This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts between a man and a minor boy. The story is not true; the sexual acts described herein derive solely from imagination. It is not intended to promote illegal acts with/to/by minors, nor does it condone child abuse of any sort. If you object to the subject matter, stop reading. If you are legally under age to be reading this, or if your reading of this material otherwise violates laws in your place of residence or where you are currently located, stop reading. Thank you.

This story is protected by the copyright conventions of the United States.

(For the most part I see my stories as fantasy. If they do nothing else, they ask, "What if..." Those who wish to comment, may email me at will1599s@yahoo.com)

In His Country's Service

Part 1 of 3
by
Will S
2005

Prologue

Because the students were normally attentive in Mrs. Galvin's math class, no one was quite prepared for the interruption.

"Excuse me," the man said. He stepped to the teacher who visibly stiffened, for she knew from papers he presented what was about to happen. The man leaned over her and whispered a few words. She swallowed hard and nodded.

"Billy Martinelli," she said softly. "Please go with this gentleman." All of the beautiful sixth-graders turned toward the boy in question. They, too, knew what was about to happen, since they heard it happened periodically, though never in their own class. But the truth was they didn't really know. Not really. They didn't have an inkling, no one did, only a handful of elite government researchers.

The black-haired, dark-eyed boy stood and began to gather his books.

"You won't be needing those, son," the man interjected. The boy looked uncertainly around at his classmates, and carefully continued to neaten his desk, then stepped to the man.

The man smiled in an attempt to reassure the boy. The boy smiled in response, a sign of his natural friendliness. Cute dimples formed in his cheeks, and his almost-black eyes sparkled. As the 90 pound child stepped to him, the man put his hand on the boy's shoulder. He nodded his thanks to Mrs. Galvin, and together the boy and the man stepped out of the room, Billy turning briefly for just one last glimpse of his classmates, especially his best friend, Scotty. In that brief moment, he saw the look of concern on the boy's face. It was not unlike the look on the faces of other students.

There was quite likely a mix of envy and uncertainty among the children of Mrs. Galvin's math class that day. On the one hand, they all understood that they had been selected to attend this school. They were told regularly how lucky they were to have been selected, and they and their families were benefited both monetarily and academically by their selection. The selection process in itself had been unusual. In addition to the expected academic excellence, there had been a whole battery of physical and psychological exams. Scotty Morgan, in particular, wondered what all that had to do with attending this school and with what had now just happened to Billy, his best friend. The young eleven-year-old blushed even now as he remembered the unusual physical exam he had been given just prior to his acceptance at this school. Had he known about that embarrassing experience, he might not have opted to proceed through the selection process, and frankly, he was surprised that his parents had responded so calmly as he answered their questions about this last part of the process.

The truth was, in fact none of the students really had any real knowledge of what was to become of Billy or any of the other "taken" children who periodically left the school with a similarly authorized adult. None of them could really know. Even their parents allowed themselves only the vaguest notion of what their children might be a part of in the next year or more. The fact that they had all signed agreements with the government didn't even help that much to clarify why these children had been chosen and what would - perhaps - become of them. And that was another thing: of the one hundred and fifty sixth, seventh and eighth graders at this school, perhaps only fifteen or twenty would ever be called out as Billy had just been. In fact, since this crop of sixth-graders had arrived, Billy had only been the ninth child to be "called". (There had been three girls and five other boys before Billy.)

Other than these extraordinary and occasional events, the school was much like any other middle school. Granted, it was a boarding school, though the students who lived locally could go home on weekends if they desired, but over the weeks, fewer and fewer availed themselves of that opportunity.

The curriculum was a bit varied, too, but the children seemed to take little notice of this. There was what could only be called advanced studies in Social Studies. Federal government structure and operation received special attention, as did world affairs. The other major difference - though only in degree - was in biology, in particular human anatomy and physiology. What probably they did not fully appreciate was that based on their pre-admission testing and exams, each student had been placed in particular "health" classes. While all appeared to teach the same subject matter, there were subtle, but profound differences, each class tailored to the particular needs of students selected for the respective classes. The students didn't know this, of course, or really care, but what they did know was that they were either about to embark on dramatic changes in their bodies, or had in fact already embarked on such changes, and at least secretly, that excited each and every one of them. Had Scott or Billy or any other sixth graders the benefit of a full year of health class instead of just a few months' study, they would have had an extraordinary, in-depth education in the physiology of what clinically might be called the "human sexual response."

After Billy disappeared beyond the closed door, the class quickly settled back into its routine, and Mrs. Galvin resumed scratching the equation on the tablet and projection screen in front of the class. All scribbled the equation in their notebooks - all except the pretty blond boy who was even now wondering if his best friend was alright...and where he was being taken, and what he was doing, and why. The boy sighed, believing that he would never know. But the truth was, he would know...sooner than he could possibly imagine.

01.

The top-secret Performance Enhancement and Development Organization had been in operation for only four years, but it had already proved its value several times. The father of the program was convinced of its importance, and even its detractors were grudgingly coming around.

Psychologist Malcolm Bainbridge often found himself shaking his head in astonishment when he thought about the stroke of genius that led him to the agency's creation. He could never admit it, but his inspiration for this bold experiment resulted from one of his frequent forays into the world of Internet child "erotica". It was during one of these sessions some six years ago, in the spring of 2004, that he happened on a story by one of his favorite writers of "Adult-Youth" material: one pseudonymous Ganymede. In that particular story, the author mentioned that da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Shakespeare all appeared to be pedophiles.

That got Bainbridge to thinking. He wondered, in his experiment's hypothesis, exactly what the relationship was between creativity and pedophilia. He already knew a number of the great Greek thinkers, most notably Plato, had been pedophiles, but they had lived in a society that had been very accepting of such customs. He was not so naive as to ask if pedophilia was a "prerequisite" for intelligence and creativity, nor did he suggest that all of the intelligentsia and creative geniuses of history were active pedophiles, but his initial research, funded by DoD's so-called "black budget", suggested there was indeed a higher percentage of thinkers and powerful world leaders with pedophile proclivities than one might expect.

Indeed his research would likely have never gone anywhere, had Dr. Bainbridge not been the chief psychological researcher for the Pentagon's ultra-secret DARPA. Over the next two years, Bainbridge structured a series of hghly classified secret experiments to test the effects of frequent adult-child sexual activity on the mental acuity and decision-making abilities of people in high-stress leadership roles.

In some ways, the studies were initially almost a lark for the closeted pedophile. (How often did someone's research allow them to get their rocks off!) He took great delight in seeking out children and adults to participate in the testing. In the course of his two-years, he actually learned quite a bit about cultural attitudes about pedophilia, and about the surprising propensity of adults, especially adult males, to be accepting of sex with minors. But what was most surprising - stunning, really - was the results of the two-year study.

Bainbridge found the following: There was a direct and measurable correlation between the amount of adult-child sex and the ability to make clear-headed, effective decisions even under stressful conditions. Further, while the results for adult women decision-makers were not as decisive, it was clear even for them: sexual activity with either young boys or girls had a positive impact on their performance in their jobs. When it came to adult males, however, the numbers were dramatically skewed toward the positive. Men who had sex with girls showed clearly improved performance at their jobs, but men who had sex with young boys showed a barely imaginable superiority over past performance.

A number of other factors were identified. First, given the cultural taboos against pedophilia, it was important to work with the adult to make him or her more accepting of the behavior. Obviously the less guilt or self-restriction there was in the adult (and the child for that matter), the greater the effectiveness of the program. It was discovered that three significant factors contributed to this acceptance: first, the child partner had to be one attractive to the adult, and second, the more seductive - in a literal sense - the child could be, the easier it was to overcome the adult's acculturated attitudes regarding adult-child sex. The third factor of significance was in some ways a surprise to the researchers: the higher the intelligence of the child, the more effective the experimental outcome. Later analysis of the interactions between the child and the adult during their "sessions" together revealed that the natural curiosity of an intelligent child led to the adult explaining in much simpler terms than usual, the tasks the adult was performing during their time away from the child. Startlingly, this analysis often revealed extraordinary insights coming from the child.

Of lesser importance was the intellectual preparation of the adult, that is, redefining the cultural taboo of pedophilia and providing an historical context for the behavior (if it was acceptable for Plato, Alexander the Great, and da Vinci, why not for me, too).

One other curious fact emerged: the closer to the decision-making process the sexual contact occurred, the greater the impact on the improvement of the adult's abilities.

In a final refinement of the study, Bainbridge repeated the experiment using sophisticated monitoring equipment. It was found that brain scans revealed dramatic elevations in synapse activity immediately following adult-child sex. Sustained sexual activity over the course of several days caused the brain activity to remain at higher levels for longer periods of time. Curiously, while there was some correlation between adult orgasm and increased effectiveness, it was by no means exclusively related to adult orgasm. The adult bringing the child to orgasm seemed to have virtually the same positive impact on the adult. In addition, the research found that even non-sexual interactions between adults and children had a similar, though far less dramatic, response in the adult brain, thus suggesting that it was clearly the relationship between adult and child (versus sexual activity with other adults, for example) that was responsible for the increased synapse activity.

By 2006, Bainbridge and the Pentagon were ready for a field trial of the experiment. So it was that as the Southern Pacific battle group of the Navy moved into position in the China Straits in May of that year, little twelve-year-old Andrew Lewis accompanied Admiral Walter Sexton. "Accompanied" is perhaps not precisely correct. In truth, the boy was sedated and smuggled aboard.

Lest we create the wrong impression, Andrew entered into this assignment (for that was how he viewed it) willingly and with a high level of commitment. Even before he found out he would get to spend weeks on a real navy ship, Andrew was being prepped for the assignment.

Prior to that, Andrew and Admiral Sexton had been "preparing" for this eventuality for three months. (And, by the way, if it was a challenge to overcome cultural taboos in adults, it was, for the most part, just the opposite with the children. Of course a careful selection process improved the positive outcomes, and plying the children with virtually anything they might want, was another contributing factor.)

Shipboard, the Admiral's entourage included three extra staffers. These were charged with caring for the new US defense department's "secret weapon". Each was to keep young Andrew happy and contented. And horny. A stateroom next to the Admiral's quarters was off-limits to all but the admiral and these men, two of whom were, in reality, child psychologists hand-picked and trained by Bainbridge. The third was Dr. Malcolm Bainbridge himself.

Six days after the fleet took up position - and six days after the Chinese began lodging one protest after another - Admiral Walter Sexton entered the history books. For decades a world flashpoint had been Taiwan. After days of threats, Admiral Sexton, representing the United States government entered into negotiations with the People's Republic of China and within days, had come to a solution that both sides were able to agree upon and live with.

