Date: Sat, 16 Jun 2018 02:02:28 -0400
From: pensievemind@aol.com
Subject: Professor Parker's Health Class - Chapter Eight - Gay > Young Friends

Professor Parker's Health Class - Chapter 8

Author's notes: I thought we were due for an origin story, and so I humbly
submit this installment in the Chesterton Academy series.

** As always, please remember that Nifty needs your donations to provide
this forum for those of us who love to write, and those of you who enjoy
reading! **

CHAPTER EIGHT - "PRELUDE"

	Nigel Parker looked out over the assembled faces, doing his best
not to allow a smile to bend his lips.  He knew from years of experience
that it was never a good idea to appear too pleasant, at least not on the
first day.  Doing so often set an inaccurate precedent, and it was harder
to overcome than it's reverse, that of being a stern, no nonsense sort of
chap.  It also made it more difficult to later administer discipline when a
situation warranted.

	But he did feel like smiling, as he did every year as he began his
first lesson with the newest students at Chesterton Academy.  The actual
name of the school was "Chesterton Academy for Gifted Youth".  It had once
been "for Gifted Boys".  Although the school retained its all male student
enrollment, several of the female teachers had suggested the name was
sexist.  Few members of the staff, or the school governors, had any problem
with the purely semantic name change, and so it happened.

	Nigel had been teaching in a comprehensive school for five years
before having received a call from Chesterton's new Headmaster, asking him
to join the Academy's teaching staff.  Roderick Samuels, the new Head, had
been one of Nigel's former professors at Latham, where he'd been a student.
He explained to Nigel that Chesterton needed "some new blood" that would be
amenable to his ideas for the school.

	Nigel jumped at the chance.  He found teaching biology on the
secondary level less than fulfilling, at least in the uninspiring school in
which he'd landed his first position.  Much of the vigor he'd felt on his
first day had been dissipated by disinterested students and a rather jaded
administration.  All that was required of him was to occupy each class of
students for fifty minutes at a time, give them enough to pass the
promotion exams, and then begin the process anew with another equally
disinterested mob.

	Professor Samuels had assured him that he planned to take
Chesterton Academy into the future, assuring that the education offered
there would truly prepare the young men they taught for life beyond school.
He asked, and in fact expected, his teachers to suggest and employ
innovative and stimulating techniques, doing all within their power to
excite the students about the learning process.

	Excited himself, and not half chuffed at the offer, Nigel had
readily accepted the position of Master of Life Sciences.  While he never
doubted Roderick Samuels' word, he was, at first, a bit disappointed by the
attitude of the rest of the faculty, or at least some members of it.  They
were every bit like the stuffy old masters who had educated him, some still
wearing academic robes to teach.  They seemed to gainsay anything
innovative that the Head suggested, and often monopolized staff meetings
with their doubts and reluctance to try anything that smacked of change.

	The situation changed rather quickly, however.  Roderick Samuels
was not one to be deterred, and when his ideas did not receive the
enthusiastic reception he'd expected, he simply began to mandate changes,
entertaining no contrary opinions.  In response, a fair number of teachers
chose to retire from the profession, which Nigel felt had been years too
late for some of them.  The rest, now lacking the authoritative backing of
the more senior professors, slowly began to adjust to the new strategy.

	In the ten years since Nigel had joined the staff at Chesterton,
he'd seen many things change.  Of greatest significance to him was how his
responsibilities shifted from teaching things like biology and anatomy to
what he had now been teaching for nearly six years.  The change had been
precipitated by an unfortunate and highly disturbing situation.

	It was late May in Nigel's second year at Chesterton when two first
year boys were encouraged by their classmates to visit the school nurse.
What she discovered shook the very foundations of the old school, and
precipitated an outcry from parents and the expulsion of four third year
students.

	Both boys were badly bruised about the face, evidence of a number
of punches.  Even more disturbing were the bruises discovered beneath their
clothing, specifically on and around their buttocks. Once they had been
transferred to the local hospital, further damage was discovered in both
boys rectums.  In short, they had been the victims of unforgivably brutal
anal rape.

	No amount of questioning and calm reassuring could convince the
boys to name their attackers or describe what had happened.  It hardly
mattered.  The Chesterton student population was so small as to engender a
certain fraternal affection within and between the grade levels.  It wasn't
long before the story was out.  The two first years had snuck into the boat
house on the edge of the lake.  They had stripped naked and were involved
in some sexual experimentation when they were discovered by the four older
students.  When they refused to sexually service the older boys, they were
beaten and tied up, and then raped multiple times by the four assailants.

