"Dr. Yi? I believe that we have found your boy," said Mr. Dubrandt.

Mr. Dubrandt was smiling, his mind imagining a check with two small wings flying from Dr. Yi's bank to his. (Make that large wings -- the check would be quite hefty). The boy in question happened to be a precocious 15 year old whom they had just kidnapped. At this very minute he was in a very large crate, together with all the things necessary to keep him alive for a long journey, being air freighted to one of the small islands off the Malaysian coast. Where Yi now resided. A simple way to take a small boy out of the United States and into a foreign country without any interference from pesky authorities.

Mr. Dubrandt needed to deflect Dr. Yi's concern about the boy's apparently being too old for the success of his experimental drugs.

"I assure you Dr. Yi, this boy has only recently -- and I mean very recently, started through puberty. In fact, I am so sure that this boy will make you the perfect experimental subject, I have already taken the liberty of beginning his transport to your laboratory at my own expense."

Mr. Dubrandt had his own trained staff. Their competence put his mind at ease. He was quite certain that Dr. Yi will be happy with this boy. (And even under the worst case scenario, the boy could still be adequately trained and resold at a handsome profit). The boy had at first been almost overlooked -- being too good to be true. At first his people suspected a ruse, or a possible sting operation, providing a dossier of a boy that would make the most jaded pedophile drool.

"Certainly Dr. Yi, if you find any reason, any reason whatsoever, to find this boy not completely to specifications, we will gladly repossess the subject at our own expense. There is always a good market for a boy so delectable." This was a small exaggeration since he felt the boy way too skinny for many of his usual clients, but Dr. Yi was mostly interested in the boy's other attributes.

The call went well, and the imaginary bills kept flying into his bank in Mr. Brandt's imagination. To think that it was the boy himself who through his naivety gave himself up to his kidnappers. One would almost have thought the boy himself was complicit in his own abduction.

It was Mr. Kerry who called him personally. A very bold move but one that in hind sight he now was thankful for. Mr. Kerry was correct in concluding that his boss would want to in on the boy's abduction right from the start. The bonus from Dr. Yi for just the right boy was in six figures. He would have to make sure that Mr. Kerry had a bonus delivered as soon as Dr. Yi made payment.

It started out so un-dramatically. The usual ping was sounded in one of their computerized searching facilities run by Mr. Kerry. He was in charge of their Internet location section which had yielded a number of excellent recruits over the past years. The advent of a so far reaching global Internet has taken so much of the work in finding new recruits for their insatiable clients. To think the entire episode occurred less than two days ago.

"Hay boss, we got another hit." The boss in this case was Mr. Kerry who just happened to be in the office finishing up paperwork on another recent "acquisition."

This involved a kidnapping requiring a delicate touch since the young teen in question was quite street smart and not easily duped. He was now well on his way to the company's main processing center. The boy's new owner was already there anxiously awaiting his newest sex slave. The boy will have an unusual and difficult life. Nor will the boy ever again leave his owner's dungeon. (And workshop). This will be his seventh slave over the years, and the second thing he will do to the boy is to attach him to some ring sunk into the concrete floor by way of a heavy chain to the metal collar welded around the boy's neck. (He will even force the boy to connect the chain, and pour the concrete). The other slaves, still working at various duties, help this owner to produce high tech movies (CD format now) involving men, boys, big dogs, big cats, goats, sheep, and even miniature stallions. This unheralded movie producer is now richer than Stephen Spielberg. The one thing in t he boy's favor is that he appears to be not only a true submissive, but a masochist as well.

Getting back to our story, Mr. Kerry replied to his cohort: "So just make the usual reply, Bud. I don't need to know these things. It's probably some 60 year old wetting his pants with pictures of tortured boys."

The company actually ran a few Internet porn sites, and were like a thousand others even if their primary focus was on non-traditional sex such as BDSM. What was unusual about these sites, however, was that an amazing amount of what they had to offer was free. In fact these sites were electronic chicken hawks -- looking for that prize. And even if it took a thousand hits before anything even remotely promising came its way, it was still an easy way to obtain their prey.

Bud made sure the program sent the usual "pop-up" along with an invading Trojan. The invader was usually unsuccessful these days of more sophisticated virus scans and firewalls, but why not, even if only rarely successful. The "pop-up" invited the user to search out even more hard core BDSM and slave/master sexually related material. It had been Mr. Dubrandt's idea that the best sex slaves were those who at least responded to their captivity and enslavement on a sexual level. Most of their clients were looking for the more "trainable" and compliant subjects. Of course it was not often that the person responding was a suitable candidate. But their game was a patient one.

