Date: Fri, 17 Aug 2018 15:04:56 +0000 From: THOMAS HUTCHINSON Subject: 11 chapter of Timothy If you enjoyed this story and if you can afford to, please send a donation to Nifty: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Help keep the flame of freedom burning. Chapter Eleven--Timothy Trains a Boy by T. Edward Hutchinson During Greg's summer vacation from his ivy league college he is apprenticed to Mr. Lippi, chief adviser to Mr. Tsvetkov who is Greg's father and chief of the organization for the state. The organization is a conglomerate of legal and illegal businesses with ties to similar organizations around the country. Greg is in training to perform a similar adviser role for his older brother when his sibling eventually succeeds to the top job. The younger brother is also summer handler, a hands on supervisor, for the boss's personal assistant Timothy. Greg's responsibility is to ensure that Timmy completes all of his training and other assignments. If Tim has no duties for Mr. Tsvetlov he works for Greg. Both boys are twenty although Timothy looks three or more years younger. Within the organization they are referred to collectively as 'the cousins' though that is not actually the case, for those in the know it's a running joke. For the two young men the association has become more than a good laugh. By the end of their third summer together a genuine friendship exists underneath the formal relationship. Otherwise the summer passes uneventfully and Greg returns to college. ***** In a light drizzle on a cloudy day in October, Mr. Tsvetkov in his rain gear is walking not far from the neighborhood office of the organization to an engagement nearby. Timothy in his wake, has on a light weight waterproof jacket with the hood up. For no reason the youth happens to notice the open passenger window of a small, faded red car on the other side of the narrow street that is about to come even with his boss. A face appears in the window followed by the barrel of a handgun. On instinct Tim has his weapon out and gets off two rounds. He doesn't know why the other man did not fire first. Perhaps there was a momentary obstruction, a sign post or another pedestrian. Tim lowers his arm with the weapon and someone grabs it and disappears into the crowd. The red car moves off gathering speed. The driver thinks his man has fired. Two hundred yards down the road the car stops, the passenger door opens and a body is pushed out into the street. The red car turns the next corner, the one after that and continues to the next cross street where it is double parked. Two men exit one taking the side street to the right the other the left. Both men hop into cars that were waiting for them which speed off in opposite directions. Mr. Tsvetkov and Timmy return to the office. The police respond to the body in the street. Men from the office find and remove the shell casings. People in the crowd that gathers at the scene of the body are questioned. The witnesses tell conflicting stories. The little red car is found. Investigators quickly determine that the shots that killed the man came from outside the car. Fingerprints of the victim establish that he was a convicted felon from out of state. A patrol of uniformed police scour the sidewalk and street working back from the location of the body. They do not find shell casings or any other useful evidence. These results plus the known location of the organization's office nearby result in a working theory of the crime, to wit: an attempt on the life of Mr. Tsvetkov failed when one of his bodyguards murdered the would be assassin. The newspapers reported the story that way, "Mob Shootout Leaves One Dead." In Mr. Lippi's office the boss and couple of senior employees meet to review the information and make initial decisions. They give out to the underlings that it was Mr. Tsvetkov's bodyguard who made the kill. When information leaks it will keep Timothy's role secret from all but a hand full, so his usefulness will not be compromised. Timothy is called in and the plan explained to him. Mr. Lippi shakes his hand, "Congratulations on making your bones, young man." Later in the day he is called into Mr. Tsvetkov's office. No one else is present. The boss stands and Timothy moves into his open arms. Mr. Tsvetkov hugs him tight and kisses the youngster on the forehead, "Good boy, Timmy. Now go do your job." He gives the youth a swat on the butt. "Thank you, sir." For the next few weeks Mr. Tsvetkov uses his limousine with driver and two bodyguards to go anywhere. The organization is working to find out who authorized the hit and why. Then