Later Admiral Sexton would rather humbly confess, "I'm not sure how it all came about really. I simply listened to the concerns of our Chinese friends, shared some private moments aboard the USS California, and in a moment of unusual clarity, the Foreign Minister and I arrived at a common understanding." He could not, of course, mention the role that little Andrew Lewis had played, but clearly, the twelve-year-old had, with his old friend, Walt and his new friend Mr. Lee, played a key role.

02.

The man sat uncomfortably at the desk. Never in a thousand years could he have imagined doing what he was doing. And he shuddered to think what his constituency would think if they knew. Nevertheless, here he was, under the guidance of one Dr. Malcolm Bainbridge, perusing an album of images of children.

"She's not bad," the man mumbled. He had been through the album three times, and finally made a selection. In truth, "she" wasn't bad - not at all, but Bainbridge knew exactly why the man had made his decision. He'd seen it all before - many times. The man had simply shut himself off from the process. It wasn't his emotion that was driving him, it was his intellect. He'd simply chosen the oldest looking girl he could find. Intellectually, somehow that seemed the least offensive to him. And yet Bainbridge also sensed something else. In the three times the man had looked through the album, at one particular spot, each time, the man's eyes widened or more precisely, his pupils dilated and he seemed to stiffen imperceptibly. The psychologist could also discern the slightest reddening of the man's neck. His eyes lingered just a bit longer on that image. If that weren't enough, the instrumentation attached to the man's wrist confirmed what the doctor had observed visually.

"Excuse me, sir," Bainbridge began, "but perhaps you've forgotten the instructions. Look for the image that causes some physical response in you - or the greatest physical response."

The man looked up at Bainbridge and was tempted to throw him out of his office, but he sighed, and mumbled, "I thought I had."

"No, sir," Bainbridge answered. "You chose the easiest way out of your discomfort. Might I suggest you embrace your discomfort. Let it inform your decision. Let's try it again. And may I further suggest you really look at each one of them. It's a discipline, sir. See which one seems to touch you."

Another sigh, and the man turned to the beginning of the book. Bainbridge held his breath as the man eventually turned to the page which held the image that three times, the man had responded to. Now the man's eyes scanned the boy's images on the page. Each image - actually two shots - showed first, the child's face close up, and then his whole body in an attractive wide shot poolside on a lounge chair. Again, his eyes fell on the one image that had elicited a reaction. His eyes flashed guiltily up at the psychologist.

Bainbridge nodded with a reassuring smile.

"But he's a boy!" the man protested.

"Indeed his is," Bainbridge responded. "100 percent all-American boy!"

"I'm not..." The man faltered.

"Sir," Bainbridge interrupted. "The research is clear."

The man reddened. "So, what's next?"

"We make the call, train him, and then make the insertion." The psychologist smiled. He loved saying that word, "insertion" in this context.

The man scowled, not failing to understand the psychologist's double entendre. "You make it all sound so clinical."

Bainbridge smiled. "Well...I suppose we could just say, we let you both get to know one another."

The man stood now, his fists placed one on either side of the album which sat open on his desk. Almost despite himself, he glanced back down at the little blond, blue-eyed boy - "Asset - MH214". His dimpled smile had gotten to the man every time he'd looked at his image. But it's nothing sexual, he told himself, it can't be. Not me!

"And this can all happen in time for the Summit?"

"It can, sir."

"And this doesn't damage these children in ANY way?" the man asked again for the tenth time.

"None sir. Not these children. It is, in some ways a sort of fulfillment for them." In fact MH214, in his designation alone, was by all the research (M)ale (no question about that!) and (H)omosexual - at least according to the research tools Bainbridge had developed. And, if they approached their task appropriately, the boy certainly would find being loved by a man in that special way indeed fulfilling.

The man looked out the window to the lawn and the street beyond the fence. He couldn't believe what he was agreeing to. "Then go ahead," he said simply.

"We'll begin the process immediately," Bainbridge said, breaking into the man's thoughts. "I'll see you again tomorrow or the day after." Bainbridge quickly gathered up the album and other collateral materials and locked them in his secure attache case. (Wouldn't do to leave them lying around, not at all!) "In the meantime, there's a schedule of readings for you. It's all contained in this briefing book." Bainbridge handed the man a folder.

Like so many other documents the man dealt with, this one had a bold red slash across it. It was labeled, "Top Secret". Inside there was a clearly spelled-out schedule of readings. The rest of the document appeared - at least initially - to be a rather innocuous collection of biographies of some of the creative giants of the western (and eastern) culture. On closer inspection, it was in fact an increasingly graphic depiction of pedophilia throughout the ages. The narratives had been arranged to gently move the "client" along in his preparation for the program.

Before departing, the psychologist slipped the image of the boy out of the album and inserted it into the inside cover of the document. The man's selection, the doctor felt, was an excellent one. Asset - MH214 clearly caused a telltale response in the doctor, and he was a bit surprised that he and his "client" had such similar tastes. The psychologist turned to leave and was headed out the door when the other man spoke.

"Good luck, Doctor. And I suppose I should thank you - on behalf of the American people."

Bainbridge smiled. "Thank you, Mr. President."

03.

When Scott Morgan left for school his mother grabbed him and hugged him hard to her breast. That in itself was unusual, for as much as he loved his mother, and as much as she understood his love for her, she also understood at eleven years old, he just didn't seem to like to cuddle against her body the way he used to. He tolerated her hugs, but barely. He looked up into his mother's eyes and was horrified to see tears spilling down her cheeks.

His father reached out and pulled him to his body, of which Scott seemed more inclined to accept. The fact that his father was still home was yet another surprise of that young day.

"What's wrong, Mom," the sweet young boy asked.

"Nothing, Scotty," she said. "Nothing to concern yourself with." She hugged her husband tightly around the waist, and he put his arm around her shoulders.

The boy started out the door. "See ya'," he said in his off-handed way.

"We'll be waiting for you, Scotty...when you come back."

Scott Morgan smiled and gave a little wave and was gone.

"It's gonna be okay," the boy's father whispered into his wife's ear, but neither felt any less agitated.

It had begun with a phone call at 8:30 the previous evening. A Dr. Bainbridge was calling.

"Mrs. Morgan," the doctor began. I'm the head of the program supporting your son's school."

Instantly Nancy Morgan's stomach knotted. "Yes," she whispered.

"When will your children be asleep tonight?"

"9:30," I'd say," the woman replied dazedly.

"I will be there shortly thereafter, then. This is urgent, Mrs. Morgan, and I am acting in accordance with Article twenty-two of the agreement you and your husband signed when we accepted Scott into the program. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Nancy Morgan said dumbly. She knew about Article 22. She remembered the people explaining the school program saying the chances were extremely high that their child would never come under Article 22 jurisdiction. But now he had.

At 9:40 P.M., there was a soft knock on the Morgan's front door, and two concerned parents let Dr. Malcolm Bainbridge into their home. He scanned the family photographs around the room. He particularly noted Scott's younger sister. He smiled. "You have two beautiful children," he enthused. "When she's a bit older, you might consider enrolling your daughter in the program as well."

"Dr. Bainbridge," Ed Morgan began, "just what's going to happen to Scott? And when will we be able to see him again?"

Ah, the inevitable questions of every parent.

"Well...before I answer your questions, I must ask you to sign these forms, ensuring your cooperation and confidentiality. The agreement basically says what we discuss here can never be mentioned to anyone. We will provide you with a cover story, explaining where your son is, and what he is doing."

"But..."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Morgan," the doctor said. "That's all I can say until you sign the form."

With a palpable trepidation, both Ed and Nancy Morgan signed the document.

"Good," Bainbridge offered. "Now, as we explained when your son was enrolled in the program, the exact nature of his work is highly classified. Suffice it to say - as odd as it may sound - your son will be engaged in activities only a child can perform. He will be in the service of the United States government, and will be performing these services at the highest levels of government. His service may last a few months, a year, or longer. We have no way of predicting at this point. Now, as for seeing him again, it is unlikely - though not impossible - that you will be able to see him while he remains under the auspices of this division of the program. There is simply too much risk involved. And finally, let me reassure you that he will at no time be in any danger. He will not be used as any kind of "spy" or child soldier. He will not be involved in any activity that could endanger him. The truth is he will be as safe as he possibly can. Quite frankly, I don't think the President could have any better protection." Bainbridge smiled, inwardly pleased with his bit of double-speak.

"But you can't tell us what he'll be doing, Dr. Bainbridge?" the boy's mother pressed.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Morgan, I cannot. I can only say, we believe your son has certain skills that may be vital for the security of the country. You know your son's capabilities, Mrs. Morgan. Though I would caution you not to speculate unnecessarily about his contributions to our national security."

The boy's parents sat stunned. What could their little Scotty possibly offer the nation in that way? Also, as suggested by the doctor, they were aware of Scott's formidable talents as a software designer. Not that he was a great coder, but he seemed to be able to model multiple levels of functionality in a surprisingly sophisticated manner. In fact, all the children selected for the program displayed a similar advanced skill or knowledge in one subject area or another, and every parent, if placed in the Morgan's current position, might presume the government's interest in their child had something to do with that unique skill or intelligence. Which is just what the good doctor hoped they would think. In point of fact, in addition to the more observable skills, each child selected demonstrated another much more subtle skill, one their parents more than likely would never see or even suspect. Each one of these children presented a latent but profound interest in sexuality - in Scott's case, same sex sexuality.

"And he won't be hurt?"

"He will not, Mrs. Morgan. From now on, his comfort and health and well-being will be the focus of dozens of committed specialists."

"When, Doctor," Ed Morgan asked. "When must he go?"

Bainbridge effected a winsome expression - one meant to convey understanding, empathy, and remorse. "Tomorrow." He paused for a moment. "You must say nothing to him to cause him to expect anything out of the ordinary. While he is being inducted into the program, someone will be here to collect a few items which he treasures - but only a few, please. We find too many reminders of home interferes with our participant's performance. On the other hand, almost every child has some specific items that help them relax and feel confident. Those are the items we would appreciate having." Bainbridge didn't bother to tell them that the boy would likely never see these things, for they were a double-edged sword, but in extreme cases, should they be required, it was helpful to have them nearby.

The short meeting concluded with the parents signing an additional set of documents ensuring their complete cooperation.

