All standard disclaimers apply.

All characters in the following story are entirely fictional. And any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental.

The author does not condone the actions in the story. A strict line must be maintained between fantasy and reality. It is morally neutral to fantasize or read about minors engaging in sexual activity, providing the fantasy or story is entirely fictional. In real life, adults and children should never engage in sexual activity under any circumstances.

In the real world, no one under the age of eighteen--or whatever the age of majority in your area happens to be--should be having sex. In the author's view, few people under the age of twenty-one are mature enough for sex.

If you are seriously considering having sex with a minor, please read no further. Instead, seek immediate help from a trained and licensed professional.

Remember to keep your fantasy life and your real life very separate!

This story may not be reproduced without the consent of the author.

The author may be contacted at: RaziHaze (at) Hushmail (dot) com.

-- CHAPTER III --

CLEANSING

(NO SEX)

B+ | ENEMA, EXHIB

Chance yawned and stretched his arms. His covers had come off while he was sleeping. A splash of sunlight poured through a window above his bed's metal headboard and lit up his face. He squinted as he opened his eyes.

Chance looked around the room. Wesley was on his bed, lying on his side, and holding a pillow over his head. Jackson and Milo's beds were empty.

"Where're Milo and Jackson?" Chance asked as he sat up, still stretching. "Did they go get breakfast?"

"Ugh!" Wesley groaned through his pillow. "I don't know." He curled up tighter and pulled the pillow down more forcefully over his own head. "Jackson left like a half hour ago, and was really fucking loud about it."

Chance turned around and peered out the window behind his bed. The sun was bright, and the sky was colorful. A giant caterpillar, striped green, black, and white, squirmed along the outside edge of the window. "Cool," Chance said to himself as he tapped the glass near the caterpillar, watching it crawl.

Just then, the front door of the cabin opened, and Jackson walked in. He was holding a plastic basket containing shampoo, body wash, a toothbrush, and other shower supplies in one hand, with his pajamas and a wet towel in the other. Jackson was wearing jeans and a bright, teal t-shirt.

"Good morning!" Jackson announced. He walked to his bed and gingerly hung his towel on a bedpost. "Did everyone sleep well?"

"I was until you woke me up," grumbled Wesley. He finally threw his pillow off his head and onto the empty bed next to his.

"Sorry `bout that," Jackson replied.

"Where is Milo, anyway?" Chance said. He put his small, bare feet on the cabin floor.

Jackson shrugged as he folded his pajamas and laid them out on a neatly made bed. "I haven't seen him."

"Really?" Chance asked.

"Yeah," answered Jackson. "He wasn't in his bed when I got up. I thought he might've been in the shower, but I didn't see him in the bathroom."

"He probably went and got breakfast already," said Wesley through a yawn. He tossed his thin bedsheets off and rolled out of bed.

Jackson shrugged and put his glasses on.

Chance searched through his suitcase and pulled out a towel as well as a t-shirt, shorts, boxers, and other clothes for the day. "Well, I'll go take a shower then." He walked toward the cabin's front door then turned around to glare at Wesley and Jackson, "no fighting, you two!"

Wesley snarled in reply.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The building next to Nevia Cabin--the bathroom--was covered in tile and grime. It was rather large, with a row of five toilet stalls and the same amount of sinks, plus a large gang-shower area with five shower-heads and a bench.

Chance walked around the bathroom for a moment, searching every alcove and even shouting "Milo?" a few times, before stripping off his clothing. Chance's naked body was still devoid of any hair: he was completely smooth from his neck-on-down. He barely even had any "peach fuzz."

Chance had grown a few inches since his parents had died six months ago: he was now four-foot eight-inches tall. But he still looked small for his age. His hands and feet, for example, looked like they belonged to a boy of nine or ten, instead of a freshly-minted twelve-year-old. Chance's little dicklette stood at about two-and-a-half inches long when it was at its hardest. The tiny member had a bright pink, circumcised head and rested atop two marble-sized balls just shy of dropping.

Chance approached a sink, looked in a dirty mirror, and examined his face. He brushed his teeth, letting the white foam from the toothpaste drip down his chin and over his chest and dime-sized, pink nipples. He spat out the foam and gave a smile into the mirror, revealing an almost-complete row of pearly white teeth--his last canine teeth still hadn't grown in yet.