they will attempt to fix the problem by resolving a misunderstanding, reaching an accommodation or eliminating the source. Timothy is not needed to accompany the boss during this period. At his next meeting with his weapons trainer, he is given another handgun of similar type but a different make. He shown all the differences in how to use the mechanism and practices with the gun until he he can deploy and fire smoothly and quickly. ***** Security calls the apartment to announce that a package is being bought up by an organization employee. Mr. Tsvetkov and Timothy are alone enjoying a quiet evening. Timmy is nude as usual. The delivery is a rug rolled up and tied with twine. "Bring that into the dungeon," the boss directs. It's been a while since they have used that room, not since the shooting. Maybe things are getting back to normal, Tim thinks. "Set it down and open it up," the boss requests. The man unrolls the carpet to reveal a ten year old boy inside and unconscious. The blond boy with medium length unruly hair is nicely dressed in white shirt, black pants, socks and shoes. The delivery man breaks and waves an ammonia ampule under the youngster's nose. The boy grimaces and shakes his head. His bright blue eyes open, squint a few times, then stay open. "Do you know how you got here?" Mr. Tsvetkov asks the boy. "Na'a, the kid mumbles. "Do you remember that your father sold you to a man to repay a really big debt?" "Sort'a, sum'p'n like that." "I bought you from that man, you're mine now Bobby." "Whatever." "Good, I want to see what I got for my money, get your clothes off." The kid hesitates, looks around and his eyes go wild. He jumps up and looks for a place to hide. The two men and Timothy trap the lad when he tries to open the dungeon door. The boss directs that the youngster be placed in the cage in the corner of the room. The gate runs on a track so that the area inside the cell can be reduced. Mr. Tsvetlov's assistant shoves the gate and the boy into a narrower space. A gallon jug of water is placed on top of the cage. A plastic tube is attached to the bottom of the container. "You can get drinking water from this, just twist this little handle." he demonstrates by squirting the boy in the face. The boss puts the end of the tube with the stopcock into the cage. Then he opens a small hatch in the top of the cage and drops in a white paper bag. "Hamburger and fries," he informs the kid, "ice cream in the cup. With jimmies! No spoon. You'll have to use your fingers and then squeeze the cup from the bottom or wait for it to melt." Mixed into the jimmies is an adult dose of laxative. They turn off the lights and leave the youngster alone in the dungeon. Mr. Tsvetkov returns to the apartment after lunch the following day. He and Timmy go to check on the cute, blond boy. The boss raises all the lights to their highest brightness. At the cage Mr. Tsvetkov speaks to the child, "You don't look very comfortable in there, Bobby." The kid is cramped up in the tiny space available to him. "You stink too, did you shit yourself?" The kid's eyes, red from crying, provide Mr. Tsvetkov with immediate satisfaction. "Do you like being covered in piss and shit or do you want to get cleaned up?" After a pause, "Yes or no, we can leave you in there if you prefer." "Ya." "Ya what?" "Ya I want to get out." "And get clean?" "Ya." At a signal from the boss, Tim unlocks the cage and the boy rolls himself out. Taking the kid by the armpits the older boy helps the younger to sit up. "You can't take a shower with your clothes on kid, strip off." Bobby tries to stand but is too wobbly. "Stay on the floor," the man say. Timothy pushes down on the boy's shoulders. The kid pulls off his shoes. He sticks his thumbs inside the elastic waist band of his pants. He tugs briefs and pants together free of his bottom, up his thighs and over his knees smearing himself brown as he does it. All three make a face. "Yuck," Tim says. Timothy puts a set of ankle cuffs with padlocks connected by an eighteen inch chain on the boy as soon as his pants and briefs are out of the way. "You have to have these because you tried to run away before," he explains. Bobby unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off his arms. "It looks like you had diarrhea are you sick?" Mr. Tsvetkov asks. "I don't feel good." The boss puts a hand on Bobby's forehead, "Your brow is warm. We'll give you some aspirin." They take him to the dungeon's lavatory. Timothy gives the boy a plastic cup of water and a little white pill, Oxycontin. "You'll feel better in no time," Tim promises. "Get in the shower and wash