerated.
He waited for a minute as the boys moved around and assumed something that resembled a line. He coughed and shook his head abruptly. The boys reshuffled and the line became straighter.
"That will be acceptable this time. Next time, it will not! When I say straight, I mean straight. We'll begin with introductions. I'm Mr. Goodman, the camp director. Beside me to my right, your left, is Mr. Robert Drake who's the counselor for the elevens, then Mr. Alan Hedring, who's with the sevens." He glanced to the other side. "Mr. Robert Mansert, who'll take the nines. Then next to him is Mr. Len Schmidt who will be with the eights. And last, we have Mr. Peter Hart, who'll take the tens. Now, I'm sure you all know how old you are, but I'll still call out your names. When you hear your name called I want you say `yes sir' in a nice loud voice, and go and stand behind the appropriate counselor. They will then escort you to your cabins and get you settled in. Once the formalities are over, you'll go to the dining hall for your orientation."
He began reading names, already divided into age groups. Having started at the youngest boys, Daniele had to wait until almost every boy had moved to the appropriate group before his name was called. He joined the other ten-year-old boys, nodding nervously at Aaron Kalmann who nodded just as nervously back at him. He had not seen Aaron on the bus. Perhaps his parents had brought him by car? A moment later, in an awkward hush that seemed to offend the peaceful setting, the boys followed their counselors to their assigned cabins.
Daniele's cabin, the ten-year-olds' cabin, was identified with a large cartoon `tiger' painted on the door. He selected a bed close to the window and sat down, his shoulders hunched, yet accepting that he had to do something to claim his territory. Aaron took the adjoining bed, moving a plastic-covered bundle to the side to make room to sit. The boys regarded each other in silence. They had not seen each other since the visit to the clinic two weeks earlier. After treatment that had not been allowed to return to school. For the first time in their lives they had something in common, but no desire to share it.
"Okay, listen up. In case you missed what Goodman said, I'm Mr. Hart, or Counselor Hart, not, I repeat, NOT Peter. Whenever you address me, or refer to me, it's as Mr. Hart or Counselor Hart. That's my name from now on. If I like you, you will be allowed to call me `Sir'. As far as you `nucks are concerned I am the b-o-s-s. You do what I say, when I say it, and where I say it."
"What's a `nuck?" Daniele whispered to Aaron.
"You don't know what a `nuck is?" Hart interrupted abruptly. He had difficulty not laughing, especially when Daniele shook his head. "Any of you care to enlighten him? No? Okay, then... A `nuck is a eunuch, and that's you, boy. Like all of you. A `nuck is a boy with no balls! Same thing as a neuter. None of you have balls so you're all `nucks. Got it?"
In unison, divided between Mr. Hart and Counselor Hart, the boys acknowledged his power over them. Of course, control was more than a matter of having testicles, but already they were conforming to the stereotype of the submissive eunuch. They knew that manhood had been taken from them. Hart smirked at their dismay. Even with these boys, perhaps even more so, it was important to establish his authority as soon as possible.
"Okay. In a few minutes the nurse will be here for your check-ups so we're going to have to get a couple of you ready right away."
He smirked again, surveying his charges with a proficient eye. He had a job to do and his performance reviews showed that he was very good at it for the simple reason that young boys did nothing for him. It was reason why he had been selected in the first place. He felt nothing, not even the slightest tinge of compassion. There were ten ten-year-old boys and they were all far better looking than his twenty-five-year-old boyfriend. But in truth, Peter Hart was not all that interested in sex, not even with his boyfriend. He much preferred older women who mothered him, fat women who held his head against their soft flabby chests so he could suckle like a baby.
"So start stripping," he added in a low voice that invited immediate action.
"Huh?" one of the boys murmured reluctantly.
"I said `strip'! You, what's your name, `nuck?"
"Um,... Connor Williams,...um,... Sir."
"Well now, Connor,... Hm... I just got done reading your file so I ought to be able to remember who you are. You got the cup right?"
The boy glanced down momentarily. It was impossible to tell whether it was in shame or to reassure himself of the nature of his emasculation. When he did not answer immediately, Hart's eyes narrowed. Nothing in the boy's file had suggested he was a trouble maker. During the initial phase he had been compliant and his parents had been very supportive, not like the Webster boy.
"They put a cup on your nuts, didn't they?"
"Yes Sir," the boy peeped.
Hart chuckled. Establishing his authority over the boys was almost enjoyable. The camp director said it was his forte, that was why he was always in charge of the ten-year-olds. He glanced around at the rest of the boys. All of them were nervous, a few were frightened. That was good. The training he had received recommended vacillating between being kind and callous. He added a few things of his own. That way the boys would not know what to expect. Surprise kept them anxious, and anxiety made for increased susceptibility. He had three weeks to achieve the required 95 percent indoctrination rate. So far he had achieved 100 percent, the highest in the camp. Every boy who had left his cabin had scored at least an eight out of ten on the Wilson-Gerber Homosexuality Index. He always looked forward to seeing the test results on the second last day of camp.
"There's nothing to be scared of now, Connor. The worst is over," he said reassuringly. "Camp is nothing at all compared to what you've been through already. I feel so sorry for you NICE boys. It must be terrible, losing your nuts and all... It certainly can't get any worse, not can it?..."
His voice trailed off to keep them guessing whether it could get worse or not. After a quick glance around the room again, a reassuring smile that suggested that the next three weeks would be far from unpleasant, and he turned back to the current object of torment. It was time to teach the boys a lesson they would never forget. It was often advisable to identify one of them as a target. That way he could develop the other boys' hatred for pedophilia.
"See, you're a pedophile, Connor. A disgusting pedophile! You want to have sex with little boys. That's why you're here." He raised his voice a notch, still carefully modulated so that the words were aimed carefully at the boy's weakest spot. "You're evil. Everyone hates you. No one loves you. No one, hear me! Not your parents, not your brothers and sisters, not your friends. Not even the little boys that you want to have sex with. Especially not them. No one loves you! Everyone hates you!" he said loudly.
The boy shamefully looked down at his feet. He sniffed loudly, barely holding back a flood of tears. His face flushed, the heat spreading throughout his body in a rush that left his knees barely able to hold him up.
"You may be a pedophile in here," Hart continued unabated, tapping his head before he smirked. "But now luckily for every little boy in the U.S., you can't do anything about it. And we both know why that is, don't we? It's because you don't have any nuts. You don't have balls like a normal boy, do you Connor? All you have is that little blue cup between your legs. Or is it red?" he taunted.
Connor winced as if he had been slapped. He wanted to scream `blue.
"But for the record, just in case you thought you were the only ball-less pervert here, you're not alone. Neither does any boy here. None of you have balls anymore. So why don't you be the first to stand up and show us what you haven't got."
The boy irritably shook his head before he realized the counselor's taunting expression. He choked on the truth. Slowly, he stood up. There was no other option but to obey. He fumbled momentarily before he managed to unfasten his belt and open the zipper of his shorts. His hands trembled as he started to pull them down, yet he did not stop, continuing until he revealed his pastel colored briefs, until his jeans were at his ankles. Daniele was troubled, his feelings fluctuating between arousal and powerlessness, and the sheer indignity of what was happening as the other boy blushed crimson with embarrassment. Hart did not stop his tormenting until the boy was naked, until the little blue ball was displayed for all to see. They all looked out of curiosity, silently thankful that they had not been the first. Equally thankful that his body had not betrayed him, Connor's penis hung limp, curving down over the ball that was closely attached beneath it.
Hart assessed the rest of the boys before making his choice. He pointed straight at Daniele. He had made his selection almost without thinking. He always picked the best looking boys to undress first. Having the boys undress was always entertaining, torturing them by showing what they all desired but could never have. The best-looking boys always received the greatest attention. It was unfortunate that the Williams boy had annoyed him for he had not intended for him to be the first to expose himself. In the looks-department he ranked somewhere in the middle of the group. He corrected the situation promptly.
"You're next, NICE boy. Show us what you've got." He laughed. "Or what you haven't got as the case may be."
Daniele swallowed, stole a quick deep breath to hide his shock and summoned his courage. He glanced again at the boy who had preceded him and awkwardly stood up. It was a mistake that he would never forget. The problem was that Connor looked back at him, red-faced and shamed in his nudity but still intensely arousing. Naked, he was as beautiful as any boy that Daniele had ever seen. He had long curling hair that was a shade between golden blond and light brown, a freckled nose, and green charismatic eyes. Daniele's eyes flickered down. The boy had a blue ball, a ball that looked much larger than the one that he wore. It was much larger than the fifty-percent difference that was implied by ten and fifteen millimeters. His penis, silky smooth and flaccid, was just a little longer and but it was ever so much thicker than Daniele's penis that it appeared depressingly larger. It had been neatly circumcised to reveal a glans that was the color and size of a robin's egg. Daniele stared long and hard, unable to avert his eyes until he had committed to memory every precious detail of the pale hairless finger that dangled between equally hairless legs. His mind churned, inventing in seconds a series of events that had never happened but were so desirable that it made him quiver just to think about the possibilities of being with the other boy. If only he was younger.
"Well, `nuck? This is the time you've been waiting for breathlessly. Are you ready to show your minimal merchandise to your little friends? On the count of three. One, two,... And pedos," he paused momentarily, looking around him with disdain, "just one small matter I almost forgot to mention. We don't like to see neuters with erections when they get undressed. Does anyone know why?"
The room was silent. A few of the boys looked at each other nervously.
"Well,..." he paused for effect, "it's because erections are evil when you're around other boys. There are very unpleasant results, so I don't want to see any of you with little stiffies, got that? And now,... three," Hart ended with a flourish.
He smirked, relentlessly enjoying the predicament of the boys, but especially the expression of the boy he had selected. It was always the same. There were very few differences among any group of boys who came to stay in his cabin. After being subjected to treatment, and largely abandoned by their families, they were so insecure that any hostility that they might have possessed was quickly quelled by reminding them that they were not only pedophiles but eunuchs as well. It was easy to make fun of them after what had been done to them. It amused him that the boys were so docile. Their submissiveness came not so much from the physical aftereffects of treatment because it took a year or two before a ten-year-old boy began to realize the consequences of absent hormones, but by being forced to confront the reality of their situation. It seldom took more than a few hours before they complied with everything he said. It was very easy to humiliate them, and humiliation destroyed their self-esteem.
"I said three, didn't I? What are you waiting for, Webster. It is Webster isn't it? I think your file said you got fitted with a size ten. Let's see your little red cup, `nuck boy. Shirt off first."
Daniele glowered at him as a few of the boys laughed. It was always easy to laugh at someone else's deficiency, even though genital size was no longer a valid concern for any of them. Awkwardly, he removed his shirt and then began to unfasten the button of his jeans. He was aware of the eyes, concentrated gazes that wandered over his body and took in his pre-teen abdomen with its juvenile six-pack, a dimpled navel and dark-pink nipples that were almost the size of dimes. Despite their fear, a few boys still revealed appreciation of the beautiful half-naked boy, but like Daniele's curiosity towards Connor, they really wanted to see him naked. Their interest was further piqued when Daniele's zipper was opened, when his white Fruit-of-the-Loom underpants could be seen through the gap. Nervously, he turned around so that his bottom faced towards most of the boys, but in particular towards Hart. His reticence was not only because he did not want them to watch, although that was on his mind, but simply because he did not want to see Hart. He continued to undress, knowing that the eyes continued to stare at his back. He knew that he would be exposed to the counselor's amusement when he finally turned around.
"Stop looking at his butt, Williams," Hart growled. "It's out of bounds! If I catch any of you pedos playing around, you'll wish you were dead."
Daniele shuddered, glad that he had not been observed when he had done the same thing when Connor had been undressing. Connor had an inviting `bubble-butt' just like Carter and Nicky. With a little help from Lane and a selection of photographs from various Internet websites, Daniele had begun to appreciate the differences in boy's bottoms. Some were infinitely more enticing than others. Connor had pale rounded cheeks, like two ripe melons that begged to be pulled apart to reveal the treasure hidden within. It was a bottom that was very unlike his own. Daniele's buttocks were noticeably darker in color and smaller. His buttocks looked like they belonged on an athlete, deliciously pinched and firmly muscled.
"Turn around, Webster," Hart instructed. "Better do it before he hops on your back and lets you have it," he added with a guffaw.
Reluctantly, Daniele turned around, barely realizing that Aaron was trying to signal something by pointing urgently with his finger. By the time Daniele realized what Aaron was pointing at, it was too late to turn back.
"And what in the hell is that supposed to be?" Hart chided.
Daniele tensed, fighting the urge to shout, or to shrink and sink into oblivion where no one would know him or care about him. It was so easy for Dustin to say `be brave', and talk about Gandhi and `passive resistance', and everything else he said about how much he loved him no matter what, but none of it mattered. He had an erection, an erection as stiff and straight as any erection that he had ever had before, and only because he had watched another boy undress. His scrotum, already a lot smaller than it was supposed to be, had shriveled so much that the bright red ball was clinging tightly to the underneath of his short rigid organ. He tried to brazen it out.
"It's natural," he said argumentatively. "Boys are supposed to get erections, you know."
He realized as soon as he said it, that it was the last thing that he should have said. Hart laughed cruelly.
"Maybe, but it's sure not natural for `nucks to have them. I don't see any other boys here who are sporting hard-ons."
Daniele, already worried that he was the only boy whose penis ever got hard, tried to shrug nonchalantly. He wanted to say that it happened sometimes for no reason at all. Then it was called a `spontaneous erection'.
"You miserable little pervert. You were turned on by watching him get naked. You were, weren't you?" he demanded confidently as he nodded at Connor.
Daniele shook his head quickly, rejecting the truth that was obvious to everyone in the cabin. Indeed, he was not the only one whose body had reacted instinctively to seeing another boy naked. The remaining half dozen boys who had managed to avoid arousal at the first sight of another boy's nakedness, were responding quickly to seeing Daniele's bare brown body.
Hart stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You pedophiles are all the same," he began, gesturing at Daniele. "The sooner you start orientation the better. See that plastic bag on your bed? Go ahead and open it."
Aware that everyone was looking at him, Daniele shrank back, a step at a time until he sat down on his bed. He fumbled with the sealed plastic covering until he managed to find a loose corner. He kept pulling on the plastic until it came free. The contents of the package tumbled onto the blanket. Amidst a collection of three pairs of tee-shirts and shorts were items that he did not recognize at first. However, a few of the boys did, and they giggled and whispered.
"Pick that band up," Hart ordered. "You know what that is, `nuck?"
Daniele examined it. He looked up at the counselor. "Um,... I,... It looks like a dog collar? My neighbor has a retriever. He has a collar like this for the electric fence."
"Close enough `nuck. Real close in fact. Here it's called a training band. It works a lot like your dog's collar, but it's not for dogs," Hart said suggestively. "It's for boys like you."
Daniele blanched. The thought that he would have to wear it was unsettling, but he could not stop himself from looking at the band. It had a nylon neck strap with a small red rectangular box attached to the side. He had never seen the neighbor's dog when the collar was off so he did not recognize the two metal prongs that projected through the band.
Like a chameleon, Hart changed character again. It was all he could do to hold back the excitement that was burgeoning inside him. The thrill came from exerting control, from inflicting pain and destroying a boy's resistance. He had to weaken their resolve until they could no longer resist. However, it was time to appear sensitive in front of the other boys. They could all become antagonistic if they believed he was singling Daniele out for abusive treatment.
"I really hate to do this to you, Daniel. However, you give me no other choice."
"It's Daniele. Dan-eel-e."
"Sorry!" Hart said curtly. He resented the boy for reasons beyond his beauty. "Daniele, please bring it over here," he said gently. "I'll put it on for you."
Daniele obeyed, grateful that his erection had subsided sufficiently that it no longer pointed up and out from his groin. Hart stood up before him and smiled encouragingly. It was important to appear supportive, to give the impression that everything that happened was for the best, that there was no other way to treat the sickness that was pedophilia.
"I want you to tell me if it's too tight, okay? Now you know, once it's on, it's nearly impossible to get it off without hurting you a lot. So we have to make sure it's comfortable," he explained as he began to thread the long end of strap into a small slot.
Daniele swallowed with difficulty. The band was unyielding on his neck, pressing into his throat. Instead of loosening it, Hart tightened it another notch.
"There's a good boy. Now, how is that? Not too tight, is it Daniele?"
Daniele moved his head uncertainly. He felt the prongs pressing into the back of his neck, the strap a fraction of an inch below his Adam's apple. He did not want it on. He tried to shake his head. It tightened even more. Hart guided his head so that it tilted downward. "There you are. It's just right. What ever you do don't pull it forward or try to take it off."
Hart squeezed Daniele's bare shoulder. "Because you won't like how it feels, Daniele," he replied expressively. "Trust me on this. Because it hurts a great deal if you try to take it off."
"What's it for?" one of the other boys asked.
Hart's hand moved to a small transmitter. His finger pressed one of the buttons firmly and Daniele trembled suddenly, uncontrollably. It had felt very much as if someone had stuck a thousand sharp needles into his, body although he knew that had not happened. There were acute points of pain everywhere from his neck down. He gasped in shock, shock that the pain had been so intense, that it had passed so quickly, that relief was so real.
"D-d-don't,.... Please,.... it hurts everywhere," he whimpered. Once the pain vanished and reason returned, he tried to calm himself, to stop himself from crying.
"Yes, I know," Hart said agreeably. "I tried it once when I was going through counselor training. It hurts something awful, doesn't it? But that's what happens to pedos," he added. "You can sit down now, Daniele. Let's try to avoid having another problem. If you have too many of them we might have to cut your dick off." He grinned and pointed to another boy. "You're Jared Benson aren't you?"
Jared nodded nervously.
"You're next, Jared. Take off your clothes." He smirked at Connor and Daniele, before turned back to the boys around him. "For those that don't know it yet, Jared's treatment was the old-fashioned kind. He was castrated."
Jared gave him a bitter resentful look but said nothing. There was nothing he could say.
"He was castrated," Hart repeated pointedly. "That means his balls were cut off."
He was conscious of the boy's ineffectual anger without understanding or caring. He assumed the boy was ashamed. He did not know that Jared was one of those boys who had never been seen naked by anyone except his doctor since he stopped wearing diapers. Still, he was intrigued somewhat by the circumstances. Why would a boy's parents subject him to that? Cutting them off? It was almost barbaric. Punishment perhaps? Because the boy was not the perfect son they wanted? Because he had the worst of all possible flaws. He waited until the boy began to undress before addressing the others.
"I used to see a few boys who had a scar when I first started here. Injections were popular for the first year or two, but I guess some parents still preferred the old-fashioned way though I can't see why anyone would want castration if they had a choice. And of course, there were problems getting the injections to work properly so surgical treatment was needed. It's a pity in a way to have to cut them off, but there really isn't any other way. You're lucky that now there are other options...."
Hart assessed the new boy. Jared Benson was tall and dark-haired. He was a handsome boy with sensitive eyes and an aquiline nose. He had the face of a `commercial-kid'.
"Why did they cut your balls off, Jared?"
Jared glowered silently at the counselor.
"Did they screw up your treatment? Don't your parents love you?"
Jared shook his head angrily. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking but Hart smirked. He chose the second explanation.
"Your father wanted your balls cut off, didn't he? Man, he must really hate you to do that."
Jared's hands clenched in rage.
"Did someone at the clinic cut them off for you? Or maybe his father did it himself?" Hart suggested to the other boys as he laughed. "So tell me, pedo, who cut off the family jewels?"
"One of the people at the clinic did it," Jared mumbled.
He did not add that it was a foreign woman who barely spoke English. A few days after the initial visit, he had returned to the clinic with his mother. After he had undressed and put on an open-fronted robe the woman gave him a drink with something in it to `calm him down'. After that, he remembered very little. He retained a dim memory of climbing onto a chair that was vaguely like a dentist's chair except for the bottom where his legs went. They used straps to hold his thighs and hips in place. Then there was a whirring sound and the chair was raised higher, so high that it seemed as if his bare body was almost touching the overhead light. It was only then that he fell asleep, dreaming of fishing with his father. According to the surgical tapes, his laser- orchiectomy was performed in eight minutes and 45 seconds.
Hart shrugged, showing mercy for once. His torment, once initiated tended to continue until a boy broke down and cried. Instead, he turned back on the boy who he despised.
"Daniele?" He smirked as Daniele glanced up sullenly. "I want you to watch him undress," he commanded distinctly. "Look at his dick, pedo. I know you want to see it more than you can stand."
Daniele abruptly shook his head at the smiling counselor and looked down again.
It began as a buzz in the back of his neck. Unlike before, this time it did not hurt. It was pleasant, making gooseflesh break out on his arms and thighs. Daniele quivered. It was not like being tickled although he had a similar response. It was like being stroked very lightly, simultaneously caressed all over his body, from his toes to his finger tips and everything in between. Instinctively, he looked up. Jared was already naked except for his socks and shoes. He looked strange like that, invitingly eccentric, the anomaly of socks and shoes on an otherwise bare body as unusual as the useless thing that was centered between his legs. Jared had a receding penis, largely retracting into the pubis when it was limp. Without testicles to fill this small scrotum it seemed as if the boy was female at first glance.
Daniele tried to turn his head to the side, yet his eyes were locked, fixed on a plump, protruding glans that was still flushed with blood.
"Don't. Please? Please don't,..." he mumbled. "I don't want to. No, NO, Please don't," he begged as Hart's finger massaged the button again.
Daniele trembled, then began to shake. The sensation changed to a vibration, traveling down his spine, through his nerves, stimulating every muscle to throb. It felt good. It felt both wonderful and familiar, just like when Dustin brought him very close to orgasm, and kept him there, hovering on the brink of ecstasy until it felt like he was going to explode. He tried to shake his head. He tried to look away. It was beginning to hurt. He shook relentlessly, instinctively thrusting his pelvis back and forth. His penis was hard again, awfully painfully hard. He gasped for each breath of air, vaguely aware that his limbs were trembling, that his penis was straining outward and ready to burst, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that he could do, or wanted to do to stop it from happening. Yet, inside his frantic confusion, he sensed danger as imminent as his climax. Suddenly, he wanted badly for it to stop. Then, only seconds from achieving release, Hart's finger pressed firmly. He showed no remorse. The boy had to be taught a lesson that he would never forget. He would always remember what happened if he allowed himself to be sexually aroused by a boy.
Like a thousand needles, the nerves reacted. Pain, unbearable agony rushed into Daniele's small body and he shrieked. At first he tried to get them out, rubbing, tearing at his skin before he sunk to his knees. This time, the pain did not vanish as quickly as it came. It got worse. He jerked and writhed, wailing loudly. The worst of it was concentrated in the most sensitive parts of his body, but it took a second or two before he realized. His expression changed to terror, fear that the pain would never go away, that he might even die. He had an awful realization that what was left of his sex was going to be removed. Then, without warning, it stopped. He slumped back, groaning, babbling incoherently. Even though there was no longer any pain, in those first few seconds of relief from agony, he was barely aware of someone talking.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing much, Nurse Buchanan," Hart answered. "We had a small problem I had to take care of," he added, holding up his finger, it's phallic symbolism unavoidable.
"You're not supposed to put the bands on. That's my job as nurse. You ought to know that by now. Some boys can't take the stress. You don't have the information to know which ones."
"He's okay. I only kept it on for a couple of seconds."
That `couple of seconds' had seemed like a lifetime to Daniele. Still groaning, he crawled to his bed and used it to regain his feet. He breathed with difficulty, vaguely aware that the camp nurse was introducing herself. He did not hear her name.
"... It's called a training band," she explained. "It sends an electric charge into the spinal cord. Among other uses, it can be used to develop aversions to certain things. It's not fun, but for boys like you it's the only way of overcoming your condition. I'll be putting one on each of you shortly. As,..." she paused waiting for a name.
"Daniele Webster," Hart offered. He emphasized the appropriate pronunciation. "Mostly, I used the low setting," he added slyly.
The nurse nodded. "Then, as Daniele can tell you, it can feel very nice, but it can also be very painful. The good news is that the pain goes away immediately. Isn't that true, Daniele?"
Daniele nodded weakly. It was difficult to turn his head. His penis began to feel prickly. He shifted uncomfortably.
"That's a good boy. Now, can you tell me and these other NICE boys why Mr. Hart had to use it on you?"
Daniele frowned. "B-b-be-c-c-c-ca-use I-I-I."
He shuddered. He needed to go to the bathroom and empty his bladder. Although most of the pain had faded quickly a few places still felt awful. It was as if his penis was burning inside, as if it was covered with poison ivy rash although there was no outward sign. There was no other way to describe the sensation. He wanted badly to itch it.
"I-I-I l-l-loo-loo-k-ked,.... a-a-at th-th-em," he stammered.
"Because,... because I'm a pedo,... and I'm evil,... and,...".
He gulped air, glancing at Connor and then at Jared. His face was on fire. Between his legs, his penis had diminished in size until it was no larger than the nubbin that he had been so fascinated by just moments earlier. He felt helpless.
"Good boy. Just so you all know, being able to admit your problem is a large part of the cure." The nurse turned her attention to Hart. "They should be undressed by now. You have to keep to the schedule."
"Sorry. His file says he's a troublemaker. I thought it was important to begin his training as soon as possible. I made sure the band was on correctly."
He gave a shrug that was met with apparent disinterest.
"No problem. I just don't want to fall behind, that's all. I've got fifty-seven of them to do before dinner."
"It's not going to slow you down," Hart said with characteristic arrogance. "You always do them alphabetically, so take him now," Hart said, pointing at Jared. "He's the Benson boy," he continued as if the name was well known.
Nurse Buchanan raised an eyebrow meaningfully. "The same boy we talked about at the director's meeting? Hm,... He'll probably take a bit longer then," she reflected. "Even after more than a year of practice, it's still surprising how often the injections aren't done properly. At least, we don't have more than one or two of them this time."
"He would have been first anyway," Hart explained absently. "By the time you're done with him, the rest of them will be ready."
Nurse Buchanan did not respond, merely taking the handful of files that Hart had been using. With a curt acknowledgement to Jared Benson that he was expected to follow her, she led the way into the muggy cramped room that adjoined the dormitory area. It served both as office and bedroom for the counselor. The desk had cleaned off except for a few pens and a writing pad in case she wanted to make notes. Daniele watched Jared nervously open up the same plastic package that he had opened a few minutes earlier. Jared picked out the collar and took it into the room. The door closed behind him.
"What happens in there?" one of the boys asked nervously.
Hart smirked. "Mostly just a quick examination to make sure that the treatment has worked the way it's supposed to. You'll probably get your STD injection if you haven't already had it."
A few of the boys exchanged glances. Every one knew that STD was the breakthrough inoculation that provided protection against AIDS and most of the other sexually transmitted diseases. Under the Healthy Nation Act, STD vaccination was usually performed on children when they began puberty, or shortly thereafter.
Something in Hart's voice warned Daniele that it was more than just a cursory examination like the one that Doctor Sutton had given him a week earlier. That inspection had only taken a few minutes, just long enough for him to lower his shorts and briefs to his knees. In front of his mother, she had taken a firm grasp of the red plastic ball and given it a sharp tug. It was loose, but it was still a long way from coming off. A few seconds later he was getting dressed. It had taken much longer for her to fill out the papers entitling the Webster family to a tax credit for the donation that represented their ten-year-old son's Low-gamma Testicular Attenuation, the official terminology used to describe the results of the CUP method of emasculation. The amount of $43,782.27 was based on the family's income over the last three years. It would have been much higher if Daniele had been the Webster's only son and had reached puberty.
Naked as the day of he was born, and endeavoring to ignore what was going on around him, Daniele sat on his bed idly inspecting the things that had fallen out of the package. There were three pairs of white cotton shorts and three tee-shirts; one red, one white, and one blue, all bearing the insignia of N.I.C.E.-- a circle and a diagonal line. It was reminiscent of the `male' symbol but it lacked the arrow on the end. It was entirely fitting, for the boys who wore that insignia were equally lacking in the essentials of that gender. The insignia had been cleverly composed so that it encompassed not only the letters, N, I,C, and E., but managed to incorporate V and L. In that way, three words could be deciphered, nice, evil, and live. Despite the boldness of the graphic, the symbol of the `neuter' was not apparent to Daniele, but had he known he might well have appreciated the irony. It had been the result of a competition, planned by Mrs. Frieland from the National Institute for Sexual Health, with the first prize being a two-week trip for two to Hawaii. He had always wanted to visit Hawaii, but he had not submitted an entry for the simple reason that he had not known about the competition.
"Who's next?" Hart snapped impatiently. He surveyed the group of boys. They were all good-looking, but a few of them could only be described as truly beautiful. "You," he said, pointing at a fair-haired boy. "What's your name?"
"Cullen, Mr. Hart."
"Cullen,.... Dehner right? I thought so. Okay, Cullen. You're next. Get moving. We don't have all day. I want you to get naked. Don't forget to take the collar out of your kit."
He turned back to Daniele. However, this time the boy ignored him. He was studying a booklet that was included in the package, `N.I.C.E. and Gay, the Only Way.' Hart smirked and told another boy to undress. There would be many other opportunities to torment the Webster boy.
One by one the boys went into the adjoining room. Each examination lasted between five and seven minutes. When it was Daniele's turn to go into the room, he promised himself he would be brave. With `W', he was the last boy in the cabin and he had been subjected to the counselor's taunting humor for the last fifteen minutes. He was tired of being called a `nuck' and a `pedo', of being treated as if he was less than human. Worse, he hated injections. As he disappeared around the doorway, he heard Hart's voice behind him. He missed what was said to him, but he knew it was unpleasant.
"And you must be Daniele Webster?" the nurse read from the last file.
She looked him up and down. The boy was well built, not an unnecessary ounce of fat on him, but not just skin and bones like the last boy. He had the long muscles of a young athlete. Despite the President's Healthy Nation Act, the percentage of overweight children was continuing to increase. It was a pleasure to see a boy who was physically fit.
"I'm here to make sure that everything is going along the way it should," she explained professionally. She smiled reassuringly and glanced lower. "You still have your cup on, I see. One of the boys in your cabin has lost his already. Jeremy, I think his name is. Did you notice?"
Daniele shook his head quickly. Of course, he had seen Jeremy Whittaker, sneaking a sideways glance at him when the boy had undressed, but he would never admit it. In fact, he was not at all sure of what he had seen. All he could be sure of was that he had seen a small fold of brown withered skin that barely revealed the tiny beans that remained within. What he had seen had been both fascinating and disturbing, for it was more a matter of what was not there, than what was still visible.
"No matter. They usually fall off sometime during the first week you're here," she announced. "Get up on the desk please, Daniele. Knees apart.... You have a size ten, don't you? Was it very difficult to put on? The small ones usually are a bit harder." She smiled again, but did not wait for his answer. "It's unusual for a boy at your age for them to be quite so small. They usually start growing a couple of years before the onset of puberty."
She glanced at the file again, then turned back a page. "Hm,... Zero point seven. Under a cubic centimeter I see. That's very small for a boy your age. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred the volume is between one and three ccs at ten years old. Of course, like just about everything else, testicle size has a normal distribution," she said absently. "There's a few big ones and a few small ones, but most are in the average range. There was a boy in here earlier with a green CUP. That's a size 20. Or is it 25? I always get them mixed up. Probably because we don't see very many of them. He hadn't even started puberty and he must have had five or six before the cup went on. When he's full grown he'll be 25 or more, or he would have. Now he'll end up with balls the size of yours.
Daniele winced inwardly. He despised how they criticized his body. He resented their aloof, impersonal observations. He closed his eyes in frustration as he felt her cool hands press his thighs further apart. With her right hand she tugged on the bright red ball, holding his penis out of the way with her other hand. He winced outwardly, barely managing to keep from crying with the sharp pain.
"It's still tender, sweetie? It shouldn't be. Not after a couple of weeks."
Daniele nodded once and gritted his teeth as she rotated the ball and moved it from side to side. He opened his eyes and dared to look down. She had long fingernails that had been painted crimson.
"It's already very loose. I expect it'll probably drop off in a few days. Come back and see me when it does. I need to take some measurements for our research program," she instructed, stepping back from the desk to make a check mark on Daniele's file in a box identified as `attenuation status satisfactory - 21 days.'
"Have you had any problems with it? Other than it itching? Sometimes there can be an excretion of pus from your penis. Anything like that?"
"That's good. There doesn't seem to be any inflammation under the cup. It all looks perfectly normal to me. Have you noticed any changes?"
Daniele shrugged vaguely. "What sort of changes?"
"Well, for one thing do you still get erections?"
Daniele gulped. He felt his Adam's apple move up and down in his neck. "Sometimes."
"But not as often as before?"
Daniele nodded slightly. He watched as she selected a syringe, removed the protective wrapper and inserted a cartridge of yellow fluid. She gave Daniele another reassuring smile.
"Okay, now I want you to stand on the floor and bend over the desk."
"What is it?" Daniele asked nervously, even though he knew the answer.
He tensed instinctively when he stood up. He hated injections more than anything he could think of.
"It's a broad spectrum immunization against sexually transmitted diseases. For that reason, it's usually called STD, but it's also become the standard for inoculation programs. Did you know 97 percent of American teenagers have been STD immunized already? You haven't had it yet, have you?"
"No!" Daniele said nervously.
"I didn't think so, otherwise it would be in your file." She smiled and inclined her head. "You don't like getting shots, do you?"
"No." He shuffled his feet, moving closer to the side of the desk but reluctant to assume the position.
"It's not going to hurt. Lean forward over the desk and count backwards from ten."
He complied. "Ten, nine,..." He felt the cold swab of alcohol on his skin. He tensed, clenching his buttocks.
"Just relax. Keep counting sweetie."
"Eight,... seven, YEEOUCH!" he shrieked.
He bucked away from the table as the needle jabbed deep into his right buttock. However, the nurse's hand slapped against his lower back, pressing him down. It was always easier with chubby boys with their flabby large buttocks. Daniele's bottom reminded her of the best-grade of hamburger in the supermarket, 99 percent lean. No fat and all muscle. The boy was healthy and fit, the way that boys were supposed to be.
"Now, now. That's enough of that," she said impatiently. "You don't want to break the needle off, do you?"
"It hurts," Daniele wailed.
It felt as if the needle was being driven in even further. He writhed underneath her restraining hand as the plunger was fully depressed and the needle was jerked back. Automatically, his hand moved to rub the firm little cheek that had born the brunt of the 10 cc injection.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked laughingly. "You'll be glad you've had it when you're sexually active. Of course you probably aren't having sex yet, but you will be soon enough," she added obscurely.
She moved away and Daniele immediately began to straighten up. He continued to soothe away the discomfort although he could feel nothing to indicate where the needle had penetrated. His bottom ached.
"Stay there please. I'm not finished yet."
Daniele looked over his shoulder, watching as she picked up a cream-colored latex glove and slid her right hand into it with a loud snap.
"What I'm going to do now is called a rectal exam, Daniele," she explained as she applied a thin film of crystalline jelly to her sheathed forefinger.
Daniele gulped. It was easy to figure out what was involved with a `rectal exam'. The nurse was going to insert her finger inside his bottom. Although he had never been to the seashore, his anus tightened like the anemones he had touched at the children's section of the zoo's aquarium. He felt as if he was under attack as she approached. How far would her finger go inside him? When he did it to himself, most of the time it was only a little way and the feelings were very enjoyable. But bigger things could go inside. He knew that from the book and from what Dustin had told him. It was a fact, from theory, not practice, that a man's penis could fit inside his rectum. He shivered nervously. He had tried it on himself in the shower using soap. At first just an inch, until his anus gripped the first joint of his finger. After that, it was easier. He could get his entire finger inside his body without a lot of difficulty. However, her finger was bigger and he knew she would not be gentle.
"Will it hurt?" he asked nervously.
"This won't hurt anything like the injection," she said to put him at ease. "It's easier if you try to relax your bottom. It'll slide right in then."
Daniele felt her fingertip burrowing between his clenched cheeks. It circled over the dimple of his anus, pressing in. It was unsettling, particularly when he did not understand why it was being done. She anticipated his question.
"We do this to make sure that the passage is big enough."
"Some boys can be too constricted," she explained imprecisely. "Take a deep breath and push back when you're ready, Daniele."
Daniele was used to the strange feeling of having his anus penetrated, insofar as that feeling could ever become familiar. He had done it to himself almost a dozen times, but he was unprepared for the sudden forceful push that felt like a spike was being shoved into his innards. He twitched in shock, struggling like a fish impaled on a spear.
"You're as tight as a cat's ass!" she observed with teasing humor. "Just relax. My, but you do have good muscle tone. You must be a virgin."
Angrily, Daniele glared at her over his shoulder, leaving no doubt that he knew what a virgin was, especially as it applied to boys instead of girls. He could feel that her finger was deeply embedded, seeming to be further inside his body that he had ever dared to do by himself. Not that it was unpleasant being so deep, because it wasn't. It simply felt very strange, a disorienting sensation of having something lodged inside him that wasn't supposed to be there. He heard her say `just relax' again. He was doing his best to hold back the contractions that purposely sought to eject the unwelcome presence, but perhaps he was not trying hard enough. And there was a hint among the many sensations that clamored through him, a suggestion that it might even start feeling very nice if he did what he was told. He felt her finger moving, bending, flexing inside him, trying to go even deeper. It was as if something deep inside him wanted to be touched, his core, the center of his being. He had never been able to insert his own finger that far. He gasped as something happened, something that made him shudder. It was as if the woman's finger was rubbing against something that was the source of all pleasure. He was powerless to stop her. In seconds, it seemed as if he had no control over his body. He trembled before her onslaught, gulping air as the finger changed from rhythmic stroking to careless jabs.
"Jesus," Daniele whimpered under his breath. He could not believe what he was feeling. He wanted to plunge back and forth, push it even deeper inside him. Without realizing why, he found himself wishing it was bigger, much bigger.
"We like that, do we?" she taunted in a calming voice.
Daniele tried to shake his head in denial. Her finger moved again, not jerking back and forth, but pushing steadily upward against the sensitive gland. Daniele groaned loudly. It took away his breath, building to a explosion like gas under pressure. It stopped the instant her finger yanked back. He gasped loudly.
"Yes. Well, you don't have to answer. With a response like that, I'm surprised you're still a virgin. You might even be intact when you leave camp, but you won't be for much longer," she laughed. "You can stand up. I'm going to rank you as a one-two-zero for now, Daniele."
"I'm sorry. It's for 120 millimeters. It's a `large'."
"Oh? That's about a inch and a half I think."
"What is?" Daniele asked with unsettling trepidation. 120 millimeters was about four inches. Not an inch and a half.
"Well, one-two-zero is the circumference and dividing 120 by pi is close to 40mm, so it's slightly more than an inch and a half in diameter. Although why they don't use diameter for the stupid things, I really don't know. It'd make a lot more sense, I think."
"What's is?" he asked again.
"Don't worry. You'll be starting with the next size down. That's a nine-zero, the medium size. One-two-zero is much too large for a boy your age to get started, but I'm sure you'll grow into it. Most ten-year-olds end up with a medium so you're getting a head start. Now, there are three in a pack, so start out with the smallest one. You'll soon be large enough to use the next size up. It's important that you work up to it gradually, so you don't have any problems. You should be able to take the full ninety in a few days. Then, we'll move you up to the next series. Large ends up with a one-two-zero. We'll see how you go. By the end of next week you might even be ready for more. One never knows. Some boys expand very easily, but I must tell you that very few of the twelve-year-olds get past `large' while they're here at camp. Extra-large goes up to 160, or is it 180? What's that? Two inches or so, isn't it? It should be quite large enough for you, unless you plan on having a huge one in there."
"What will be?" Daniele asked with growing confusion.
"Your bottom, of course. All NICE boys use training packs. It'd be very tight otherwise, and we certainly don't want to see you get hurt. Now, make sure you spend at least one full day with every one. Work your way up. As I said, there are three in the pack so it'll take two days before you try the biggest one. You should be okay for the nine-zero by then. Once it's comfortable, come back to see me and we'll make sure everything is okay before you move onto the `large' size pack. I don't want to see you in the infirmary. Fissures can be so uncomfortable and there's always the chance of getting an infection. You can stand up now."
She ignored him as she removed the latex glove and discarded it in the trash can to join nine other gloves with shiny fingers. A few of the boys had been difficult. One boy in particular had tightened up so much that it took all her strength to breach his anus and insert her finger far enough that he could not push it out. He had been rated as a four-zero. The smallest size, thin, like a pencil and only slightly thicker. How did a boy ever manage to defecate through such a tiny hole?
She inspected the boy once again, assessing him with an experienced eye, the other eye glancing at the open file. His performance at his school was remarkable. Two grades ahead and in special classes for gifted students at Carnegie Junior High. She wondered what it was like for him not to go to school with boys his own age. He was so good-looking. And he was still a virgin? He would not last more than a few hours in a cabin full of horny twelve-year-old boys, even NICE boys. Despite what people believed, one thing was certain. Most of them were still quite capable of sexual intercourse after treatment.
It was a pity that Daniele Webster was da Vinci dominant. He would have made a splendid mate when he was older, except that he had such small genitals. That reminded her.
"I'm surprised you've still got it. Your foreskin, I mean," she added in response to Daniele's unspoken query. "Did Doctor,...Ah,..." She consulted the file for a moment. "Here it is,... Did Doctor Sutton talk to you about circumcision?"
She waited for Daniele to answer. He shrugged and looked down self-consciously. It was difficult to believe that the little piece of skin on the end of his penis was so problematic. Doctor Sutton had mentioned it again at his last examination, recommending that he have it removed when he returned from the ETC camp. The nurse put the file down on the table. She came back to stand beside him and placed her hand on his neck. She pulled at the training band. It was so tight that it barely moved. The metal prongs pressed into either side of the little bumps of his spine so that they could deliver the electric charge. Satisfied, she tilted his head back to make certain that the band was not cutting too deeply into the skin. Daniele gulped as the airflow in his throat was further restricted.
"You ought to be circumcised before much longer, Daniele," the nurse observed. "It's much more hygienic that way, even though with what you have down there I expect you'll always be on the receiving end. It's a pity I can't do it here."
Daniele waited until she released his head. He wanted to tell her that his penis was none of her business. Instead, he glanced out the window where the rest of the boys from his cabin had gathered under a large oak tree. When he turned back, the nurse was staring at him.
"We're finished here. Run along and join your friends," she said softly.
She continued to watch him until he disappeared from sight. Again, she glanced at the hand-written notes that had been made on the boy's official N.I.C.E. file.
"He swims apparently,.... Some sort of state champion,.... Well, that explains his nice body. He seems like a nice boy,.... I wonder why Sutton recorded him as being difficult?"