Chance rinsed out his mouth and proceeded to the shower. Meticulously, he washed every inch of his small body: from his cute face to his little ass and baby dick, and down to his tiny toes.

Finally, Chance turned off the shower, threw his towel around his waist, and began drying off. It was at that point that he heard a flush.

Chance darted his head toward the row of toilets. Just as he looked in that direction, Milo emerged from the center stall.

Milo was completely naked and carrying what looked like a purple, plastic bulb in his right hand. "Hey, Chance." Milo walked to the sink and started running the water.

Milo's body was very similar to Chance's: small, about four-foot eight-inches tall; no body hair; and a tiny, circumcised dicklette.

"Hey, Milo," Chance greeted. He glanced at Milo's naked body when Milo was looking away. "Where were you this morning?"

"Hmm?" Milo asked. "Oh! I was running an errand for Tank." He smiled. "I had to leave pretty early."

"What sort of errand?" Chance asked. He then realized that Milo was filling the small, purple bulb with water. "What're you doing?"

Milo finished filling the plastic bulb. "Refilling my enema," he explained.

"What's an enema?"

"Um," Milo clicked his tongue. "It's a butt-cleaner." He giggled.

"A butt-cleaner!?" Chance giggled as well.

"Yeah," Milo responded as if it were dull and obvious. He finished filling the device and then, with Chance watching--as if it were entirely normal--stood on his right toe, lifted his left leg and rested his knee on the sink counter. In this position, Milo's little ass-cheeks spread wide, revealing a tiny, pink hole that winked at Chance. Milo inserted the enema's plastic tip up his tight hole and squeezed. He moaned slightly.

"How does it clean your butt?" asked Chance, not even bothering to look away.

"You squeeze water up your ass," Milo began, "then hold it in for a little bit. Then you let it all go into the toilet, and repeat like five or ten times until you're completely clean down there."

"Why do you do it?"

"For the same reason I brush my teeth," Milo replied, lowering his leg off the counter, and revealing that his cocklette had become erect. "Because I have good hygiene."

Chance didn't reply right away. "You're um--" he pointed at Milo's hard little dicklette.

Milo glanced down then looked back up. "And?"

Chance didn't say anything.

"Sometimes an enema gives me a boner." Milo flicked his tiny member. "I think the water, like, pushes on my prostate or something."

"Prostate?"

"Yeah," Milo said. "It's like a button in your butthole that feels good if it's touched the right way."

Chance looked over his shoulder at his own, towel-clad, bubble butt.

Milo walked into a toilet stall and sat down. "If you ever want to stop being a heathen, and start having actual good hygiene," Milo began, "I have an extra enema you could borrow."

"N--." Chance paused for a moment, furrowing his brow. ". . . Maybe. I'll think about it."

Milo flushed the toilet and walked back to the sink to refill his enema. And, after a few more flushes, he washed his hands and ran soap and water over the enema's nozzle. Milo picked up a small, plastic basket off the floor containing his shower supplies. "Do you use cologne?"

Chance shook his head `no.'

"I have some lavender oil you can borrow," Milo offered.

"Oil?" Chance asked.

"Essential oil," Milo explained, as he pulled a tiny bottle with a purple label out of his shower basket. He poured a few drops of the oil onto his index finger, then proceeded to reach behind himself and rub his finger on his tight little hole. "It's not all chemically, like cologne, so it doesn't sting."

"Are you trying to make your butt smell like flowers?" Chance laughed out loud. "Who's smelling your butt?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Milo teased, and stuck out his tongue. "I just like to be clean `n' stuff." He tossed the lavender oil bottle to Chance.

Chance caught the bottle in one hand, still holding his towel up with the other. He brought the bottle to his nose and sniffed. "It smells nice."

Milo walked toward Chance and gently took Chance's hand. He lifted, then pointed to Chance's exposed wrist. "One drop on each wrist, one drop on each side of your neck, and one drop on your butthole." Milo grinned. "Any more, and you'll smell like a perfume shop exploded on you; that stuff is strong!"

