Date: Fri, 6 Sep 2002 07:59:27 -0400 From: istari Subject: Mastering Alex 4 - 6 The following story describes the evolving relationship between and man and a soon-to-be thirteen-year-old boy. It is the story of a safe, loving, consensual, dominant/submissive relationship and does contain scenes of bondage, sado-masochism, etc. If that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, please stop reading. This story is utter fiction, the product perhaps of my own childhood fantasies, and nothing more. Comments are welcome at istari_olias@hotmail.com Mastering Alex Chapter 4: All Things Considered I figured Alex would be tossing and turning for the rest of the night, but I was the one who couldn't sleep. Finally, around five in the morning I just gave up. After a quick shower, I got dressed and crept slowly down the hall. The old wood floors creak terribly, but growing up in the house I'd learned where to put my feet to keep from making too much noise. Alexander's door was halfway open, and I quietly peered inside. The shades were still up and I could see dawn arriving on the world outside. Alex lay in his bed, wrapped tightly in his blankets. One hand lay upon the pillow near his head. I could see his face from where I stood. It was contented and peaceful. Is there anything more innocent than a young boy sleeping? I felt such love for him, and such uncertainty at this road we had started on. He stirred softly, but did not wake up. Quietly I closed the door around and left him to sleep. As I walked toward my office at the end of the hall, I wondered what his decision would be. I'm a freelance writer, which lets me work from home most of the time. Certainly Alex was old enough to look after himself now, but in those early months after his return home I was glad I was there for him. I pulled up the shades and turned on the computer. My latest was a science fiction story, my first attempt at a full-length novel. I'd been mired lately, having written myself into several corners simultaneously. I stared hopelessly at the words on the screen. Hours always seemed to pass without my knowledge when I was in here, and it was well past ten when I heard the soft sound of bare feet on the floor behind me. My boy greeted me with a warm smile. He was in one of my old t-shirts, which he often wore around the house in the mornings, and nothing else. It was gray in color and quite large for him, more than long enough to cover his boyhood. His beautiful legs though were still there for me to see. I reached out my hand and he stepped into my embrace as my arm went round his waist. "How's my little man this morning?" I asked. "I'm fine," he said as he excepted my kiss upon his lips. "My ass feels like totally empty." "What do you expect after you swallow the snake?" He laughed, then yawned and stretched his arms above his head. "You made me feel so good last night." "Even when I hurt you?" "That was the best part." His face lit up in a smile, but his eyes were deep and serious. I gave him a playful smack on his rear end. Alex then glanced at the screen for a moment. Nothing had changed since the last time he'd read this particular section. "Still stuck?" he asked. "Yep." Alex had a particular interest in this story. He loved science fiction, and the main character was a boy his own age, who not coincidentally looked an awful lot like him. Cyrix was his name, a space-born lad on a voyage with his father, an unscrupulous freighter captain. Alexander read the last passage again. The ship had just been attacked by Confederate forces, and I really had no idea where I wanted the story to go from there. Alex looked back at me with playful eyes. "I've got an idea. Can I?" "Sure," I said. What did I have to lose? The boy hunted and pecked his way across the keyboard and managed to churn out three full paragraphs in about half an hour. I read along, when he let me that is, but he did his best to block my view of the screen. Finally he surrendered my chair and turned to me with hopeful eyes. I carefully read the boy's efforts and was impressed by what he'd written. It was simple and direct, and it also carried an unmistakable message. "You've made Cyrix a slave," I said, understanding it was no coincidence. He stood silently watching me. "Is that your decision too?" "Yes, sir." I took a deep breath and stared again at the screen. "What's wrong?" he asked innocently, concern clouding his unbroken voice. My expression was serious when I turned to face him again. "This is big, Alex. Honestly I don't what I'm supposed to do now. We both have a lot to learn, if we're going to be master and slave." It was the first time I'd actually used that word, `master', and it hung between us like an ominous cloud. It was a powerful word, and it had a weight and substance to it that made Alexander shrink and shiver the moment it was spoken. "You're much too young. How far am I supposed to push you?" I asked. "How much is too much?" He hugged me fiercely. "I trust you, Steve," was all he said. "And I don't ever want to lose that. We have to do this carefully. We have to do it right. I've got a friend who might help us. You remember Robert, don't