	It was their own third year classmates, shocked by the brutality of
the older boy's attacks on the first years, who had identified the four
rapists.  All four of the attackers were expelled and prosecuted, but the
sentence they received fell far short of what almost everyone felt
sufficient, mostly because the parents of the abused boys had refused to
allow their sons to testify in court.  Those same parents chose to remove
their sons from Chesterton Academy, making it seem they had been punished
every bit as much as those who had attacked them.

	Attention then turned to the school administration.  Parents began
to ask why no one had done anything to prevent the attacks, as if anything
could have been done.  Suspicion was all the evidence some needed to
convince them that there had already been other attacks that the younger
students were simply too embarrassed to report.  Come to that, no one on
the staff could have denied such charges had they been levied.  The boys
would be willing to protect one another, but there was still a divide
between them and the staff that could not be crossed, and such information
wouldn't cross either.

	Eventually the furor calmed, but Roderick Samuels was adamant that
such a thing could never again be allowed to happen.  He had survived the
storm as headmaster, despite the cries of some for his dismissal.
Fortunately, the board of governors had listened as Samuels explained how
no one could have prevented the crime without locking the boys in their
dormitories when they were not involved in a school function.  Nigel, and
most of the teaching staff, had also been questioned and had all expressed
their unwavering support for the headmaster.

	"I told them we'd do everything in our power," Roderick Samuels
said.  "And that's exactly what I intend to do."

	"I'm not sure I like the sound of that, Rod," Nigel replied.  He
was sitting in the headmaster's study three weeks into the summer holidays.
When it was just the two of them, Nigel was free to speak to the headmaster
not as his superior, but as his friend.  "What are you thinking?"

	"Something a bit radical, I'm afraid," Roderick replied.

	"I'd be disappointed if it wasn't," Nigel smirked.

	"Yeah?" Roderick gave him a smug look.  "Well, then you'll be glad
to hear that you're going to be a big part of my plan."

	And so it began.  Roderick had explained that there was no way to
guarantee that the tragic events of the past year would not be repeated.
It was simply impossible to keep the entire student body under surveillance
twenty-four hours a day.  If he was to keep his promise to the governors,
Roderick had to find another way.

	"We'll call it Health Class," he explained to a doubtful Nigel.
"We can easily sell it to the governors and parents by explaining that its
primary purpose is the health and well being of the students -- which is,
of course, true enough."

	"I see that," Nigel agreed, at least up to that point.  "But I
don't see how it makes a difference."

	"Then let me explain," Roderick said.  "Why do you think that those
two unfortunate boys, having been abused so badly... why do you think they
didn't want to report the attack, and name the attackers?"

	"Easy," Nigel said, shaking his head.  "They didn't want to admit
it had happened even after their injuries were discovered."

	"And why do you suppose that is?" Roderick asked.

	"Well," Nigel replied, surprised that his friend would even need to
ask, "it's... well, it's embarrassing, isn't it?"

	"And what, exactly, did those boys have to feel embarrassed about?
They did nothing wrong!  They were viciously attacked and abused," Roderick
said.  "Hell, they were raped!  Their only crime was being too young and
too small to defend themselves against being buggered by four seventeen
year olds!"

	"Agreed, but what can we possibly do to get a school full of boys
over their embarrassment about sex?" Nigel asked.  "And what good would it
do anyway?"

	"Well, you have to admit," Roderick smiled, "we British are very
nearly phobic when it comes to discussing such things with our children.
We pass that trait onto successive generations, along with that sense of
embarrassment."  His smile faded as he went on, "And I still can't believe
that, in the twenty-first century, four men -- and let's be honest, they
were men who had raped children -- to go virtually unpunished, simply
because the victims' parents were so worried about what people would think
of their innocent sons.  If such a thing had happened nearly anywhere else,
those four men would be serving hard time for years to come."

	"Agreed," Nigel replied quickly, seeing how angry simply recounting
the incident had made the headmaster.  "So, what can we possibly do to
change that sort of attitude?  I can still remember when a man could be
thrown into prison for sodomy, if it could be proven.  How can you possibly
overcome decades, if not centuries, of prejudice and religious outrage?"

	"Ah," Roderick again smiled, "that's where you come in.  Or rather,
that's where your new curriculum comes in.  And I'd like you to help me
establish the guidelines for it."

	"I'm not at all sure of where you're going with this," Nigel said,
shaking his head.