The document also spelled out the government's responsibility to the child following his or her participation in this "phase" of the program. Once their participation ended, they would continue in the school program. Upon graduation, they would be entered into a college of their choice with the costs entirely born by the US government. The parents of course saw this as extremely beneficial and generous on the part of their nation. For Bainbridge, it was insurance that the program would continue without potentially unpleasant liabilities. Specifically, returning a sexually active child to "normal" society often meant extreme frustration for the child. Suddenly deprived of any outlet for his or her "need" could lead to inappropriate interactions with adults. In the early stages of the research program, one child had been picked up for essentially soliciting in a men's restroom at a mall. Quick intervention on the part of the DoD personnel avoided a potentially damaging situation for the program, as well as the child. By keeping the child in the program throughout his or her adolescence, the program could ensure the child would continue to be satisfied in all the ways he or she had grown come to expect, and happy operatives meant fewer opportunities for disaster.

04.

"That's Scotty," Mr. Cooper said softly to the man, as the happy eleven-year-old stepped through his homeroom door. Other children were also scurrying, too. The man had been over the boy's file a dozen times since he'd gotten the call the previous night at 10:30.

"This is the big one," Bainbridge told his most trusted and experienced assistant. And so it was that at 7:48 A.M., Alex Beretta was at the program's school, waiting.

"Scott," the man said, stepping to the boy, "Please come with me."

At the mention of his name, the little boy looked up with an expectant smile, but when he saw the man, the way he was dressed and the official looking papers, the smile was quickly replaced with a look of growing uncertainty. He glanced at his teacher who nodded reassuringly and offered a little smile.

Truthfully, this was the hardest part of the entire assignment, Alex told himself. Color drained from the boy's face. Alex put his hand on the boy's shoulder to try to reassure him. In barely perceptible movements, Alex's hand gently massaged the thin, bony shoulder. He leaned over and spoke softly so only Scotty could here. "Everything's going to be alright." And with a gentle urging, the boy stepped out into the hallway. Every child who saw Scotty with the man understood that another of their classmates had been chosen.

A big, black car - though hardly a "real" limo in the boy's eyes - was waiting in the school driveway. On its door was a small label identifying the car as being from some obscure DoD agency. A woman in a black trench coat opened the door for Alex and the boy, and before the child was even belted in, a similarly dressed man had the car speeding off to their destination.

After a ride of about ten minutes down the Rock Creek Parkway, the car navigated over to the Key Bridge, and headed into Virginia.

"Where are we going?" the boy asked at one point.

"Let's let it be a surprise," Alex answered. "Do you like surprises, Scotty?"

The wary boy shrugged. "Depends," he answered back.

Alex chuckled. "Good answer," he told his young charge.

"Here," the man said, flipping some switches and powering up a small monitor in front of the boy. "D'you have a favorite video game?" The man already knew the answer to that, since on a monthly schedule, the children at the school filled out a personal profile. In no time, the boy settled back and was busy playing Diablo II.

Alex Beretta had a moment to reflect yet one more time on his good fortune. Not only was he working on one of the most important programs in the federal government - and getting well-paid for it, too, by the way - and uniquely applying his expertise in child psychology, but he was one of only a handful of men who got to live out their prurient lifestyle not only without fear of reprisal, but with the gratitude of those in the highest levels of government, for in addition to being a psychologist of some standing, Alex Beretta was also, like so many others in this program, a pedophile - a boy-lover. It was a characteristic that made him extremely valuable.

He cast a sideways glance down at the little boy - yet another secret weapon in the US arsenal. The boy oozed innocence as he sat there unmoving in his Oriole's t-shirt and baggy shorts. His longish blond hair almost touched his shoulders. Alex studied the boy for a moment longer. There was nothing to be learned from the boy's pants-covered crotch. His package was obviously small, for there was no indication of even the slightest swelling, though there certainly would be with the boy's "work clothes".

The boy seemed to sense he was the object of the man's attention, paused his game, and shot a quick glance upward toward his backseat companion. Alex smiled, and gently reached out and stroked the boy's silky yellow-white hair. He did this as easily as he could manage. He tried to make it seem a spontaneous and completely natural act. He smiled again down at the boy. "I'm Alex," the man said simply.

"I'm Scott," the boy responded politely.

"Yes," the man said, "I know."

"What are we going to do?" Scott asked.

"We're going to a different kind of school for a while."

"Is Billy there? He's my friend? He went away two weeks ago."

"He might be. We'll have to find out."

"What do you learn there? At this other school?"

Alex smiled. "I think you'll like the things that you'll learn there. It's all about how to have different kinds of fun...playing in special ways...learning how to make yourself and your friends feel really, really, good. Does that sound like fun?"

For some reason, Scott felt his cheeks warming slightly. He wasn't sure exactly why, but they were. "Yeah," the boy said finally, "I guess."

"Good," Alex replied. "Because I really, really want you to have fun!" He reached out and gently rubbed the boy's cotton covered chest. "I really do," Alex said. The boy looked up warily at the man's first touch, but then seemed to judge the man as just being friendly, and at that, seemed to relax some. He gave a shy smile up at the man and made no effort to pull away. After a moment he focused back on the video game.

Alex sighed as he continued stroking the boy's chest. His work was beginning already - work that eventually would make a virginal innocent utterly comfortable with every aspect of man-boy love imaginable. In two weeks, if their data was correct, little Scotty Morgan would be a horny, sex-craved little fuck-boy, driving no less than the President of the United States wild with lust.

Alex smiled at the thought; he smiled, too, at the feel of the little boy's chest and at the knowledge that he would be the one to teach this little boy all about the man-boy love that he would soon come to demand.

The boy suddenly let out a small burst of frustrated breath. He'd lost this level of the game.

"You made me mess up," Scott said to the man.

"I did? Why?"

"Because," the boy said. He blushed, and added, "You distracted me."

"Me!" Alex said with a knowing grin. "How?"

"You know how, silly," the boy said.

Alex raised his eyebrows and smirked as if to say it was all a mystery to him. "I'm confused."

"Then how come you're smiling?" the boy asked. "It's 'cause you like patting me, isn't it?"

Alex let out a little laugh, lifted his hand up and gently tweaked the boy's left nipple. "That's exactly why, Scotty! Nothing wrong with that, is there?" The man waited until the boy realized that he really wanted him to answer.

"Guess not," the boy said.

"Guess not!" Alex playfully exaggerated. "Guess not! Did it feel nice?"

The eleven-year-old shrugged. "I dunno...I guess...Yeah."

"I'd say it did if you got 'distracted'!" The man grinned and the boy responded with his own sheepish grin. "And...for the record, I agree with you, Scotty. There's nothing wrong with feeling good." The boy's grin stretched wider. He suddenly realized the man's hand on his chest did feel good, and for a moment he wished the man would slip his hand under his shirt - or maybe just take it off. It was a thought that surprised him and made him blush - an action that Alex did not fail to notice.

In another half an hour they had pulled into the side yard of a remote farmhouse in rural Virginia. There were a few other cars there, but the boy did not see any people. In very short order, Alex was leading Scotty into the house. It seemed just like any other house to the boy, and in most ways it was. What its youthful inhabitants didn't know was that each room held a secreted video camera and microphone. In addition, while there were many, many familiar toys and books and videos that an eleven year old boy would enjoy, there were other books and videos - and computer "resources" that few children would ever get to enjoy.

"Wow!" Scotty said as he took in all the familiar items. The wide screen HDTV really impressed him by its size.

"Come on," Alex urged, I want you to see our room." Again, he said this as causally as possible. Together they walked up the stairs. As they got closer to the second floor landing, the boy thought he could hear moans, and indeed he could. In another few steps they were stepping past a room whose door was closed. The boy slowed then stopped, and as he listened looked anxiously up at Alex. The man smiled his usual reassuring smile, and put his finger to his lips. As they stood there, the moan ratcheted up to a scream and then a pure expression of boyish joy.

The man leaned down closer to the boy. "Shhh...they're just having a special kind of fun. It kind of sounds like fun, doesn't it?" He grinned down at the little boy.

Scotty thought about it for a moment. It didn't sound like fun at first, but there was no denying how it ended up. Truthfully, for the boy it was a little confusing. "I guess at the end it did," he offered.

"Yeah, it sure did!" Alex whispered with - Scotty thought - perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm.

At the far end of the hall on the right, was another door. Alex led Scotty to the door, and opened it. It was a good-sized bedroom with one king-sized bed. Again, it was nicely equipped with computer, TV, music center, toys, all kinds of stuff a kid would love.

"Well," Alex said. "What do you think of our room?"

The boy was focused on the electronics. "Cool!" he breathed. Dully, in the back of his mind, the "our" room registered, but there were more important things to pay attention to. Alex guided the boy to the bed. Alex sat the boy down on the edge of the bed, and then collapsed down on the bed himself behind the boy. He reached over to a side table and handed the boy the remote. In no time, the boy was flipping through the channels. "Wow!" the boy exclaimed, "Hi-Def!" All the channels a boy would love were there: cartoons, Nickelodeon, Disney, sports. Alex waited with baited breath as the boy clicked on up through the stations. Scott clicked one more time and instantly the screen was filled with two naked men. One was sensually working on the other's tool - performing fellatio as much for the camera as for his partner. Alex strained to see the little boy's reaction, but all he could see was a deep red flowing right up to the boy's temples. Alex knew he would be able to check the boy's reaction later on the room's video link. After just two or three seconds, the boy advanced to the next station. It, too, had naked people...except this one had a man and a boy about Scotty's age cuddling - fondling - in an overtly sexual way. Scotty watched for several more seconds, seemingly mesmerized, then as if coming out of a trance, abruptly turned the TV off, and looked guiltily at Alex. "I...I...I'm sorry," the little boy whined, on the verge of tears.

"Scotty," Alex said, gently rubbing his back. "It's okay, honey. You didn't do anything wrong. Really. Do you know what those people were doing?"

Scott reddened and shook his head. "Not really," he whispered looking down. "It...It was dirty."

"It was?" Alex said sounding very, very confused. "Why?"

The boy shot him a look. "Because they didn't have any clothes on, and he was...you know...touching the boy...in his...privates." The boy reddened.

"Well," Alex said, "I think they looked like they were having fun together. The boy looked really happy, didn't he? Nothing wrong with that, Scotty...if they both were enjoying it. They were just having a little fun together, too. Hasn't anyone ever touched your penis or testicles?" Alex knew the boy was familiar with these terms because of his health class at school.

"No!" the boy exclaimed.

"Ohhh..." the man breathed, sounding incredibly sad, which the boy did not fail to notice. "It's okay, Scott. Really. Just try to relax some." Alex stroked the boy's back a bit longer and the eleven-year-old finally twisted around again to eye the man who'd suddenly become so "familiar" with him. The boy's right leg naturally angled up as he twisted, and the baggy pant leg of his shorts drifted upward revealing a little more of the lightly bronzed skin of his thigh. "You know, Scott, one of the things we believe in around here is that curiosity is good. If you're curious about anything...ask. If I can answer, I will. The truth is...sometimes things that grownups say are...uh...'dirty' or 'bad'...aren't at all." Alex looked down at the small figure sitting in front of him, and raised his eyebrows knowingly and smiled. "I guess what I'm trying to say, Scotty, is that for all the time you're here, if you see something that you'd like to explore or find out about more, it's okay. That's exactly what we want you to do. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said in a whisper that suggested if he understood the notion, he didn't quite understand the "why".