you." Alex nodded instantly and smiled. Robert was my dad's old friend, and the lawyer who got Alex back for me. He also had a lot to do with breaking my addictions, in a rather brutal but effective way. "Robert's cool," the boy said, never forgetting the debt we owed him, "and really nice." Obviously there were other things about Robert that young Alexander hadn't figured out just yet. "He won't be very nice to you from now on, do you understand what I mean?" The boy's eyes grew wide, but there was that knowing smile again. "Yes, I do, sir." "I need to make a phone call, but we might as well get started. Go take a shower, then get dressed." The vision came to me clear and unambiguous, and I spelled it out for him. "Put on your black tank top from yesterday, and a jockstrap. Wear white socks and your high-tops. Nothing else. When you're done, go down to the kitchen. If I'm not there, wait for me." I could practically see his young heart skip a beat, but he hid is giddy mix of fear and excitement very well. "Yes, sir," he said and he scurried off to the bathroom. In the meantime, I made my phone call. Robert and dad had been friends since childhood, and I'd known him all of my life. I remember being fascinated and just a little frightened of him as a boy. He was quite a bit larger than my father, and had a quiet strength about him that always made him seem much older and wiser than anyone else I knew. He was the first person I came out to when I was thirteen, and he was the one who made me tell my mom and dad. We've never had a truly sexual relationship, but I had spent a few months with him while I was drying out, so I knew quite well the sinister contents of his basement. Of course, with the way fate intervened, he never really knew Alex when he was younger. He's come to visit on a rare occasion, and Alexander's reaction to him is much like mine was fourteen years ago. Robert is just a larger than life figure, and makes an indelible impression on a young boy. He was soon going to make an even deeper impression on Alex. While quiet and dignified, Robert made no secret about his alternative lifestyle, and I knew he was just the right person to help us, and also the only one I could trust. Alexander's name did not come up in our conversation that morning, and Robert was clever enough not to ask, although I'm sure he suspected, knowing me as well as he did. He told me to come over as soon as I got Alex situated for the day. His meaning was quite clear, and it did set me thinking. I couldn't just leave the boy in limbo while I made the two-hour-long trip, both ways. He'd need to be given an assignment. Something physical to keep him occupied, and then something creative to make him think. I walked down the stairs formulating my plan and found him waiting for me in the kitchen. His back was to me as I entered and I paused to admire his little bare butt. Hearing me approach, he started turning round to face me. I gave him a good hard swat on his ass. "Did I tell you to turn around?" Momentarily stunned by the stinging in his rear, the boy didn't answer right away. "Answer me when I ask you a question," I said. My voice was soft, but my hand against his behind was firm as I delivered another swat. "Did I tell you to turn around?" "No, sir," he said with a slight tremble in his voice. I patted him on the head and took a seat at the table. "Stand in front of me," I ordered. Quickly he marched forward. Twelve-year-old Alex was adorable and sexy in his tank top and jockstrap. His white socks and shoes accented his shapely calves and thighs. I ran my hand under his shirt, caressing his chest and twirling my fingers over his little nipples. He sighed in pleasure and moved a little closer to me. Continuing to massage his chest, I cupped his boyhood in my other hand, then ran down his firm hairless legs. Leaving him hard and frustrated, I got his breakfast for him and made him eat it standing up. "From now on," I explained, "you only sit with my permission." This new regime seemed to give him a thrill as I could see his young boycock straining within the tight confines of the strap. "I'm going to see Robert about you today," I told him, "about us. While I'm gone you've got some things to do. Clean the house for starters. That's going to be your job from now on. Everything should be spotless when I get back. You know where all the cleaning stuff is?" He nodded. "Yes, sir." "This is your work uniform," I said as I pulled one of the bands on his jockstrap and let it snap back against his tender skin. "Indoors and out, you'll wear it whenever you're working. That goes for homework too." Alex looked down at himself and squeezed his crotch with his left hand. "Horny?" I asked. "Yes, sir, I am. Very." "Tough luck. I don't want you touching yourself. You're on your honor for that one. Promise me." "I promise." "Good boy. Now, when you're finished with the house, I want you to come back here to the kitchen and do some writing for me. First, you're going to write me an essay. Tell me what makes a person a slave, and why you want to be one. Second, I want you to write down ten rules for yourself. Things you'll be allowed to