	"Nigel," Roderick sighed deeply, "do you think, even for a moment,
that with a school full of nothing but boys, our students never experiment
sexually with one another?"  When Nigel, who was too confused to answer,
hesitated, Roderick continued, "They are constantly together, playing
sports together, sleeping in a dorm together, showering together, swimming
nude together.  Do you seriously think that, at no time, they are finding
ways to satisfy their burgeoning libidos?  Can you tell me that nothing of
the sort ever happened in your years at Latham?  Because I can tell you
that, when I was a student there... well, let's just say that it was
expected rather than forbidden."

	Nigel thought back to his own time at Latham.  There was an actual
ceremony in which first year students were chosen by fourth year boys to be
their "slaves."  At first, most of it played out in the younger boys being
required to shine the older boys shoes, or make their beds, or other such
servant duties.  It wasn't long, though, before stories began being passed
throughout the first year dormitory of the other "duties" some, if not
most, of the first years were expected to carry out.

**********************************************

	Nigel knew he was one of the luckiest first year students at the
Latham School.  His "master" was very kind and affectionate.  He regularly
praised Nigel for a job well done, whereas the other older boys seemed to
delight in demeaning their young apprentices.  His master, on the other
hand, helped Nigel to navigate the rough waters of his first year at
Latham, teaching him how to wear his tie and waistcoat properly, and how to
address his academic masters and older students.

	Of course, his mentor Freddie eventually requested that special
service that it seemed all of his classmates were expected to provide.  But
unlike some of his friends, who told of having been made to strip off and
present their young bums for penetration on nearly their first night,
Freddie had slowly introduced the concept of sex to Nigel.  He even
demonstrated what he'd like Nigel to do by giving the young boy his very
first blow job.  It wasn't long before Nigel began to place his trust in
Freddie, and even to feel some degree of affection towards him.

	Because of Freddie's efforts, Nigel felt confident that older boy
would never do anything to hurt him.  He was further assured as he stood
next to his "master" while Freddie's classmates begged to have an evening
with him.  According to some of the other first years, Nigel was considered
among the fourth years to be "a really hot little piece of ass."  Freddie
made it very clear that Nigel would not be shared, but was his exclusively.

	Still, Nigel knew that the day would come when Freddie would ask
him to offer the ultimate service.  He'd already heard from many of his
classmates that they had been buggered regularly, some nearly nightly, by
their fourth year masters.  Some even told how they'd been used by groups
of older boys at "fetes," where three or four first years could spend hours
naked, bent over to be fucked multiple times by six or seven older
students.  It was sometimes easy to identify such first years on a Sunday
morning, as they walked gingerly into chapel, and seemed more uncomfortable
than usual sitting on the hard wooden pews, bravely holding back tears, as
all Latham boys were expected to do.

	Nigel was truly grateful that Freddie never allowed him to be
included in such a gathering.  Once he'd heard of such events, he even
asked Freddie about it.  Freddie simply smiled and pulled Nigel into a
tight embrace, whispering into his ear that, as long as he was there, Nigel
would never have to worry about being used in such a way.  Of course, at
that point, Nigel had never even been buggered by Freddie.

	"So, are you going to bugger me?" Nigel asked one evening.

	Freddie looked Nigel in the eyes, his face full of affection.  "I'd
like to, love, but I don't want you to be afraid."

	"I'm not afraid," Nigel said, trying to sound brave.  Truth be
told, he had begun to truly enjoy the sexual play in which he and Freddie
engaged.  Once being introduced to the specifics, Nigel and his fellow
first years often pleasured each other, playing with each other's nearly
hairless cocks and balls.  Nigel had found he enjoyed sucking on another
boy's cock, bringing him to a climax, whether wet or dry.  He, along with
some other boys, had often sat in a circle and wanked each other, simply
for the feeling, with no particular affection for any of the others.

	"You know what `buggering' is, do you?"  Freddie asked him,
sounding a bit disbelieving.

	"Yeah," Nigel answered defiantly.  "It's when you put your cock in
my arsehole.  Plenty of guys talk about it, and lots of them said their
masters do it to them all the time."

	"Listen, Nigel," Freddie said, fixing him with a serious gaze.  "I
know what some of the older boys do with your classmates.  But I want you
to know something."  He took Nigel by the shoulders and looked him in the
eyes.  "I am NOT your master, all right?  I like you.  I like you a lot.
But you don't HAVE to do anything.  I love what we do already, but if you
said you didn't want to, I would stop and never ask you again."  He pulled
Nigel into a tight embrace.  "And if anybody here ever tries to make you do
anything you don't want to do, I want you to scream my name as loud as you
can, and I'll come and stop it, OK?"

	Nigel hugged Freddie even tighter.  He'd never had an older
brother, or any sort of "protector" before.  All he knew in that moment was
that he loved Freddie.  Most of his classmates, when they bothered to talk
about them at all, spoke of how their "masters" basically expected them to
do whatever they said, making their mouths and bums available when
required.  He never heard any of them speak of the older boys with any sort
of affection.  If he'd bothered to consider it at the moment, Nigel would
have easily defined his feelings towards Freddie as "love."

	"Freddie," Nigel said into Freddie's chest, "does it feel good?  I
mean, to bugger a boy like the other masters do?"

	He could hear Freddie's chuckle through his sternum.  "Do you
know," Freddie replied, "I couldn't tell you.  I've never done it."  He
pushed Nigel away to look him in the eye.  "And I wouldn't want to do it
with you if it hurt you."

	"Only how would you know it would hurt me if you never... er, if we
never..."  Nigel stammered.

	"Hmmm," Freddie hummed with a serious look on his face.  "Fair
point.  All my mates say it feels great, but they never say how the other
boy feels.  I know most of them don't even care.  Some of them talk about
when they were young like you, and they said after a while they liked it.
Can I tell you a secret?  Only you have to promise not to tell anybody
else, OK?"

	"I promise," Nigel said quickly.

	"Well," Freddie began hesitantly, "some of the boys in our class
still bugger each other.  It's not like with you younger kids who don't get
to say no.  So I reckon some of the boys my age like to get buggered."

	"Does it feel good to get buggered?" Nigel asked, knowing the
technique from his classmates, none of whom ever mentioning that he enjoyed
the experience.

	"It must for some," Freddie said thoughtfully.  "I never liked it
much when I was your age.  But my "master" was a brute.  He didn't care
what I liked.  He would just bend me over and shove his cock in me.  I know
HE liked it, but he couldn't have cared less if I did.  One time he even
made me let three of his friends bugger me, one after another.  It hurt
bad, and my arsehole was bleeding for about two days.  I had to throw two
pair of my pants away."  Pulling Nigel to him again, he said, "But I would
never let that happen to you."

	Nigel sniffed, suddenly realizing that tears were flowing down his
cheeks.  They weren't for himself, nor even for the love that was welling
up in his chest for the boy now embracing him so warmly.  It was for what
had been done to Freddie, and how he wished he could have been there to
stop it.

	Pushing himself out of Freddie's embrace, Nigel looked up into the
older boy's eyes and said, "Would you show me?  Would you please bugger
me?"

	Freddie looked surprised, but happy.  "Are you sure, my little
love?"

	"Yeah," Nigel said with no hesitation.  "I want to.  I want you to
put it in me.  I know that you won't hurt me, and I want to do something to
make you feel really good."

	Freddie dwelt on Nigel's words for quite a while.  Then he
answered, "If you really want me to, I will.  BUT," he added seriously, "I
don't want it to just be buggering.  I like you a lot.  I think I might
even love you.  If we do this, I won't be buggering you.  I want to make
love to you."

	Nigel hadn't the intellectual equipment at the time to fully
understand the distinction between buggering and making love.  By the same
token, such a distinction wasn't important to him.  Even if he couldn't
name the emotion, he truly loved Freddie, and anything his body could do to
provide pleasure to the older boy, he was more than happy to offer.

	As most everyone in Freddie's class knew, the nurse's office was
the single best place to go of an evening for a private session between two
boys.  The examination table, with its adjustable height and continuous
roll of disposable paper covering, made for a near perfect platform upon
which to satisfy a couple's carnal desires.  Unlike most of the other rooms
in the building, the small window in the door had a blind that could be
drawn to prevent prying eyes from seeing what was taking place inside.
Also, the door could be locked from the inside, normally by the school
doctor, preventing all but those with a key from interrupting a boy's
physical examination, which often required the subject to be naked.

	So, late one Friday evening, Nigel followed Freddie through the
dark halls to the nurse's office.  When they arrived, they saw the blind on
the door window was down.  Freddie explained that it was a signal that the
room was occupied, most likely by some boys involved in their own nocturnal
sexual recreations.  Freddie suggested that he and Nigel sit on the floor
across the hall and wait.  He further explained that, since the nurse's
office was one of the very few places where boys could find any real
privacy for sexual encounters, there was an unspoken agreement that none
would monopolize the room for longer than what could be considered
absolutely necessary.  Not that many fourth year's cared if others saw them
buggering their young "slaves."

	"You ever hear of lube?"  Freddie asked as he and Nigel sat on the
cold, stone floor.

	"No," Nigel said.

	"Well, lube is why the nurse's office is such a great place
for... well, for what we came here for.  I don't know what she uses it for,
but some of the other guys told me there's tubes of the stuff in there, and
you really need it if you're gonna put your cock into a boy's arse.  Never
get it in if it's dry."  He went on to explain how his former "master" used
to make do with his own spit, and how much it hurt when he shoved his
saliva covered cock up his arse.  "You really need something slippery so it
doesn't hurt the other person."

	Once again, Nigel was grateful that Freddie had chosen him as his
"slave," mostly because he never treated him as a slave, and because he
actually seemed concerned with Nigel's well being.  Having heard of the
level of abuse some of his classmates endured on a near daily basis, he
thanked the stars that he was "owned" by someone so compassionate.

	After about a quarter hour, the blind on the nurse's door slid up
and the door opened.  Out stepped an older student that Nigel recognized as
one of Freddie's classmates.  Following him was one of Nigel's classmates,
a boy called Piers, walking awkwardly with one hand behind himself, as if
rubbing his own arse.  Even more remarkable was the fact that Piers was
naked from head to toe.  He wasn't carrying any sort of clothing.  As soon
as he saw Nigel, he turned his head downward, obviously embarrassed to be
seen in such a compromising situation.

	"Oi, Freddie," the older boy said in greeting.  "See you finally
got your boy up here."  He paused, scanning Nigel with a lecherous look on
his face.  He pulled Piers around to stand in front of him.  "I made mine
strip off before we came.  He looks so hot naked I didn't want to waste any
time.  Anyway, I think he likes walking around the school starkers.  Move
your hands, slave.  Let Freddie and his boy see your little bits."  Piers
had put his hands over his cock, obviously ashamed of being caught out
nude, but then moved them to his sides, revealing his flaccid penis, no
doubt made smaller by his embarrassment.

	"Do you know, Trevor," Freddie said, standing up, "You're really
are a tosser.  Why couldn't you let the boy wear clothes?"

	"Ha," Trevor huffed derisively.  "What's the point?  He'd have to
take them off anyway.  Waste of time, don't ya think?"

	"No, I don't think," Freddie said, with no small amount of distain.
"There's no reason to embarrass a boy just because he has to do what you
say.  Isn't that enough for you?  Did you like it when the older boys made
you run around the footy pitch naked?"

	"Fuck you, Hatcher," Trevor sneered.  "Just because you're in love
with your little cock sucker doesn't mean we all have to cuddle up to ours.
They're here for us to fuck, and if your cute arsed little boy belonged to
anybody else, we'd all have fucked him by now."

	"Damn, you're a pig, Hadley," Freddie chuckled.  "See, I thought
that maybe if we treated these guys differently than we were treated in our
first year, maybe there'd be less sadistic fucks like you in the future."

	"Watch your mouth, Hatcher," Trevor growled.

	"Or what?" Freddie replied, a smile playing on his lips.

	"Or you'll get yours," Trevor replied, rather impotently.

	"Ooooo," Freddie answered sarcastically.  "I think you'd better
walk away before I let my boy here loose," -- he pointed a thumb at Nigel
-- "and he beats you bloody.  Hell, I bet your boy would like to help him.
What's you're name, boy?"

	Piers was obviously too scared to answer, especially when Trevor
shot him a scorching look, so Nigel piped up, "That's Piers.  He's in my
class."

	"Well, Piers," Freddie said to the obviously terrified young boy,
"if this one gives you too much trouble, you tell me and I'll sort him for
you."

	"Hey!"  Trevor retorted.  "You don't have any say in what I do with
my slave."

	"Really?"  Freddie asked, stepping up until his face was barely an
inch away from Trevor's.  "Well, let me tell you that I don't like seeing
dickheads like you mistreat little boys.  In fact, I'm getting downright
sick of listening to some of the shite you fuckheads talk about.  I've just
decided I'm going to make it my business that none of you get to abuse any
of these little boys again."

	"Ha!" Trevor replied, though his bravado lacked conviction.  "And
just how are you going to manage that?"

	"Well, if going to the headmaster isn't enough, I'll just have to
beat the shit out of each and every one of you," Freddie replied smugly.
"And I think you'll recall that I had no problem with you last year.  I
doubt you'd present much of a challenge now."

	"Oh yeah?" Trevor replied aggressively, though taking a step
backwards.  "And what are you gonna tell the headmaster about how you're
fucking this little piece of ass?"  He waved a hand towards Nigel.

	"Nice try," Freddie smiled, pulling Nigel into a one-armed embrace
bedside him.  "Nigel, what would you tell the headmaster if he asked you if
I ever made you do anything you didn't want to do?"

	Though still a bit intimidated by Trevor, Nigel looked into Piers'
hopeful eyes, and gaining courage from Freddie's arm around his shoulders,
he answered confidently, "I'd tell him that you are a great friend, and
that all you've done is help to make my first year a lot easier than I ever
hoped it could be."

	"There it is then," Freddie said.  "Do you think Piers here would
say anything like that about you?  Because I promise you that, if I need
to, I'll recommend the headmaster call him in and ask what he thinks about
you.  Oh, and don't think I won't tell the headmaster about how you made
the poor boy walk around the school naked for your own sick pleasure.  In
fact, I'll do the same for every boy I know who's been beaten and fucked by
sick shits like you.  I don't care if everyone in our class hates me for
it.  This shit has got to stop."

	Nigel felt his chest swelling with pride for the boy who, though
three years his senior, was without a doubt his very best friend.  And just
when he thought he couldn't love Freddie more, he watched as the older boy
pulled his jumper off over his head and wrapped it around Piers' waist,
tying the arms behind his back.

	"Sorry, little man," Freddie said, examining the results of his
efforts, "I'm afraid your bum might still show a little in the back.  Why
don't you head back to your dorm?  Don't worry, you can give my jumper to
Nigel later, and he'll get it back to me."  As the first year made to
leave, Nigel could see that Trevor was about to stop him.  Apparently,
Freddie saw the same thing.  "Uh, uh, uh.  Let him go, Trevor.  I'm not
quite finished with you yet."

	"Yeah, well fuck you," Trevor said, turning on his heel as if to
stalk away after Piers, who had beat a hasty retreat.

	"No," Freddie said correctively.  Sticking out one leg, he managed
to catch Trevor in the middle of his turn, sending him sprawling to the
floor.  "Oops," Freddie smiled.  "You should really be more careful, Trev.
You could break your skull like that."  Trevor rolled and leapt to his
feet, clearly ready for an all out brawl.  "Now, now," Freddie said in a
corrective tone, "I don't think you really want to do that.  I'm sure you
remember what happened after the Rugby match in October."

	Nigel watched Trevor's expression morph from white hot anger all
the way down to a smoldering resentment.  His clench fists loosened, and
his hands dropped to his sides.

	"Nobody's gonna listen to you, Hatcher," Trevor growled.  "The same
shit's been going on here for a hundred years.  Hell, probably even the
headmaster fucked little boys in school.  He's not going to listen to you
bitchin' about it."

	"Maybe not," Freddie shrugged, "But since my father is a private
secretary in the Department for Education, I suspect any complaints I might
offer to him would be forwarded to the Secretary, and might even be
mentioned in a cabinet meeting with the PM.  Now, wouldn't that be a
feather in your cap, if your name came up in a cabinet meeting about you
abusing young boys?  Wouldn't your daddy be so proud, eh?  He's pretty high
up in the BBC, isn't he?  Imagine him having to listen to your name being
broadcast to the nation for abusing younger boys."

	Nigel could hardly believe what he was hearing.  Halfway through
his first year at school, he'd come to accept that the first year boys were
simply the playthings of the older boys.  Certainly there was plenty of
evidence in that direction, even if Nigel had been spared by Freddie's
friendship and protection.  More than ever, he began to think of his
classmates who enjoyed no such protection, and what their days or, more
accurately, their nights, must have been like, especially those who had
been subjected to the humiliation of being forced to surrender themselves
to several older boys at the same time.

	Even as he thought about how degrading it must have been for those
boys forced to submit to the lascivious desires of their masters and their
friends, Nigel couldn't help but feel deprived, the events of the evening
apparently cancelling the plans he and Freddie had for that evening.  In
fact, he felt even more disappointed as he watched Freddie stand toe-to-toe
with Trevor, defending the rights of first year students not to be buggered
against their will.  Once he'd witnessed that, he wanted more than ever to
feel Freddie's cock inside of him, though he felt fairly certain that
Freddie's altercation with Trevor might well have ruined what might have
been a loving and fulfilling night of, as Freddie had insisted it be
called, "lovemaking."

	If pressed, there would be no way he could explain it.  All he knew
was that he wanted to lie on his back, pull his legs up until his ankles
were next to his ears, and watch Freddie push his stiff cock into his
virgin arse.  Having absolutely no idea what it might feel like, Nigel
imagined nothing but ecstasy, sure that that single act would forever bind
him to Freddie, and the two of them would spend the rest of their days in
orgasmic bliss.

	Without another word, Trevor turned on his heel and walked away.
As soon as he turned the corner at the end of the corridor, Nigel threw
himself at Freddie, wrapping his arms around the older boy's waist.  "My
hero," Nigel said, half because he wanted to lighten the onerous mood, but
also because it was what he truly felt.

	"God, you're so sweet," Freddie sighed, dropping to his knees and
taking Nigel in his arms, kissing him deeply.

	"I love you, Freddie," Nigel said after the two boys broke their
kiss.  "I wish all my friends could have a master like you."

	Freddie pushed Nigel away to look him in the eyes.  "I told you,
I'm not your master.  I'm your... well, I'm not sure what, but I'm not your
master."

	"You're my boyfriend," Nigel said, resuming his hugging and resting
his head on Freddie's shoulder.

	"I guess that's better," Freddie conceded, "but I'm not sure I
deserve it.  Listen, Nigel, I have to tell you something.  Sit down here."
He tapped the floor in front of him.  Nigel reluctantly released his grip
on Freddie and sat down crossed legged in front of the older boy, who sat
as well, turning his face to the floor.  "You need to know that when you
first got here, I was just like all the other guys.  I thought you looked
so cute and I thought about how much I'd like to... well, how much I'd like
to see you naked, and about what I'd like to...  to do to you."  He looked
up, and Nigel could see a tear on his left cheek.  "I'm no better than
those other guys.  I wanted to use you like they use their..." his breath
hitched in his throat.  "Their slaves."

	Nigel was not deterred by Freddie's confession.  All he knew was
what he felt in the moment.  As far as he was concerned, whatever Freddie
wanted to "use" him for, he was happy to allow it.

	"But you ARE different," Nigel assured him.  "How can you say
you're not?  OK, maybe you thought that at first, but ever since then you
never made me do anything.  You even put mine in your mouth and then asked
me if I wanted to suck on yours.  I did it because I wanted to.  I want to
do anything that makes you feel good.  I still want you to teach me how to
get buggered."

	"But why?" Freddie asked sincerely, staring now into Nigel's eyes.

	"Because I love you!" Nigel replied.  "Because I know that whatever
you do, you'll only do it because I ask you to.  Because I want you to feel
as good as I feel whenever I'm with you."

	"Oh, Nigel," Freddie moaned, tears freely flowing down his face.
He reached over and effectively dragged Nigel into a tight but gentle hug.
"You make me want to be whatever it is you think I am."

	Nigel melted into Freddie's embrace, feeling warm, protected and
loved.  He knew that what he loved most in Freddie were those things he
could never offer in return.  He couldn't protect him against bullies, he
couldn't help him with his school work, he couldn't make him feel as
important as Freddie made him feel.  Because of all this, he wanted so much
to offer what he could.

	Remembering what Freddie had said about the subject, Nigel pushed
words like "bugger" and "fuck" out of his head, and instead said, "Freddie,
do you want to make love to me now?"

	After a long pause, during which Nigel, who sat with his ear
against Freddie's chest, could hear the older boy's breath quicken, Freddie
responded, "I want to make love to you, Nigel.  I really do."  Nigel felt
his heart leap, until Freddie continued, "But I don't think I can right
now."

	"Why?!" Nigel asked quickly, sitting back to look Freddie in the
eye while tears of disappointment began to burn in his own.  Freddie's
eyes, however, were looking beyond Nigel to some fixed point that only he
could see.

	"It's just..." Freddie began, clearly having trouble finding the
words to express what he was thinking.  "It's just that Trevor made me so
angry.  I hate thinking that other boys in your class have to let older
boys...  have to let older boys do what happened to me.  There wasn't
anything I could do to stop it then.  But I'm damned if I won't do
something about it now."  He looked down into Nigel's face, and must have
seen the disappointment the younger boy was feeling.  "Oh, Nigel, my love.
I'm so sorry.  This isn't about you, and if I could, I would make love to
you all night long.  But I can't stop thinking about all those boys just
getting buggered by guys like Trevor who don't give a fuck about them."

	Though Nigel felt the immediate sting of disappointment, he also
knew that Freddie was just being who he was, and who he was was the boy
that Nigel had fallen hopelessly in love with.

	"That's all right," Nigel said, trying not to sound hurt.  "We can
wait for another time."

	"Oh God, Nigel," Freddie said by way of a deep breath as he drew
Nigel back against himself. "Forget what I said.  This is ALL about you.  I
don't know if I would be feeling this way if I didn't love you so much.  I
don't know if I would be any better than those bastards who abuse the
little boys if you weren't who you are.  I don't know if I'd even care what
the others do.  But just the idea of someone doing those things to you...
It makes me so angry."

	Nigel's love for Freddie continued to grow throughout the year, not
only for his gentle treatment, but also for the way he empathized with the
first year boys, forced to submit to their "master's" lascivious whims.
Once his fellow first years had become aware of the efforts Freddie had
begun to undertake on their behalf, many began standing up for themselves,
even going so far as reporting abuse by older boys, which the school
administration couldn't ignore, since some of the boys had told their
parents what was happening.  It wasn't long before the entire student body
was forced to sit through an uncomfortable assembly, led by the headmaster,
but including a speech by a member of the local constabulary, who explained
the penalties for sodomy and rape, and the sort of treatment one could
expect in a juvenile detention facility were his crimes made known to the
general population.

 	Sadly, some first year boys suffered retribution by the older boys,
but only dealt out in ways not easily prosecuted, such as being singled out
during a rugby match, where it was easy to pound on a boy at the bottom of
a scrum.  One boy told of his testicles being repeatedly pummeled,
presumably by an older boy's fist, though he was unable to identify the
culprit.  Another boy was raped by a number of older boys, though because
they had thrown a cloth bag over his head, he was also unable to name his
assailants.

	Fortunately such attacks were relatively rare, and by his second
year, Nigel was happy to see that the "choosing ceremony," which uncounted
generations of first years had undergone, had been abolished.  This did not
mean that older and younger boys never engaged in stimulating activities
together.  It was, however, most often by mutual consent and, almost as
often, reciprocal.

	During that year only one incident occurred, resulting in the
expulsion of two fourth year students.  A first year boy, who had been the
target of an attempted rape by the two fourth years, had managed to escape
unscathed and with his virtue intact.  After he told some of his classmates
of the incident, he was escorted to the headmaster's office by a phalanx of
first and second year boys.  There he told his story and named the
attempted rapists.  The very next day the parents of the two fourth year
boys arrived, and in quick measure left again with their sons.  The
headmaster called an assembly that afternoon, informing the entire school
of why the two students were expelled, while extolling the first year boy's
courage in reporting the incident, and encouraging all the young students
to do the same if they were similarly attacked.  He then issued a stern
warning to any other would-be assailant that the same would happen to
anyone who tried to force himself on another student, regardless of age.

**********************************************

	Professor Nigel Parker wondered how this year's first year class
would react when he explained the requirements of his course.  He suspected
they'd be shocked at first, as was every group over the past six years
since he and the headmaster had designed the curriculum for Health Class.
Since the new curriculum had been introduced, there hadn't been a single
case of a younger student being forced to service an upperclassman
sexually.  All any of the first years had been required to do was strip
naked in front of their classmates, serving as object lessons for various
demonstrations concerning male sexuality and health.

	Though he was no pedophile, Nigel could appreciate the sight of
naked fourteen and fifteen year olds, just crossing the threshold of
puberty, progressing from cringing embarrassment to very comfortably
displaying themselves for their classmates.  Each year, after only a few
weeks, some of them seemed quite confident, wearing their nudity like some
boys wore their finest clothes, clearly proud of their young, erect
penises.  He knew his class was a catalyst for sexual experimentation among
the boys, which he and the headmaster believed gave them the confidence to
choose to whom they might offer themselves, and allowing no one to take
advantage of them.

	Nigel had to admit that, though he had doubted Roderick Samuels'
suggestion for the new curriculum, he couldn't argue with the results.  He
felt certain that his class helped to make the boys more comfortable about
their bodies, and the pleasure they could safely enjoy with each other.  In
fact, during the fourth year of the updated curriculum, he'd been
thoroughly convinced the headmaster was right.

	Arriving late to the last lesson of that year, he had nearly run
into the room.  It took a moment before he realized that all the first year
boys were sitting at their desks totally naked.  When he asked the reason
for their state of undress, one of the braver boys stood and explained that
they presumed there would be a final exam, and they just wanted to be
ready, not being sure what would be required.

	Now he looked at the fresh young faces of the eighth class of first
years who would hear his opening lecture.  He knew most would be shocked
when he told them their parents had all signed waivers so that their sons
could stand nude on the stage before their fellow classmates.  He knew
that, when their time came, some would begin terrified and shivering, only
to end up erect and confident.  He also knew some would start off that way.

	As Roderick had explained all those years before, once the boys
felt confident enough to expose themselves so fully before boys their own
age, it was unlikely they'd be too embarrassed to report mistreatment by
older boys.  Nigel could only mentally reprimand himself, once again, for
having doubted his headmaster and his friend.  Wondering what this year
would bring, Professor Nigel Parker began.

	"Good morning, gentlemen, and welcome to Health Class."