"Atta boy," the man said, and reached down and patted the boy on his exposed thigh. Again the boy stiffened at the first touch, but then seemed to relent after a moment, and taking that as permission, the man gently washed his hand over the smooth skin like tiny waves in a lagoon. He smiled at the boy. All indications were that Scott Morgan's training might be easier than their average subject, but there was really no way to know until they moved further into the re-education process. Still, the man thought as he ran the boy's educational goals over in his mind, at least the initial forays into the subject matter had met with only minimal resistance unlike some of their subjects.

After a few moments of silence, Alex spoke again. "First thing on the agenda today is a physical exam for you. Shall we go down to the exam room?"

"I had an exam at the beginning of school," Scotty offered, not so much as a protest, but as a clarification. He hoped, truthfully, that he might not have to go through such an exam until the start of the next school year.

Alex stood up, and reached down and grasped the boy's hand and gently pulled him to his feet.

"I know," Alex said, "but the first thing that happens when a student comes here is a physical. It's the rule." He put his hand on the boy's shoulder and began to lead him out the door.

"There's a doctor here?" Scott asked.

"There is," Alex replied. "Me."

Scotty shot him a look. "You're going to look...uhmm...I mean examine me?

"I am." Alex shot him a look. "You're okay with that, right?" Alex grinned a leering smile. "I mean we are both guys, after all."

Scotty grinned back. "I guess," he breathed, though he wasn't quite convinced.

"You ready?" Alex queried.

"Yeah..." the boy offered, then, "Can I..."

Alex looked at the boy and the boy returned his gaze. Then he reached for the remote control, and turned the TV back to the naked boy and man. Now the TV boy seemed to go rigid, and groaned loudly.

"Did he hurt him?" Scotty asked.

"I wouldn't say so. Let's watch."

The man continued to bob up and down on the boy's little tool. The boy reached down and stopped the man, and the man lifted off and looked up. Both grinned.

"Oh man," muttered the boy, "that was the best! I never orgasmed so hard. Awesome. Thanks!"

"You're welcome," the man on the video replied. "I thought it was pretty incredible, too!"

"I get to do you next!" the TV boy demanded.

"I hate to do this," Alex interrupted, "just when it's getting good, but I think we better get going, or we'll get way behind schedule. We'll be able to check this out later. Everything here is sort of 'on-demand'. We can watch whatever you want, whenever - within reason, of course.

Now, clearly reluctantly, the boy followed the man out the door. As they approached the stairway, the door to the other room suddenly opened. Both Alex and Scott seemed startled, but then a young boy and a man stepped out through the doorway, and it was Scott who suddenly seemed to explode with excitement.

"Billy!" he shouted.

"Scott!" the other boy responded. Instantly they gave each other high fives. But then, almost immediately, Billy glanced quickly up at the man behind him, grinned an odd little smile, and then turned back to Scott. He stepped up to his friend, and wrapped his arms around him, hugging his tightly.

Scott Morgan was a little surprised by that, but he was actually shocked by what followed. His best friend at school, reached down and sort of grabbed his butt! And then he kissed him on either side of his nose! And at the same time, Scott could feel Billy press his front against his own front. And he thought maybe he'd even felt something kind of jump against him - right down...there! Man this was so weird! But he hardly had time to think about that, because now Billy lifted his lips from Scott's face, and kissed him again. Right on the lips! Little Scott Morgan stiffened, now, stunned by his friend's actions. His face felt like it was burning up.

"Wow," Scott breathed when Billy finally released him and stepped back a few steps. "You're weirdin' me out!" Then he leaned in a bit closer and whispered, "That's gay stuff!"

Billy just laughed. "No way, dude! Well, maybe, but who cares! I'm just happy to see you! Just doin' what I felt like! It felt good, man! Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Scotty didn't know how to answer. What he did know was that his friend had just echoed almost word-for-word what the man - Alex - had just told him. Still, in this strange place, it was good to see his friend, and he couldn't help but smile.

By now the man behind Billy, stepped closer to him, and like Alex, he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. As they stood there, Scott watched as Billy leaned back against the man, and the man's hand drifted down and played over Billy's bare chest. Now Scott really looked at his friend. His hair had been trimmed from rather longish curls to a kind of short buzz cut...except it was different. It reminded Scott of a haircut you'd see on a soldier. Scott also noticed that Billy now had a tattoo on his upper arm. It was an insignia with "Semper Fi" in red letters.

Scotty's eyes widened. "Is that real!" he squealed, nodding at the boy's arm.

"Yeah!" Billy beamed. "Isn't it awesome! It's the Marine Corps insignia!"

"Wow," Scotty offered feeling somewhat dazed. "Didn't it hurt?"

"Nah...well...maybe a little, but I'm in the..." Billy caught himself. "Well...while I've been here, I've really gotten into the Marines." He giggled like he'd made some kind of joke. "It's really cool, here."

Scotty glanced down now at the shorts that his friend was wearing. They were light tan, and very short, and very tight...almost, Scotty thought, more like underwear than shorts. Tight enough that Scotty could see a mound in the center of his friend's shorts, and he reddened because he knew what he was looking at. Before he could look away, Billy had his hands on his hips and poked his front out toward Scotty as if to emphasize what he knew the newcomer was looking at. "You like 'em?" Billy asked his friend.

Scotty reddened and shrugged.

"Billy," the man he was leaning against said softly, "It's time."

Now the dark-haired boy looked up. "Oh," he said. "This is Harry. He's my mentor. Is this yours?"

Scotty looked up at Alex and seemed confused.

"Actually," Alex said, "yes, I am. I'm Alex. We really haven't had a chance to explain a lot of things."

"O-o-h-h," Billy said knowingly. He stared up at Alex for a moment, and then leered at Scott in a way that made him feel oddly uncomfortable. "Nice," Billy murmured.

"Billy," his mentor repeated.

"We have to go, too," Alex said.

"I'll see you after," Scotty said to his friend.

Now for the first time, Billy's smiled faded. "Ahhmmm...Scotty...I'm really sorry...but I'm leaving for...ah...my assignment."

"You're going away!"

"Am I ever! Way away!" the boy answered. Now Billy stepped closer to his friend and reached out and oddly took hold of Scotty's sides. He let his hands drift down and they actually rested on his butt. Then as Billy gazed into his friend's eyes, Scotty felt Billy's hands begin to gently squeeze his butt cheeks. "You're gonna love it here! I just know you are! It's awesome! You won't believe it! I wish I could be here to watch! Hell, maybe even help out." He placed his small hand over his equally small package, cupped his fingers and lifted slightly. The boy raised his eyebrows a few times and blushed delightfully at his own lewdness.

"Billy," his mentor warned. "I think that's enough. They're waiting for us."

"Okay," Billy answered, and then spoke again to his friend. "Just remember, Scott: Don't be afraid to try new things! Just go with it! Believe me, most kids don't know what they're missin'!"

05.

Alex could feel the boy stiffening as they stepped through the doors of the exam room. In a way, he completely understood why the boy was feeling reluctant. In the space of a couple of hours, so much had changed for him. Alex knew as simple as it was, just his touches were at some level confusing the child. And then the changes he perceived in his friend, Billy, added another level of change. Alex suspected so much seemed surrealistic about this experience, and still, the boy really didn't know why he was there and what was going to happen. "It's alright," he said quietly to his charge.

Alex had a good feeling about Scotty. (And if the boy had looked down at the man's crotch, he would have realized, perhaps, just how good a feeling, but the boy was simply just too naive.)

Scott hated these exams. He'd had two of them so far. They weren't like the ones he used to have at his regular doctor's. First off, his mom couldn't come in, and that was different, but then he was glad she wasn't. Because of the stuff they did.

Alex was patting the exam table. Scotty hopped up, and sat, his two arms locked straight by his sides, his hands cupping the edge of the padded table. Alex squatted down and removed the boy's shoes and socks. Now the man rose up and reached for the boy's t-shirt. Scott lifted his hands to remove the shirt himself, but Alex breathed softly, "No...I'll do it...Lift."

Obediently, the boy complied, and soon the shirt was on a chair next to the wall. "Stand up for me," Alex said with a smile. He felt the blood pulsing through his body. How, the man thought, could I be so lucky? Scott stood on a box, and when Alex knelt down in front of the boy, his eyes were right at waist level. The man actually panted a bit in anticipation. Carefully he reached out and unbuttoned the metal button at the top of the boy's pants. Then slowly, he unzipped them and with a quick glance upward at the anxious boy, tugged his board shorts down. Snow white briefs filled his vision, and he had to stifle a gasp. "Step out," he commanded. Scott placed his hands on the man's shoulders to steady himself, and lifted first one foot, then the other. Alex tossed the shorts over with the t-shirt.

Reflexively, the boy's hands came together over the gentle mounding in his front. If this were like the other exams, now he'd be measured and weighed.

Except it wasn't going to be like the others; always before, he'd undressed himself. Not this time, and it made the boy feel strange...odd...not uncomfortable exactly, but...maybe nervous. Excited? Naughty? It was all of those things, and yet Scotty didn't understand even then why he was feeling all those things.

Alex grasped the boy's clean underpants, curled his thumbs inside the elastic band at the sides and gently began pulling Scotty's underpants down. He slid his fingers around to the boy's behind, cupping one warm, exquisitely smooth, muscled globe in each hand. He heard the boy breathe in and felt his body tense - not unlike what his own body was doing. The golden bronze of Scotty's smooth tummy below his navel gave way to a purer white where the indistinct divide between the fading tan of summer and the space hidden by his shorts was revealed. Lower still. The boy was completely hairless here. Lower. The child's smooth, perfect pubis was revealed - a gentle, almost androgynous swelling riveted the man's gaze. If the man grabbed the boy's penis from behind, and gently pulled back on it, taking the two marbles in the sac with him, the figure before him could pass for an equally prepubescent girl. And yet, with that wonderful male appendage, this body was 100 percent boy. To prove the point, Alex lowered his gaze even more, and the pinkish root of the boy's small organ appeared, and the man swallowed. Lower. The man savored the feel of the boy's warm, firm legs on his hands. With tiny shakes spreading throughout his body, Alex lowered the underpants the rest of the way, revealing all: the soft, thin uncircumcised penis, an inch-and-a-half long, semi-erect, hanging languidly over a small, smooth scrotum containing two even smaller testicles. It was warm in the room, and the two small orbs hung down in the loose folds of the boy's sac. His left ball hung just a bit lower than the right.

Alex quickly dropped the tight little garment to the floor. It covered the boy's feet, which oddly seemed a bit bigger than the rest of the boy's perfectly proportioned body. "Step out," Alex repeated, and the boy lifted first one leg, then the other, and again the man tossed the boy's final article of clothing to the side. Alex marveled at how trusting children were - especially of people who they perceived to be charged with taking care of them. A wiser youngster, perhaps, or certainly an adult, would have protested at the man's intention to undress their subject. But with the two dozen children he'd worked on, none had resisted, though most clearly had demonstrated their reluctance.

Alex looked up at the specimen in front of him - for in some ways that was what he was. The man could never forget that he was first and foremost a researcher. He was always gathering information, and those monitoring his actions, were similarly gathering data. Later, as the boy slept, his work would continue with secure video conferencing with Dr. Bainbridge and the others working at the farm - most of whom the boy would never see. But they would see him. By now, having processed nearly 15 boys and 9 girls, the program operations people had a pretty good idea - a very good idea - how to proceed - how to most effectively prep the child. Girls required a clearly different process to boys...and those they'd tagged for heterosexual missions were different from the homosexual ones. One more overlay in all this was age.

In their years of research, each category of child required certain uniquely defined approaches.

In some ways, except for dispelling the cultural taboos of gay and lesbian sex, the homosexual preparation was actually a bit easier. Somehow the same sex dynamic seemed to engender less anxiety in the children - if they could remove the cultural learnings, which, surprisingly, in some children was quite easy. Even children who had high heterosexual scores seemed to make the conversion with little uncertainty, and those at the other end of the spectrum - the high homosexual scorers - virtually accepted the behavior with just a few conversations justifying the activity they were embarking on.

100% all boy! That was Alex's judgment as he gazed at his specimen. He smiled at what he now beheld. The boy shyly offered a half-smile in return. The boy was just under five feet tall - 145cm, probably about 90 pounds - or 42kg. At 11 and half, that'd place him in just about the 50th percentile on the growth charts.

Flawless skin covered firm musculature. His biceps were unusually developed for a young boy and Alex was actually surprised to see a slight tapering of his torso, hinting at the classic male "V" shape that would eventually emerge as the boy matured. His hair was a light golden corn silk color, streaked with almost white. It had a smooth, gentle, natural wave. It was thick, but light and soft - boyish, in short, and the thought of running his fingers through it was almost more than Alex could bear. The color of the boy's eyebrows darkened somewhat, setting off his eyes nicely. The piercing blue of his eyes made his gaze seem more powerful than it probably was, but already the man had felt their probing intensity more than once. The boy's nose had not yet experienced the ravages of puberty. It was still a pert little button nose, turned upward just a bit. Cute. Inviting a little nibble.

His mouth was framed by thin, delicately curving lips, the lower one just a bit fuller than the upper. They were moist and a healthy pinkish-red. Healthy...that was a fundamental reality with this boy. He was well-nourished, well-cared-for.

His chest was like the rest of him was smooth and firm. While most boys were either still pudgy with baby fat or downright skinny, Scott showed evidence of some defining pectoral development. Each softly swelling mound was accented by a dime-sized areola and a tiny nail point nipple. Alex noted with satisfaction that they were erect, which indicated at some level anyway at least a hint of arousal within the boy. The slightly tapering torso also suggested the boy might be on the cusp of puberty. The boy's belly rose and fell gently, though a bit rapidly, again suggesting at least nervousness and at best arousal. His navel had been nicely tended to as a newborn.

Then the genitalia. The penis, now not quite so flaccid, had, to Alex's eye, perhaps stretched a bit. Again, nakedness like this often elicited two diametrically opposed reactions in innocent, nervous (or excited) boys. Either the penis shrunk to a mere nubbin, or it expanded - with a mind of its own, often to the consternation of its owner (but not, clearly, its master). If Scotty's little cock was going to bone up, it was taking its own sweet time. The prepuce still covered the glans, which Alex could see outlined under the pinkish skin, but whereas earlier it had actually appeared to extend a quarter of an inch beyond the end of the boy's glans, now that extra flesh appeared to have retreated, or more accurately the boy's little tool had extended to fill the spare fleshy "cuff".

The boy's extremities were sculpted perfection: his legs straight, smooth, and firm. His arms, similarly proportioned. The smooth skin, without blemish, covered muscle, not the remnants of baby fat. Alex wondered if the boy worked out. In fact, the only place where there was any hint of that baby fat was just above his hips. Only the boy's feet showed any enlarging, though only in the most preliminary way. There was on the boy's villous arms, just a hint of downy-soft fuzz, lighter in hue than even his hair. Similarly, on the boy's lower legs, Alex could see a hint of the body hair that would eventually spread over the boy's body. For a moment, Alex allowed himself a random thought: he'd hoped the boy, as he matured, would become a shaver - keeping any excess body hair trimmed. Even in young, maturing men, Alex found remnants of boyhood - even artificially maintained - exciting.

"Okay," Alex breathed with a smile up at Scott. "Let's measure and weigh." Alex had just about nailed his estimates of the boy's size. He was four feet, nine and a half inches tall (146 cm), and weighed almost exactly 38 kilograms, or just under 84 pounds. When he had entered the data in the computer, it had come back instantly that he was in about the 60th percentile.

Alex checked eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Heart, lungs and B.P. All normal.

"Blood work."

The boy drew in a breath and held it.

"I know," Alex muttered. "It's not bad, though. I'm pretty good with a stick, I think," he said gently with a smile. "I'm sure you'll let me know, right!" That got a slight grin in response. The man put a band around the boy's arm and drew three samples. They were looking for any indications of health issues of any kind - anything at all - HIV was only the most obvious concern. Wouldn't do to infect the President of the United States with the AIDS virus, now would it? thought Alex as the thick, dark, purple-red fluid pumped into the vial. Hell, he thought, maybe then they'd put some real money into HIV research and prevention. Alex removed the last vial, then in one motion withdrew the needle. "Done," he announced, taping a small pad over the site. He turned to label the samples.

"It...wasn't that bad," Scott offered softly. Alex smiled. It was one of the few times that the boy had initiated conversation. Alex finished his work and spun around. "Good. I'm glad." He reached up and stroked the boy's arm, smiling a friendly smile. The man took him now and slowly rotated him around, examining - ogling - his body for any blemish. "Any aches or pains anywhere, Scott? Funny bumps or bruises that haven't gone away?"

"No."

"Good." By now the man had allowed his eyes to travel down the body, down the smooth, muscled back, which accentuated the tapering of the torso even more. The boy's shoulder blades reminded the man of the beginnings of angel wings, and the nubs of his spine, like steps descending to a warm pool fed by hot springs, brought him to a flattening plain, then the funnel-like beginnings of his cleft. The crevasse gave definition to two of the most magnificent boy-mounds he had even seen. Firm - hard, even - smooth, silky soft. Muscles pulled the outer sides of his globes inward slightly, pushing the cheeks upward and extending and lifting them, then the flesh seemed to dive in on itself, forming the deep, sharp, tight crack between them. Alex paused, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to etch the image into his memory. Oh, he'd have photographs of this to gaze on, but Alex wanted to preserve the experience of this moment. He wanted it to be his, and his alone.

"Oh...," he breathed. The boy suddenly twisted and looked down at the man.

"What's wrong?" the boy asked sounding worried.

"Ohhh, Scotty...?" Alex could see the curiosity gently building in the boy's face. "Nothing's wrong. It's just that...you are so beautiful." Alex reached down and lovingly stroked the boy's left cheek. The exquisite smoothness made his cock achingly hard. His hand rested now on the boy's butt, and his thumb moved in small little back and forth strokes. He sighed. "So beautiful," he mumbled. He glanced up at the boy's face, and it was predictably red with embarrassment at this odd attention. "Does that seem a little weird for me to say that?"

The boy shrugged. "Yeah, I guess," he offered shyly.

"Can you tell me why, Scotty?"

The boy thought, more about HOW to say it, than WHAT to say. "Nobody says that stuff about boys." He blushed sweetly. "You know...pretty." He blushed more deeply.

"I didn't say 'pretty,'" Alex said gently. "I said, 'beautiful'. And I think there's a difference. And, Scotty..." The man thought for an instant, wondering if the boy were ready for this. "I meant it." Alex leaned in and planted the lightest, briefest of kisses on the boy's ass. "You okay with that?"

"I...I'm not sure." Scotty was trying to sort everything out. So much was strange here. He felt so uncertain. And now the strange man - the man he liked so much, somehow - had just kissed his butt! Somehow he felt like he was the center of attention all of a sudden, attention that would have been weird or even dangerous except...here things seemed different. What had Alex said: Curiosity was good. It's good to explore new things - to try different things. His best friend even told him the same thing. Oddly the boy's mind flashed to the dirty movies...the movies...on the TV. Hadn't Alex said they weren't dirty? Hadn't he said it was important to check things out that made you curious? But still, the boy thought, reddening again as he did so, it was strange. And it made him feel...funny... different...and it was a little scary. He wished he could talk to his mom or dad; they'd know what to say about all this. They'd tell him if it was okay. The boy sighed. Yeah, he thought, but somehow he figured he knew what they'd say, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to talk to them about it.

"Can I call home sometime?"

Alex smiled, all too aware of the doubts that were welling up inside the boy. The next few days...few hours...would be crucial. "You know, Scotty, we talked with your mom and dad. They knew...just like you knew...that maybe this day might come. They love you very much. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah," he said softly.

"So much," Alex repeated. "And I know they're concerned for you. They want you to be safe, and happy. Just like me. That's what I want for you, too." Alex began the process of transference: aligning himself with the boy's parents. Altering the boy's reality so that the changes coming in his life would be acceptable because Alex, now his surrogate mom and dad, would say they were - just as he was even now. "But because of the important work you'll be doing, we can't risk any outside communication." Alex gently pulled the boy to him and leaned his face against the boy's back. "I know it's hard, honey, and I know it doesn't seem fair, but any contact might be intercepted, and that could put you AND your parents - and your little sister - in danger, and I know you wouldn't want that, would you?"

"No," the boy said firmly, though not without a hint of remorse.

"Is there something I can help you with? You know, that's partly why I'm here."

"It's...just...so...different."

"Here?"

The boy nodded.

Alex smiled. "Scotty, what you're going to be doing is usually something only grownups do. So...I'm going to treat you, as much as possible like a grownup. Is that okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Good. So here's the first grownup thing I want you to know. It's sort of a grownup secret." Scotty actually strained a little to pay attention to what the man was going to say. "Sometimes, grownups think kids can't handle the way things really are. So they sort of simplify things...because they think it will confuse kids. I don't think that, but most adults do. And when adults are all alone...like your mom and dad, they say things, and do things...and act in ways that they'd never do when children were around. D'you know what I mean?" The boy nodded. "Can you think of a time when you felt that was what was happening?"

The boy tried to sort everything out, to clear his mind and come up with something. Maybe sometime when his mom and dad had been talking about grownup stuff, but then another image flashed into the boys head. He suddenly understood something from long ago. He hadn't thought of it in a long time - years - but now he had, and it made him blush a deep red right to his ears.

"You've thought of something, I can tell," Alex said with a grin.

Scott wasn't sure he could say this. "No...it's nothing...it's weird."

"Scotty," Alex began, "while you're here, you can trust me with anything. Nothing's too weird...too unimportant. It's okay to say anything that's on your mind. Anything."

"Ummm...ahhh...once when I was really little," the boy began, "I had a bad dream. I woke up and went into Mummy and Daddy's room. Mummy and Daddy were on their bed, and...and...they didn't have any clothes on...and they were kissing, and Mummy...was...ummm...doing what that man on TV was doing to the boy. An' Daddy had his..." Scotty swallowed hard. "umm...hand down between Mummy's legs." He looked down and was beet red. Most of his embarrassment was because of what he focused on in that remembered scene. It was of his father's penis, hard and huge, running in and out of his mother's mouth. It was so big, and it excited him just thinking about it. It was so similar to the scene in the video the boy had seen earlier - which is precisely why they had arranged for the boy to see it.

Alex took his hands and turned the little boy around. His little penis had hardened, though the boy seemed completely unaware. "That's exactly the sort of thing I'm talking about," Alex said. He held pulled the naked child to him and held him tightly against his clothed body. "What happened, Scott?"

"I started to say something, and they turned, and Mummy said to go to my room. 'Right now,' she said." The boy's voice had taken on a hard edge, and he was breathing the shallow, quick breaths of sadness. Alex pulled the boy's cheek down on his shoulder.

"See, Scotty, that's just what I mean. You probably thought you had done something bad...or what they were doing was bad." Alex felt the boy nodding, and felt, too, a warm wetness on his shoulder. The boy's tears flowed easily. "Except...they weren't doing anything wrong at all. And neither were you. It's just that your mom and dad didn't think you - 'cause you were so little - could understand what they were doing. But I think you could. They weren't doing anything bad. They were making each other feel good."

"They were?" the boy snuffed.

"They were," the man said, "and if you could have stayed and watched, I bet you would have seen them make love. D'you know what making love is?"

There was a silence, then the boy spoke softly. "Kind of."

"Good. Maybe we can find out more about that while you're here. Would you like that? Would you like to learn how anybody at all can make love?"

"I guess...maybe," the boy mumbled. Now he lifted away from the man. "Anybody?"

"Yes, Scott. Anybody. Me. Billy. Even you." Alex smiled gently at the boy, who seemed almost to tremble in the man's gaze. Alex couldn't believe his good fortune. In one brief moment, they'd taken a giant leap forward. Of course, Alex had known about that incident. It had occurred when the boy was only four. After that, his parents had put a lock on the door to their room. That had come out during the preliminary profiling process before the boy had been accepted into the program. In fact, it was one of the factors considered in the selection process. In this instance, it worked perfectly, opening up the discussion of sex naturally, coming from the child himself. Perfect. "And Scott," Alex added, reaching up and lifting the naked boy's chin to raise his eyes to the man's. "There was nothing wrong with what they were doing. Nothing. And nothing's wrong with you watching. It was beautiful what they were doing. Very, very, beautiful. A very special way of sharing. Okay?" The man reached up and wiped the tears from the boy's cheeks. "Okay," the man repeated.

The boy smiled gently. "Okay," he whispered.

"Well...maybe we should finish up the exam," Alex said.

"Okay," the boy replied.

Alex reached for a cloth tape measure, then gently grasped the boy's tool. The eleven-year-old gasped and involuntarily pulled drew his hips back. "Hey," Alex said gently, "Where'd you think you're going?" He grinned, and the boy grinned back.

"I couldn't help it. Sorry," he murmured.

"It's okay. Is it good and hard - your penis?"

The boy grinned sheepishly. "I dunno."

"Well...we need it hard, boy!" Alex mocked in a fun way. He began to lightly stroke the boy along the inside of his thighs. Scotty stiffened...and so did his little tool. It throbbed to perhaps just another quarter inch. "There we go," the man said with a smile. "Let's see...looks like seven and...I dunno...let's call it seven.

"What!" the boy hissed. "It's not seven inches!" He blushed.

"Seven inches," the man said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Did I say seven inches? I meant seven centimeters!"

"Oh," the boy said weakly.

"Seven inches," Alex repeated. "Wow, wouldn't that be something! Then you'd be almost as big as me when I'm hard!"

Scotty grinned, then, realizing he suddenly knew something very private about the man, he blushed. At the same time he found himself picturing Alex's big seven-inch penis, and he blushed even more.

He glanced up at the boy and Scotty blushed as the man knew he would. He grinned and the boy grinned back.

"Yeah, I guess," the boy breathed. It was the one thing guaranteed with boys: every boy wants a bigger penis. And playing in this way acknowledged that fact. "Umm...Doctor...how big is it. In inches?"

The man smiled. "Alex, just call me Alex, remember? And what would you guess?" The boy had only taken the briefest of glimpses down to his genitals. "Take a good look. What's it look like?" Gently, the man bent the little spike down so the boy could get a good look.

"Two and a half inches, maybe."

"Hmmm..." the man murmured and turned to the computer and entered some numbers. "No...I'd say it's just about three inches. My...that's s pretty good-sized hard-on for a boy your age." Again blood rushed into the boy's cheeks. "Or...what do you like to call it when it gets hard?"

The boy's ears even tinged red. "Boner," he said in a faltering voice. He swallowed hard.

"Well...it's certainly a boner! That's for sure!" Alex smiled at the boy. At every step of the process, his goal was to move the boy to greater acceptance of his body and his sexuality. These were the first small steps, small, but crucial.

Now Alex reached for an odd looking set of "spoons".

"What are those?" the boy asked.

"Well...they're to measure the size of your testicles. Sit up on the table, Scott." Alex stepped to the sink and soaked a towel in warm water. Wringing it out, he stepped back to the table and gently wrapped the boy's balls and cock in the wet warm cloth. "The warmth just helps your scrotum to relax and stretch. That makes it easier to do the measuring."

The boy nodded.

"Why don't you just lean back, Scotty. Relax a little. Alex pressed gently on the boy's tummy, and the eleven-year-old leaned back, resting on his elbows. Alex left his hand on the boy's belly, and lightly stroked the alabaster skin. The boy sighed. After a minute of that, Alex spoke again. "Feel nice?"

"Yeah," the boy sighed. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled.

"Well," Alex said, reaching for the wet towel, "let's see how you're doing. He unwrapped the towel and gently reached under the boy's penis. The scrotum had indeed stretched and thinned. Alex felt gently around each of the boy's balls. They had elongated some, and were actually a little larger than he expected. Using the orchidometer, he determined the right testicle was about four to five milliliters in volume, and the left testicle was closer to six milliliters. Anything over 4 indicated a boy was in puberty.

"Well, Scotty," Alex said looking up at the boy, "According to this, you're officially in puberty. All kinds of exciting things will begin happening over the next year or so." Ye gods, wasn't that the truth!

"Really!" the boy exclaimed, truly animated now for the first time since the man had taken him from the school.

"Really!" the man said.

"I'm going to get big?"

"You are. Like I said...all kinds of exciting things...you'll get tall, you'll get hair here..." Lifting his arm, Alex toyed with his arm pit, eliciting a giggle. "...here..." Feeling his arms. "...and here..." Stroking the boy's pubis. "And your sweat will get stinky. And you'll develop an Adam's apple...and you'll get more muscles...and...oh yeah...this thing will get b-i-i-i-g!" Alex tweaked the boy's penis.

The boy grinned and blushed, and looked down at his little tool.

"Oh, yeah, it's an exciting time for boys."

Scott seemed to bask in the attention. Alex could almost see the wheels turning inside the boy's head, thinking about his entry into puberty. After a while the silliness of Alex's explanation faded and they both settled down a bit. Finally the boy spoke again.

"Ummm...are we done?" the boy asked tentatively.

"Almost. Can you give me a urine sample?"

"I don't think I have to go," the boy answered.

"Not surprising. When you've got a hard-...boner, I mean...it's hard to go. There's more than one way to skin a cat." Alex stepped to a cabinet and came back with a package. Inside was a long, thin tube, and a clear plastic bag. Alex hung the bag on a hook under the exam table, reached for some KY, and lubed up the tube. "This is called a catheter, Scott. It's a way of allowing urine to flow from your bladder.

The boy's eyes widened. "You're gonna put that in...my...thing!"

Alex smiled. "I am. It's not so bad. Can you pull your foreskin back yet?"

The boy seemed momentarily confused. "You mean this?" the boy asked as he pointed to his foreskin. Alex nodded. "Some."

"Good. That's something we can work on - stretching it until it slides back easily when you have a boner." Which only confused the boy more. Carefully, Alex reached down and drew the boy's foreskin back just slightly until he felt it bind. But it was enough. The tip of the boy's glans was exposed, as well as his tiny meatus. "Now, just try to relax. It's going to feel a little strange. Alex gently squeezed the head of the boy's stiff cock. Scotty gasped at the sensation, and Alex smiled. "Sensitive?" He glanced up at the boy.

"A little."

"I bet," Alex said. "I know I would be." He grinned, trying to put the boy at ease. By squeezing his head, the boy's piss slit opened a bit, and Alex carefully introduced the tube into the boy's tiny meatus. Scotty's eyes widened as the thin, flexible tube disappeared inside him. "Does it hurt?"

"No," the boy said, "just feels a little weird."

"Good," Alex answered. In all, about five inches disappeared into the boy's penis. Soon a flow of amber-yellow fluid appeared. Alex put his hand on the boy's tummy and gently swirled the palm of his hand around and around. The man allowed the bag to fill and waited for the stream to become a dribble, then cease altogether. Then he withdrew the tube.

"That's done...now the backdoor," Alex said brightly.

"Huh?"

"We just need a little sample of your feces. Just to be sure you have no bad germs living inside you. When did you last have a bowel movement?

Scotty's cheeks tinged pink. "This morning when I got up."

"Well, we may need to wait, but I have to do a rectal exam anyway. Here, lay down flat, and grab onto the backs of your knees and pull them up and out." With just a bit of hesitation, Scotty complied, revealing his perfect little pucker: pink and gently rippled-oh so kissable. Alex was afraid he was going to cream himself, he was so wild at the sight. "Now, Scotty, first, I'm going to put a finger inside you." Alex coated his gloved finger with KY. Alex gently inserted the finger deep enough to just cover his fingernail. "Have you ever had a rectal exam before?"

The little boy nodded his head. He looked so uncertain. "Once." It was all so new to him. Alex looked at the boy's genitals through his folded and spread legs. Both the boy and the man could see the little penis pulsing with energy. Below, the boy's prepubescent balls pulled up against his body. Below that, where the boy couldn't see, the man's fingertip was held tightly in the boy's asshole. "I'm putting it in more," the man said, and eased the finger back in deeper. When the man's large knuckle poked past the boy's ring of muscle, the boy shuddered and gasped.

"Does it hurt?" the man asked.

"No, just...weird...full." The man smiled. You ain't seen nuthin' yet, kid, he told himself. Alex felt the heat of the boy's hole and the firm smooth walls of his rectum. It was incredible, and again, the man had to work to keep from shooting gallons of come in his pants. He knew he was oozing precum like crazy, but he'd thought to put on a condom at the beginning of the day, so the boy would not be unduly alarmed to see a big wet spot on the man's pants. Now the man twisted his finger and bent it slightly and the boy actually jumped. "Ohhh," Scotty squealed and Alex looked up feigning curiosity. Scott knew the man wanted an explanation. "You touched something...inside."

"Oh," the man said simply. "Did it feel good?"

"No..." the boy spat out the word automatically - still responding with the expectations of his old world. To acknowledge pleasure from such a "dirty" activity was impossible. But then the intelligent little guy felt the lie was too great, and almost immediately he offered a correction: "I mean...well...kind of I guess. Like electricity." He grinned self-consciously.

"That was your prostate gland," the man explained. Only boys and men have them. You probably don't ejaculate yet, right?" The boy looked questioningly. "You know about sperm and semen, right?"

"Yeah," the boy said, cheeks coloring.

"come?" The boy's cheeks got redder at the slang term he'd heard from a few of the older boys at the school. "Well, when the semen comes out, it's called an ejaculation...or lots of guys just say coming. You know this stuff from health, right?"

"Yeah," Scotty answered.

"D'you know where the come comes out of?"

Again the predictable blush. "From your penis?"

"Well, it sure comes out of mine alright," Alex said, causing the boy to blush even more, and then knowing full well the answer, he asked, "D'you know if you can ejaculate yet?

"I...I...don't know. I don't think so," little Scotty answered.

"Oh," Alex said simply. He paused to see if the boy would follow-up on their conversation.

"Um...Alex...how...um...do you know...if you can, I mean?"

Alex smiled. The boy did not disappoint. "I think there's a way we can find out." The boy panted at the thought. His little 3-inch boner was throbbing hard and somewhere in the back of his mind, Scotty was feeling that there must be a way to relieve the pressure he was feeling.

"How?" the boy asked innocently.

"Well...there're ways," Alex answered cryptically. "We'll talk about it later, okay? I promise."

"Yeah," the boy breathed. It was so weird. He'd almost forgotten he'd been stark naked with a man for almost 40 minutes. And now this man had his finger up his butt, and he hardly cared. All he knew was that it seemed somehow to be setting him on fire. He ached for some way to make it even better, but he didn't have a clue how.

"Okay, Scotty, last thing. I need to do another kind of check back there. I'm gonna take out my finger." Immediately the boy could feel the man pulling out, and secretly, he felt just a moment of emptiness, of sadness. Now the man reached for a plastic tube. It was sort of like a test tube, but shorter. It was much bigger around than the finger the man had inserted just moments ago.

Again the man slicked it up with some KY. "What's that?" the boy asked looking down between his legs as the man worked. Scotty still held his legs tightly out of the way.

"It's called KY. It makes things slick....all kinds of things!" The man smiled pleasantly.

"What are you going to do with that plastic thing?"

"Why, I'm going to put it up your butthole!" Almost immediately Alex realized he'd violated one of Dr. Bainbridge's protocols. In clinical settings, the manual reads, use clinical language. "That's actually called your anus," Alex clarified. The boy grinned.

"Why are you putting it inside me?"

"It lets me look around inside you a little - to make sure everything's okay."

"Will it fit okay," the boy asked growing more serious.

"I'm sure it will...but we'll go carefully." Alex studied the boy. If he didn't miss his guess, he'd say the boy was actually intrigued by the prospects of having this thing up his chute. Interesting. Slowly, he moved the greased up viewer to the boy's hole. As it made contact, the little orifice winked, tightening delightfully in on itself. "Okay," Alex said, his voice husky with anticipation. "I'm going to push in, and Scotty, you push out...like you're pooping, but not too hard."

The boy's eyes widened, and he seemed to concentrate on his task, and the man felt the little rose bud tremble, then spasm outward. A little pssst of gas burst out at the same time and the boy blushed. But at the same time, the man pressed in. The wide plastic tube lodged about half an inch into the boy. Suddenly the boy was panting. "Just try to relax," the man urged. "I won't push any more 'til you're ready. Just relax, Scott."

"It hurts," the boy whined. "It's tight."

"It'll get looser," the man said quietly. "You'll see. That's kind of the amazing thing about a boy's anus - about your anus," Alex corrected. "It can stretch to as big as it needs to get."

Scotty seemed confused by that bit of information. Ah, thought the man, it will all become clear soon enough. Still knowing the device had caused the boy some discomfort (though nothing compared to "other things") was somehow satisfying. It caused Alex a certain kind of vicarious pleasure, almost as if he'd taken the boy's virginity himself. Somehow in the man's mind, sexual achievement should not be without at least a little pain. Now the boy's panting eased. Alex rubbed gently on the boy's tummy. His muscles were locked tight, and as Alex massaged him, the tautness began to leave the little body.

"Good boy," Alex crooned. "Good boy." Now he felt the boy relax some more, and he pressed in again. The boy sucked in a hard breath, and held it, and the tube was done expanding the child's tight anal ring. Now Alex could gently insert the tube deeper, and he directed a small, bright light into the tube, and he was actually able to see all around the boy's hole. Everything looked just as it should. No lesions or scarring. "Perfect," the man announced.

He gently removed the tube and patted the boy on his behind. "Now, just one more thing," he said as he checked over a form. "Oops...two. Sorry, Scotty, but I have to put my finger back inside you. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," the boy breathed. He was feeling so strange. Never could he have imagined someone doing the things to him that this man was doing, but deep down, he secretly found it sort of exciting.

With his finger deeply lodged in the boy's asshole, Alex gave one more instruction. "Try to clamp down on my finger...but don't tighten your tummy muscles or your butt muscles. There are some muscles deep inside you, kind of where my finger is. Try to just tighten those inside muscles. Like if you were peeing and you tried to stop. Go ahead, Scott, try it."

The little boy tried, but whether through lack of experience or because of muscle weakness, the Kegel exercise was not especially effective.

"Okay, Scott. That's enough. Good job." Alex rubbed his hands up and down the boy's folded legs. You can relax for a minute." The boy's legs closed together slightly. "You know," the man began, "we're going to start you on a round of exercising, to build up some of your muscles. And deep inside you, there's a set of muscles that also need some work, so I'm going to start you on these exercises right away." Alex removed a small oblong shaped object from a drawer. Attached to it was a short, strong plastic thread. "I'm going to insert this in your rectum," the man explained. Every once in a while, you'll feel a little tingle down there, and when you do, tighten that muscle. When you've held it long enough, you'll feel the tingle stop. It will do it several times a day. We'll take it out at night...and if you have to have a bowel movement. Back in the position, Champ," the man said with a smile. Scotty took the object, about the size of a small egg and, turning it over and over in his hand, studied it carefully. While Scotty studied the device, Alex studied the boy, and thought it seemed as if the boy were intrigued by the idea of having the thing inside him. The man took the stimulator, popped the testicle-shaped object into his mouth, and then quickly pressed it into the boy's asshole. For the boy, seeing the man put this thing in his mouth that would end up in his hole was strangely exciting. It made him feel warm. Using his finger, Alex slipped the device in until Scott could feel it deep inside him. It was not at all uncomfortable, but he was aware of the strange presence inside him.

"One last thing," Alex said. "I need to give you a shot."

"Why?"

"Well, actually, you may need several, but for now, we'll just start with one. Since you may be traveling in your assignment, you may have to have shots to protect you for diseases when you're overseas, but this first one is just a sort of vitamin." Alex drew the syringe, and wiped the boy's arm down with alcohol and injected him. Alex thought it wasn't too much of a lie to call it a vitamin, but the truth was, it was a pheromonal stimulant, designed to keep a male horny. Its success was somewhat suspect clinically, but in these first critical days, the program director figured they could use all the help they could get in overcoming the cultural taboos that they would be attacking.

"Here," Alex said, handing the boy a package. "This is sort of your uniform while you're here." The boy took a quick glance over at his own clothes, and then timidly opened the package. There was a rugby-style shirt and a pair of white shorts. To Scott's eyes, they were really too skimpy, and yet, he found himself curious about how he'd look. They reminded him of the shorts Billy was wearing, but if anything, these were even shorter. He wasn't even sure they'd fit him. There was a pair of white trainers - sort of. Alex called them boating shoes. White socks, and then his underpants. They were the skimpiest he'd ever seen. Actually, in the men's department at one of the stores at the mall, he found himself poking around while secretly studying the package photographs of the men's underwear. Most boys he knew were into boxers. He had some of those, but after he'd worn them a few times, he decided he liked plain old briefs the best. But secretly what he really wished he could wear were those skimpy things he'd seen in the men's department. He'd heard older kids talk about jock straps - had even seen an older boy at the "Y" putting one on, once, and these were little more than a jockstrap. Now he was going to get to wear one. It made him blush. Inside he was excited about this, but he didn't want the man to know just how much.

Now Alex took the underwear and held them out. Steadying himself on Alex's shoulders, Scott stepped into the things. Alex pulled them up over his still-hard boyhood, plastering his cock against his pubis.

There was a mirror on the wall and Scott quickly checked himself out. Oh, my god, Scott thought, I look like one of those underwear boxes. It made his thing look a lot bigger than he thought it was. Again color rushed into his cheeks. Alex next helped him tug on the shirt, a navy blue and maroon striped thing, and then the tight little white shorts. They actually were snug, but perfect in their size. (In fact they were, having been tailored the preceding night specifically for him.) No matter how he tried to hide it, his boner seemed to be obvious. And so much of his legs were showing. He reddened just looking at his reflection, and yet, somehow the shorts sort of made him excited. It was confusing like so much else in this strange day, but as he gazed at himself, he decided he'd wear them for a while. What harm could it do?

Even now, during a break in a cabinet meeting, the "client" was looking over computer-generated images of little Scotty Morgan in a variety of styles of clothing. Once it was determined exactly what the President seemed to like his boy wearing, a wardrobe would be commissioned. "What's his name, anyway," the President asked. He seemed self-conscious about even asking, but he thought if they want me to do this thing with him - if he could make himself do it, the President thought - then at least I should know his name.

"It's Scott," Bainbridge had said. "Scotty."

"Does Scotty have a last name?" the President asked.

"I'm sure he does, Mr. President," the doctor answered.

"But you're not going to tell me."

"No sir, Mr. President."

Bainbridge reached out to take the book which held the images of the boy in different styles of clothing, but the President held onto it for a bit longer. He gazed down on the image of the boy in a tight Speedo bathing suit. God, he thought, they want me to have sex with this child. Oh my god. But even as he thought about the perverseness of that act, he felt a stirring which truthfully, he hadn't felt in months - a stirring not even his attractive wife could effect. This job, people had told him, was a killer. Well, if it didn't kill you outright, the President thought, it sure tries to kill you piece by piece.

06.

At lunch Scott realized there were other people at the farm; there was at least a cook. Scott ordered his favorite: a bacon cheeseburger. After the boy had downed his second burger, Alex asked, "So...what do you think so far?"

Scott shrugged. "We really didn't do much. It was okay." The boy suddenly stiffened. A wave of energy seemed to course through his body - little tremors shook him. He finally realized what was happening. "The...thing inside me," Scotty breathed. He sort of groaned as the sensation continued.

"Squeeze that muscle," Alex urged.

The boy concentrated. He did, feeling a muscle not exactly in his butt, but kind of deep inside and between his butt and his dick, tighten, and after about ten seconds of making it as tight as he could, the sensation stopped.

Scott relaxed. He felt drained. "How often will it do that?" Scott asked.

"Maybe every couple of hours. I'm not really sure," Alex answered.

Now the boy realized he'd gotten hard again during his "exercise" period, and he felt like he had to reach down there and do something with his boner. Then much to his embarrassment, he realized he was pressing his hand against his dick under his new shorts. Quickly he pulled his hand away and reddened predictably. What had made him do that? The prospects of having Alex see him doing that mortified him, and yet he found it very difficult to keep his hand away for some reason. He tried to get his mind off his "problem" and so he tried to focus on just what he was going to be doing.

"Alex, when are you going to tell me what this is all about? Why am I here? I know I supposed to be learning stuff, but why. Then what?"

"Well...Scott, we've found over several years of research that some of the leaders in our government and military aren't very happy. And when they aren't happy, they can't do as good a job as they need to. And we've also found that sometimes just being with kids in a special way helps them to be happy."

"What! You're fooling, right?"

"No, Scotty, I'm not."

"So you want me to hang out with some government person?"

"That's right. You'll be his special friend."

"Is that what Billy's doing, too?"

"It is...In fact right now Billy's on his way to Florida where he's going to meet his friend, a Marine Corp General. And then they're shipping out to the Middle East."

"Billy's in the Marines!" Scott laughed, picturing his friend with a general.

Alex nodded. "Sort of."

"Really?"

"Really," Alex answered.

"What kind of stuff do we do?"

"Oh, almost anything you want...you'd be amazed what you'll be doing. And like Billy said...it's gonna be so much fun. You'll see."

Scott seemed to think this was pretty much all a big joke, but then suddenly he grew more serious. "Who, Alex? Who's going to be my friend?"

"Ah, Scotty, that's the one thing I can't tell you - not yet anyway. We have to know for sure that you'll be able to play the way you need to...but it's not just playing. Your special friend will talk to you, too. And spend time with you...in a special way. So we have to be sure the two of you will...like each other. And another thing: this is all very, very secret. Only a very small number of people know about this and what you're doing. But you'll know soon enough."

Scott thought about this. He tried to think of the important person he could think of in the government. "Does the President know about it?"

Alex smiled. "Yes, Scotty, I think probably he certainly does know about it."

"Cool." The boy lapsed into a period of silence, processing everything that had happened so far.

"Alex."

"Yes, Scotty."

"Remember you said we could find out if I make..." The boy lowered his voice. "...you know...sperms."

Alex smiled. "Yes," he said, feeling his cock start to throb to life. "I remember."

"How? Um...do you have to do more...ah...tests?" The boy swallowed hard.

Alex's smile spread, and he reached out and gently stroked the boy's arm. "No...no more tests."

The boy smiled then, and the man could see the tension flow out of him. "Then...ah...how can we find out?"

Alex was suddenly overcome with the boy's innocence - the same innocence that made him love all boys, the same innocence that the program was hoping the President of the United States would see - had to see if this were to be a success. Alex laughed gently. "Come here, you," he said, twisting away from the table and holding open his arms. The boy looked hesitant for a moment, then rose from his chair and stepped to the man. Alex took the boy in a wonderful, strong embrace. He parted his legs, pulling the boy between them, at the same time lifting his hand to the back of the boy's head and pulling his sweet, angelic face to his shoulder. His other arm wrapped around the boy's firm back. The man could feel the boy's soft package mound against his belly.

At first, Alex felt an almost natural resistance - the same resistance Scotty's mother had felt when just hours ago, she had offered virtually the same embrace. This time, though, for some reason, rather than holding himself stiffly in the embrace, Scotty felt himself relaxing. He felt the man's fingers comb slowly through his thick corn-silk hair; he felt the man gently kneading his bottom through his skimpy little shorts; and most curiously, he became aware of his little dick, growing hard yet again in this strange day.

When the boy spoke again, it was in a small, halting voice - like a breeze rustling the leaves. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what, Scotty?"

"Touch me like that."

"Like what I'm doing now?"

"Ah-huh."

"Shouldn't I be doing that? Don't you like it?"

The boy was silent for a moment, the man almost able to feel the hesitancy, the thinking that the boy was doing. "My mom always tells me never to let anyone touch me that I didn't know. You know...like we learned in my old school: there are people who...um...molest kids." Alex felt the boy tremble. With all the subjects he'd worked with, Scott Morgan was the first one brave enough to articulate this reality, though he was sure at some level, all of them struggled with the same issue.

Alex continued to caress the boy. "Is that what you think I am: a child molester?"

Again the boy trembled. "No," he said softly; he didn't delay in answering, and he sounded sure in his conviction. Again Alex smiled. The innocence of children. For in a sense - in the laws and mores of America - that's exactly what he was: a child molester, a predator. But little Scotty didn't want to accept that. "Oh, sweetie, I'm glad you said that. It would make me very sad if you thought I was. A molester is someone who forces a boy to do things he doesn't want to do. I will never do that. We'll only do things that you and I want to do - together.

"I don't think you are," Scotty whispered, his body filled with all kinds of uncertainty. Not the least of which was caused by the pressure he felt against his thighs. The boy could feel a hard thing throbbing against his legs, and he knew the man's...thing...was as hard as his own.

"You asked why I'm touching you."

"Uh-huh."

"Well first, because I enjoy it. I like touching you this way. It makes me feel good. And then...maybe I'm wrong, but it seemed to me when I did it before, you liked it, too. Am I right about that?" Alex felt the boy stiffen slightly, then relax again.

"Yes," the boy said quietly. "I like it..."

"Oh, Scotty, I'm so glad." The man pulled his cheek from the boy's soft hair, twisted, and planted quick soft kiss on the boy's cheek. "But...I sort of heard a 'but', didn't I?"

The boy pulled away from the man, arching so he could focus on the man's face, but keeping the rest of his body in contact with the man's. He kept holding onto the man's shoulders with his soft, gentle hands. "It's just so...different."

Alex smiled. "I know, honey. But is it good? Does it feel nice? Do you like the way it makes you feel?"

The boy nodded. Clearly the boy knew how it was making him feel, and he did like it, and he knew the man knew all that, too.

"So what's making you unsure about this?"

"'Cause," the boy said, sounding exactly the way a boy would sound, but then realizing that was hardly an answer, he tried again. "It's just not the way we are...at...home...you know: nobody touches people this way."

"Well, remember what I said a while ago? About adults trying to protect kids when they don't need protecting - at least not about some things?"

"Yeah."

"But I think you're having a hard time believing that."

The boy frowned. "I guess...maybe."

"Do you want to believe it, Scotty?"

The boy looked up, his face wearing a mask of uncertainty. "I...think so."

"Why? Maybe that's a kind of hard question, but try."

The boy thought, and the man watched as his cheeks grew pinker. "I want to believe it...because....because...it makes me feel...good."

"D'you know how people say if something doesn't feel right, then it probably isn't right, and don't do it?"

"Yeah, that's what my old health teacher said."

"Well, don't you think the opposite is true? If something feels good, then it probably is good, and it's okay to do it?"

The boy looked into Alex's eyes for a moment, then grinned. "I guess." He thought some more. "So it's okay?"

"What do you think?"

"I think..." the boy moved back into his reflective mood. "I think...it's okay."

"Whew!" Alex breathed. "I'm glad we got that taken care of!" He pulled the boy back to him and poked him gently in the ribs. The boy giggled. Now Alex grew more serious. "Scotty?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"There's another reason why I'm glad you're okay with this kind of touching."

"What is it?" the boy asked, sounding again pensive.

"Well, to find out if you can make sperm, we need to do a special kind of touching...sort of like what we're doing now...but...it may seem even stranger at first."

"Why?" Again, Alex nearly cried hearing the child's innocence.

"Because, honey, you'll see what I mean...if you want to try."

The boy lifted away again. Alex could see the uncertainty flow into the boy's face: that incredible mouth...his deep, liquid eyes. Alex waited. Together in just a few hours, they had taken so many steps toward their goal - a goal the little boy wasn't even aware of yet. But he sensed there was a purpose to all this...that they were heading somewhere - somewhere that seemed somehow exciting to him. "And if I try, we can find out if I can make sperm?"

"Yes."

"Then, I want to try. Can we?"

"Of course we can," the man said.

"When?"

"How about right now?"

"Now!" The boy's eyes widened, and his sweet mouth dropped open, revealing those perfect white teeth and inviting innocent tongue.

Alex smiled. "Let's try," he said brightly. "Okay?"

"Okay!" the boy responded, not knowing what lay in store for him.

The man released Scott from his grasp, and stood. He took the boy's hand in his, and together they started moved out of the dining room.

"Are we going back to the exam place?"

"No," the man said, squeezing the boy's hand reassuringly. "We're going to our bedroom." They walked on in silence.

To be continued...