do, and things you won't. Really think about this. When I get back we'll talk about them. Is everything clear? Any questions?" "A few, sir," the boy said quietly. "Go ahead." "Am I allowed to fix lunch for myself?" Alex asked. "That's fine. No junk food though. What else?" "Can I use the bathroom?" I was surprised that he was astute enough to ask. I was sort of flying blind here, but slowly a consistent plan for his basic treatment was forming itself. "From now on you will have to ask permission. If I'm not here, can you ask me?" "No, sir," the boy replied, suddenly realizing where this was going. "So, answer your own question." "I have to hold it." "Correct." Then I pulled him close and whispered in his ear. "If it's really an emergency, you can go, but try to control yourself." With that I got to my feet and walked him with me to the door. "Be good, and be careful," I warned him. "I've got my cell phone on if you need me. Now, get to work." I kissed him and sent him off. My Alexander. My boy. My slave. Chapter 5: Robert and Michael After a two-hour drive through the country, I arrived at Robert's house and was greeted by his slave, Michael. The young man was just fifteen when Robert took him in off the street. He was now a strapping lad of eighteen and a truly gorgeous specimen. He was naked and collared, and wearing a particularly wicked chastity belt, as always. His boyish blue eyes lit up when he saw it was me. I've never been much into the scene, but Robert was a special friend. I could not imagine anyone better to give me the advice I needed. Michael bowed humbly, but gracefully, and escorted me into the living room. It had been a few months since I'd been in for a visit, and Robert seemed equally glad to see me. "Come in, Steven," he said in his dark, slightly menacing voice. He was a true master, and I naturally did as I was instructed. "You've been such a stranger lately." We shook hands and he gestured me to the comfortable sofa. Michael was gone and back again with drinks for both of us before I'd even missed him. The young slave then stood silently beside his master, his eyes cast down and his hands behind his back. "Michael is looking well," I offered as I took my first sip. Robert indolently patted the boy on the thigh. "Yes, he is a fine young piece of meat, isn't he?" I nodded and toasted my glass to the young slave. He gazed up for just an instant and smiled. "So, Steven, tell me about this new slave of yours. I would not have thought you were the type to take one." I shrugged my shoulders. I'd played around a bit in the scene, but Robert knew my orientation was toward the very young, and that boys had always been the quiet focus of my desires. You don't generally find twelve-year-olds in slave collars. "It certainly didn't start out that way," I confessed, "but that's where we are now. We both need to do this. Him especially." "How old is he?" In my heart I was certain that Robert already knew the answer. He wouldn't have bothered to ask otherwise. I did my best to look him in the eye, but found it harder than I thought. "He'll be thirteen in two months." Robert eyed me darkly for a moment, but then a soft smile came to his lips. "So it's Alex." "Yes." "I had him figured all along. I know a slave when I see one, even if he's still a child." "Took me a while to figure it out," I said. "Naturally. You're his only family. That does make it harder to see, and harder to do something about. He is terribly young still." "I know that, Robert," I replied, somewhat defensively. "But he knows what he wants, and he knows what he needs. He's already hurting himself. If I don't help him, he'll try to find it someplace else. I can't let him do that. I've worked too hard to undo all that damage. This is what comes next." "I'm not judging you, Steven," he said. His eyes were gentle. "Michael here was not exactly legal when we started, were you, slave?" "No, master," the young man replied quietly, not raising his head. His voice was soft and respectful and still rang with the lightness of youth. "Tell me," Robert continued, "does Alex ejaculate?" "He does." "Well then I suppose he's old enough for just about anything. Still I'd take it slow for a start." "So, you think we should keep going?" "He's your responsibility, not mine. You know him better than anyone. Is he ready?" I was silent. "Answer my question," Robert said sternly. "Is that boy a slave or isn't he?" "He is." "And can you be his master?" "I can." "Then yes, you should keep going. If you don't train him, who will?" "Will you help us?" I asked. Another of his soft, masterful smiles followed. "I will. But a new slave should only have one master, particularly when he's so young. Michael and I will both help with his training, but you must make it clear to him, at all times, that he is your slave, not ours. Do you understand the difference?" "I do." "Very well," Robert said. He lost himself in thought for a moment. Finally his dark eyes rested on me decisively. "I'll want to see Alex for myself, before we go any further. Shall we say tomorrow afternoon?" It was a polite question, but somehow it also seemed to be a command. "I'll have him