Chance didn't say anything.

Milo walked toward the gang shower, and then behind a tile wall. "Leave the bottle on the sink when you're done," he called.

Chance dropped his towel and proceeded to apply five drops of lavender oil as Milo described. He quickly dressed, placed the bottle of lavender oil on the counter, and exited the bathroom.

As Chance left the building, Wesley was walking toward him, holding his towel like a bindle with his shower supplies inside it.

"Milo's in the shower," Chance explained.

Wesley sighed and sat down on the ground next to the bathroom door, "I'll wait then." Wesley sniffed the air. "Are you wearing cologne?"

"Um, sort of," Chance answered. "I borrowed some lavender oil from Milo."

Wesley leaned slightly closer to Chance and sniffed. "You smell nice."

"Thanks."

"Thanks for yesterday, by the way," Wesley said.

Chance raised an eyebrow.

"For breaking up the fight between Jackson and me," Wesley explained. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, I guess." Chance sat down on the ground next to Wesley. "I just don't want you guys to fight. You were really going at each other on the bus."

"I don't want to have to fight him either," Wesley said.

"You don't have to fight--"

"--Yeah, I kind of do," Wesley said. "I . . . ." Wesley sighed ". . . If I don't defend myself now, it'll only be harder in the long run."

"Wes, I don't think Jackson was making fun of you," Chance said.

"Eh, I'm not so sure about that," Wesley stood up. "But thanks anyway, though. Jackson's really strong, and he and I would've both gotten pretty hurt if we fought."

"Have you fought him before?" Chance asked. "I mean, before the bus ride."

Wesley nodded. "We both take Bāgu� zhǎng--that's a kind of kung fu--together. Milo does too. We've all sparred before." He paused. "We're all actually at the top of the class, now that I think about it. Tyler's at the top of the class too."

Chance exhaled, almost as a laugh. "Yeah? All of you?"

"Yeah," Wesley nodded. "I'm probably the best at unarmed fighting. Jackson and Tyler are both really good with swords--"

"Swords!?"

"Yeah," Wesley said. "Not real swords, obviously. Fake swords. Wooden shit. Jackson likes the jian, and Tyler likes the dao."

Chance shrugged and shook his head slightly.

"A jian is like a--uh--a Chinese straight sword. It's good for poking," Wesley explained, thrusting an invisible sword as he spoke. "And a dao is more curved, like a machete. It's better for slashing." He made a slashing motion with his arm.

"What about Milo?" Chance asked.

Wesley grinned. "He's really good with a staff--"

The bathroom door swung open, revealing a still slightly wet Milo. "--Damn right," Milo said.

Wesley chuckled.

"Actually I'm good with a ton of weapons," Milo said. "We just don't have a fake spear, and they haven't really trained us in using a three-section staff or kali sticks."

Wesley looked to Chance, "Milo once brought a boomerang to class and tried to convince Sifu Li to let him use it to spar against Tyler."

Chance chuckled loudly.

Just then, Jackson appeared from about twenty feet away, exiting the cabin. "Hey!" he called and ran toward the bathroom door.

Chance smiled and waved.

"Hey, Chance. Hey, Milo. How's it going, Wesley?" Jackson grinned at each boy. He made slightly extended eye contact with Wesley. "Did you guys shower yet?"

"Wes was just about to shower," Chance explained.

"Okay," Jackson said. "I just wanted to remind you guys that breakfast starts in twenty minutes, and it's at least a ten-minute walk to the cafeteria." He raised his eyebrows to Wesley, "so you better hurry."

"Thanks," Wesley said quietly.

"You guys ready for breakfast yet?" a voice boomed from a distance.

Chance turned to see Tank exiting his cabin.

"Hurry up. We don't want to be late," Tank said.

The giant camp counselor approached the group of boys setting off a chorus of greetings from Jackson, Chance, and Wesley.

"`Sup, Tank?" Milo grinned, looking up at the counselor.

"How's it hanging, Milo?" Tank asked.

"Tight," he winked and stuck out his tongue.

Tank reached down and tousled Milo's red hair.

Milo blushed. "Go shower, Wesley, so we can go get breakfast."

Wesley rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom.