Date: Fri, 02 Nov 2007 13:30:40 -0400 (EDT) From: Herb Cat Subject: Boy Power House Copyright 2007 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission. Please note: this story depicts oral and anal sex between male adults and male minors. If this offends you or is illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further. All the characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you. --------------------------------------------------------- Part I Several readers have written to me to say that my stories tend to be idyllic, in particular "Rip" and "Ten-Year Olds at Camp." Well, I warn you, this story will also paint at least one small portion of the world in idealistic strokes. You see, I think young boys deserve to have an environment where it is safe to explore intimate relations with men. But I can only create such a place in fiction. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 1 DATE: The Sixth Day PLACE: Eden And God created little boys. And God gave the little boys cocks and assholes that they might find pleasure together in His garden. And it was good. And God used a bone to create little girls. And God gave the little girls cunts that they might breed more little boys for His garden. And it too was good. DATE: Saturday, September 1, 2001 PLACE: Patterson, New York Victor loves the weekends when he doesn't need to travel into the city. After breakfast on Saturday with the boy who stayed the night, he sends the little street whore back to the train, slips out of his bathrobe, and settles in for a day of whacking and watching his new kiddie porn films. Mid afternoon, he will shut off the player, lock up his stash of DVDs and wait for his little black boy to arrive. Yes, he sure does love getting his cock up in that sweet chocolate twelve-year old each week. He figures he'll be good for about a year. By then Victor will be craving fresh meat, hopefully young, definitely virgin, which makes the preteens so appealing. Tomorrow he'll have to drive him back to the city. It would be suspicious for a lone black kid to be standing on the train platform in this neighborhood on Sunday morning. But the traffic isn't bad, and he can get back home in plenty of time for more whacking and viewing. Shit, Victor thinks, I've got the best possible life going here, and there's sure as hell no reason I can't keep it up 'til I'm an old man. The 46-year old smiles at his unintended double entendre and whacks more furiously. "Ah, now this one is a beauty," he says out loud, as a new DVD starts playing. "Such a pretty little ten-year old," although Victor has other DVDs of the lad at nine. "Such a sweet face, sweet mouth, and even sweeter ass. Look how he sucks now, like a genuine whore. Haha, I love this part where he gets his cum facial. Obviously he loves it too; listen to him giggling. Now he lifts his skinny legs up by his ears. He doesn't even wait for direction like he used to. He wants his winsome little hole penetrated again. Look at him smile as the first greasy finger enters. He knows soon he's going to be bucking in orgasmic delight. Listen to him cooing as he gets his hole rimmed by that talented tongue. Ahh, now he's getting close. See the little toes curling. See the arms starting to flail? Yes, yes, he can't wait to have that big old cock inside again. Oh, oh, yeah, oh, shit, he's so beautiful!" Victor jerks wildly. He wants to time his ejaculation to coincide with the one on ! the screen. "Ahhhhhhh." He wipes his hand across his cummy chest, takes a deep breath and continues his commentary to himself, "Ooh, the lovely popping sound as the spent cock leaves its burrow, having used it for its God-given purpose. There now, look at this close-up of the little asshole. He's trying to close it; he's trying to hold all that lovely manjuice inside, but in vain. The hole is too stretched right now, and the cum too abundant; it dribbles out and down his skinny thighs. Here you go, fella, here's some for you to lick off the nice man's finger. Yeah, that tastes so good! Better than ice cream." The recording ends and Victor puts in another DVD, another boy, another delicious fuck. What better way to spend your weekend. Victor regrets that on Monday, Labor Day, he has to fly to California. But business is business. And in only ten days he'll be back home to enjoy his films, and his boys. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 2 DATE: Saturday, August 20, 2005 PLACE: McDonalds, Brewster, New York It's warm, so Greg and Mike decide to sit at one of the outdoor tables. "OK, Nelson," Greg says with assurance, "you can get me a Big Mac Value Meal, with a coke, and Supersize it." Nelson nods and turns to Mike for his order. "The same, no, make mine a Quarter Pounder, no a Big'n'Tasty." "Shit, Mike, you go through this every week. Make up your mind already. You're keeping Nelson waiting." But of course, Nelson is patience personified. He is willing to wait all day if need be to learn how he can please the two eleven-year olds. The hairdresser wasn't so long-suffering earlier when Mike kept changing his mind about his haircut. "OK, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, no, no cheese, yes, cheese. Yep, that's my final answer. Oh, and supersize mine too." Nelson is still waiting. "Oh, yeah, my drink, I'll have a coke too, no, a lemonade, no, a milkshake, a chocolate milkshake. Yep, that's what I want today." Nelson trots inside to get the boys' orders, smiling broadly. In all his 45 years, he's never been happier. "Fuck, you do that on purpose, don't you, Mike." "Do what?" But Mike's alligator smile tells Greg he's right, and he punches Mike's arm. "Hey, watch it. That's my pitching arm." The two boys sit and wait, soaking in the sunshine and laughing about the campfire the other night when Hump told all those jokes. "Too bad, Hump had to go back to college. I miss him and Jack." The boys barely notice the family of six occupying another outdoor table. When Nelson comes back with the tray, though, he definitely takes note of the group, a man, woman, one girl, and three boys, two of whom don't look happy. Boys should never be unhappy, he thinks to himself. Why shouldn't every boy be able to laugh like Greg and Mike here? He smiles as he watches his two angels joking with each other, their hair freshly cut and styled, now ready to dig into their supersize meals. He sets the sandwich, fries, and drink in front of each of his charges, along with napkins, several little cups of ketchup, and the salt packs he knows Mike will want. Then he sits, with no lunch himself, but plenty to feast his eyes on. He watches Greg munching his burger while making a Junga stack from his fries, then carefully remove one and dunk it in the ketchup, open his mouth, paint a red circle on his tongue, purse his lips about the potato rod and swoop it in with a giggle. Meanwhile Mike is salting his fries, his burger, and pretending to salt his shake as well with a mischievous little snicker. Trying to laugh and drink simultaneously, Mike soon has milkshake bubbling out of his nostrils. "Nelson, my napkin blew away." Nelson retrieves it, discards it, and gets a replacement from inside. "Nelson, I drank all my soda." Nelson again goes inside for a refill. Throughout the meal, he watches them, amazed at all the sugar, grease and sodium they can consume and still maintain those perfect boy bodies. But then he knows how much exercise they've been getting this summer, swimming, running, playing ball with all the other boys, the ten he now thinks of as his boys. He breathes a silent prayer to whatever powers had brought him to this place in his life where he could buy them lunch and haircuts, and drive them, and pick up after them, and ... Their pleasant lunch is interrupted by sudden noise from the other table. The three turn to see the man hitting one of the boys there and yelling at him, "You filthy thief. Stealing from us again. You and your Goddamn brother here." He smacks both lads. One looks about the same age as Mike and Greg; the other a few years younger. Both are scrawny. The other two children are around six or seven and overweight. "C'mon kids we're going home. These two can walk." The man, woman, girl and little boy stand up, taking the rest of their drinks and burgers and pile into the car, the two children laughing in the back seat. As the car exits the parking lot, Greg, Mike and Nelson all stand up and head for the two sad waifs. The younger one is so short, they don't realize he isn't sitting down. The two are sharing a small burger, one from the 99 cent menu, and whimpering. "Nelson, two more value meals quick." Nelson doesn't wait for Greg to give the details. He runs inside. He knows what to order. "What's the matter kids? Your Dad get on your case about something?" "He ain't our Dad!!" the older one protests. "Our Dad was nice. Both our parents was nice." Hearing mention of their parents, the younger boy bursts into tears. "They got killed in a car accident and now we gotta live with foster parents and they hate us and we hate them." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 3 DATE: Monday, March 4, 1991 PLACE: Wantagh, Long Island, New York It's a day of celebration in the Benningham home. It's little Walsh's first birthday. Well, not really. Since he was born on February 29, he won't have an official birthday for three more years. His parents decided to celebrate today so Walsh's uncle can be there. Proud father Michael is capturing the festivity with his new video camera. His wife has prepared a delicious leg of lamb. And his brother Arnold has brought the cake he baked. Arnold, 25, rents a flat over in Oceanside and spends long hours at his restaurant. But he loves cooking and is happy to be embarking on a career that utilizes his passion. Michael, three years older, is also excited, now that his contracting business is getting off the ground, and they can afford to buy this home in which to raise their son. The two brothers have always been close and Arnold is glad the restaurant closes on Mondays so he can be included in Walsh's big day. He bounces his nephew on his knee, and sings the spider song. He hides behind the couch and when the toddler finds him, he jumps out and they both laugh hysterically. He lays on the floor and tickles the boy's feet and nuzzles his little outie. It would be wonderful to have a son of his own some day, but the prospects of that happening are slim. He has finally admitted to himself, if not to his brother, that he is gay. After dinner, Michael describes some of the projects he has coming up. One is a large office complex. "You know, Arnold, there's a dining room in the blueprint. I could ask around and see if they need a chef." PLACE: Patterson, NY Meanwhile, an hour and a half north, another couple is also celebrating. Victor and Henry are having a huge housewarming for all their friends, well, Henry's friends anyway. Victor invited business associates. They've been living together two years. At 5'1, Henry is the perennial child, like Mickey Rooney and Michael J. Fox. But what captivated Victor was his boyish demeanor. Although in his late 20s when they met, Henry had the innocent charm and excitement for life of a twelve-year old. As an interior decorator, he translates those qualities into bold designs and his contagious personality is able to convince clients that his designs were just what they want. Victor, five years older, is a venture capitalist with more money than he knows what to do with. He seems to have a crystal ball for identifying those projects that have potential from those that are bottomless money pits. He got out of S&Ls before the shit hit the fan. Because of his connections, he is able to steer a lot of projects Henry's way. Henry escorts their guests through the giant house, explaining his plans for each of the eight bedrooms, the fixtures he wants to install in all the baths, the decor he has in mind for the living room, the formal dining room, the office, the pool room. He can't wait to start spending Victor's money. Mrs. Bagshaw, the housekeeper Victor hired, is in the kitchen helping the caterer find things. At 46, she thinks it will be exciting working full time for this lovely young gay couple. "Whew, that was quite a gala," Victor later tells his partner as they undress for bed. "Thank you, Darling, for this house. I'm going to do all I can to make it a wonderful home for my honey." He wraps his arms around Victor's waist and bends his head up for a kiss. "Did you get a look at a couple of those busboys? Shit, did they have tight asses or what?" "Victor, I thought mine was the only ass you needed." "A guy can still look, can't he?" He kissed Henry, and took him to bed. But, even as his lover was blowing his throbbing cock, he kept thinking of the college kids, teenagers, in their tight black uniforms bouncing around collecting used dishes. PLACE: St. Thomas School, Bronx "Hi, Teach." Maxwell looks up from his desk and sees the father, who will turn 18 next week, beaming with his infant son in his arm. "Pablo, so good to see you!" Maxwell didn't understand why Pablo had not been hardened by his environment. He was one of the first students to make an impression when he began teaching at St. Tom's, September 1989. Maxwell could tell he was starved for love. He didn't hesitate to give the lad a pat on the back, even a one arm hug around the shoulder, and Pablo responded. He actually tried to do his assignments. He made a concerted effort to avoid trouble. Maxwell could see a breakthrough, and praised his work. By mid-Spring, Maxwell realized he was quite fond of the seventeen-year old, and had fantasies about meeting him privately, taking him into his apartment, into his bed, into his arms. He thought he saw something in Pablo's smile that indicated similar feelings. But last May Pablo told Maxwell he was dropping out. He'd knocked a girl up and conscientious Pablo wanted to accept his responsibility. They got married in City Hall and Pablo scrounged for odd jobs. "I wanted baby Dean to meet my favorite teach. I know he can't wait to get in your class." Maxwell decided not to tell Pablo he'd applied to an exclusive prep school upstate. He studied the infant's black locks, his wide open eyes, his olive complexion, his winning smile. "He certainly has your good looks, Pablo! He's a cutie. Watch out, when Dean gets to be a teenager, the muchachas will be all over him." "Then I better start teaching him how to put a condom on." "Well, maybe you can wait a few years for that." Maxwell gave the young father a manly hug, and then with as much confidence as he could fake, said, "With you as his Papa, Pablo, I know little Dean is going to grow up just fine!" --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 4 DATE: Saturday, August 20, 2005 PLACE: McDonalds, Brewster, New York Mike asks, "Is that all he bought you? One lousy hamburger?" The brothers nod. "For both of you?" "Yeah, they get their own kids big meals. All they want." The younger boy is now talking through sobs. "I was so hungry. I grabbed one of Sissy's french fries when I thought they wasn't looking." "And that's when he hit you and called you a thief." Greg shakes his head in indignation. Nelson comes back with two supersized meals and sets them in front of the strangers. They dig in as if they hadn't eaten in days. "I'm Greg, and this here is Mike, we're both 11. And this is Nelson, he's an old man, hehe." A slight glint of a smile crosses the older brother's lips. "Yeah, I kinda guessed that. Thanks for the food, Mister." The younger boy doesn't stop eating but nods his head in appreciation. "My name's Brian, and my brother is Jeremy." Greg and Mike continue eating, not so much from hunger, but to keep their new friends company. Greg asks, "So how old are you two?" "I'm almost 13 and Jeremy's 10." Nelson does a double take. He'd have never guessed they were that old. They look so small. He has a thousand questions he doesn't ask. He knows that their contemporaries, Greg and Mike, will elicit much more information from them than he ever could. So he sits back and listens as the four boys talk and munch, only leaving to refill a drink cup now and then. In a while, the story emerges. After their parents' tragic deaths, they were shuffled around by the system through a string of foster homes until they landed with the McLaughlins. Chuck, the father, treats them like second class citizens. They are given minimal meals and one bed in the basement to share. Mike asks, "Does he beat you a lot?" They nod. Nelson goes back inside and Brian explains, "We're sick of going from one home to another. You never know if the next one will be worse, or if they might split us up. So we made a pact to stick together, put up with all the shit, and somehow we'll make it through together." Nelson comes back with four ice cream sundaes. The four boys grab the cups and start happily licking their spoons. For the first time, Jeremy and Brian look happy. Jeremy is even giggling as melting ice cream drips down his fingers. Nelson finally speaks up. "Say, little Jeremy, you don't need to eat standing up. There's room to sit down." "Shit, yeah," says Greg, "sit here by me." Jeremy shakes his head. "My brother'd rather stand." Both brothers' smiles suddenly disappear again. "Uh, is your ass sore?" Mike hesitates to ask. Jeremy's eyes water. "Did Chuck spank you this morning?" He shakes his head no. "Did he whip you?" Another no. "Look, he doesn't want to talk about it, OK?" Brian is getting defensive. "It's OK, Brian. Don't yell at them. They been real nice to us." He gives his brother a hug. "Yeah, I'm sorry, Mike. It's just it's like it's embarrassing and all. No, more than that. It's terrible. I hate it when Chuck does it to me, but he shouldn't do it to Jeremy too." Mike is confused. He's about to ask, "What..." but Nelson intervenes. He's already figured it out. "Chuck raped you last night, didn't he? That's why your bottom is sore." Jeremy's hung head proves he is right. "The Bastard!" Greg gets up and gives his new friend a big hug. "It's ok, kid, let it out." All four boys are now in tears, but Nelson isn't crying. He's furious. Through more sobs, the story comes out. Every Friday night, as the family heads out to dinner and a Broadway show, Chuck handcuffs the two foster children to their bed "so they won't steal stuff while we're gone." Later when they come home, Chuck waits until his wife and children are asleep and then comes down to the basement to fuck Brian. Last night, while he was starting to pound his cock deep into Brian's hole, Jeremy told him to stop it. Angrily, he pulled out of Brian's ass, lifted Jeremy's legs and fucked him instead. Nelson asks, "Doesn't a social worker ever come around to check on you guys?" Brian laughs. "Yeah, usually she's too busy so she just calls and asks to talk to us. Chuck is right there making sure we say the right thing. If she does come around, Mrs. McLaughlin shows her the guest bedroom and says we sleep there. And when we look sad, she just thinks it's 'cause our folks is dead. We ain't been in the system long, but it's long enough to know they ain't gonna do nothin' for us. They don't want no more trouble." Again Mike is confused. "If they hate you so much, why did they want to be a foster home?" Brian laughs again, but Nelson already knows the answer. "For the money. You see, Mike, New York gives the McLaughlins money each month to cover food and clothes and other needs for Brian and Jeremy. They're using the money themselves to go to Broadway shows." "The fuckin' bastards! THEY'RE stealing from YOU, not the other way around. Nelson, we can't let them go back to that house." "I know, Mike. Boys, finish your ice cream. You're coming home with us." Mike and Greg take their new friends' sticky hands and lead them to the car. "Where do you guys live?" "In Boy Power House." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 5 DATE: Thursday, October 31, 1991 PLACE: Milwaukee, WI The city is bracing for what the newspapers have dubbed the "Halloween Storm." Hopefully, they won't be hit as hard as the counties to the north, where the snow is already falling, and thirty inches or more are expected before it stops. Mischievous young winter is anxious to get a head start on its favorite recreation and doesn't give a shit that the world thinks it isn't ready for such grown-up behavior. Mr. Nelson is the same way. At 29 this young Turk has been CEO of his PR firm for almost three years. They have many well known clients, primarily highbrow stuff. Some speakers on the lecture circuit, a few classical musicians. He has all the Type A traits: impatience, aggression, attention to detail, inability to relax. This is why his career is skyrocketing. He has a dozen irons in the fire at any one time. Fortunately Gladys, his secretary, (sorry, she insists on the title, Office Manager) serves as his anchor. He knows he'd be lost without her. "Have a happy Halloween, Mr. Nelson," she says late this afternoon as he breezes out the door. Halloween? He never gave it a thought? Should he have bought her flowers or something? In the elevator, he puts a reminder in his datebook for mid-October 1992: Order Gladys a Halloween basket from Harry and David. PLACE: Boston, MA Back East, New Englanders are also glued to the weather reports. Not just any nor'easter this time. Meteorologists are kicking around the term, "Perfect Storm." Dr. William Stevenson hasn't forgotten it's Halloween. Even if his pediatric office weren't arrayed in witches and ghosts, the 32-year old father wouldn't miss this opportunity to go trick-or-treating with Billy. Stevenson's practice, now four years old, is located in a Hispanic neighborhood where the families work hard to try to keep ahead. The ones who can't afford his fees get Medicaid and so Bill has managed to pay off most of his student loans. They are no longer dependent on his wife's salary, but she is used to working and continues to do the evening shift at the restaurant. For eleven years, Billy has always been the light of Bill Stevenson's life. In Med School, he cherished the few precious hours at home when he would play horsey with him, help him ride a two-wheeler, and toss the old baseball around. Best of all, for his brief vacations, he used to take his growing boy camping to "give Mommy a rest." He loved watching him grow. Watching that toddler body turn into a beautiful little boy. On camping trips, they always went skinny dipping, and even began sleeping naked together in one sleeping bag. When his wife began working evenings, it was up to Bill to put Billy to bed, a task he savored. He always climbed right into bed with him and snuggled. They would play with each other's "man parts" and his son knew it was their special secret. But lately, Billy is uncomfortable with his father's groping hands. He now locks his bedroom door. Doc hopes he'll at least still let him hold his hand as they go door to door in their pirate outfits. Why do boys seem to back off from intimate contact when they near their teenage years? Doc often has difficulty examining his older patients who don't take to him feeling them from head to toe, peering at all their growing parts. He wonders if it is just a matter of conditioning. If he starts with his youngest patients and gets them used to being touched all over, even in their "private places," then perhaps as they got older, he can do his explorations more easily. Of course, his interest isn't entirely clinical. The touch of a lad's body in his hands arouses something in him more than a professional interest. PLACE: Jordan Academy, Patterson, NY Mr. Maxwell picks up the stack of ghost stories his students wrote for Halloween and heads down the hall of Jordan Academy. After teaching two years in an inner city Catholic high school, he is exhilarated to have landed this assignment. The students at JA are all intent on getting into the finest colleges. He isn't just baby-sitting any more. And, from what he's seen on the practice fields, his students are endowed with bodies to complement their well-developed minds. These boys are going places and Maxwell relishes being part of that. Of course, two years ago when he started at St. Thomas, he was also excited. But he quickly learned that his new teacher idealism didn't directly translate into student performance. His English classes were more like Remedial Reading. But there had been a few rays of hope that kept him from entirely abandoning the quixotic pursuit. Students like Pablo. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 6 DATE: Saturday, August 20, 2005 PLACE: En route from Brewster to Patterson, New York Nelson takes a small detour in order to stop at a sports supply store and buy Brian and Jeremy some decent Adidas running shoes. They throw their ratty sneakers in the garbage can outside the store. The boys watch the scenery as the car heads north out of the Bronx through Westchester and just over the line into Putnam. The ride brings back happy memories of annual treks to Maine. "Every summer, Dad used to rent this cabin right on the lake. The Belgrade Lakes. It was so cool." But when they turn into a large estate surrounded by tall privets, with an electric gate across the drive, they know they've never been to a place like this before. As Nelson drives toward the huge house, Greg points out Kenny and Washington tossing a football on the lawn. Brian and Jeremy see the two teenagers, but the two brothers are too overwhelmed to keep track of names. Nelson stops at the front door. Greg tells him, "You did good today Nelson. Come to the fishbowl after dinner and I'll let you have some candy." "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." The four get out and Nelson drives around to the garage. He sees Victor in an upstairs window and gives him a friendly wave. The man just glowers and shakes his head. Nelson grins. He knows Victor regards these new arrivals, no matter how cute they are, as yet two more usurpers stealing his property out from under his feet. Two this time. Two last year. And no end in sight. But by now Victor should be resigned to what happened. He got much better than he deserved. Mike and Greg lead their new friends through the house. They meet two more teenagers, Dean and Walsh in the living room, who briefly stop their new Wii game to give the newcomers high fives. In the hall, a little kid races by without a stitch of clothing on. "Hey, Rudy, wait, say Hi to our new friends." The naked boy doesn't wait but he does shout Hi. "Rudy's nine, younger than you, Jeremy. You two will have a lot of fun, that is, if you ever catch him, hehe." They walk into the office and the brothers see yet another teenager behind the desk going over some papers. "Hi, Mark." The older boy put down his work. "Hey, Greg, what's up?" He moves over to the couch, and the five get comfortable while the introductions are made. Mark listens carefully to the horrible tale of abuse. Of course, he heard such stories before. Every lad at BPH has a story, and while the details vary, all are equally tragic. "Of course, you can stay here, Brian, Jeremy. Welcome. I'll give Goldberg a call and see how we can work things out, but don't worry about Chuck any more. He'll get taken care of. Greg, show them the room at the end of the hall and see if they like it. Let's meet back in the living room in an hour. I'll have Nelson round up all the guys and you can meet them proper." That night, in their new warm comfortable beds, the brothers talk about their amazing day. But they have a hundred questions. "Brian, how do you think they're going to take care of Chuck?" "I don't know, Jeremy. And I don't know who Goldberg is." "I wonder, Why are all these boys here?" "They sure look happy! Even little Rudy. But why don't they let him have clothes? He was naked the whole day, even at supper!" "Yeah, but he don't seem to mind. I liked playing tag with him. We ran all over the house. It is huge! Nelson is sure a nice old man, isn't he, Brian?" "Did you notice he called Greg 'Sir'?" "Yup, and then he was like so happy when Greg said he'd give him some candy from the fishbowl." "Hehe, yeah. Jeremy, that must be some super tasting candy!" "I'll tell you what was super tasting, that meal Arnold made! He even cooks better than Mom did! Oops, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." "It's ok, brother, I think Mom and Dad are smiling right now. I think they're glad we're out of Chuck's house and here in BPH. Wow, these sure are great big beds, ain't they." "Uh, yeah, Brian. The bed is like nice and all, but, uh." "Do you miss sleeping with your big brother?" "Yeah!" "Come on, kid, I got lots of room." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 7 The summer of 1994 was pivotal in Victor's life. And perhaps even more in the life of that large house. DATE: Monday, July 4, 1994 PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY Henry hosts a pool party complete with illegal fireworks for a Japanese client and her family. He has already decorated her office in Manhattan, and thinks he may get a chance to do her downtown apartment. He's invited a few select guests chosen to impress her. Victor in much more impressed with the her twin twelve-year old sons. He spends the day watching them chase each other in and out of the pool, their speedos riding up into their precious cracks. Tonight he whispers a prayer to Hotei to one day fill his house with the music of energetic young boys like these. DATE: Tuesday, July 12, 1994 Henry can't wait to tell Victor the news. Mrs. Sakamoto wants him to redo not only her loft in Soho, but her weekend home in the Hamptons, as well. He goes way too over the Putnam County speed limit, anxious to start celebrating with his darling. "I'll assemble a platter of French cheeses, open the bottle of Clarendon Hills Astralis 1994 I've been saving, put on the burgundy silk pajamas he gave me for Christmas, light some candles, put on some Yo-Yo-Ma, take my lover by the hand and lead him to the bedroom and to nirvana." Henry parks the car, grabs the bouquet of flowers, and slips quietly in the side door, hoping to surprise his life partner. He too is surprised when he locates Victor already in bed. With the Pool Boy. Screams, hysterics, the quick grabbing of abandoned apparel, the racing of bare teenage feet down the stairs. "My God, Victor, he's a baby." "He's 17." "And looks 14." Silently Victor agrees. That was his attraction. He tries despairingly to make his regrets sound sincere, but three days later Henry moves out. DATE: Tuesday, July 26, 1994 Victor lets the Chauffeur and landscaper go, giving them generous severance. He tells Mrs. Bagshaw to come in only one morning a week to dust all the empty bedrooms, pool room, etc., flush all the toilets and run the faucets to keep the gaskets from drying out. She misses Henry and all the exciting bustling activity that has left with him. The Pool Boy, however, does not miss Henry. He comes by regularly to check out the equipment, use the suction vacuum to attend to every inch, and insert the proper amount of chemicals. So he is surprised when Victor tells him not to come back in August, he's going to drain the pool. DATE: Wednesday, July 27, 1994 Victor brings home thirteen-year old Antonio, a boy he met on the streets of in Manhattan two days ago. He shows him the bed, explains how his wife has a girls' night out every Wednesday, and gives him his own Metro Card so he can come back each week. Knowing true love for the first time in his life, Antonio swears to do everything to please this wonderful, generous man who calls him his Sweetheart. DATE: Thursday, August 25, 1994 Mrs. Bagshaw comes in to clean, and smiles when she gets to the bedroom. Victor must be getting some nocturnal companionship again. She recognizes the lingering aroma of testosterone and homosexual sex permeating the bed, and there are several used condoms in the waste basket. Perhaps some day the house will be buzzing again. DATE: Saturday. August 27, 1994 A security company spokesman stops by to try to get Victor to part with some of his idle cash. With nothing else to do today, Victor lets him show his samples and glances through his catalog with only passing interest. The electric gate looks like a good possibility. Keep out the uninvited riff raff, like security company spokesmen. But then one item among the man's samples piques Victor's curiosity. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 8 DATE: Sunday, August 21, 2005 PLACE: BPH, Patterson, New York The boys wander into the dining room at different times. Some are in their PJs. Some in their underwear. Rudy is still naked. Mark, who the brothers now know is 17, is already dressed in shorts and a T, having run three miles like he does every morning. He invites Brian to join him on his run tomorrow. The other boys make their new friends feel welcome, making sure they see the array of food Arnold has put on the steam table: eggs, waffles, sausages, bacon, toast. And on the buffet, danishes, juices, cold cereals, and coffee, tea, and cocoa. Walsh asks, "So, boys, you like it here?" "Wow! You bet!" says Jeremy, "What's not to like?" Brian adds, "We got like a million questions though." "Sure, shoot, there are no secrets here." "Well, hehe, first off, Rudy, how come they don't let you wear any clothes." The other boys start laughing and calling him Nudey Rudy. But he takes it as a badge of honor. "I don't want to wear no clothes. And they said I don't gotta do anything I don't wanta do. Boys rule!" "Nudey Rudy is right. There are no rules here except to respect each other and respect yourself. We've all come out of places where people made us do things we hated. But at BPH, we are in charge. We decide how to run the house. No one's ever going to take advantage of us again." "So like you all been beaten?" Nods. "And was any of you guys ever, uh, raped?" "You kidding? We've all had guys take our assholes. But no more. Don't worry, nobody's going to fuck you here against your will, not even Victor." "Who's Victor? Another growed up?" The boys start mumbling about BM. "Yes, but you won't see much of him. We make him stay in his apartment over the garage, except when we need him. He's the reason we have BPH. But let's not talk about that son of a bitch now." "OK, we met Nelson and Arnold. And we heard you talk about a Mr. Goldberg and a doctor. Are there any other growed men around?" "Not now, but next month when school starts, the three teachers will be here." Rudy interrupts, "I can't wait for school to start!" The brothers are surprised by the nods around the table. These guys actually like school! "What's the matter, Jeremy, you look confused." "Well, uh, you said, all these men, they can't fuck you, right? But when Rudy and me was running around playing tag last night, he showed me this one bedroom and he says that's where the men have sex with you. Right, Rudy, that's what you said?" "Yep, what Rudy said is right. We call that room the fishbowl. No one sleeps there. It's only used for sex with the men." Brian stands up. "I don't want no man fucking me and my brother!" Walsh goes on, "No, wait, hear us out. I understand how you feel. There are lots of pervs who get their jollies fucking young boys. Guys like Chuck. Except they don't all do it rough like him. Some act real nice and kind and all. But still they just want to get up your asshole. We've all been there." Mark takes over, "They may want your ass, but always remember it's your ass, not theirs. No one else can use it without your permission. You control your own hole. We have a motto." The boys at the table speak in unison, "Our asses are our assets." "What the fuck does that mean?" Washington continues, "What that means is you should recognize it has value. You shouldn't let anyone take it. You shouldn't give it away. You shouldn't squander it for cheap trinkets. If you give it, make sure you get good value for it." Greg, "Yeah, like yesterday, I met Nelson in the fishbowl, because I thought he deserved a reward after all he did for you two guys." "Yeah, you gave him some candy." Jeremy's innocent comment is greeted with laughter. "Well, Nelson is a sweet man. He wants to be our slave, so we make him happy by ordering him around. He never wants to fuck us. He's never been in any of our assholes. But he likes it if we order him to suck our dicks. That keeps him happy. He calls it candy, hehe." Rudy adds, "And he likes me to fuck his ass." Rudy stands up on his chair and thrusts his bare hips to show how he dry humps Nelson with his little nine-year old dick. Everyone laughs, "Yes, Rudy, he likes all of us to fuck his submissive ass." Dean, "There's something else he likes. He keeps some of my dirty underpants from the laundry. I keep finding brand new pairs in our drawers." Brian, "You mean you don't mind if these guys have sex with you?" Mark, "I know it may be hard to understand right now, because all you know is what Chuck did to you. But sex with a man can be fun, believe me. Do you like to jerk off, Brian?" Brian's face reddens. "Don't worry. All guys like jerking off. It feels good. Sometimes, after dinner we just sit around and jerk off together in the living room. And some of us like to get together and snuggle and kiss and suck each other and even fuck. Sex is fun. In fact, Jeremy, Brian, you should never have sex with anyone unless you have fun doing it." "But if you do it with any of the men, you gotta use the fishbowl. That's the rule." Kenny makes this pronouncement in his deepest baritone. The acne and gangly proportions of puberty are more than offset by its many positive changes, and for Kenny one thing he was glad to get rid of was that little kid squeaky voice. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 9 DATE: Saturday. August 27, 1994 PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY "What the hell is this tiny thing?" Victor is fiddling with a round object, half as big as a golf ball, with a tiny glass hole. "Ah, Sir, the latest in optical recording surveillance." "You mean a camera." "Not just a camera, Sir. The XF-47 can covertly monitor suspicious activity in every room of your valuable estate here, yielding a high-resolution video image of what happens in your absence. You've certainly read about the robberies in this area. In broad daylight. While the owners are away. And potential threats come not only from strangers, Sir. Have you a housekeeper? Of course you do. Trustworthy help is so hard to find these days. Do you want absolute assurance that this person is not invading your privacy in your absence? Going through your bedside table? Your dressers?" Victor allows the salesman to malign the integrity of loyal Mrs. Bagshaw. His mind is not thinking of her reputation. In his venture capitalist's crystal ball he sees untapped potential for the XF-47. As he peppers the man with a string of questions, Mr. Security is beginning to see dollar signs. Finally, a sale. How does it start recording? "We install a motion sensor in each room. Wherever someone is moving, the camera there will turn on." Where's the tape? "Cables buried in your wall will carry each image to a standard VHS recorder. It can be located up to 150 feet away. On a separate floor even. In a locked closet." And the quality? "Look at these sample images. We have custom recorders with enlarging capabilities that yield crystal clear close-ups. You'll be able to map every varicose vein on her legs, haha." Victor is getting excited, although he has different veins in mind. Is there sound too? "Excellent idea, Sir. Catch the burglars' conversations. Hear them identify each other. Yes, we can install undetectable microphones throughout the house." Victor signs a contract to have one room bugged, the bedroom. Mr. Security makes a note to stress the housekeeper suspicions on his next sales pitch. He puts a Rush on this installation. DATE: Thursday, September 1, 1994 Mrs. Bagshaw is startled to see Victor still home when she arrives to clean. In his bathrobe, he smiles at her, says he won't get in her way, that he'll be in his office studying a new film he's acquired. She sees no more of him, as over and over he watches himself and Antonio in bed the night before. He plays with the close-up control. He plays with the audio. He plays with his cock. For him, today is Christmas morning. DATE: Thursday, November 17, 1994 Victor tearfully tells Antonio, now 14, his wife will no longer be going out on Wednesdays. "Goodbye, Sweetheart. I'll always remember the joy you brought me." After the boy leaves, Victor watches the film he made on Monday night, costarring twelve-year old Philip. He is already planning further video equipment purchases. By the end of the year, he has reduced Mrs. Bagshaw's hours to one morning a month, but continues to pay her for four. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 10 DATE: Tuesday, August 23, 2005 PLACE: Boys Power House, Patterson, New York On their third night at BPH, in the wee hours, Jeremy wakes Brian. "What's up, little bro." "I woke up to pee and I got an idea. Let's have some fun with Nelson." "The slave?" They both giggle and Jeremy tells his big brother his plan. Nelson's phone rings. "Yes, Sir, what can I do for you, Sir?" "Nelson, it's me, Jeremy. I had to go pee and I got lost trying to find a bathroom. I'm in the goldfish bowl. Please come and help me." "Yes, Sir, right away, I'll be right there." And in less than a minute, Nelson in his bathrobe runs into the fishbowl. Looking at poor little Jeremy standing on the bed in his tidy whities with his legs crossed, he doesn't notice Brian behind the door. "OK, come with me, Sir. The bathroom is right next door and we don't even need to go out in the hall. There's an entrance from here." "No, I don't think I can make it. I gotta pee really bad." "Oh dear, Sir. Let me run and get you a glass to pee in." "No, I can't hold it that long. Please, Nelson, please, let me pee in your mouth." "Of course, Sir, whatever you say, Sir." Jeremy pulls off his undies as Nelson gets on the bed and kneels. "There, Sir, I'm ready." He envelops the lad's pisser in his mouth and is soon swallowing a torrent of golden boypiss. He doesn't let a single drop escape. "There, Sir. Do you feel better now?" "Oh, much better, Nelson. Thank you." "No. Thank you, Sir. It was my pleasure, Sir. Really, it was." Nelson picks Jeremy up to carry him back to his room, turns and sees Brian. As they head back to their room, both boys start laughing. "You tricked old Nelson, didn't you, Sirs?" They nod sheepishly. "You knew where the bathroom was all along." More giggles. "Well, thank you, Sirs. I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to use me like that. Whenever you boys want old Nelson to play with you in the fishbowl, I'll come running, any time day or night!" Nelson carries naked Jeremy back to his bed and is about to set him down. "Nelson, give me a good night kiss." "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Brian screws up his face and shakes his head, but Jeremy doesn't comprehend his warning before his lips meet Nelson's. "Yuck, your mouth smells like peepee." "Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." He smiles and tucks the lad into bed. "Will there be anything else, Sirs?" Big brother climbs into his bed and says, "No, Nelson, you can take your submissive ass back downstairs now." "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Good night, Sirs. Sleep well." Nelson makes a stop back in the fishbowl to retrieve Jeremy's briefs. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 11 Let's recall some highlights (and lowlights) from the year 1996: DATE: Wednesday, April 3, 1996 PLACE: Lincoln, MT The unabomber Ted Kaczynski is arrested. He thinks back to his childhood, to being hit by his parents and teased by other boys. DATE: Saturday, July 27, 1996 PLACE: Atlanta, GA A bomb explodes in Olympic Park. Richard Jewell is eventually cleared, but only after being pilloried in the press, identified by the FBI as fitting a lone bomber profile, called the Unadoofus by Jay Leno, and threatened by the Clinton White House with exposure as being gay. DATE: Wednesday, August 28, 1996 PLACE: London, UK Princess Di, the mother of two handsome male heirs to the throne just entering their teens, and Prince Charles are divorced. DATE: Thursday, August 29, 1996 PLACE: Milwaukee, WI Rudolph Desmond is born to a sixteen-year old drug addict, who promises to turn her life around for him. A promise she will make and break hundreds of times before he is finally taken from her. DATE: Monday, September 2, 1996 (Labor Day) PLACE: Westchester, NY All of Michael's work crews have taken the holiday off, but he really has no reason to complain. His contracting business is prospering. Enough that he has moved his family to a beautiful development north of the city. Brother Arnold still visits on Mondays, bringing a dish, although Michael often makes conflicting plans. The visits reinforce Arnold's feelings of inferiority toward his brother, but seeing his darling six-year old nephew Walsh, and playing video games with him as the boy relaxes in his PJs, makes it worthwhile. DATE: Tuesday, October 15, 1996 PLACE: Teachers College, Columbia University, NYC Maxwell successfully defends his dissertation in school administration, earning the right to be called Dr. Maxwell by both colleague and pupil. He hears rumors Jordan's chancellor may leave to accept a college position, and the assistant chancellor move up. Maxwell is in line to be the new assistant. He wonders to himself if young Mr. Kennedy the Math teacher is also gay. Somewhere seven hundred miles away, Mr. Wilson, fresh out of college, is struggling in front of his very first class of students. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 12 DATE: Friday, August 26, 2005 PLACE: McLaughlin House, near Brewster, New York Chuck pulls into the garage, and his wife wakes the children. "Come on, kids, we're home. Hey, Sissy, you sleepyhead. Let's get you up to bed." Sissy and her brother trudge yawning into the kitchen. Like every Friday, the show has made them overtired. But Sissy notices the cellar light is on and peeks down the stairs. "Daddy, they're back!" Chuck comes running to the cellar door. "Well I'll be damned." He races down the steps two at a time. Brian and Jeremy are lying on their old bed. "I thought we saw the last of you two runaways. You come back to steal more stuff? Well, you got caught, didn't you." He hits them both. "You've been gone a week. How long you think you could get away with this?" Chuck grabs the handcuffs and locks the boys to the bed. "I'll deal with you two later." As promised, about an hour later Chuck returns to the basement. He pulls off their pants and undies, then kneels on the bed, unzips, and pulls out his whacker. "First you're both going to suck me off, starting with the eldest." He pulls open Brian's clenched jaw. "And I warn you, if I feel any teeth, your brother will get a whipping." Brian reluctantly gives Chuck enough of a BJ to get him stiff and slimy. Then Chuck pulls out and pushes it into Jeremy's mouth. Whimpering and shaking, the little soldier does his best to imitate his big brother's brave performance. "Yeah, that's it, you son of a bitch, you suck Chuck's fuck stick. Pull all that nice juice out of my nuts, you little cum bucket." After what seemed like hours to the young hero, Chuck pulls his dripping cock out of Jeremy's mouth. Then he does the unexpected. He unlocks Brian's handcuffs. "OK, big man, you grab hold of your little brother's ankles. Yeah, like that. Now you pull them up by his ears and hold them there. Brian is crying. "No, Chuck, please, please don't make me hold him. Please don't fuck him. Fuck me instead. Here. Here's my asshole." "Oh, have no fear, big man, you'll get your turn, but little brother gets it first tonight. And you will help hold him. That's what brothers do. They help each other." Sobbing, Brian takes little Jeremy by the ankles and bends him in two, to expose his precious little hole. Jeremy, his hands still cuffed, his eyes two wide saucers, is crying, "No, no, no, no." "OK, that's enough." Chuck jumps up and turns around to face Mark, who emerges from behind a storage cabinet. "What the hell. I'm calling the police." "Yeah, Chuckie, you do that." Mike and Greg come out from piles of boxes and suitcases. Now Chuck sees that Mark, Mike and Greg all have video cameras in their hands. Mark takes over. "Mike, take the three cameras out to Nelson and wait in the van. We'll be along soon." Mike skips up the stairs, bearing the evidence. "So you see, Chuck, I really don't think it would be smart of you to call the police. Now give Brian the key." He hands it over and the boy unlocks his brother. They grab their clothes and stand beside Greg, holding each other tight. "You did a good job tonight, Brian, Jeremy. I'm sure your parents are very proud of you both. OK, now Mr. McLaughlin. I'm going to spell this out very carefully so even an idiot like you can understand. Number 1, you will never again see either of these young men because they have moved out. Number 2, you will never take in any other foster kids." "But what about their school? They already called. My wife told them the boys were sick." "That brings us to number 3. She will bring this letter to the school on Monday, explaining you are enrolling the boys in Jordan Academy and asking them to send the boys' records to Dr. Maxwell there." "I can't do that. I can't even afford to send my own kids there." "Oh, you're making my heart bleed, Chuck. But don't worry. These boys are on a full scholarship. And as for room and board, number 4, every month you will sign the checks you get from Child Protective Services over to Dr. Maxwell. Now, Chuckie, if you screw up, the authorities will receive a DVD showing what went on here tonight from three different angles. Believe me, your face is very clear." Then the boys left without answering Chuck's last question, "How long will you keep blackmailing me?" --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 13 DATE: Saturday, January 1, 2000 They call it the Millennium. No one listens to the tight ass purists who keep telling them to wait 'til 2001 to celebrate. The world is in the mood for a fuckin' party now! PLACE: New York City Fourteen-year old Jack has been able to get by on the streets by panhandling and shoplifting. The fact that he looks only twelve helps. He's gotten caught a few times and now has a record, but it's still petty stuff. "Hey, Mister, got a dollar? Start the new year off right. Give to the poor. Come on, Man, a fuckin' dollar is all." "You're an awfully good-looking boy to be begging like that. How about $25?" "Shit, cool. You're a fuckin' saint, Man." "I'd just like one small thing in return, Kid." And with that, the mark ducks into the alley and opens his zipper. For Jack, this night not only begins a new millennium, but a new career, a new life, and new problems. By May, he will be arrested four times for soliciting. The judge threatens to send him to Juvey, and assigns a lawyer from the pool to defend him. Goldberg talks to Jack about one hand washing the other, and the boy stays out of jail. In June, he meets a man who takes him off the streets altogether, at least one day a week. Victor gives him a Metro Card so every Friday, when his wife is out of the house, the boy he cherishes, his only Sweetheart, can come and spend the night making love. True love. PLACE: Milwaukee Arnold brings Vincent home again to celebrate YK2. Jake thinks Vincent, nearly 16, is the best one in his stable, but Arnold keeps asking him to find a younger kid. After three years, he still misses his nephew Walsh. His brother has banished him from the house, warned him never to contact the boy again. Shit, all he was doing was lying on the boy's bed. Walsh was giggling as they both lay naked poking at each other's bodies, uncle and nephew enjoying some rare quality time. But Michael didn't see anything funny about it. Since Arnold couldn't see his nephew, there was no reason for him to stay in New York. He asks his landlord to join them for the festive celebration. "Hey, Nelson, always great to see you," Vincent says honestly. "Be a good man and take off my shoes. Yeah, you can give them a sniff if you want. Ha. Ain't that cute, Arnold? Breathe deep. Now, my socks. Yeah, your hands feel nice after these puppies been chasin' tricks all over the city. That's it, Nelson, you lick them. Lick them real good. Come on, Arnold, my foot slave here is really getting me in the mood." As Arnold and Vincent begin fucking around, Nelson continues to lick, kiss and suckle Vincent's toes. He knows this is where he belongs, where he wants to spend the next millennium. He silently decides to talk to Gladys about his golden parachute. PLACE: The Bronx Bill Stevenson sits alone in his apartment, sips a Martini, and wonders if the new millennium will be any kinder to him than the last. He figures Billy must be almost finished with college now, but he isn't sure. All he knows is after one more year, he won't need be sending child support any more. He already stopped paying alimony when she remarried. He wishes he could undo the night of Billy's Bar Mitzvah. The Torah said at 13 he was a man. The pediatric texts said he was entering puberty. The assembled guests said he was a handsome boy. And after a few too many celebratory martinis, Doc's eyes said his son was fuckin' irresistible. That night he saw his weary boy asleep in bed. He took off his pants and climbed in next to him, his raging hardon pressed against his son's anus. Billy woke quickly, asked what the hell Daddy was doing and Doc stammered something about "just once for old times sake." Billy told his mother. As part of the divorce settlement, Doc sadly agreed never to contact his son again. And in return, they agreed not to expose him. Being near his son yet unable to see him was so torturous for Bill, he moved his practice to New York. Doc looks at his appointment book for the first week of January. Ah, Dean will be in for his annual checkup. He'll be nine next month, so he's old enough for a DRE. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 14 DATE: Saturday, October 15, 2005 PLACE: BPH Brian and Jeremy no longer feel like strangers. Neither one got much sleep this week but for two different reasons. Jeremy moved out of their room a couple weeks ago and is sleeping with Greg for a while. But not always sleeping. Two prepubescent boys have a lot of anatomical exploring to do. Brian's insomnia is more from nerves. It started last week on his birthday. Both he and Jeremy were excited about the event. They'd told Mark what they wanted: Brian, "A party just like when we lived Mom and Dad. Balloons, streamers, party hats, Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey, a Pinata, the works." Jeremy, "And lots of food, and a big birthday cake with candles!" Brian, "I want to invite all the teachers too, and Doc, and Goldberg." Jeremy, "Don't forget the birthday spankings!" Brian, "Shut up, little brother." But both of them were laughing away remembering how their father used to take the birthday boy across his lap and lovingly swat his back side once for every year, while the family counted. The party was a roaring success. Old and young alike all played too rough, laughed too hard, ate too much. Jeremy knew his parents were laughing also. At one point, Mark called out it was time for the spankings. Brian tried to run away but was immediately tackled. Half the boys held him down, while the other half pulled off his pants, to the delight of the men in the room. "Hey, Dad never spanked us bare assed! Shit, Mark. What do you got there?" When Brian saw the ping pong paddle, he tried desperately to squirm free! "Come on, guys, this isn't funny any longer." "Excuse me, Sir." The laughter quieted down and the boys let go of their grip, as Nelson came forward. "No one is going to paddle you, Sir. You see, the paddle is for you to use. Here. Nelson dropped trou and presented his ass to the birthday boy. "Shit, guys, you had be going there!" Brian was laughing again. Still pantless, he sat on the couch, told Nelson to lay across his lap, took the paddle and started administering hard whacks to the sacrificial lamb, as everyone shouted One, Two, Three, up to Thirteen. Day after day, Brian kept thanking all his friends for making the birthday so special. But he wished there was a special way to show his gratitude to the chef for that great cake! Of course, there was and he knew it. The one way the boys reward staff members. That's what was keeping him up at night. All week, Brian nervously deliberated his move. He's never had a cock up his ass other than Chuck's, and he's not sure what to expect. One night he stayed up and watched a dozen DVDs of Arnold in bed with various boys. The next day, he asked them to tell him about it. They gave him honest answers but no pressure. Now Brian knows it's something he wants to do, so tonight he screws up his courage and asks Arnold to come to the fishbowl. Arnold is as excited as Brian. Sure, he's nailed every kid in the house except the two brothers, but no two asses are alike, and he's sure Brian's will be special. He's been noticing little things about the small-for-his-age lad: the way his lips curve into a grin when he tries some new dish Arnold's prepared, the way he throws his popcorn in the air and catches it on his tongue, the way dripping chocolate ice cream creates a brown goatee on his chin, the way he often eats with one hand, the other stuffed in his pants. And now, as they close the bedroom door, the way the boy puts up a bold front while his knees are shaking. Arnold tucks something into the folds of the blanket, and then sits on the bed beside the sweet child. "Brian, we won't do anything you don't want to do. You're in charge, my love." "Uh, but you do want to fuck me, right?" "Shit, kid, that would give me immense pleasure, but only if you are happy also." Brian takes a deep breath and thinks he is getting control of his jittery body. "OK, uh, maybe we should like take our shirts off, OK?" "Yes, Sir." Slowly, deliberately, the two begin to strip, stopping every few seconds to kiss. Brian starts to feel relaxed. Once bare chested, they caress each other and french. Brian's heart begins to race again, but now from horniness more than nervousness. He awkwardly paws at Arnold's zipper. They simultaneously stand up, get out of the rest of their clothes and flop sprawling naked on the bed. Arnold runs his hands and tongue all over the boy, who is now moaning loudly and doesn't know what to do with his two unbound hands. Arnold told him he's supposed to be in charge, but right now he likes how the man is improvising. Then, Brian knows what he wants next. "Put your cock in my mouth." "Yes, Sir." Arnold takes up a doggy position above the lad facing his feet, then slides his knees straight and feels those young lips circle his shaft. Unconsciously, Brian's mouth remembers how it used to service Chuck. Only this time, it wants to make this cock truly happy. This sausage is the most succulent thing the cook has ever fed him. He senses Arnold's breath on his pubes, feels the man's mouth dribble on his erect boy shaft. With his mouth full, Brian uses body language to express his next request. He bucks his hips to raise his own cock where he knows Arnold's mouth is waiting. Arnold gets the message loud and clear and now they are 69ing. Brian feels Arnold's hands caressing his buttocks. He spreads his legs wide to show Arnold what he wants next. Soon, moistened fingers are probing his teen hole and his whole body spasms. He uses his tongue to push that tasty pole out, and shouts, "Fuck me, damn you, fuck me!" "Yes, Sir." Arnold swings his body around. Brian grabs his knees and pulls his legs up. Arnold slaps on a dollop of KY and uses his teeth to rip open the condom he had secreted in the covers. He's ready to give Brian what he asked for. His belated birthday present. And Brian gives him a tip like no gratuity he ever got in a restaurant. Brian laughs out loud as he feels the pulses of a cock releasing its seed inside his rectum. For ten more minutes, the two just lay and embrace and kiss. Finally, Brian whispers, "Thank you, Arnold." "No, thank YOU, Sir." --------------------------------------------------------- End of Part I --------------------------------------------------------- Part II --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 15 DATE: Tuesday, September 11, 2001 PLACE: Grand Central Station Mark is still tired as Metro North pulls out at 3:10 PM. As usual, he spent most of the day sleeping in the basement of the empty store where he's been squatting for eight months. It's a dreary existence for a thirteen-year old boy, spending the evening wandering the city looking for handouts and the night foraging through dumpsters behind restaurants for food. He figures he is already pretty savvy about surviving on the streets. But today is the second Tuesday of September, and Tuesday is the one bright light in Mark's otherwise dark week. That's when he gets to use the Metro Card Victor gave him to take the train north to see his pal, his man friend, his lover. He begins to nod off, noticing that the mood of the other passengers today is oddly subdued. Everyone is talking, but only in hushed tones. Mark welcomes the opportunity to catch a few more Z's. He is awakened by a voice shouting "Patterson!" He smiles his gratitude to the conductor who over the months has learned this is the adolescent's stop. The man could hardly not notice the cute, dark-haired boy who took his train every week, not notice his torn jeans, his dirty sneakers, his lack of backpack, his faint bathless aroma, his big innocent eyes. Not the typical visitor to this upscale section of Putnam County. Victor isn't at the station to meet Mark this time. But that's not unusual. He's been there on cold wintry days and when it was raining. But today is bright and clear and Mark doesn't mind walking the 1 1/2 miles to the big house. As he heads off down Route 311, and makes the familiar turns, he is walking slightly more briskly than other weeks. Last Tuesday Victor was in San Francisco on business, so it's been two weeks since they've slept together. But Victor flew into LaGuardia this morning, at least according to his schedule. Mark plans to ask him about his flight, ask him about SF, but most of all ask if Victor missed Mark as much as Mark missed him. He already knows the answer. Mark goes to the front door and knocks. No answer. Victor must be in the shower. Mark imagines the fragrant cologne Victor uses. Or maybe he was tired from traveling and laid down and fell asleep. Mark smiles. Won't he be happy to wake up and find his lover boy laying naked beside him? Mark goes to the side door, which he knows will be unlocked, and lets himself in. He calls, "Victor, where are you?" but not too loudly in case he is asleep. Mark is wide awake now, bright eyed and ready for some action. He begins to hunt. He's not in the living room. Not in his office. Nowhere on the first floor. Mark climbs the stairs and tiptoes to the bedroom where he expects to see this beautiful man. The bedroom where he has experienced the most intense, most awesome feelings of his young life. Mark feels his teenage cock stiffening in his jeans. After a two-week hiatus, he is so horny. But Victor isn't there either. Nor in the shower. Mark calls loudly now but there is no response. This is the first time he has been alone in this huge home. He knows Victor's wife won't be around. She has her girls night out every Tuesday, shopping in the city, then seeing a Broadway show, staying in a hotel, and returning home late Wednesday morning, long after Victor has showered with Mark, cooked him some pancakes for breakfast, and driven him back to the city, letting him out on the streets before going to his office. But first, they always have a long, lingering kiss. Then Victor tells him how he'll be counting the days 'til next Tuesday, slips him a few dollars, and says, "Goodbye, Sweetheart." If it weren't for his wife's love of the Great White Way, Mark wouldn't be able to have this weekly private time with the man he loves. Mark figures there's nothing else to do but wait. He goes to the kitchen and makes himself a sandwich, but brings it and a can of soda back upstairs to the bedroom. The room where every week he feels what true love is. He thinks about their weekly trysts. It is always so romantic; Victor has soft music playing and incense burning. Once when Mark asked him why he didn't turn the lights off or at least dim them, Victor said he wanted to see the boy he loved, wanted to see his beautiful smile, his beautiful chest, his beautiful ass. Mark doesn't mind; he too enjoys looking at his lover's strong, handsome, masculine physique. He imagines Victor making love to his wife on this bed. Does he play the music and burn the incense then? Does he leave the light on so he can look at her warm face, her beautiful tits, her inviting cunt? Mark has never seen the wife and has no way of picturing what she looks like. Victor doesn't have a picture of her on the night stand, or on his desk,! or anywhere in the house. But Victor must still love her; otherwise, he would get a divorce and then Mark can move in full time and he and Victor can fuck every night of the week! Mark allows himself these fantasies even though Victor has given him no reason for such hope. He finishes his sandwich and is getting restless. He starts downstairs when the phone rings. He runs into the office and picks it up. "Victor?" Immediately he catches himself. What if it's the wife? What's he going to say? With great relief, he hears his lover's voice. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 16 DATE: Tuesday, September 11, 2001 PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY "Hello, Mark. I'm glad you let yourself in. I'm sorry I wasn't there. You must have been worried, Sweetheart." "Where the fuck are you, Victor?" "I'm still in San Francisco. I'm sorry but there's nothing I could do. You know they've canceled all air traffic." "They what? What do you mean?" "You mean you haven't heard the news?" "What the hell are you talking about, Victor? What news?" "OK, listen, my boy. When we hang up, you turn on the TV in the living room. It's all over the news, every station. You'll see why I can't fly home for a while. I'm trying to see if I can get a train or something. But you rustle up some dinner for yourself, and stay there tonight. I'll be thinking about you sleeping in the bed. In our bed, Mark. And tomorrow morning, take some money from my dresser, the top left drawer, and go back to the city before my wife comes home. Sorry I can't make you breakfast. I'll make it up to you next week, Sweetheart. We'll have such a fuckin' good time next Tuesday. I promise." Mark is teary eyed. He can't imagine being in their bed without Victor. He knows he won't sleep anyway. Nighttime is when his young body is most awake. He walks into the living room and switches on the TV. In minutes he discovers the immense tragedy of the day, a disaster equal in proportion, in his thirteen-year old mind, to not having his Victor. The two World Trade Center towers are now a rubble of burning debris. Thousands of people have been killed. Mark doesn't know where Victor works in the city, but now he is glad he was in San Francisco, so far away, but alive. The images of burning towers, planes, dust clouds, masses of New Yorkers running, are repeated over and over again. Was he the only person in the city who didn't know what had happened? Who slept through it all? No wonder the passengers on the train were so somber. Occasionally, the cameras show Mayor Guiliani, or the police commissioner, telling everyone to stay away from Manhattan, to let the first responders do their job. Mark thinks about the wife. Of course, she didn't stay away. Not even a disaster like this can keep her from going with her girl friends to the city to spend Victor's money. The bitch. But it's just as well she did or otherwise she'd have been home when Mark came to the house. Mark, like everyone else in the tri-state area, everyone in America, is now glued to the TV. He listens to long lists of cancellations. There will be no school tomorrow, not that that changes his life at all. The stock market closing also has no effect on him. But then he hears that theater performances on Broadway have been canceled. Shit! Will the bitch be coming home tonight? Mark thinks about Victor's instructions, about spending the night. Even out in SF, he must be aware of everything. He said it was all over the news. He must know the lights on Broadway have gone out. But he didn't tell Mark to hightail it out of there. Maybe he spoke to his wife. They both must have cell phones. Maybe she told him she was staying in the city anyway. Mark doesn't know whether to relax or worry. He wants to hear Victor's reassuring voice again. He goes back in the office and begins looking in desk drawers. Maybe he can find Victor's cell phone number and give him a call. Nope. Just file folders, and paperclips, and rubber bands. A key. A desk calendar. Some money. Lots of pens and stacks of yellow legal pads. He walks over to a corner where Victor has his computer setup. He snoops around the office opening cabinets and looking on shelves. One of the cabinets is locked. Fuck. But Mark remembers the key in the desk. He hates to intrude on his lover's privacy, but he is desperate to find an address book or pocket organizer or something that might have his cell phone number, or the name of the hotel where he's staying. He's sure Victor will understand. So he takes the key to unlock the cabinet. The key that will also open his mind to truths too painful to contemplate. The key that will change his life forever. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 17 DATE: Tuesday, September 11, 2001 PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY Inside the cabinet are hundreds of tapes and DVDs. He notices a section of DVDs with his name and different dates. He takes one dated two weeks ago and puts in the player in the living room. Shit, oh, my fuckin' Jesus. He sits aghast as he watches himself and Victor on the flat panel TV fucking. In the bedroom. He pauses the player and races back upstairs and starts opening closets. In minutes, he discovers the three hidden cameras. Shit, it's a fuckin fishbowl. He goes back down and starts looking at the other DVDs. One for every Tuesday he was with Victor. Images of them kissing, caressing, feeling each other's asses. Images of them jerking each other off, sucking, and rimming. Images of them fucking in every position. From the first week months ago when Mark was a nervous virgin and Victor made his first tentative advances, up until two weeks ago when the confident teenager displayed his talents in all his hormone-raging horniness. How could Victor do this to him. Bet! ray his trust. Mark started to feel sick. This was worse than watching the towers fall. Did Victor also record lovemaking with his wife? Mark doesn't really care but he's curious to see what she looks like. He begins fumbling around at the other DVDs. Each one has a date and a name on it. A boy's name. There's a section for Kenny, Jack, Dean. Mark grabs the desk calendar. All the dates for Jack are Fridays. Dean's are Sundays. Victor has a fuckin' kid for every day of the week. Mark scoops up a handful of DVDs and goes back into the living room. Sure enough, every boy is going at it with Victor in bed. "In Our Bed!" Through all the sucking and fucking, Victor keeps calling them all "Sweetheart." Now Mark isn't sick. He's furious. The fuckin' guy he had worshipped is nothing but a slime ball. The god's pedestal collapses as surely as the WTC. Victor should have been in one of the towers this morning. That's what he deserves. Suddenly through his anger, Mark focuses on one of the boys on the screen. He knows him. Jack, the Friday boy, also lives on the streets. Two years older, he helped Mark out on several occasions, showing him ways to survive. But Jack hustles for tricks, and Mark hopes he never has to resort to that. He begins running more DVDs, now concentrating on the faces of the other boys. Some are older teenagers, and some look like his own age. But then he recognizes the Sunday boy also. Shit. Dean is only ten! He often comes out on the streets to hang with Mark and even helps him beg. Sometimes he swipes food from his parents to give Mark, and even snitches some money from his Mom's pocketbook to give him. He calls Mark his big brother. Now, Mark is watching Victor molest this innocent little kid, conning him into taking his cock in his mouth, and on a recent recording, popping his virgin cherry for the first time, and all the while telling him he is his "Sweetheart." Damn. What k! ind of a big brother lets that happen to a little kid? But he never knew. And how does Dean explain to his parents where he is every Sunday night? Mark is no longer concerned about the wife. Obviously there is no wife. Only six other boys like himself, whose illusions of Victor's undying love are still intact. It is almost midnight, but he is wide awake now. Nighttime is when he is most active anyway. He is nocturnal. He spends the next several hours alternating between eating out of Victor's pantry and fridge, and looking through more DVDs. He finds older recordings of boys once young and fresh, now grown too old for Victor's predilections. Discarded boys whose vibrant images continue to live on the flat screen. The oldest recordings are on VHS tapes. Through the years, Victor's videography equipment kept improving. The pictures got sharper, the lights brighter, the sound quality clearer so that now you can hear every softly murmured tender syllable as well as the screams of passion. After a while, a second camera angle was added, and eventually a third. Mark finds himself admiring Victor's skill in recording whil! e simultaneously fucking the shit out of his unwitting costars. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 18 DATE: Wednesday, September 12, 2001 PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY Around dawn, Mark begins to nod off. He doesn't feel like sleeping in that bed, so he grabs a soft blanket, gets nude and sacks out on the living room couch a few hours. Around noon, he gets up, takes a shower, and slips on a bathrobe. He doesn't watch any more DVDs. He's seen enough. Instead, he starts wandering the halls, exploring the house he's been in so often yet knows so little about. He discovers seven other bedrooms besides the fishbowl. Nine bathrooms, including three on the main floor. A pool room. An exercise room. The place is a fuckin' mansion. Still in his bathrobe, he wanders outside. He sees the garage with an apartment upstairs for a chauffeur. He finds an empty swimming pool and neglected tennis court. Why the hell didn't he and Victor ever lob a few tennis balls, or play pool, or go skinny-dipping. Why was the bed the only place Victor entertained his boys. Mark knows the answer. That's where the cameras are. He spends the afternoon nibbling and nosing around. The TV reports the grounding of the airplanes will last indefinitely. He knows Victor is stuck in SF and he doesn't give a shit. Nor does he give a shit about Victor's privacy any more. He starts rifling through the papers in his desk. He wants to dig up all the dirt he can. He makes a pile of the folders he finds most interesting, and when he has an armload carries them into the living room where he sprawls out with a pizza he has microwaved and studies them carefully. Around four o'clock he hears a knock on the front door. Moments later he hears the side door open, and then a squeaky voice shouting, "Victor? Did you hear what happened?" The squeak gets louder as it nears the living room. "The whole city is all crazy now. Where are you Victor? I missed you last week. I'm glad you're back home. Victor? Why don't you say any... Who the hell are you?" Mark realizes his bathrobe has loosened and now reveals his chest all the way to his bush. But he doesn't give a shit. He knows this lad has seen much more than some pubes. "Hi, Kenny." "How do you know who I am? Who are you? Where's Victor? I want to see Victor!" Kenny starts to shake. "OK, now, let me guess. On Wednesdays Victor's wife has a girls night out. She goes shopping and takes in a show and then stays in the city 'til the next day. That gives you and Victor plenty of time every week to play games on his bed, right? Then tomorrow morning, you two will shower together, he'll cook you some pancakes, then you'll ride with him back to the city, and before he goes to work, he'll drop you off in your neighborhood. But first he'll kiss you, tell you he'll be counting the days, and say, 'Goodbye, Sweetheart.' Do I have it right, Kenny?" "I'm not telling. Where's Victor?" "That's ok, Kenny. You don't need to tell me anything. I know it's true. Take a look." Mark presses the play button on the remote and suddenly Kenny sees himself on the big flat panel TV, naked in bed with his love. "Why are you spying on us?" "I didn't make this video, Kenny. Victor did." Mark switches to one of his own DVDs. Now Kenny has to watch the one true love in his life kissing this stranger, caressing his nipples, sucking his cock, fingering and finally fucking his asshole. Kenny cringes every time he hears Victor call Mark his Sweetheart. Mark turns off the DVD and hugs the younger boy, now overwhelmed in tears. "How could Victor do that? He said I was the only boy he ever loved." "He told me the same thing. I'm sorry, Kenny, but I have to show you something else." Mark again changes the DVD to show Victor has a third boy lover, and a fourth, seven altogether. "And there were others also before we came along. This bastard has been fucking boys for years and on camera." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 19 DATE: Wednesday, September 12, 2001 PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY "I hate him. I hate him. I wish he were dead." "I know, I hate him too, Kenny. But look, Victor is going to call you pretty soon, and we can't let him know we found out about him. Not yet. So you have to pretend you never saw me. Never saw these DVDs." In a while, the phone rings. Kenny takes a deep breath and picks it up. "Victor, where are you? ... When I saw you ain't here I got real scared.... I miss you Victor. I miss you real bad.... Please please please come home as soon as you can.... I'll see you next Wednesday. I'll be counting the days.... I love you." "Don't tell me, Victor told you to rustle up some dinner for yourself, and stay here tonight. He's going to be thinking about you sleeping in that bed. And tomorrow morning, you can take some money from the top left drawer, and go back to the city." "The fuckin' bastard." They go into the kitchen, and Mark prepares a decent hot supper for himself and Kenny. As they eat, he learns that Kenny recently turned eleven, that his family pretty much ignores him. On Wednesdays, they think he's sleeping over at a friend's house. He thought so too! Now Kenny wants to call the cops. But Mark says there's no rush. It's better to wait and figure everything out. After some bowls of ice cream, they go back to the living room and Mark asks, "Kenny, take a good look at the other boys. Do you know any of them?" Having gotten over his initial shock, Kenny can now look at the faces on the screen. Sure enough, he recognizes Thursday (Hump, 14) and Saturday (Washington, 12) from his school. "Come with me, Kenny. Get the Metro Card Victor gave you." "How did you know he... Never mind." Down in the city, Mark hunts up Jack and briefly explains the situation. Then the three go looking for little Dean. "Hey, Big Brother!" Mark hates to break the little kid's heart, but he has to. The four of them take the subway to Kenny's neighborhood and locate Hump and Washington. Then all six take the Metro back to Victor's house. They spend the night looking at DVDs, comparing experiences, and calling Victor all the names they can think of. DATE: Thursday, September 13, 2001, early morning Again Kenny wants to call the police and several others agree. But Jack, the oldest, says no. As a hustler, he's had run-ins with cops. "They won't help. The justice system will screw us all over, and we won't get anything out of it. Look, Guys, we're sitting on a gold mine." Dean stands up and wiggles his ass. "Yeah, it's worth a million." The others all laugh. "No," says Hump, "Jack meant this pile of DVDs is our gold mine." Jack goes on. "Well, that's true, but Dean is also right. Our sex is worth a lot and we've been giving it to that shithead for free. We should make him pay. Aw, shit, what's that word for something you own that's worth something. Assets, that's it. Our asses are our assets, hehe. And we can take control of our assets to get what we want." "Like a gold chain?" "A tattoo?" "More ice cream?" "I want a dirt bike." "I want to go to Disney." "Look, Guys, if we're smart, we won't just squander our assets on cheap stuff. Make sure if you give something that valuable, you get good value for it. Look around you. Victor's got to be worth millions. If we do this right, we can milk this gravy train for years to come without involving the police." "OK. So how do we do that? What's the plan?" Washington says, "This is getting complicated. We need a lawyer or something." Jack tells them he knows one. "A public defender named Goldberg. He kept me from going to juvey last year." "What did he cost?" "A fuck." Everyone laughs. "Yep, that was a fee I could afford. And it was worth it." Now the other boys are beginning to see what he meant about using their assets. "Come on, Jack, call him up. Call him right now." "You realize it's, uh, not even four? Let's give him a chance to get to his office. Come on, let's get ourselves some breakfast." "Do we gotta have pancakes? I suddenly hate pancakes." As the sun rises, the boys use the various bathrooms to shower off. They explore the house. In the fishbowl, Kenny discovers the motion detector and the hidden microphones. Directly under the fishbowl, next to the office, Washington finds the studio full of high-tech equipment that lets Victor see the three images simultaneously and with a control panel, fade from one camera angle to another, and zoom. He can control sound too, and in just a few minutes produce a professional quality DVD. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 20 DATE: Thursday, September 13, 2001, morning PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY "Hello, is this Mr. Goldberg's secretary?... Tell him it's Jack. I gotta talk to him immediately.... Yeah, I'll hold.... Hi, Goldberg.... No, I ain't in any trouble. Just the opposite. After you kept me out of Juvey, I turned my life around. Now I live with this great foster family. And everything is cool.... Yeah, thanks. I knew you'd be pleased.... Yeah, well here's why I called. You see they're all away today, and I got the house to myself. That's how much they trust me. And I got to thinking I owe it all to you, Goldberg, and I thought maybe I could show you how much I appreciate it. You know, like last time, if you know what I mean. Please come, Goldberg." Jack gave him the address and hung up. "Is he gonna come?" Jack nods. "When?" "He'll be here in an hour. I heard him tell his secretary to cancel all his Thursday appointments. That something came up." "Yeah, I know what came up. His fuckin' dick!" The boys buzz open the electric gate and the attorney drives up to the door. "Hi, Goldberg, come in." "Wow, this is quite a big house, Jack." "Yeah, I'm so lucky. And it's all because of you, Goldberg. Come on, let's go right to my bedroom. I can't wait any longer." "Neither can I, Jack." The lawyer follows his former client up the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt as they enter the fishbowl. "Goldberg, let me take your clothes off. Oh, yeah. You are so fuckin macho," he lies. Soon, Goldberg has Jack naked as well and begins slathering him with kisses. He moves down, off his face to his chest, licking each teenage nipple, then on to his abs. He takes Jack's cock in his mouth and sucks like an Oreck. "Oh, yeah, Goldie, you make me so fuckin' horny." The man turns Jack over and begins licking his ass, burying his tongue deep in his chute, while cooing sweet moans. He tells Jack he can't hold it any longer. But first he stops to put on a condom. Then he pushes his cock into the spit-lubed hole and fucks away. Both man and boy are screaming, while downstairs in the living room other boys are exchanging high-fives and covering their mouths, trying not to laugh out loud. After a while, the two emerge from the fishbowl, both still naked. "Come on, Goldberg, I want to show you something down in the living room. You're going to love this." Grinning in anticipation the Harvard-trained attorney follows along like a puppy. "Who the hell are all these kids?" "They're my friends, Goldberg. And you're going to be their friend, also. You sit right there between Washington and Hump." The two boys pull Goldberg's naked ass down on to the couch. "That's a nice cut cock you got there, Mister. It looks a little cummy. You want a tissue?" The boys are laughing. Kenny walks in with a DVD in his hand and puts in the player. "Sit back, Mister, relax. You're going to love this show." Little Dean pushes the play button. Goldberg is shocked to see himself and Jack undressing each other on the bed. The sounds of their tryst are now accompanied by a running critique from the young audience. "He looks like a good kisser, Jack." "Hey, I wish he'd suck my nipples like that." "Man, could I use a blow job right now." "Hey, look at that. I bet you're the best ass-kisser in the whole law firm. Ain't that right, Goldberg?" The DVD ends and all the boys applaud. "What do you want from me?" Goldberg says meekly. Jack explains, "We need you to write up a contract." "Who are the parties?" "We kids are the party of the first part." Dean shouts that he loves parties. "And a man named Victor is the party of the second part." Slowly, the boys explain what the contract has to cover. Kenny brings Goldberg some pens and yellow legal pads from the desk so he can take notes. Mark hands Goldberg a folder. "Here's some stuff you may want to know about Victor. His full name. His home address, well that's right here. His office address, phone number, fax number. Here's his social security number. This is a list of his bank accounts. His stock portfolio. This one shows all the properties he owns." A squeaky voice says, "Those are his assets." Goldberg looks at Kenny and realizes these boys are no dummies. "But don't think you're going to get your greedy hands on any of that money, Mister." Hump looks at him threateningly. "Your only fee is our silence." "Yes," adds Washington, "However, if we're really satisfied with the job you do for us, you might just earn yourself a bonus from our assets." With that, all the boys stand up, drop trou and moon their attorney. That array of beautiful young butts is all the motivation Goldberg needs. "OK, Let me get started. Is there a desk I can use? And a computer?" Little Dean takes his hand and leads him to the office. Jack comes in a minute later with Goldberg's clothes. "Oh, yeah, I guess I should get dressed again." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 21 DATE: Thursday, September 13, 2001 PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY Hump reminds the lawyer, "You realize, Mister, if there's any clause missing in that contract, any loophole, then the New York Bar will get the first copy of your DVD. No pressure, though." Once he's wearing his jurist hat, Goldberg forgets about everything else. Throughout the day, Goldberg combs over the records. He interviews all the boys. He throws around terms like "emancipated minors" and "statutory rape." He uses his password to get into his law firm's LexisNexis account. In the early afternoon, Jack brings him a cup of coffee. "You know, Jack, this would work a lot better if you boys were a corporation." He explains the advantages. "I can draw up articles of corporation for you as well as the contract. We'll also need a deed transfer, and a few other documents." Jack listens and agrees. "Talk to the others and come up with a name for your corporation." After a while, all six boys come into the office. "We got a name, Mister." Goldberg looks at them. "Boy Power House." Goldberg grins and thinks to himself, That's for sure. DATE: Sunday, September 16, 2001 Every night, one of the boys talks to Victor on the phone. Finally on Sunday evening, he tells Dean he just got to New York and will be home soon. Dean shouts, "Oh thank god! I was so worried." He's crying. "I can't wait for you to hold me." About 11, Victor walks in the front door. The house is dark. "I'm home." Dean comes running downstairs in his underwear. He lets Victor pick him up. Lets him kiss him on the mouth. Lets him grope at his sweet ass. "Come on, Sweetheart, let's go to our bedroom." He carries Dean up the stairs snuggling his young face. "It's been so long. I've been counting the days." The room in pitch black. Victor, ever mindful of the cameras, says "Let's turn on the lights. I know you always like to have the lights on." "Yes, I do, but first let's take off all our clothes. When we turn on the lights, I want to see your big handsome naked body. Please, Victor, please." Victor strips off all his clothes and from the rustling of fabric, thinks Dean is doing so also. Victor turns on the wall switch. Around the room sit six of his boys. Dean is now fully dressed. Victor alone stands naked. On the floor is a big pile of DVDs. He starts to put his pants back on, but Kenny grabs them. "Sit down on the bed, you son of a bitch and listen." Jack speaks for the group, "You see before you the board of directors of the Boy Power House Inc. From now on you work for us, as our business manager. Number one, you will sign the deed of this house over to the corporation. We've each already selected our own bedrooms. Number two, you will move into the apartment over the garage. That will be your only compensation for this job, so we suggest you keep your other job downtown. You'll need the money. Number three, you will set up a bank account for each one of us and deposit $3000 a month in each one. That's for our college fund. Oh, you don't think we're smart enough for college? Well, we all plan on going, Victor. You see, we're thinking about the future, and we know there will come a time when our talented asses won't be enough to get by in this world. So number four, you hire a tutor to teach us right. The board will get final say on all hirings. We also need a housekeeper to clean and do laundry, and a decent cook. ! We've all eaten your pancakes but we doubt you can cook anything else and growing boys need to eat a lot. Last, when Walsh, the other boy you're screwing, arrives tomorrow, if he wants to join us he gets the same privileges. If you behave yourself and do what you're told nobody else will see these DVDs and tapes." Hump takes the floor. "Now Victor, we all think you're just a big pile of dog shit, and as Business Manager we will start calling you BM." Giggles around the room. "But we also agree that you gave one hell of a lay and we admit it felt kinda good, so if you're extra special nice you might even get to fuck one of us once in a while, for old times sake, but only when we want it." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 22 DATE: Monday, September 17, 2001 PLACE: BPH The mood certainly lightens on Monday with the arrival of boy seven. Innocent Walsh was cast in a different mold from the other six world-hardened lads. Even Kenny and Dean, just months older than Walsh, are years more street-savvy than this suburbanite. But all their icy anger and steel resentment seem to melt in the glow of Walsh's warm naivete. Just about four in the afternoon, a car pulls up in front of the house. The boys inside watch as a man and a small boy climb out. They stay out of sight, but within earshot, as Victor opens the front door. "Hi, Walsh. How's my Sweetheart? Hi, Mike." "Hi, Victor. Walsh really missed you when you were in California. You must have had quite a time getting back home with the planes grounded." "Yes, but I'm home now." Walsh grabs Victor's hand. "I'm so happy you're back. I was counting the days." The man knelt down. "You going to give Daddy a kiss before I leave? Yeah, good boy. You have fun with Victor and I'll see you tomorrow morning. Bye, Victor." "Bye, Mike." When the car pulls away, Victor says, "There are some people here who want to meet you, Walsh." "Wow, really? Cool!" Walsh darts inside and sees six boys lined up in the foyer. "Hi. Are you Victor's friends?" "Hi, Walsh, I'm Jack. Let's all go into the living room and get acquainted." The boys need to break the news to Walsh. He has to know the truth. But now they're concerned about breaking his tender heart. They're all wondering what's the gentlest way to proceed. But chipper Walsh beats them to the punch. "Victor, are you going to let these boys play with us in our bed? That will be fun. I bet they'd like that. Jack, do you know what Victor does with me each week. He..." "Yes, I do know, Walsh." "You do?" Hump says, "In fact, we all know. We've seen what he does with you." "Really, how?" Kenny presses the play button. "Here, look at the TV with us, Walsh." "Wow. That's me and you, Victor, hehe. I didn't know you was making a movie, hehe. That's cool. You got any more movies?" Walsh sat there laughing as he watched each boy getting his ass fucked on TV. "Wow. You told me I was the only boy you played with, Victor. You fibbed, hehe." Washington asks, "Walsh, that man who drove you here was your father?" "Yep, he brings me to Victor every Monday. Then tomorrow, Victor will drive me home on his way to work. I gotta be there in time to catch the school bus." "Does your Daddy know what you and Victor do?" "I think he does, but once when I tried to tell him about our games, he said he didn't want to hear. He said he just wanted us both to have fun. But you know, what's weird? When I was a little kid, one time my parents caught me with my uncle Arnold. We was both naked. We wasn't doing nothing, just layin' there without no clothes on. But they got mad. Dad told his brother to get out and never come back and never see me again. Now why was they so mad at my Uncle and not at you, Victor?" Mark asks, "What's you last name, Walsh?" "Benningham." "Your Dad builds buildings, doesn't he?" "Yep." "Guys, I know why Walsh's father doesn't get angry with Victor. When Michael Benningham started doing contracting, Victor invested in his company. Now Victor sends a lot of business his way. Multimillion dollar contracts. I saw his name a lot when I was going through Victor's papers. In return for all those favors, he lets Victor have his way with Walsh. What's a little hanky panky between friends! Ain't that right, you Bastard! "Walsh, let me tell you how things have changed here. We all live here full time now. And if you want to, you can live here too. You won't be able to play with Victor too much, unless he's extra special nice. But we'd all like to play with you. Not just sex games either. Real games." "Can we use the pool room and the swimming pool?" "You know about those?" "Yeah, sometimes I sneak around and find stuff. Sorry, Victor, hehe. Sure, I'd love to live here with you guys. That will be cool." "Dean, go show Walsh his bedroom." The two youngsters race upstairs. "OK, Victor, you're going to get on the phone and call that son of a bitch who pretends to be a father. You're going to tell him that Walsh is going to stay here with you for a while. I know he won't mind. He likes those contracts too much." --------------------------------------------------------- End of Part II --------------------------------------------------------- Part III --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 23 DATE: September-November, 2001 PLACE: BPH The next few weeks for Walsh are like heaven. But the boys make them a living hell for Victor. They keep adding new demands. His suppliers fill the larder with an assortment of foods, and the seven boys empty it just as quickly. Each boy hangs over Victor's shoulder as he orders complete wardrobes of new clothes online. "No, I hate that color. That's a nerdy style." Happy to have the rags on their backs a few weeks ago, the boys are suddenly fashion connoisseurs. Mrs. Bagshaw is at first delighted when Victor asks her to come in five days a week. She is gratified that the beautiful big house is once more buzzing with activity. She is also pleased with the generous wages she is now given. She laughs as she tries to go about her duties while seven rambunctious boys fly through the rooms. She knows it is not her place to question why all these lads have suddenly invaded Victor's home, nor why he has taken refuge in the cramped chauffeur's quarters. Not that she really has much time to think about such things. These residents are nothing like the fastidious Henry, and there's constant vacuuming, dusting, and mopping; making up seven beds every morning; cleaning nine bathrooms for boys who see no need to perfect their aim. Then there's the laundry! It seems there is always a mountain of clothes waiting. On November 17, Walsh runs by the laundry room and finds her lying on the floor. At the emergency room, it is diagnosed as a massive heart attack. Even though the boys send her dozens of handwritten get-well cards and pictures, and Victor brings her flowers every day, she only holds on for two weeks before dying at age 56. Now a succession of housekeepers is hired in a desperate attempt to find a second Mrs. Bagshaw. Most last only one or two days before they storm out, often screaming. They can't keep up with all the laundry, all the unmade beds, all the filthy bathrooms, all the muddy footprints. Nor can a cook be found to satisfy the discriminating palates of these lads, many of whom used to eat out of dumpsters. Then there are the constant repairs. Now that they own the home, the boys want to protect their investment and think every broken banister rail, fuzzy TV set, dripping toilet bowl, or cracked cue stick, should be repaired immediately. As hard as Victor pleads, plumbers and repairmen always seem to need at least two weeks' notice. Outside, the boys also want the landscaping trimmed, the tennis court groomed, the pool cleaned. Victor realizes what he's gotten himself into and wonders if there's any way he can get them off his back. But, there's nothing he can do about it. The evidence against him is enough to send him to prison for several lifetimes. And he's heard how child predators are treated by other inmates. Of course, he is already a prisoner, living in his tiny cell over the garage and taking orders from seven unreasonable wardens. However, there are rare moments that make his new position tolerable, occasions when the boys seem to actually be satisfied with something he does. For instance, when each one wants his bedroom a different color, Victor hires painters who cater to their color choices. One by one, as each room is completed, its occupant orders Victor to the fishbowl where he is rewarded with a young piece of ass, duly recorded on three cameras. The most difficult task for Victor right now is hiring the tutor. Many applicants answer his ad, but most never make it past the first interview, where they are grilled by all the students. A few prospects are hired conditionally, but never last more than a week. "Look," Jack explains to Victor, trying to be patient. "We're not stupid. If we don't learn, it's not our fault. It's the tutor. So if we don't get something, they gotta make damn sure they find a better way to teach us." Victor keeps placing the Personal Tutor ad in the papers. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 24 DATE: Monday, November 5, 2001 PLACE: Jordan Academy, Patterson, NY The Assistant Chancellor is sitting at his desk staring out his window at the football team practice. Now an administrator at this exclusive private school, Maxwell is well remunerated, but he misses being in the classroom. He remembers how wonderful it was to give a student a pat on the back, just to touch them. Now he has to settle for seeing them in the hall, on the field, but even that gets him aroused. Usually when he is stimulated by all this eye candy, he can retire to his office to jerk. But last week, he ducked into the bathroom to get his rocks off. He realized he wasn't alone, so he slipped into a stall and tried to quietly masturbate. As he sat, he heard noises from the stall at the end. Obviously two people were going at it, thinking they were alone. Maxwell decided to forego his own pleasure and as an administrator do a little discrete investigation. He slipped out quietly and stood by a bulletin board down the hall pretending to read the notices. He speculated about which boys might be in there. Eventually Carl, a junior came out. Ah, lovely Carl, Maxwell thought. Captain of the LaCrosse team. Was he the cocksucker or the suckee? Did he have another jock in there? Some poor freshman? Let's wait and see who else emerges. But a couple minutes later, it was not another student who comes out. It was Kennedy, the head of the Math department. He strolled up to Maxw! ell and pointed to one of the notices about an upcoming Math competition. "You should come watch our boys. I know we're going to tromp St. Agnes." Hmm. Maxwell would never have picked Kennedy as a predator. He decided he wanted to learn more. Today, he calls Carl into his office. Maxwell sits on top of his desk trying in vain to look kid-friendly. "Listen, I know what you were doing last week in the bathroom with a teacher." "Oh, please, Dr. Maxwell, don't fire Mr. Wilson. It wasn't his fault. I led him on. I know I'm sick. But I really wanted to find out what a man's dick tasted like. You're not going to tell my folks are you?" Maxwell sits dumbfounded. First Kennedy, now Wilson too? "Look, Dr. Maxwell. I always liked you. You're a neat guy. I see you in the stands at LaCrosse meets. Actually, I think I always had a crush on you." Shit, now the kid is playing me. Damn he's good. "I think you sort of like me also." Carl points to Maxwell's bulging pants. "I could help you take care of that if you want. And, uh, if you promise not to fire Wilson or tell my parents." The promise is made. But then Maxwell hustles the boy out of his office before he does something he might regret. That something is what he plays over and over in his head for the next hour. The door is locked. The pants are unzipped. And the bulge is taken care of by a phantom Carl. Maxwell closes his eyes and reaches his hands out to touch the phantom's bobbing head, to run his fingers through its curly hair, to massage those invisible athletic shoulders. "Yes," he whispers to his empty office, "you are such a fine boy." Maxwell wipes up the mess he made and picks up yesterday's Times, anything to get his mind off Carl. As he glances at the the education section of the help wanteds in the Times, his eye catches an interesting offer. A request for a private tutor at a home not far from Jordan Academy. Gee, he thinks to himself, here's a chance to be a real teacher again. To have close personal contact with a student. Maxwell answers the ad and is told to come by for an interview. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 25 DATE: November, 2001 - February, 2002 PLACE: BPH At Maxwell's interview, the boys detect that this one seems to have a genuine fondness for them, and their intuition is correct. He begins coming by every afternoon when he leaves JA. Patiently, he works with each of the boys. He makes the lessons fun and takes time to make sure they get it. When they do, he gives them hugs. He feels invigorated, finally teaching again. The boys are excited. For the first time, they are discovering the joy of learning. They decide to make sure this one doesn't get away. So one day Hump asks him, "Can you please come up to my bedroom, Dr. Maxwell? I have some questions about that assignment you gave me on American Government." He leads him to the fishbowl and closes the door. It doesn't take much persuading to get Maxwell out of his pants. An hour later he is sitting in the living room watching the whole scene on TV, from his first tender kisses on the boy's luscious lips, to the raunchy blow job, to Maxwell's final pounding fuck of Hump's young asshole! He is now committed. He will continue to tutor them, and do it without pay. And, the boys promise, if he continues to do a good job he can have an occasional time in the fishbowl with one of the boys, but it will be the boy who decides. It's an arrangement Maxwell is all too happy to accept. Using his Academy stationery, Maxwell requests the boys' school records, such as they are, sent to him. Unbeknownst to the other administrators at Jordan, the exclusive private school now has seven new students, and for New York State, they are no longer truants. These boys have told him they all intend to go to college, and for that they will need records that are above suspicion. As fall turns to winter, Maxwell begins to find it too much for him to give them all their lessons at different levels in only a few hours each afternoon. He begins to show up on Saturday and Sunday as well to work with his seven amazing pupils. But finally, he admits to himself and to them, he needs help. He tells them he knows of two other teachers from Jordan, who he's sure will be willing to teach under the same terms of employment. By the time of midyear exams, Kennedy and Wilson have joined Maxwell, riding with him from JA every afternoon, tutoring their charges and getting their rewards. In some schools, when a student does well, the teacher rewards him by sticking a Happy Face in the kid's notebook. It works a little different at BPH. When a teacher does well, the student rewards HIM by letting him stick his happy face in the kid's Happy Ass! No longer having to pay tutoring fees, Victor is now told he needs to equip a state-of-the-art classroom with Apple computers for everyone. And the three tutors can request any supplies they need from Science lab equipment to textbooks to musical instruments to Saturday field trips. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 26 DATE: December, 2001 PLACE: BPH Every week it seems, BPH has to hire a new cook. None of the probationers can satisfy the tastes of seven different fast-growing adolescents and the situation is getting desperate. "Look at me," Hump declares at a weekly meeting of the Corporate Board. "I'm withering away to nothing. I'm a beanpole, a fuckin' shadow of my former self! Victor's got to find someone fast before I disappear altogether!" A small voice mumbles, "My Uncle Arnold's a cook." Everybody turns and stares at Walsh. Then suddenly the room erupts: "Why didn't you tell us before?" "Is he any good?" "Where does he live?" "Does he like kids?" Hump says, "Wait a minute, he's the uncle that your father told to get out. You don't have any contact with him." "Oh, hehe, we e-mail each other all the time. Mom and Dad don't know. But I love my Uncle. He's cool. He was always nice to me. I used to call him on his cell phone when my parents wasn't around. But I think it made him sad to hear my voice, 'cause he couldn't see me, so I stopped calling him. I never told him 'bout Victor either, 'cause that would make him sad too since he couldn't even lie naked with me. So anyway he lives in Milwaukee now." The boys tell Walsh to call Uncle Arnold. "What should I tell him?" "The truth. Tell him you're visiting a rich friend of your Daddy's and he needs a personal cook." After moving to Milwaukee, Arnold went through a series of restaurants, no job ever lasting too long. Fortunately his landlord didn't harass him about the rent. But what Arnold really longed for was a younger boy, someone Walsh's age. He was delighted when his nephew phoned. Now he wouldn't have to settle for a surrogate. He was going to see Walsh himself. When Arnold arrives, he sees only Walsh, Victor and Kenny who pretends to be Victor's son. They show him the kitchen and the pantry. He whips up a quick lunch for them, and all three declare it delicious. Victor says Kenny was going to have a party tonight. They were going to have pizza delivered but maybe Arnold could make a special dinner instead. So Arnold cooks a scrumptious Italian dinner for seven ravenous boys, who then rave about the food. After dessert, Walsh comes into the kitchen. "Hey, Uncle, those dishes can wait, hehe. Come on, I want to show you my bedroom. It's so cool." "Well, Nephew, that's an offer I can't refuse." He follows his brother's adorable son into the fishbowl. They laugh about the time Walsh's parents saw them naked. "Come on, Uncle, let's get naked again, hehe." "Well, that's another offer your Uncle Arnold can't refuse." They both strip and Arnold finds he can't keep his hands off the boy. He also finds he can't keep his cock out of Walsh. All his dreams are coming true. Kenny calls through the door. "Walsh, can you bring your uncle down to the living room. We want to discuss his employment." Walsh and Arnold quickly get dressed and go downstairs, the uncle trying desperately not to look like the cat who just swallowed the canary. Victor has been sent into the kitchen to wash dishes. Jack speaks for all the boys. "Arnold, I'm afraid we weren't totally honest with you. You see, we're not visiting Kenny. We all live here. And this isn't Victor's house, it's ours. But the good news is we all love your cooking, and that says a lot. We want you to come and cook for us full time. Now, I see from your face that you might be agreeable to that, but before you give us your answer, you have to see something. Dean, press the start button." As the drama unfolds on the screen, the smile disappears from Arnold's face, his knees start to give way, and he slumps into the nearest chair. "OK, now here's the deal, Arnold. You will cook three meals a day for us, seven days a week. You will have complete control of the kitchen. Victor will buy anything you want, food, supplies, appliances, anything, as long as you keep delivering fantastic meals like you did tonight. In return, you won't draw a salary, but you will get! your room and board here, plus our silence. Oh, yes, also, when Walsh decides it's a good idea, he might take you back to that room to make another movie. You might even do it some time with some of the rest of us. Now that, I think, really is an offer you can't refuse." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 27 DATE: Spring 2002 PLACE: BPH The snows are melting. The sleds are back in the attic. There won't be any more ski trips to Vermont until next year. The boys are starting to shuck all the great warm clothes they got for Christmas in favor of shorts and t shirts, even though there's still a chill in the air. Kenny and Walsh are outside horsing around on their old skate boards, rehoning their skills after the long winter. They have helmets on, because they're not that stupid. But with adolescence comes a large dose of recklessness. They're working on their Ollies when Kenny decides to attempt a railslide on the stairs leading down to the pool. Of course, he isn't ready, lands on a lingering patch of ice, and splits his lip open. Victor drives him to the ER while Walsh holds the ice pack on his mouth and the two keep laughing about it. Battle scars are an expected part of a male's growing up. The receptionist takes down the insurance information and asks a lot of difficult questions. She's obviously suspicious about who this boy is to this man, and whether it really was an accident. The doctor on call stitches up the damage and gives Kenny a cursory examination. Eyes, ears, BP. He x-rays chest and limbs in case there are fractures, but declares the boy fit to reenter the world! . Victor is relieved the doctor didn't examine Kenny's anus. Back at the house, Kenny is the brunt of a lot of jokes. But that evening a board meeting is called. They can't be going to the hospital and face nosy staff whenever a medical condition arises. They need to hire a house doctor. Dean tells the group about his pediatrician. He'd been going to Dr. Stevenson since he can't remember. He gave him his baby shots, filled out his forms for school, checked his sniffles and rashes and allergies. Every year Doc gave him a physical exam. Stuck lights in his ears and eyes, pounded on his chest, listened through his stethoscope and felt around his tummy. At the end, Doc Stevenson always examined his peepee and his nuts real close. "When I was about 7, Doc said he was going to do a test on my teskles to see if they could make seeds yet. Then he sucked my peepee. The next year he sucked it again and said he needed to do a DRE to check my prospate. He stuck his finger up my ass. It felt so weird. Then last January he sucked me again and then said 'it's time for the DRE, Dean.' So I bent over. Well, I think he noticed my a-hole was different. He musta knowed someone was fuckin' me. 'Cause by then I was comin' here to Victor's house each week. All Doc said was he ! was goin' to feel my prospate a better way. Then he took out his cock and he fucked me. Then I knew this wasn't really the way for doctors to check little kids." Victor is told to call Dr. Stevenson and tell him about Kenny's stitches. In this exclusive area, Doc still makes house calls. Over the years, he needed these well-heeled clients to afford his hefty alimony and child support payments. Victor sends him up into the bedroom, the one with the cameras, and Doc examines Kenny's lip, declaring it had healed well. He cuts the stitches. "While I'm here I might as well give you a thorough exam." He runs through the standard routine: stethoscope, heart, eyes, ears, lungs, back, belly. "OK, now I need to check your testicles to see if they can make seeds yet." Doc bends down and sucks Kenny's eleven-year old penis, until it's hard and Kenny is bucking in the bed in a dry orgasm. "Yes, my boy. That was very good. Your 'man parts' are in fine working order. I bet the next time I see you, you'll be spouting semen. Won't that be nice? Now I have to check your prostate." Doc tells Kenny to stand beside the bed and lean over, while he put! s on his latex glove. However when he sees that Kenny has been fucked, he opts for the 'better' prostate exam. He pounds away, fucking the shit out of his young patient. "Wow, kid, you got a great asshole!" "Better than mine?" Doc pulls out with a loud pop and turns to see a familiar little boy coming out of the closet. "Dean, what are you doing here?" "I'm Kenny's friend. You didn't answer my question, Doc. Is Kenny's asshole better than mine?" "Well, I'm not sure if it is or not, Dean. It's been a long time since your last exam. But if you want me to, I can check your prostate too while I'm here." Dean pulls off his pants, stands beside Kenny and leans over. The two boys smile at each other while Doc fucks Dean. Doc is now in oblivion, thinking he has entered pediatric heaven. Kenny sneaks out of the fishbowl with Doc's pants and underwear. When Doc finally explodes in little Dean's asshole, the two of them are hollering like banshees. Doc suddenly comes down to earth. "Shit, what if Kenny's Dad heard us? Where is Kenny?" "Let's go find him!" "Where the hell are my pants? I can't go out in the hall like this! What if Kenny's Dad sees me." "He won't. I promise. Come with me." Doc has no choice but to follow his little friend bare-assed down the stairs into the living room. "Hi, Doc," Kenny says, wearing Doc's big pants. "These are all my friends. They was just looking at my lip and said you done a swell job. They think you're a super doc, Doc." Doc tries to hide his private parts but by now Dean has him by one hand and Washington by the other. "We was just about to watch TV. We all like those medical shows, you know. Maybe you can explain some of the things we see the doctor doing on this show." There it is, all on DVD, the two naked boys, the half-naked doctor, the blow job, the two anal penetrations. "OK, Doc, so here's the deal. One, you give us all physicals twice a year, and make sure we get any prescriptions we need. Two, whenever we call, you come running. We ain't going to the ER ever again. Now, if you behave yourself and do what you're told nobody else will see this DVD. And if you're extra special nice you might even get to fuck one of your young patients once in a while, but only when we want it. And you don't have to bother se! nding a bill for treating me today. You already got paid. Oh, yeah, here are your pants back. They're kinda too big for me." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 28 DATE: April 2002 PLACE: BPH The kitchen is running smoothly. The boys eat like kings. Their classes are also going great. They actually love learning. Once in a while Doc gives them a lesson on health, and Goldberg gives them a lesson on law. All the kids are now on grade level for their age. Soon the teachers will start summer vacation and the students are going to miss them. The boys kept their promise to the staff to reward meritorious service. The three teachers, Arnold, Doc, and Goldberg, even Victor, are all granted occasional visits to the fishbowl. They know every sex session is recorded and added to the inculpating collection, but it's a small price to pay for a beautiful piece of young male ass. Surprisingly, the most frequent invitee to the fishbowl is Wilson. Surprising, that is, to Wilson. Next to veterans Maxwell and Kennedy, he feels totally inadequate teaching. He never knows how to get a lesson across. Back at the Academy, he is still on probation until he can demonstrate to his department head that he's capable of more than a half-assed lesson. Yet, here at BPH, the boys tell him over and over his wonderful work deserves a reward. He remembers when he once played Little League, the coach praised his punctuality because it was the only positive thing he could say about the spastic kid. Wilson knows now, as he knew then, he is being pandered to. But why? The reason is simple: the boys have already learned what LaCrosse captain Carl discovered months ago, that Wilson delivers one hell of a fuck! What skills he lacks in the classroom are outweighed by his prowess in the bedroom. A session that starts after dinner can go nonstop well into the wee hours. There have even been board sessions with lively debates about whose turn it is to bed the amazing Wilson. A rotation schedule had to be adopted just to keep peace. So the household is running smoothly now. However, the house itself is going to pot. The rooms are dirty. Laundry piles up. Things are broken. The grounds are unkempt. Everyone complains. The condition of the house is the main topic of discussion at the weekly board meeting. Arnold is usually too busy in the kitchen to know what else is happening in the house. But he hears complaints. One evening, he tells Jack he knows someone who might be able to solve some of their problems. His former landlord in Milwaukee. "Nelson often flew from coast to coast, so he liked having someone in the upstairs apartment to housesit. He didn't need the money and was never keen on collecting my rent. Which was great for me since my income was erratic. Nelson was in charge of over a hundred employees, giving orders every day. He confided to me he hated it. Couldn't wait to retire. All those years of giving orders to others took their toll on Nelson. He wanted to take orders, not give them. We're both gay and played around a bit, but Nelson had these fantasies about submissiveness, and I wasn't comfortable playing a dominant role. But he did my laundry and kept my apartment tidy. He got a charge out of cleaning my toilet. Whenever I mentioned something broken, Nelson repaired it himself, loving the opportunity to do manual labor. "Often the restaurant hired underage kids as dishwashers or busboys, kids who were all too willing to come home with me for some bed play. If I couldn't get a kid at work for free, I picked up a professional toy boy. Eventually I found a pimp who kept me supplied with talented adolescents. Of course, I couldn't afford them, but Nelson was always willing to pay the fee, even though he only took a minor role in the proceedings. You see, no matter who the kid was, Nelson seized the opportunity. He dropped in and asked them to tell him to do things. The boys loved it. For instance, one told him to run down the street and buy him a carton of cigarettes. Nelson asked what brand and was about to set off, when the boy said to go barefoot. So Nelson took off his shoes and socks and went running out to the convenience store. Another boy told him to strip naked and do the chicken dance. Another made him watch while he fucked me and then told him to felch my ass. I remember one who ! always had Nelson lay naked on the floor to worship his feet while the kid and I got into the main action. The boys really got turned on watching a guy around 40 do their bidding, and afterwards I reaped the benefit by having a super-horny partner. Often while I was fucking a boy, he'd be fucking Nelson. Nelson gave them money and clothes and jewelry and electronics, and even new underwear to replace the old pair they were wearing. "After I moved here, I learned Nelson did retire at 43 with a fat pension. I know he'd be willing to be handyman and housekeeper both, and won't take pay for doing it." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 29 DATE: April 2002 PLACE: BPH Under the circumstances, there is no need to entrap Nelson in the fishbowl when he arrives. Discovering what the job entails, he begins to giggle like a little kid Christmas morning who discovered Santa had brought him the one present he'd prayed for. No, make that seven presents. Seven beautiful young men whom he can serve with all his heart, all his time, and all his wallet. He says he could also be gardener, chauffeur, whatever. He wants the boys to treat him as their "slave." He eschews the bedroom they show him opting instead to set up quarters in a windowless corner of the basement. The first day he buys and installs an in-house phone system so any boy can call him on a blue phone from any room of the house. In only a few weeks, the house begins looking shipshape. The boys always have clean clothes. Their rooms are neat and orderly, beds made, wastebaskets emptied, bathrooms immaculate. The grounds are trimmed. Arnold's kitchen is kept as spotless as an operating room. And any time a boy wants to go somewhere, Nelson is available to drive him. No one can figure out when the man sleeps. They say jump and he asks how high. A whole month goes by and the boys realize Nelson never once made a move on them, much less fuck them. So Washington picks up the blue phone and calls him to his bedroom. Nelson follows orders and comes quickly. Washington orders him to suck his teenage cock. "Please, Sir, you know I will do anything you ask, but we must use the fishbowl for that. That's the rule." Washington explains how the boys agreed in Nelson's case it wasn't necessary to gather incriminating evidence. "Please, Sir, I don't deserve any special privileges." Washington shrugs and leads him to the fishbowl. Nelson sucks him and thanks him profusely. After that the boys make sure Nelson gets his turns in the fishbowl even though he never asks for it. He truly deserves to be rewarded. He acts submissive both in and out of the fishbowl. He gives each boy a blow job, or hand job, or rim job, whatever he asks for. And he offers his own asshole to every boy to fuck, even the littlest. As for Arnold and the teachers, they have been getting regular invitations to the fishbowl, and the sessions have indeed been lively, especially when it's Wilson's turn. No longer forced or coerced into sex, the boys are discovering the orgasmic joy of getting a man to bed and using him to bring them over the top. Each boy is now free to fuck as long, as hard and as loud as he damn well feels. The other boys in the house find all the pornographic noise very amusing, even stimulating. That is, for a while. After a couple months, the constant barrage of moans, groans, shouts, shrieks and pounds emanating from the fishbowl begins to wear thin. Especially in the early morning hours when some in the house prefer to sleep. They order Victor to have that one room thoroughly soundproofed. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 30 DATE: Saturday, April 5, 2003, morning PLACE: BPH "Come on, Sirs. Let's get loaded up." Nelson catches himself reverting to his old self. He's just trying to get this trip organized, but after two years at BPH, it feels so fuckin' uncomfortable giving the orders. He decides to keep his mouth shut and let the teachers try to corral the boys. He switches from the imperative to the interrogative, "Who wants to ride with me?" Dean and Walsh climb into his back seat and Kenny chooses to ride shotgun. The four older boys split up between Wilson's and Kennedy's cars. Hump tells Maxwell he can go with Kennedy, "Back seat." The Doctor of education of course obeys. "OK, Wilson," Jack demands, "give me the keys." Wilson meekly hands over control of his brand new Pontiac Grand Prix to the lad with the new driving permit. "Let's get this show on the road. Bronx Zoo or bust!" Wilson prays it isn't the latter. From his window above the garage, Victor watches the departing caravan. "There go all my boys," he sighs to himself. "But of course they're not 'mine.' Now I am 'theirs.'" If Victor were still in control, most of them wouldn't be his boys now anyway. Mark's arms, chest and legs are covered in hair. Hump has a mustache and a big muscular fullback kind of body. Washington is sporting dreadlocks, for Christ's sake! Kenny's squeak is now a mellow baritone. Jack is training for the New York Marathon. They just aren't Victor's preferred age any more. Even Walsh and little Dean are starting to sprout underarm hairs. "They treat me like dirt. What did I do to deserve this?" But of course, he knows the answer. Not that the boys have ignored him totally. All of them have taken him into the fishbowl at least once in the last two years, and some a few more times. But he doesn't get the many daily lays he had grown accustomed to. "Shit, don't they give any thought to my desires? my c! ravings? my needs? All they think about is themselves! And here it is Saturday and I'm not even allowed to look at my DVD collection." He cleans up his little kitchenette from his paltry pancake breakfast and slips into a sweat suit. With all the boys and Nelson gone for the day, Arnold plans to use this Saturday to get a head start on next week's menus. Do some roasts and a turkey. Bake some breads. The house is unusually quiet, so he starts whistling as he works. Midmorning, there is a knock at the door. It takes Arnold a moment to realize he's the only one around to answer it, so he leaves the kitchen and hustles to the foyer, trying to keep track of all his crucial timings. There on the stoop stand two magnificent bronze Hispanic boys, one in his early twenties and the other appearing half his age. "Hi," says the taller, "Uh, does Victor still live here?" "Well,... yes, are you a friend?" "Oh, yeah, Victor and I go way back." He doesn't wait for an invitation to come right on in, and his little companion follows. "Tell him Antonio is here." "Well, OK, wait in the living room, right over there." "Yeah, I remember where it is." Arnold gets on the phone and rings Victor's apartment. In a few minutes, the once owner of this home walks through the door. "Antonio, uh, I didn't expect to see you again. You've gotten taller." "Well, duh! It's been nine years, Victor. You sure as fuck look older too. But the house looks better. Hey, you got a cook now. What, did the Mrs. run off or die or something? Miguel, you want something to eat?" The younger lad nods. Arnold goes to the kitchen and comes back with a plate of sandwiches. He decides he'd better stick around and listen. Antonio notices Victor makes no move to dismiss his employee. "Arnold makes the best sandwiches, Miguel. Go ahead, dig in. Is he your nephew or something, Antonio?" "Brother. Well, half-brother. Mom had him just about the time you kicked me out." "Well, now, about that..." "Hey, don't sweat it, Victor. Agua under the puente and all that. No hard feelings. In fact I really made good use of all you taught me, Vickie. I was getting too old for your tastes, Old Man. I know that now." "Well, you were, what, 16?" "Just turned 14. But, hey, you'd sure like little Miguel here I bet." "Well, now, listen, Antonio. There's a prob... well, things have changed since you..." "Look, let me lay it on you, Victor, my Man. You see a few months back Mom she ran off to San Juan or some fuckin' place and left him with me. So I been taking care of him, you know. But like I got into a little trouble a couple days ago with the cops..." "Prostitution?" "Not this time. Drugs. Some shithead user snitched me out. So the streets are too hot for me right now. I'm heading to... no, I'm not going to tell you where, better you don't know. Anyway, I gotta leave Miguel somewhere for a while. I know he'll be safe with you, Victor. And I know you'll have fun together. Just like we used to when I was your Sweetheart." Victor looks at Arnold, who is vigorously shaking his head no. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 31 DATE: Saturday, April 5, 2003, morning PLACE: BPH Antonio continues, "Hey, why don't we go up to 'our' room and show Miguel some of the games we used to play. Come on, Victor." Antonio grabs his brother's hand. "Come on, kid, I remember where it is." Victor starts mumbling, "No, you don't under..." but follows the boys up the stairs. Arnold muses, is Victor going to be in deep shit when the corporate board hears about this. "Ain't this a neat bedroom, Miguel? Look at this big old bed. And don't worry about being lonesome 'cause Victor here don't mind at all staying in bed with you. He'll look after you real good 'til I get back." Victor sits on the bed and thinks about the house rules. "Hey, Victor, you're on the bed already. Can't wait to renew old times, can you? Well, come on, let's show the boy what fun we used to have." Antonio jumps on the bed, lifts Victor's sweat shirt up and starts lapping his tits. Adroitly, he slips the shirt off him and french kisses him. Victor lies back on the pillows. Without releasing his lip lock, Antonio pulls Victor's sweatpants down off his already bulging organ. It has been weeks since Victor has been in this bed with anyone, and right now, even someone as old as Antonio is able to get his juices flowing. He lifts his ass from the bed and allows the young man to pull his pants off altogether. He is now only in socks. Antonio kneels on one side of his former lover, straightens up and starts taking off his own shirt. "Look, Miguel, doesn't Victor have a nice pene? Don't be afraid. Come here, little brother. Take a close look. Here, look at his and look at mine. Which one you think is bigger? Don't worry, you can tell the truth. Hehe, you want to show the nice man your pene, Miguel? He'd love to see it." The frowning little boy stands beside the bed but mak! es no move to open his pants. Antonio jumps off the bed, kicks off his pants and comes around to kneel beside his brother. "Here, Miguel, look at how I hold Victor's pene. See? See how I pet it? He really likes that. When I was a little boy like you, I'd pet it like this and Victor just loved it. Give me your hand, let me show you how." Miguel tentatively reaches out and puts a finger on the strange man's strange mantool. "Yeah, that's it, that wasn't so bad, was it? You know something else I used to do with it? Watch this, Miguel." The little boy's eyes grow like saucers as he watches his brother swallow the big juicy cock and suck it hard. Antonio comes up for air, and licks his lips. "See, it's really delicious. Go on, Victor will let you have a taste, won't you, Victor?" "Oh, fuck, yeah!! Please, Miguel, please give my cock a nice lick! Oh, shit, that would be soooooo good!" The boy is confused. His brother talked about bed games. He didn't know it meant doing stuff like this. He wants to make Antonio happy. He wants Antonio's friend to be his friend too. Maybe it isn't so bad. He bends over, closes his eyes and sticks out his tongue. He tastes something new, both sour and sweet, creamy and wet. He starts lapping at the purple helmet. Suddenly, the man groans "Aaaarrrggghh." Miguel opens his eyes and stares at the big pole throbbing in front of his face. Then without warning, his face is sprayed with a splash of sticky white goo. Shocked, he doesn't know whether to cry or run or say, "lo siento." Antonio hugs him. "Wow, good for you, Little Brother." He's laughing. Miguel starts laughing too. "You see, you and Victor are going to have lots of fun together! Ain't that right, Victor." But the now spent old man just grunts. "I gotta be going soon, Little Brother, but I just want you to see one more thing before I go. I want you to watch me and Victor play a different game, 'cause later on he may want to play this with you and you might worry, so I want you to see it really is ok. Come on, Victor, give your old Sweetheart a fuck for old times sake." "Uh, I can't, Antonio." "Shit, it's all limp. You used to have more stamina, old man. Fuck, I really wanted him to see this. OK, pull up your legs, Victor. I'll fuck you instead." Victor obliges. There's nothing illegal about sex between two mutually consenting adults. "I guess you're not used to being the bottom, are you? Well, I'll be real gentle with you then. Don't grimace too much and worry the lad." Antonio whacks away on his schlong while he explains the game to his brother. "Now, watch closely, Miguel. You see Victor might have you lay like that with your legs up like that. Now I'm going to take my pene and push it in his nalga. He's going to like it a lot. It's going to feel tight, but then it will feel oh so good. You watch." Antonio points his cock at the man's hole and thrusts forward. "Oh, my God!!" Victor yells. Antonio starts pumping, pistoning in and out. Miguel watches and listens to the gooshy noise of anal sex, punctuated by Victor's screams, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Antonio!" Miguel can't believe what he is witnessing. Now it's Antonio who cries "Aaaarrrggghh." Miguel assumes that must mean his brother spouted that white stuff also. He wipes his hand across the cum hardening by his eyes. Then he bends close as his brother's cock pops out and sure enough, he was right. There's cream oozing out of the man's wide hole. As Antonio drives off to points unknown, Arnold takes the little boy's hand. "Come on, Miguel, I just took a cake out of the oven. You can help me ice it." "Super. Uh, Mr. Cook, could you call me Mike? All my friends do. Only my mama and hermano call me Miguel." "Sure, Mike. And you call me Arnold." "After we ice the cake, can I lick out the bowl, Arnold?" "You sure can, we have to wash your face anyway." They both giggle. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 32 DATE: Saturday, April 5, 2003 PLACE: BPH When three carloads return from their field trip, the boys jump out and run inside joking about their day, imitating the chimpanzees and howling like wolves. Nelson tells the teachers to stay for dinner. Maxwell responds, "I never turn down one of Arnold's meals. Wilson adds, "And Jack was hinting I might get a reward for not cringing too much at the way he handled my new car. I guess I better hang around too. Come on, Kennedy." But all the excitement is abruptly forgotten when Arnold comes into the dining room with a new boy. "Board Members, Faculty, Nelson, I'd like you to meet Mike. He's been helping me in the kitchen." A soft chorus of questioning "Hi, Mike"s goes around the room. "Let me explain. Well, let's see, where do I start?" Everyone grabs a chair around the dining room table, and gives the cook his full attention. "Yes, well, Mike's brother dropped in this morning. Antonio's 22 now but once he was Victor's, uh, Sweetheart." Another chorus of "Oh"s. They remember a set of old VHS tapes marked Antonio. Arnold has to mince his words, because Mike is listening as attentively as everyone else. "Well, uh, Victor agreed to let Miguel stay here for a while. Isn't that nice? Just like he lets all you fine boys stay here." There are low grumbles now, but no one can show any resentment with a bright little nine-year old smiling at him. "Dean, you got an extra bed. Maybe Mike can sleep in your ! room." For the first time, Mike speaks up, "Oh, that's OK, I'm gonna sleep with Mr. Victor. I seen his bed. Where is Mr. Victor?" Everyone is now staring at Arnold. He blushes, knowing what they're thinking. Victor had this boy in bed today? "Nelson, why don't you let me speak to the boys and you show Mike where Dean's room is." Slightly confused, Mike goes skipping up the stairs with Nelson. Then the dining room erupts. "What the hell happened here, Arnold?" "What's that scum bag done now?" "Who gave him the right to bring in another boy?" "Shit, the kid's only nine, for God's sake." "This is the last straw. I say it's time to expose him." Arnold manages to calm them down. He explains the whole story, and how Victor really had no choice in the matter. The big brother took charge. "Right now, this is probably the best place for Mike to be." "Yeah? So, what exactly did Victor do in the bedroom?" Arnold explains he wasn't there, but there is a recording. The assemblage adjourns to the living room to watch. "Shit, the kid's an all around virgin. Doesn't know what the hell is going on." "Yeah, we all know how Victor loves his virgins." "Fuck, listen to him shouting at Mike to lick his cock." "He still hasn't learned." "His days are numbered." Kennedy meekly asks permission to speak, and the DVD is paused with Victor raising his legs up. "Listen, boys. I don't blame you for feeling rage at Victor right now. He is certainly no innocent victim here. But listen carefully to the recording. Notice how Antonio controls the whole scene. Victor doesn't pursue Mike or con him. He tries several times to get out of it, in fact. He doesn't lay a finger on the boy. It's all the brother's doing. When Victor tells the kid to lick him, he's in the throes of passion. We all know we can't think straight when our balls are bursting for release. I think you should give Victor a little latitude this time. But of course, it's up to you." "Kennedy, is your name Goldberg?" Everybody laughs, but they get the point he is making. He's a good teacher. They continue watching the DVD and get a real charge watching Victor getting his ass pounded. "Yeah, fuck the bastard!" "Hey, that's my brother playing that game with Mr. Victor." The audience turns to see sweet little Mike, innocent Mike, clueless Mike. "Welcome to BPH, Mike. We're all glad you're here. You've got a lot to learn, and this is the best place in the whole wide world to learn it. Come on, let's eat. Then let's have that cake you helped make." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 33 DATE: Monday, April 7, 2003, afternoon PLACE: BPH "Good afternoon, Mike, good to have you in our class." "Hi. Sorry I missed that trip to the zoo. Sounds like fun, Mr. Wilson." "No, here you just call me Wilson, no Mister. That's how the rest of the boys want it. Right, Walsh? Well, Maxwell has sent for your school record, Mike, but until that gets here, I'm going to figure out what kind of lessons to give you, and..." "Oh, I already been learning stuff. From Walsh, and Dean, and all the guys. They been teaching me lots of stuff. I got a notebook and everything." "Really? May I see what you wrote so far?" Mike pulls out his notebook and starts reciting as the other boys nod in agreement: MIKE - THINGS TO MEMBER BOUT BPH 1 - it aint mr victor. i shood call him BM 2 - **** my ass is my asset **** "I ain't sure what that means but they said its most important. That's why I put stars around it." 3 - i'm smart. smart enuf to go to college. BM is putting $ in bank for that 4 - i don't gotta play none of those games like Antonio and BM showed me in that bed 5 - but if i want then i can "I don't think I want to though. I really didn't like doing what you saw in that movie. But the boys said I should write it down 'cause maybe some day who knows. Jack shown me when he fuck you Wilson Saturday night. He said it was your reward and it look like you both liked it. You did like it, right, Wilson?" 6 - if i make a man play like that i gotta do it in the fishbowl, nowere else! "That's the room BM pretended was his bedroom. But he lied. Hell, he don't even live in the house." 7 - i don't gotta do other stuff if i don't want. at BPH BOYS RULE 8 - i will respect the other kids 9 - i will respect myself "Then I made a list of all the boys. See? They all writed their names in my book. Jack, Hump, Mark, Washington, Kenny, Walsh, Dean, Mike. I writed my name there too. They're the ones I will respect." 10 - arnold is my cook. he cooks reel good. 11 - nelson is my slave "He makes my bed, cleans my room, cleans my bathroom, cleans the whole fuckin' house, washes my clothes, gets me anything I need or want, day or night." 12 - maxwell kennedy wilson is my teachers. if i dont learn good its there falt not mine 13 - goldberg is the lawyer "I aint met him yet." 14 - doc is the doc "I'm gonna see him tomorrow. Then they taught me the English words to use for things, 'cause I need to know them. So on this page I writed all them words and drew pictures. See?" ass cock balls tits jerk off suck fuck rim french kiss piss shit "Well, Mike, you are certainly a good student. And a fast learner. And the other boys are excellent teachers. They taught you real good, uh, I mean very well. And, Mike, you are a really good artist too." "There, Wilson. OK, now you teach me more stuff. If you teach me good maybe I give you a reward. Hehe." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 34 DATE: Thursday, April 10, 2003, evening PLACE: BPH "OK, Goldberg, you asked to speak to the Board. We're all here. Including our newest board member, Mike. You work for him now also." "Yes, Jack, thank you. Actually, Mike is the reason I wanted to have this meeting. The corporation has been in existence now almost two years." "One year, seven months, twenty-five days. We keep track also, Goldberg. Hump, pass me the popcorn." "Yes, Jack, thank you. Well, anyway, you boys, uh, men have been doing a superior job running this corporation. Your property holdings are well maintained. You've avoided any public scandals. Financially you're on an even keel." "Well, it helps that we don't need to pay any of you guys." "Shut up, Mark. They get paid good. Real good. Out of our own fuckin' assets." Washington stands up and pulls down his pants. "Kiss my fuckin' asset, Goldberg." Goldberg of course complies. "Hey, Washington, you're supposed to do that in the fishbowl!" Washington pulls up his pants, takes a swig of his coke and sits down. "So what's your fuckin' point, Goldberg? Didn't you think we were capable of running this whorehouse?" Goldberg takes out a linen handkerchief and wipes his lips. "My point is this, Gentlemen. When you had me draw up that contract, there were seven of you, and you had a clearly defined mission, to..." "To make the son of a bitch pay." "...yes, to make him finance your way through college. And next fall, Jack here is headed for Stanford." The board meeting erupts in hoots and whistles. "Yes, Jack, congratulations on your acceptance. You deserve it, young man. But, let me get back to my point. By accepting Mike here at BPH, your mission seems to have expanded. I spoke to Victor and..." "BM, Goldberg! Call him BM!" "Uh, yes, well, I spoke to uh, BM, and I can tell you he isn't very happy about this development." "Tough shit, Goldberg. He's got no fuckin' right to be happy. He don't tell us what to do." The assembly begins to chant, BOYS RULE! "OK, OK, I understand that, Men." Goldberg wipes his brow. "But, he wants to know, well, actually, I want to know, are you planning to bring in more members?" Jack stands up. "OK, sit down, Goldberg. I got the floor now. Goldie has a point here. Mike, we're all glad you came. We don't care what BM wants. We want you here. We like you around. You belong here. I can tell Dean likes having you around, from the way he's letting you play with his little dick right now." Everybody laughs. "That's OK, Mike, no law against jerking off during board meetings. Kenny does it all the time! But now, guys, we have to decide if this is going to be board policy, to take in every sweet kid whose fuckin' brother brings him to our door. Mark, your hand is up." "Well, I see the point. I mean we can't house a hundred pedo victims here. Maybe a dozen, fourteen tops, that's two in each bedroom, unless someone sleeps in the fishbowl." Dean, "We can build more bedrooms." Washington, "Jack's bedroom will be empty next year." Jack, "Shit, man, as soon as I'm gone you give my room away?" Mark, "It isn't just the number of rooms. Each boy means BM has to shell out more. A new college fund. More food. More clothes. More school supplies." "So what!" "Well, you know the story about the goose? The one that laid fuckin' golden eggs? We don't want to kill it. If BM decides he can't deal with it, and does something stupid, like turn himself in, or kills himself, or something, that's the end of BPH. I hate to say it, but we can't persecute him endlessly. When little Mike here goes off to college, BM'll be like 56, that's as old as Mrs. Bagshaw was when she died. He may not be able to function so good. He's still a venture capitalist, and still pretty fuckin' good I guess, but his mind can't be as sharp as it once was. A few bad investments and that's it. I think it's time to be compassionate but prudent." Goldberg, "Mark, are you planning on a career in politics? OK, you guys have some thinking to do. You can call me in the morning and tell me what you want me to do. Goodnight, Men." Walsh, "You did good, Goldberg. I'd give you a nice reward but I can't now. We guys gotta talk. I'll take a rain check. I'll let you know when you can cash it." The boys batted the ideas around all evening. As they debated and considered and negotiated, Arnold kept their sugar levels fortified with plates of cookies, doughnuts and ice cream. In the end, they decided on a general policy but without any ironclad limits. If they hear of a boy who can benefit from this environment, they will offer him a home. But they won't seek such kids out, they'll try not to admit more than one boy a year, and they'll try to keep the maximum at twelve. "OK, all in favor?" Aye! "Meeting adjourned. OK, let's have a good old circle jerk! Mike and Dean have already started." "Then, let's make Nelson suck us all." "I love the way this board works together!" --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 35 DATE: Wednesday, February 18, 2004 PLACE: BPH "Get up, you lazy son of a bitch, rise and shine!" Kenny looks at his alarm clock. "What the fuck, Washington? It's only nine o'clock!" He throws a pillow at the unwelcome reveille. "Come on, Hump is calling a board meeting in the dining room. Get your ass down there!" Washington goes on to the next room to deliver his cheery morning wake-up call. Kenny stumbles into the bathroom mumbling, "Board meeting, what the hell? At this hour? I wish Jack were here.' Like everyone else in the house, he keeps in touch with Jack via e-mail, hearing all about college life. (Nelson was giggling one day; he had just heard how every week Jack did his own laundry and put new sheets on the bed.) Kenny points his dick toward the general vicinity of the toilet and, despite his groggy eyes and his morning wood, manages to get almost half of his stream into the bowl. Of course, by noon, Nelson will have his piss-splattered floor and walls as antiseptic as an OR. Kenny wanders into the dining room, his PJs still tenting, pours himself a cup of coffee and grabs four items from the sugar food group. "Come on, Hump, what's this all about?" "OK, now that lazybones has gotten here, I guess we can get started. Goldberg called about an hour ago. He's bringing a new boy." Suddenly the room is wide awake! "What?" "Who is he?" "How old?" "Who's been fucking him?" "Did Goldie ask our permission to do that?" "He'll be here soon. You can ask your questions then. All I know is he's a victim like us, and he's nine like you, Mike." Mike is the lone preteen in the house, since Dean had his thirteenth birthday earlier this month. To celebrate it, the whole house went skiing in Vermont, taking along the teachers who were on winter break from JA. They're planning to celebrate Walsh's fourteenth at the end of the month, the same way. The boys start gobbling their breakfasts and chattering away. Arnold brings out a platter of fresh hot waffles to warm these teenage bodies on this cold late February morning. When Goldberg's car comes up the drive (passing by Nelson who is still maneuvering the snow plow), there are fourteen young eyes staring out the windows. He parks and leads a blond lad through the front door, quickly closing it behind him. "Boys, I'd like you to meet Greg." While Greg wolfs down some eggs and sausage, and Goldberg sips a coffee, the two of them manage to answer the stream of questions. A couple nights ago in three upstate communities around Albany, police nabbed eleven members of a child porn ring. The arrests were part of a coordinated sting involving suspects in Chicago, Florida, and Tennessee. Through an online chat room called â^À^ÜKiddypics and Kiddyvids,â^À^Ý the members traded stills and videos of themselves with their young fucktoys. The six New York victims, including an eighteen-month old girl, were taken into foster homes. Goldberg told one of the judges he knew of a good placement for Greg. Greg's parents have been capturing precious moments on film for over four years. Greg age 6 sucks Daddy. Greg age 6 licks Mommy's pussy. Greg age 7 felches Mommy after Daddy's friend fucks her. Daddy fucks Greg age 7. Mommy uses strapon with Greg age 8. Daddy's friend fucks Greg age 9. Greg age 9 holds friend's daughter age 5 down while Daddy fucks her. By ten, Greg was made to do it all, with everybody, live online for the world to watch. "Shit, Goldie, you think BM knows about that chat room? You think he posted our videos there?" "I think, if he did, the cops would have already been here." "Can Greg sleep in my room?" asked Mike. "I got a queen size bed. Come on, Greg, I'll show you." As easy as that, BPH embraced yet another boy into their unique fraternity. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 36 DATE: Friday, November 12, 2004 PLACE: Milwaukee "Shit, Arnold, it sure feels strange back here in my old townhouse." Nelson is drying off after a quick morning shower. The previous day, their plane had been delayed in Chicago and by the time the got to Milwaukee, and rented a car, it was about 2 in the morning when he opened the door where he and Arnold had lived for so many years. Arnold would rather just stay in bed, but he knows they have a lot of work to do, before their flight back to New York takes off at ten tonight. He soon realizes Nelson has not even gone to bed but stayed up getting a head start on the list. "You know, Nelson, this is the first time off we've had from the house since we started there. The teachers get the summer off, and of course Doc and Goldberg, and even Victor, can take a vacation any damn time they want to, but you and me, we gotta be there 24/7. Those little brats are working us like slaves!" "I like being a slave." "Yeah, hehe, I know, Nelson. And shit, I gotta admit I like the turn my life has taken. I've never worked in any restaurant that gave me such satisfaction." "Thanks a lot for coming back here with me, Arnold. I think I needed the moral support." It's been two and a half years since Nelson left Milwaukee and about three for Arnold. Nelson left so quickly when Arnold called him about the job at BPH, he didn't take time to close down his townhouse. After a few months, he knew his home was at BPH and would always be, so he called a Milwaukee realtor to put the townhouse on the market. But the neighborhood was changing, and there weren't many interested buyers. Finally, on Columbus Day, he got the call that someone had made an offer. He accepted it with no haggling. Now he has flown in for the closing. There is a long list of things to do. Pack up Nelson's clothes and bring them to GoodWill. Go through all his books looking for any the boys could use, then donate the rest to the library. He will leave all the furnishings. Of course he wants to sweep and dust and mop and get the whole place spanking clean. In the afternoon, he'll go to the closing. Then they'll have to start back home. Since 9/11 you have to get to the airport hours ahead of time. It's going to be a whirlwind day, but Nelson as usual is super organized. Arnold, however, knows they need to eat. He says he's going out to get a few provisions for the day. Nelson once called this place home, but now the neighborhood makes him feel uneasy. He doesn't tell Arnold to be careful out there, but like a mother hen, he goes to the third floor window to watch out for his friend. He sees a group of young men across the street, in their early twenties, no doubt looking for trouble, he thinks to himself. He takes particular note of one boy, whose leg is in a full cast. He's joking around with his friends, swinging his crutch. Nelson wonders why the boy looks familiar. He sees Arnold emerge below him and head down the block to the nearby grocery they once knew so well. Nelson notices crutch boy has also seen Arnold and is taking out his cell phone. Damn, I'm getting paranoid, Nelson tells himself and reenters the whirlwind of chores. Arnold returns and forces Nelson to stop for breakfast. Then they finish up the third floor and go to work on the second. "Arnold, what do you think you're doing?" "Dusting. You can't do everything yourself." "What's that you're using?" "I found a box of old clothes in your closet. This pair of briefs is nice and soft, a perfect dusting rag." "Gimme that. I'll take care of the cleaning. You got places to go." Reluctantly, Nelson finds himself giving orders again. "Take the clothes on the bed over to Good Will." The expensive clothes from Nelson's closet. Nelson smiles seeing those vestiges of his former self leave. The tailored three piece suits, the tennis and golf outfits. All carefully selected to impress his clients. Clients just as shallow as himself. The honest kids at BPH would never be fooled by such trappings. They can judge a man by his heart. After the car leaves, Nelson tapes up the box of underwear Arnold discovered in the closet and puts it with the books they're bringing back to New York. Then starts work on the ground floor. He's by the front door when the doorbell rings. A well-dressed man about 35 is standing there. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 37 DATE: November 12, 2004 PLACE: Milwaukee "Hello, can I help you?" Nelson looks suspiciously at the stranger at his door. "Uh, is Arnold here? I heard he was back in town." "No, he's out right now. Are you a friend?" "Name's Hamilton. Jake Hamilton. I used to provide Arnold with things he needed." "Oh, do you run a restaurant supply house?" "No, uh, I deal in, like produce. You know, tomatoes and stuff." the stranger didn't sound too convincing. "Well, I don't think Arnold will be needing your services." "You see, I used to give Arnold this great tomato. He said it was the best he'd tasted." "Well, there are lots of green grocers around." "No, he could only get it from me. I was the sole distributor." Nelson didn't know what this guy's racket was, but it certainly wasn't tomatoes. "So tell me, what kind of tomato was this?" "It was a Vincent tomato. Arnold used to go on and on about how satisfying it was." Then it clicked in Nelson's head. Vincent. That was the boy in the cast. He's three, almost four years older now, but Nelson remembers all the times Arnold rented this boy and how Vincent allowed Nelson to lick his teenage feet. Worshipfully, he suckled those precious toes like ten delicious miniature adolescent cocks. Now one of those heavenly feet was wrapped in plaster. Hamilton here must be his pimp. Vincent called him when he saw Arnold on the street. "So, I guess you want to know if Arnold is still interested in getting more of this Vincent tomato." "Well, actually, the Vincent is not available right now." Yeah, that cast and crutches must put a damper on his sex business. Nelson wonders if Hamilton had any part in breaking the boy's leg. "What, it's out of season, you mean?" "Well, yeah. But Arnold was always telling me to keep my eyes open for a smaller tomato, one not as overripe, not as fully mature. He said he'd really love to taste a tomato like that." "And you found one." "Yep. I know Arnold will be pleased." "What's this tomato called?" "It's a Rudy. Small, sweet, luscious, firm." "It does sound delicious. Arnold will be back later. Why don't you bring this Rudy tomato by around four and maybe you two can work out a deal." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 38 DATE: November 12, 2004 PLACE: Milwaukee When Arnold returns from Good Will, his buddy is flying around the townhouse like a madman. "Take it easy, Nelson, we got it all under control." "We've got a new hitch in our plan." While Arnold helps him scrub down the kitchen cabinets, he hears about Hamilton's visit, and how it has changed their plans. "How old you think Rudy is?" "He said 'small and firm.' What does that tell you?" "Shit. Five years ago, that was all I wanted. A sweet, young lad like my nephew. Why couldn't Hamilton have found him then?" Arnold gets the rest of the things to the library and Good Will. Nelson boxes up several paintings and sculptures he thinks will look good in BPH and his tennis rackets and golf clubs for the boys. Arnold brings these, a few boxes of books, the carton of undies, and several other boxes to the Post Office. They will still have a lot more baggage going home than they came with. Not to mention one particular parcel that they both agree can't be left here. While Nelson takes a cab to the closing, Arnold finishes packing the rental car. Then tries to calm himself anticipating Hamilton's return with Rudy. Shortly before four, Nelson is back. The townhouse now belongs to someone else. They close the door one last time. As the November afternoon sky darkens, Nelson waits in the car parked down the street with the heater running while Arnold stands on the front stoop. He's glad he brought his warm jacket and wool ski hat. Right on time, Hamilton drives up and steps out with eight-year old Rudy dressed in blue shorts, blue knee-high hose, black shoes, a white shirt with a puffy white ascot, and a trim blue blazer. My God, Arnold thinks, a fuckin' baby! About as old as Walsh the night Michael caught us playing. And why the hell is he dressed like that on a day like this? Was it his Halloween costume? "Hey, Arnold, it's been a long time. But I've always kept you in mind. This here is Rudy. Say Hi to the nice man, Rudy." Arnold bends down, picks him up, and holds him in his strong left arm. The backs of his legs are freezing. The poor boy is shaking either from the cold, or fear, or both. Arnold wants to give him a quick little peck on the cheek, but as his lips draw near, Rudy turns his face toward him, and opens his mouth wide, engulfing Arnold's lips. Shit, the kid's been trained to french. "So, Arnold, you like what you see so far?" "Oh, yes, oh, yes. Little Rudy here is just perfect. I want to get to know him real well." "Good, good, I thought you would. Um, I usually charge more for him than for Vincent, because he's so you know special, but for an old friend I think I can give you a break on the hourly rate." "No, an hour would be nowhere near enough time for me and Rudy to get acquainted. Why don't you come by here tomorrow morning to pick him up. No, better make that afternoon. We may both be pretty tired in the morning." "No can do, Arnold, I got guys lined up waiting for the kid tonight. You get one hour. That's all. don't worry, he knows how to give you a good hour's worth of fun, don't you Rudy?" Arnold pulls an envelope out of his pocket and hands it to Hamilton. "I said we'll see you tomorrow afternoon." The pimp riffles the fifteen C-notes. "I see the chef business is paying off for you, Arnold. You always knew how to get on my soft side. OK, you got him for 24 hours. Now I got to find another piece of young ass to keep those other guys happy." Hamilton pats Rudy's behind and gets back in his car. "Smile and wave to him, Rudy." They watch the car drive away and turn the corner. --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 39 DATE: November 12, 2004 PLACE: Milwaukee Rudy seems more relaxed now. "So you're not going to fuck me." "How did you figure that out?" "You didn't stick your tongue in my mouth before and now you ain't feeling up my poophole like all the other men do." "You're a fuckin' smart kid. Come on, let's go." Arnold trots down the street with his trophy in his arm. "No we ain't doing no anal, no oral, no hand job, not even a snuggle." He opens the back door of the rental car and buckles Rudy in next to a pile of packages. Arnold gets in the front passenger seat next to Nelson. "Come on, let's get out of here." "We going to a hotel?" "No, Rudy, someplace much better than a hotel. A place where you will never have strange men sticking their filthy cocks up your ass again." "Wow, cool." "You hate that stuff, don't you?' "Well, I used to like it when Mr. Hamilton did it. He came over our house to see Mommy. And we played in the bed while Mommy snorted the stuff he brought. It was fun. He taught me how to suck his cock. The first time he fucked my ass, he tried to be gentle. It still hurt, but I got used to it. I wanted to make sure he came around lots 'cause when he didn't come Mommy got real upset. Like she wasn't herself. Mr. Hamilton gave her stuff to calm her nerves, that's what she said. But then he told Mommy I had to do sex stuff with other men. She yelled at him and called him a fuckin' bastard, but then she said ok. I get scared going with strange men all the time. They paw all over my body and stick their cocks in me real hard. I don't think Mommy should have said that was ok." "No, Rudy, that was a bad thing for Mommy to do. But she isn't a bad person. That stuff she snorts is screwing up her head. Are you going to miss her?" "Yeah, some, but it's better I leave her." "Why do you say that, Rudy?" "She says she wants to get treated for her diction, but she can't 'cause she ain't got nobody to watch me, except Hamilton of course, and that's no good." "You'd like to see your mother get treatment." "Shit, yeah! Most days she just sleeps and snorts. She don't play with me or do nothing. Except sometimes she works at her sewing machine, but not too often." "She makes clothes?" "Hamilton tells her to make my costumes. Like she made this one. He calls it Fordaroy." Nelson thinks to himself, Little Lord Fauntleroy, but doesn't interrupt. "I hate it. I hate wearing his stupid costumes. Sometimes I'm a cub scout. Or a little sailor. Always short pants. It's fuckin' freezing, you know. I'm glad you got the heat turned on. Sometimes he makes me dress like a little girl. That's the worst. He says it makes the men happy and they give him more money that way." "What's your full name, Rudy?" "Rudolph Desmond. Don't go making jokes about no reindeer. I'm sick of that." "And how old are you?" "Eight." Both men shake their heads that a kid has had his innocence destroyed so young. Arnold gets on the cell phone and explains he needs a third ticket on the 10 o'clock flight to New York in the name of Rudolph Desmond, age eight. "Wow, we're going on a plane? Yippee. I always wanted to fly away." "Yep, Rudy, I can sure understand why. Hey, Nelson, why aren't you taking the interstate to the airport? It's faster. We have to get on that plane." "I know, Arnold, but hell, look at him in that stupid outfit. You really want to attract all that attention in the airport? I know a clothing store on the next block. I used to give them a lot of business. Keep the car running and the heat on while I run in." Rudy is thrilled he can take off his "Fordaroy." He's down to his underwear before the car stops. Nelson grabs the shorts, shoes and shirt to compare sizes and runs inside. In only minutes, he's back out with blue jeans, a warm plaid shirt, a winter coat, and new sneakers. Everything fits, though Nelson thinks he should turn a cuff in the jeans. Rudy says no, that's how big boys wear their pants, dragging on the ground. Nelson drives off again, but stops at a strip mall where he sees a bin marked Good Will. He throws old Fordaroy in and once again heads for the airport. "The workmanship on that costume was excellent. I know some one will buy it. You know, maybe for a school play." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 40 DATE: November 12, 2004 PLACE: Milwaukee At the airport, they check all their luggage and extra packages and manage to get through security. Nelson breathes a sigh of relief, and then dials a number on his cell phone, his old office manager at the PR firm. He trusts Gladys implicitly. She's glad to hear his voice after all these years. He explains he needs her to record something and personally deliver it to a Ms. Desmond before noon tomorrow. He gives her the address. Gladys presses the record button on her phone. "Hello, Ms. Desmond. My name is Nelson, and my friend and I are taking care of your wonderful little boy. Rudy never has to work for Hamilton again. Here, he has something to say to you." "Hi, Mommy. They're really nice men. They don't do none of the stuff the other men do to me. So you don't gotta worry about me. Now that Nelson is taking care of me, you can get treated, Mommy, for your diction. Please do that Mommy. And kiss Poochy for me." Nelson takes the phone back. "Ms. Desmond, at four o'clock Hamilton is going to discover what happened, and we all know the shit is going to hit the fan. So I suggest you get into a treatment center right now. Your son needs you to be a real Mommy again." Gladys stops recording and Nelson tells her to take any message Ms. Desmond gives her and send it to his new home in New York. But never let the mother or anyone else ever know the address. In the future, she may be ferrying other messages back and forth. Gladys agrees to do this for the boss who always treated her so well. Arnold needs reassurance. "You think it was wise to give her our address like that?" "I have complete faith in Gladys. She won't let us down. I just hope Rudy's mom is coherent enough to understand the situation." "And that she believes the tape. After all, we could be forcing Rudy to say that." "Nope, she'll believe me. She'll know you guys are ok." "How can you be sure of that?" "'Cause I used the secret word." Arnold and Nelson look at each other and shrug. "When I was real little, Mommy heard that people sometimes kidnap little kids by saying their Mommy sent them to get them. So, Mommy gave me a secret word. And if someone said that word to me, then I would know Mommy really did send them, and they was good guys. No one else knows our secret word." "Rudy, I said it before. You are fuckin' smart!" DATE: Sunday, August 29, 2005 PLACE: Figs Restaurant, LaGuardia Airport, New York City "You look happy, Mommy." Rudy talks with his mouth full of hamburger. "I am happy, Son. It is so good to look at you so healthy, so happy, so big. Happy birthday again, Rudy." She nibbles at her salad and turns to the third person at the table. "Thank you, Mr. Nelson, for flying me here for my son's big day. And for convincing the clinic to give me a 24-hour pass." "It's what Rudy wanted, Ms. Desmond. He is so happy you stuck with the program. He's very proud of you." "Mommy's Drug-free, nine months, seventeen days now. But every day is a new challenge. Seeing you, Rudy, gives me new inspiration. My, my, nine years old. You're a big boy. You look so fine in your new clothes. I know they're new. I can tell you never wore them before. I wanted to sew you some new shirts for your birthday, but of course I didn't know your size." "That's OK, Mommy, I got all the clothes I need." He winks at Nelson. For now it's best Mommy doesn't know that Rudy has become a nudist. He thinks Nelson must be grateful he has less laundry to do, but the birthday boy doesn't realize Nelson goes around all day with a bottle of disinfectant spritzing any chair, couch, stool, or countertop where Rudy might have momentarily parked his behind. "Anyway, I love the books you gave me. And the picture of you, too. I'm going to put that on the table by my bed, so I can kiss you every night." Ms. Desmond is trying not to cry. "Maybe, next time I'll have time to see your new house. It sounds like a wonderful boarding school, Mr. Nelson. Rudy is so lucky." Nelson nods. Three waiters bring out a cake with nine candles, and start singing "Happy Birthday." Nelson is thinking, "Yes, Rudy is lucky, all the other boys at BPH are lucky, and I am so fuckin' lucky they allow me to be their slave." --------------------------------------------------------- End of Part III --------------------------------------------------------- Part IV --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 41 DATE: Wednesday, July 26, 2006 PLACE: BPH Victor picks up the phone. "Hello?" "Hi, Victor." "Hi, Walsh. Where are you?" "In my bed." "I thought all you guys were at the ball game!" "Yeah, thanks for those cool tickets. Right behind home plate." "Did I have any choice?" " "Not really, hehe. The Cubs don't have a prayer of course." "So how come you're home in bed?" "Didn't feel good this morning. All tired like. I've been staying up every night studying for my SATs. Doc thinks it might be mono. I told the guys to go on without me. Let me get some sleep. Of course, with all this banging going on in the basement, that's not easy." "Yeah, I can hear the noise from here. But you guys told me to get a new hot water heater installed. I told the men no one would be home." "Yeah, they've been playing their boom box and shouting. Well, I'm awake now. Hehe. I just felt like talking to someone. Guess I'm a little lonely." "Well, I'm here if you need me, Walsh. Hey, you know the bedroom across the hall would be a lot quieter." "The fishbowl? Why?" "You guys had me soundproof it, remember?" "Shit, that's right. I'm gonna go over there. Uh, but I still feel lonely." "You want me to call you there then." "Or, you know, you can come over, if you're not like too busy." "Do I have a choice?" "Not really, hehe." Victor enters the fishbowl and sees Walsh smiling, wrapped up in the covers on the bed. As soon as he closes the door behind him, the noise from two floors below all but disappears. Victor sits on the edge of the bed. "So, Walsh, what do you want to talk about?" "Can you hold my hand?" "Yes, Sir." "I'm glad you're here, Victor. I feel better already. Uh, can you lay beside me? You can keep me warm." Victor lies down on the bed next to Walsh. "No, I meant under the covers." Victor stands up, pulls down the covers on one side and again lies beside the boy, who he now sees is naked. "I think it would be nicer if you were naked also." Victor stands again, strips, and crawls in to spoon the boy. "Yeah, that feels nice." Victor wraps his arm around Walsh's abdomen, presses his groin into the boy's buttocks, and nuzzles his sweet young shoulder. "You know, Walsh, this is how we often laid here when you were a little boy. Sometimes, I'd hold you like this for hours, just inhaling your wonderful boy aroma, caressing your smooth skin. You really were my little Sweetheart. Each week, I got so excited when I heard your father coming up the drive. Were you excited also?... You don't have to answer. You were very special to me. And when you started sucking me off, Walsh, your soft lips felt so nice on my cock. You were sweet the way you were so afraid of hurting me. I kept having to reassure you it was good, to keep on sucking. I still remember the night you let me pop your cherry, Walsh. Do you remember? In fact, we had had cherry pie for dessert which was kind of ironic, wasn't it? Your lips were still bright red when we went to bed. I handed you the jar of KY and told you to rub it on and in ! your asshole. You used half the jar, hehe. I bet Mrs. Bagshaw wondered why the sheet was so greasy, hehe. But you held your skinny legs up like a brave little soldier and took my cock inside. I know you were trying so hard not to cry. Trying to do what made me happy. I really loved you, Walsh. You loved me then also, right?... Walsh?... Sweetheart?... Well, I'll be damned. I know I'm not the man I used to be, but this is the first time a lover fell asleep in my arm before we had sex! You're tired, Son. I'll take my big old hardon back to my place and take care of it myself. You get your sleep." Victor stands, dresses, and turns to the camera. "Hope you get a good laugh out of this one, guys. Hardly worth saving though, eh?" He lets himself out and quietly closes the fishbowl door. An hour later in the garage, having pounded his meat to orgasm, Victor is washing his dishes when he hears alarms beeping in the house. He looks out his window and sees smoke. He tears out to the front and meets the workmen coming up from the cellar. "We already called 911. Don't worry. We're all out." Victor races inside. "Hey, Mister, I said, no one's inside." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 42 DATE: DATE: Wednesday, July 26, 2006 PLACE: BPH The flames are already burning through the office floor. The fire is spreading fast, primarily upward of course. Above the office is the fishbowl. The soundproof fishbowl. Victor tears up the stairs, and bursts into the room. Walsh is fast asleep. He shakes him. "Come on, Kid. Get out of here." "What, uh, you still here? What's that smell? What's that beeping?" "The house is on fuckin' fire, Walsh. Let's go!" The naked boy stands up, stumbles a few feet, and falls on the floor. "Damn. Shit." Victor slams the door shut, grabs the sheet off the bed and runs into the bathroom. He throws it in the tub and turns on the cold water. He runs back, picks the boy up, wraps him in a blanket, then in the wet sheet. He carries him to the door and feels it with the back of his hand. "OK, Dear God, help me." He opens the door and sees flames have already come up the stairs and are dancing around the ceiling. He crouches low and carries his precious cargo down the burning stairs. When he gets outside, the fire truck is barreling through the electric gate. One of the workers grabs Walsh and Victor collapses on the ground. That night at the hospital, the boys learn that Walsh is now safely asleep in the pediatric wing. The EMTs said he was lucky that Victor knew what to do and got him out in time. Victor however sustained third degree burns on his arms, face and feet. He swallowed a lot of smoke, and probably had a heart attack as well. The boys take up a vigil in the waiting room outside ICU. Doc comes by every hour or so and tries to act optimistic but the boys know him too well. He can't fool them. Around 3:00 A.M., Arnold comes into the waiting room with the latest report from the Patterson FD. "The worst structural damage is to the office floor. The rest can be repaired quickly. But there is smoke damage throughout the house. Every room will need to be scrubbed and aired out. Dr. Maxwell says you can stay in the dormitory at Jordan Academy for a while." "Do they know how it happened?" "They're not sure, but the workmen were using an acetylene torch, and somehow it touched off a box of old clothes by Nelson's room." "You mean, his undies collection?" "Oh, so you boys knew about that. Yeah, and I ought to tell you another collection was destroyed as well. That cabinet in the office. All the DVDs. All the tapes. All gone. Excuse me, I need to find a coffee machine." "Wow," says Kenny. "Those DVDs were like our gold mine. Our assets. BPH is over." Brian, "But we still own the house. There's insurance. And we got money in the bank. We can keep going." Greg, "Yeah, but without the evidence, there's like no way we can make any of the men stay now." Dean, "Hey, we got our other assets. They're still good for something, ain't they?" Mike, "I think we got something more valuable than the DVDs or the house, or even our pretty boy assholes. We got each other, guys. I mean you're the only real family I ever had. Come on, now, group hug." --------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 43 DATE: Friday, August 4, 2006 PLACE: Dwyer Funeral Home. Patterson, NY Nelson has to park the van on the grass, since the parking lot is full. The boys figure there must be another funeral going on besides Victor's. But inside, they discover all these people did indeed come to remember that peculiar man. They walk around and introduce themselves. There are people from his office, of course, and clients. And all the college boys came back. His old chauffeur is there. In the corner is Henry, believe it or not, blotting his eyes, standing with his present partner. Far away stands a man about thirty who says he used to clean Victor's pool. "Hi, Dad. I'm glad you came." "Hi, Walsh. I see you're all better now. Victor was a remarkable man. He sacrificed his life to save my son. I'll always remember that." "There's someone else here who wants to meet you, Dad. Turn around." "Hi, Michael." Arnold and his brother, reunited finally, hug each other. Kenny delivers a beautiful eulogy, describing how Victor took each one of "us boys" off the streets, gave them a home, an education, and a new outlook on life. "We were his Sweethearts. I only wish we had told him more often how much we loved him. We're certainly going to miss you, Victor." To ease the tension in the room, he concluded, "You made some fuckin' good pancakes." DATE: Monday, August 7, 2006 PLACE: Goldberg's office "Boys, Victor revised his will just last year when Brian and Jeremy arrived. I'll tell you what it says in a minute, but first he asked that you watch this DVD." "Leave it to Victor, one last DVD!" "Yeah, BM sure did love looking at himself on TV, hehe." "Who's his costar this time?" Goldberg turns on the machine and the boys see Victor made this one in his own little apartment. The camera must be a cheap model, the lighting is disastrous, the sound muffled. Not at all the quality his private studio could produce. "Hello, Jack, Hump, Mark, Washington, Kenny, Walsh, Dean, Brian, Greg, Mike, Jeremy, and little Rudy. If you're watching this, I must be dead. I wonder how I died. Whatever. Despite what you guys think of me, I just want you to know, I think of you all as my own boys. You are like sons to me, the only children I ever had, and therefore my only heirs. I am extremely proud of what you've become, what you've made of your lives. You may not believe this, but you've changed me also, and I thank you for that. I know now, when you go out into the world, you are each capable of achieving all your dreams, if you respect yourself and if you stick to the values you developed here, -- and if you wear some clothes, Rudy. Today, you are going to make a b! ig decision that will effect the rest of your lives. I know you will do the right thing. Goodbye, my Sweethearts. I'll be counting the days." Goldberg passed around a box of Kleenex. "Victor was only 51 when he died. I know you young ones think that's very old, but it's not really, and before the fire he was in excellent health. He carried a very substantial insurance policy. Between that and all his investments, his personal estate amounts to, -- well, I'll write the figure down." Goldberg hands the paper to Jack, who passes it on, each boy gasping as he reads the amount. "According to the terms of the will, he leaves his entire estate to your corporation, which brings us to the decision Victor alluded to. You can either dissolve the corporation, liquidate the estate and divide the proceeds..." (each boy quickly divides the figure mentally by twelve, using the trick Kennedy taught them) "...or you can set up an endowment for BPH in perpetuity and continue to provide a sanctuary for other abused boys. There would still be enough to see each of you through college and established in a career so you can independ! ently provide for yourself using all your own God-given assets. Also, the endowment could pay all the staff a living wage, so none of them need to work under the threat of blackmail." Kenny interrupted "If we can find any staff! We'll never be able to get people as good as the ones we lost." The other boys nodded. "Actually, I've already spoken to Mr. Nelson, Dr. Maxwell, Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Benningham, er, Arnold. I wanted to let them know they didn't need to be at today's reading, which really didn't surprise them. However, each one said, in the hypothetical situation that BPH would continue somehow, he'd want to be part of it. I'm going to leave the room and let you boys discuss your decision in private." Washington spoke first. "That's a hell of a lot of money. None of us would ever have to work again. We could live high on the hog for the rest of our lives. Big homes, fancy cars, yachts, travel the world and fuck every whore in every port. Sure sounds tempting." Brian, "Yeah, but we can also have all that stuff if we want by earning it on our own. You older guys kept telling me to respect myself. I don't think I could do that if I just took the money and ran." Greg, "The house needs an awful lot of work before it can reopen." Walsh, with a grin, "Uh, I heard that Benningham Contractors is a pretty reliable firm. And I think they might give the project top priority. You can ask Arnold." Mark, "We'll have to hire a new Business Manager." Jack, "That was my major in college. If the rest of the board will have me, I'm willing to take the job. But on two conditions. Number one, I have to expand the apartment over the garage. It's way too fuckin' small. And number two, nobody can call me BM." Rudy, while fidgeting with his unfamiliar pants, "Uh, if we pay these guys, and we don't make no more tapes, can we like still give them rewards if they do good?" The other boys have no objection. "Great! I want to reward Nelson's submissive ass." Dean, "And I get first dibs on Wilson! Maybe we should soundproof all the bedrooms." Hump, "Let's tell Goldberg the decision is unanimous then. BPH Forever! Boys Rule!" --------------------------------------------------------- Please write and tell me how you like this story. Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.