with me," I said. "Excellent. We'll get his measurements while he's here. I'm assuming you'll be needing some gear for him, and the proper equipment." I nodded. "I'm not quite sure where to start, or what to start with." He smiled thoughtfully. "Just the basics will do for now. Collar, cuffs, harness. Actually you could get just about everything you need from commercial sources. A small- sized man isn't much bigger than your average twelve-year- old, a bit thicker in the chest and legs maybe, but I still believe a custom fit is best. You'll want his movement restricted, I suppose." "Certainly." "Do you intend to keep him in a chastity device?" That went without saying. "Absolutely. Alex has a problem with touching himself." "We'll see that habit broken very quickly. Michael here couldn't stop either, until I took control of his cock. When was the last time you touched your penis, Mikey?" Robert asked. The young slave looked up and spoke in his soft, but confident voice. "Three years, master," he said. I was stunned. "And the last time I allowed you to become fully erect?" "Two months, sir." "Your last orgasm?" "The same, sir." I stared at the boy in shock. Such a beautiful, smooth, masculine specimen he was, and still quite young himself. Robert laughed gently and patted Michael on the thigh. "I milk him dry once a week. Keeps him docile. He doesn't even get hard when I do it. I'll suggest the same routine for young Alexander. Tell me, have you fucked the boy yet?" "Just last night, for the first time." "So you've taken him already, excellent. Do you have a plug in him?" "No." Robert waved his finger at me in admonishment. "Shame on you. No matter his age, once you've taken a boy's ass, he needs something inside him all the time. Michael, go fetch Master Steven a butt-plug right away." The handsome young slave bowed his head and gracefully strode off. Robert called after him. "And remember he's only twelve years old. Make your selection appropriate." Robert then turned to me. "I believe in absolute control, Steven," he explained, "and I expect Michael to show total obedience. The boy does nothing without my permission. I am, I think, unusually strict with him. If you wish to be more lenient with Alex, until he is older, I will understand, but all children need discipline as you well know, and a child slave needs more than most. Alex is a child, and he will make childish mistakes. Michael certainly did, and he already had hair on his balls when I took him in. I learned to be patient with him, and you'll agree the results, thus far, are quite impressive." Michael was impressive, and fully and happily committed to a life of servitude. I wanted that same happiness for Alex. "Last night," I said, "it was the first time I've ever done it with a boy. But it wasn't the first time he'd been done. You know he was abused." "Indeed, I remember. That does make it more difficult. How much of this is the abuse, and how much of it is Alexander?" I shook my head. "I don't know. I don't know where the abuse ends and he begins." "He needs you to help him figure that out." Robert rose from his chair and I joined him. He took my hands, his grip firm but supportive. "I've known you since you popped out of your mother," he said, such was his way with words. "In fact I was there. I was the first person to hold you, after your parents. Did you know that?" "No," I smiled. "You will always be a son to me. Alex, on the other hand, I hardly know at all. You may find that I can see him more clearly than you do. He is an object, as far as I am concerned. I will treat him as such. Do not hate me for doing so." "And how should I treat him?" "Just as your heart tells you." He looked me deeply in the eye. "There is a fine master inside, I've caught glimpses of it before. Dominance is in your nature. I will help you find it. I believe you'll be a master of a gentler kind than I am, but strength comes in many forms. You must be strong for him. But never forget his age, Steven. You must master him, but you must also still raise him. Not an easy task, I think." Michael returned bearing a small metallic butt-plug upon a velvet cloth. It was only about an inch-and-a-quarter in diameter at its widest, nothing to cause a young boy too much distress. Robert approved instantly. "This should fit the little man quite snuggly. See that he is wearing it when you bring him tomorrow. Don't disappoint me, Steven," were his last words as Michael showed me to the door. Alexander's plug sat wrapped in velvet on the seat beside me as I drove home. Chapter 6: Preparations During the two-hour drive back, I had time to do a lot of thinking. I was still struggling with this, and Robert's advice and encouragement had really only made things murkier. I couldn't begin to count all the things that were supposedly wrong with our relationship, but I tried. Let's see now, there was incest for a start, that was a big one right there, and then there was that whole man and boy thing. I'd already turned Alex into a shameless cocksucker, and of course just last night I'd fucked him for the first time. When I put it all into perspective, I suppose training him to be a