up." When the boy starts soaping himself a second time Mr. Tsvetkov puts a stop to it. "You're done, turn the water off and come out of there." Bobby sticks his head under the spray and pretends not to hear. "Otherwise, we'll put you back in the cage and throw your filthy clothes in on top of you." This gets the desired result. "Stand on the bath mat," the boss directs. Mr. Tsvetkov and Timothy have bath towels in their hands. The boy tries to grab one and gets a slap on the ass. "I'll dry myself," the youngster insists. "Let me go, I don't want to be here," he continues as the men commence to rub him down. "If you use your mouth in a way we don't want we will stop you from using it." "You've kidnapped me, I'll tell the cops." "Get the gag out of the equipment box, Timmy. Oh, and the collar," the boss orders. They force the boy to the floor and Timothy pinches the kid nose until he opens his mouth. Mr. Tsvetkov slips in a child sized, perforated, white plastic ball gag. The first chance he gets, Bobby pulls the gag out. "Handcuffs," the boss announces. The youth's arms are forced behind his back and the handcuffs locked in place, then the ball gag is reinserted. "When you use your hands to do something we don't want, you lose the use of your hands," the boss comments as though to himself. "Now you can't eat or drink until we take the gag out." He shows the boy a pair of dental forceps. "If you bite anybody when we do I'll take your teeth out one by one with these. We have no use for your teeth so it wont bother us to do it. You'd better not forget because there will not be a second warning." Mr. Tsvetkov waves the stainless steel forceps in front of the boy's eyes, opens and closes them making them click. Tim fastens the collar around the boy's neck. "You've got a rash where you slept in pee all night. I'm going to put some ointment on it. The zinc oxide cream please Timmy." Bobby squirms when the greasy salve is applied to and around his genitals. He receives a half dozen slaps to his buttocks which then are anointed including his crack and anus. Then they put a disposable diaper on him and Timothy carries the boy out of dungeon and to the living room where he is deposited on the rug he was wrapped in when he first arrived at the apartment. Tired from a sleepless night, drugged and being nearly immobile in restraints, the kid falls fast asleep. Mr. Tsvetkov informs Timothy that he will be handler and trainer for this new acquisition. It will only be for a month before Bobby is handed on to a physician with a specialty in pediatrics who cooperates with the organization. He wants to try certain medications to delay the boy's growth, ten year olds are his favorite. All we need to do is deliver a boy who is used to being handled and will obey commands. "There's a ping pong paddle in the equipment box. That seems to be pretty effective for punishment don't you think?" "Yes sir," Timmy agrees with good reason. "Threaten him with the cage and put him in it as a last resort. Take him to bed at night chained to you. And use the graduated butt plugs in the box to begin to stretch him out." "Yes sir." "Pain pills morning and evening." That night in bed Timothy is stroking Bobby's upper chest near the right hand nipple. "I don't like that." the boy complains. "Why not?" "It doesn't feel good." "Nonsense, "Tim corrects, "do you know what a nuggie is?" "Nooo." "It's a punch with one knuckle. I'll show you what it looks like in the morning. For now I'll just show you what it feels like." Tim gives Bobby a hard nuggie on the left hand chest. "Ow!" "That feels bad, it hurts. When I touch you gently, that feels good. That's the difference between what feels good and what feels bad. Now I'm going to stroke your right thigh gently." The older youth does it. "OK, now I'm going to give you a nuggie on the other thigh." "Oww!" "That feels bad, it hurts. Since you don't know, I'm going to keep doing this until you learn the difference between what feels good and what feels bad. I'm going to touch your balls gently now." He does it. "Does that feel good or bad?" No response is forthcoming. "Hmm? Good or bad?" Tim waits. "OK, let's try another place. I'll touch your butt gently. OK, good or bad." No response. "Let's try your dick. Good or bad?" Nothing. "I guess silence is progress." Timothy continues stroking Bobby's penis, he feels the boy tighten up, shiver and then relax. "Good, huh? Tomorrow you're going to have bruises where you got the nuggies. They will remind you of the difference between good touch and bad touch. If you need another lesson I'll be glad to give you one."