slave was just the next logical step. Alex certainly seemed intent on doing it. I've never understood submissives myself, and certainly not masochists, but now I'd have to learn what makes them tick, or at least one particular twelve-year-old. What frightened and troubled me most was that our relationship would have to undergo some dramatic changes. Or would it? In a matter of minutes I glanced back over the last three years of our lives, and I realized that at some basic level Alex was already a slave. He'd always been one. When did a day go by that I didn't give him some kind of order? And when did he ever complain or mope or disobey me? Never. The boy was happiest when he was doing things for me, and not just where sex was concerned. That was important, at least to me. We couldn't have sex all the time, and I began to enjoy the thought that Alex would be my slave in all things, in all places, in every second of every day. I would still love him and nurture him, but I suppose even that would take on a new dimension now. Nothing we did would ever be between equals, it never really had been, and that was a thrilling and wonderful discovery. I stopped to get a pizza for us on the way and pulled back into the drive by early evening. There were no lights on in the house that I could see. Alex was still in the kitchen when I walked in, slumped over the table asleep. I put the pizza on the counter and approached him slowly. He was breathing softly, his pencil still resting lightly in his left hand. In front of him was a neat stack of paper written in his youthful script. Next to this was a single page, printed in neat letters. 'My slave rules' it began. I didn't take the time to look at it. It was something he would share with me. I nudged him gently. Alex moaned and took a sharp breath, then opened his beautiful eyes. "Sorry I was away so long, Alex," I said as I tousled his hair. "How was your day?" "Alright," the boy replied as he stretched his bare arms behind his head. He then looked at me with needy eyes. "Can I please go to the bathroom?" "I don't know, can you?" I said smartly. Alex rolled his eyes. "May I," he emphasized the word, "please go to the bathroom?" "Of course. Hurry back. We have a lot to talk about before bed." Sensing something important he smiled and scrambled off, holding his hands between his legs. I wondered if he'd been holding it in all day, and figured he probably had. A few seconds later I heard a loud sigh of relief from the bathroom and shortly he returned, considerably more composed. "Better?" "Much." First order of business was dinner. Again he stood as he ate his share. He asked me about Robert and what had happened. I reminded him it was not a slave's place to ask, and that he'd be told when I felt he needed to know. Alex stared at me with a stunned expression, not expecting such a quick and stern rebuke. Disappointment clouded his youthful features. "Don't worry," I consoled him. "You'll hear all about Robert after dinner." He finished quickly, eager to know what his future held. "Clean this up, then come into the living room. Bring your papers. I'm going to see how you did on the house. Oh, by the way, when did you get your writing done?" "About three-thirty," Alex said as he swallowed his last bite. That was nearly five hours ago. "And you sat there all this time, waiting for me?" "Yes, sir," the boy said without boast or pride. I just shook my head at him. "What kind of boy sits still that long?" No words of wisdom from this twelve-year-old, just a casual shrug of his shoulders. The last of the plates and glasses were clattered into the dishwasher. I cringed and imagined most of them being broken. Still I laughed to myself. Alex was desperate to get that mundane task finished so the real fun could begin. I guess I should have expected him to be a little excitable. He marched into the room decisively and stood in front of me with his papers in his hands. I was on the couch, and took a few minutes to simply appreciate him. "The house looks fine," I began. "Be a little more thorough in the bathrooms next time." "Yes, sir." "Now, show me your essay." Alex handed it to me. It was four pages, front and back. Quite prolific for a pre-adolescent. I read it carefully. I could feel his young eyes upon me, eager for some kind of compliment or criticism, anything but silence. I knew it was bugging him, and so I just kept right on. I could hear him nervously shuffling his feet. Finally I let him off the hook. It was a very good essay and I told him so. Alex had obviously given this a lot of thought and worked very hard to get his ideas in order. He also raised some points that demanded I challenge him further. "You talked about two kinds of slavery, Alex. Explain that to me." He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. "Well," he said, trying to sound very grown up, "in school we learned about the blacks, and how they got here and all. They were slaves." "They certainly were," I agreed. "But not like me." "Why not?" "They didn't get to decide on their own, if they wanted to be. Slaves or not I mean." "And you did decide." "Yep." "Are you sure about that?" "Sure. You didn't make me this way." "Then who did, you?" Suddenly he felt a trap closing in. I could see it in his eyes. "Well, no," he stammered, "not me, I guess." "Then who?" Alexander thought about that for a while. "Nobody," he finally said. "I don't understand, Alex. Nobody made you a slave, but you are a slave. And you said it was your choice." "That's not what I meant." I could hear the frustration in his voice. "What did you mean?" "I guess I meant to say I was made that way, like I was born that way or something." "Just like some people are born with brown hair and some with blond?" "Yeah, that's it. Kind of like that." "Then you didn't have a choice at all, did you?" That hit him hard and he didn't have an answer for me. Alex was pretty close to tears. I looked at him with loving eyes and drew him beside me. "It's alright, Alex," I said softly. "That was cruel of me. I wanted to see how far you would go. I'm sorry." I sat him down and we snuggled for a bit. "It kind of felt weird," he confided, "when you were saying those things. I got hard." "I know you did." "I don't have a choice, do I?" I rubbed his shoulders. "About some things you do. Other things you don't. Does that make you scared?" "A little." "Well I'm glad you're being honest. Tell you what, why don't you read me your rules now, and we'll see how you did." "Want me to stand up again?" he asked. "No. I like you right here." Alex reached forward and took the single sheet of paper from the coffee table. He read the rules aloud to me in a soft, confident voice. Some of them were familiar, routines we'd already begun to practice, others were of his own making, but quite astute and mature. 1. I will always be naked, or in my work uniform, unless my master tells me to wear clothes. 2. I will always stand or kneel in the house, unless my master tells me to sit. I will only sit where I'm told. 3. I will not speak unless I'm spoken to. If I have something to say, I will ask my master's permission before I say it. 4. I will not go to the bathroom without permission. 5. I will do whatever my master tells me. He loves me and knows what's best. I held him a little tighter after that one. 6. I am not allowed to touch my penis or my balls, ever, unless master tells me to. 7. I will be awake before my master, every day. 8. I will keep myself clean. 9. I will eat all of my vegetables, even the ones I don't like. 10. I will not lie to my master. "I've got two more, Steve, if it's ok. I think they're important." "Go ahead." 11. I will be allowed to cry when it hurts. I will never pretend it doesn't when it does, or it that it does when it doesn't. 12. I will never tell anyone about these rules or the things my master and I do together. No one understands me like he does, and I know he's doing all this for me. I will say 'thank you' to him every day for as long as I live. I had to kiss him after that last one. "How did I do?" he asked. I wiped a tear from my own eye. "I think it's perfect. I agree with every one of them. We can add more as you get older, but it's a good start. There is one change we have to make. Let's put it in number six." Gently I pushed him off the couch and gestured to the velvet cloth upon the table. "Pick it up and unwrap it," I instructed. "It's a gift from Robert." Alex quickly did as he was told and soon he was holding the shiny, silvery butt-plug in his hand. "Do you know where that goes?" I asked. He took a deep breath and slowly nodded his head. "Then here is your new rule six: I am not allowed to touch my penis or my balls, ever, unless master tells me to. I will have a plug in my behind all the time. Only my master can take it out." A little high-pitched cry issued from Alexander's throat. "Bend over and grab your ankles." With a frightened look on his face he did so, presenting his hairless young boy-hole to me. "This is smaller than my dick," I said, just to reassure him. "It won't hurt you. It's going to drive your little prostate crazy. Your dick will be leaking like a faucet from now on. Ready?" "Yes, sir," his voice was small and suddenly very, very young. "Make like you're taking a crap." Alex followed orders and the beginner-sized plug went right inside him. His ass slurped the last half-inch or so in all by itself. He yelped and wiggled as he felt the constant pressure on his immature joy button. I pulled him back onto my lap and held him as he fought these new sensations. "It's never going to go away," I told him. "When you get used to this one, we'll stuff a bigger one up there." "Oh shit," he cried, his voice strained and higher than usual. I could see the wet-spot already forming on the front of his jockstrap. "Shit, shit, shit." "That's something you won't be doing without my help from now on." "That's not funny." "No, it's true. Now get to bed. Your own room. I'm taking you to see Robert tomorrow afternoon, and I want you rested." "How can I sleep with this thing in me?!" "Get used to it, kiddo. It's part of your life from now on." "Can I please jerk off?" "No." He looked at me in desperation. "You made that rule up yourself, remember." Defeated by his own handwriting, he hung his head and marched upstairs.