It was only a half hour later when Bud heard another "ping" from another computer. It seems that the "pop-up" snared a client very interested in bondage and slave-master scenarios, without being interested in any severe "torture" scenes. (It was usually only older clients who were more into the torture). This caught the program's "interest" so that the next stage was initiated. This program was much more sophisticated. It tried to entice the client into filling out a "questionnaire" in its attempt to "better to serve its customers."

Bud was mildly surprised when he returned from lunch to discover that the client in question sent back an almost entirely filled out survey. He began to read the reply when in a few seconds got VERY interested. He called his boss who had gone home.

"Mr. Kerry. I think we have a chicken. Listen to this. Sex - male, age -15, definitely gay, and this boy identifies with all the most compliant figures in the given scenarios."

"Bud, thanks for calling. This is a real possibility although 15 seems perhaps too old for most of our clients. Look in the special database and see if we have anyone currently interested in obtaining such a boy?"

"Already done, Mr. K. We have five. Of course they all have very specific nationalities and body types."

"Any reply that makes this boy specifically interesting?"

"Just one boss, and why I called. Where it asks about how long been interested in sex, get this, 2 months! I'm wondering if the boy might be a lot younger."

"I'm coming in. We need to know more about this kid and find out first of all if he's legit. And call in Dr. Seuss. I want his opinion." This Dr. Seuss was actually Kerry's nick name for their tame doctor who for special favors, would advise them on the probable psychological disposition of their prospective new boys. And if the inducement was great enough, even help handle the kidnapping.

Two hours later, Dr. Galloway (Dr. Seuss) was opining.

"I'm sorry to say Kerry, I'm not very sanguine about the identity of this client. In spite of his apparent abysmal ignorance of sexual matters and apparent lack of experience, his command of the language, how he expresses himself shows much more intellectual maturity than a mere 15 year old. I think that we have an imposter here or worse, maybe even a sting in progress."

Mr. Kerry, who had been so hopeful just a couple hours before, felt almost betrayed. "So, you think there's no way this is a 15 year old?"

"Of course I can't be positive. If he's 15, then from his replies I would posit him to be in the last percentile in his physical and sexual development. He describes himself as "a bit on the scrawny side" and just over 5 feet. This could correlate to his late sexual advancement. But he would also have to be an unusually precocious teen. A very unlikely combination. Sorry."

"So you think we should abandon this reply. Too much a possibility of a sting?"

"No. But we must proceed as if it might be a sting. Perhaps we can invite this kid to respond on a more personal level. His first reply would suggest a very confident and even naive lack of reticence. The boy even gave us his e-mail address. I would suggest trying to get him to respond to a personal e-mail. But not one of your usual programmed features. This will take more finesse. If he is that intelligent, we do not want to scare the boy away."

An hour later a very specific e-mail was sent to the boy in question. The e-mail was presented as a usual SPAM reply, inquiring if the recipient wanted to join a specific chat group. The ploy was a resounding success.

Later that evening, Bobby W117, (aka Mr. Kerry), was IM-ing Lonely Boy 27. Things had progressed better than can be imagined. It turned out that the subject in question, using the name of Lonely Boy 27 seemed to be responding to the older participants in the chat group. Mr. Kerry finally got into private electronic conversation with the boy and attempted an unusual ploy.

B W: "What I don't understand kid, is how come you are talking to this old man, when you're just 15? I'm just a dirty old pervert who would like nothing better than to get into your pants."

L B: "How old R U?"

BW: "34. Old enough."

L B: "But you're exactly the person I need to talk to. And it's so anonymous. I can tell you things. And ask you things. I'm just so unsure and scared about some things."

B W: "OK kid. Fire away. Just don't embarrass me. J J "

L B: "Well, I know I like boys, and that I'm OK with, but I get real worried when I seem to get all excited about bondage stuff. Like I WANT someone to do things to me. I just got some neat stuff from this awesome site and I almost came just looking at some of that stuff. All kinds of bondage and slavery stuff. I kept imagining I was this guy's slave. How sick is that?"

B W: "Look kid. That stuff is tame. There's whole groups of people out there into all that stuff. Of course they're usually a lot older. Sure your just 15?"

L B: "Yeah. Last time I checked. You mean I'm not psycho or something?"

B W: "No more than the rest of us. I wish you were older kid. I'd like to get to know you real personal like. Maybe even make you MY slave."

L B: "God that turns me on just thinking about it."

B W: "Actually I think I'm talking to someone much older than 15. Some of the questions you asked earlier were pretty astute."

L B: "Honest! I guess I'm a bit precocious."

B W: "Now I know you're putting me on. I'm not even sure what precocious means."

L B: "Yeah? I'll prove it. My picture and name were in the school paper the other day. I'm the kid all the way on the right."

Both Kerry and Bud were pretty excited by now. Maybe this kid was real after all. But for a kid so smart he was also so stupid. A few minutes later a scanned picture was seen on their screen.

It was a picture of the school's championship Chess Team. Pictured far right was a Chris Wong, 3rd board. Very small, very cute, and very 15-ish. (Actually, more like 13). The caption said he was a Sophomore.

A bit later, the three men started plotting. Kerry was excited. Knew they had someone special.

"First of all, what time is it in L.A.? I'm calling the big boss."

An hour later there were four conspirators conspiring to kidnap one small boy. Mr. Dubrandt was taking the lead himself. He made it a conference call.

"Look Kerry. We can't mess this one up. I have a possible client in mind and it could mean big bucks. But there's two things I must absolutely know first. You said that the kid himself left the questions about top vs. bottom unanswered, and also about being a sub. How come?"

It was Dr. Galloway who answered. "This kid is seemingly a complete neophyte about sex. He probably didn't even know what those things meant. But from his other replies I believe that we can confidently state that he is a very compliant individual sexually."

"Not good enough. This is too important for probabilities. For this special client we need a near total submissive. And most important we need to be sure he's had virtually no sexual experience. How sure are you that he is just going through puberty? Awfully old for that. After we snatch the kid, we find out. Dr. Seuss, how about it? How about you first handle the kid and see how he responds sexually to his situation."

"OK. I think it would be best at first to see how he reacts to just one person. The kid's small enough, it should be easy. And damn it Dubrandt, my name's Galloway."

It was 7:30 a.m., on the corner of Adams and Ketcher when a van stopped at a stop sign. A small boy, barely 5 feet tall and less than 80 pounds, was picked up bodily and literally thrown into the maw of the open backdoors. Thirty seconds later, the boy was unconscious on the floor of the van and the van was making its third turn since the stop sign. Thirty minutes later, the boy was just awakening in the side room in a nearly empty warehouse. Dr. Galloway was the only person inside with the boy. Two others waited just outside the door.

The boy looked up and tried to sit up. "What the hell!?" He was suddenly frightened as he realized that his hands were bound together with the ubiquitous duct tape and they in turn were taped to his body. The tape encircled his entire slim waist. He tried to move his legs and found his ankles were similarly bound.

"Here, let me help you sit up." The good doctor pretended solicitousness. The kid became even more frightened.

"What the hell's happening? What's all this about?" And in an almost crying voice: "Please, don't hurt me."

"No problem there kid. You're safe with me. Maybe I should introduce myself."

This question stopped the boy in his tracks thinking-wise.

"I don't know you.. What's this all about? Why am I here?"

"All very excellent questions kid. I talked to you on the internet last night, remember? Said I'd like to get into your pants."

The boy gasped. "Oh shit!"

"Don't worry boy. I'm not going to hurt you. But I AM going to get into your pants." The doctor even snickered.

The kid watched warily as the doctor started unwinding the tape on his ankles. The boy unfroze a bit and let him hold onto his legs. The doctor saw something interesting. The boy was obviously getting aroused.

"That's quite a boner you've got there boy. Want me to do something about it?"

The boy was totally torn. Excited and wanting the man to do something in the worst way. Yet scared that he might get hurt. Scared won out. Even if his ankles were now free.

"What do you want? Are you going to let me go?"

"Well boy, maybe, but lets find out. Perhaps you'd rather me wrap your ankles back up, throw you into the trunk of my car and bring you home. You maybe want to be my slave?"

The boy started breathing heavily and his boner became a steel rod. His common sense was fighting his libido and was losing at this point. The doctor suspected this and decided on a direct approach. Without a word he started feeling the boy up. Then he opened the boy's belt and in a single motion pulled down the boy's pants. The boy just lay there quietly. He seemed to be enjoying this. The doctor sat up on the table, took the boy into his lap, and started pulling down the boy's briefs. The boy finally reacted. He started moaning and simply leaned back into the doctor's hold. The doctor was now quite aroused himself. His dreams of such a compliant boy was up to now considered pure fantasy. The boy's penis jutted out rigid and dripping. The boy was almost oblivious to everything but his sexual arousal. The doctor took hold of the boy's now exposed genitals. At the first touch the boy came in a blast, his entire body spasming upwards with each contraction. Sp unk shot everywhere as the boy was now squirming quite forcefully as the doctor kept moving his hand around the boy's testicles. The doctor was now so aroused that he almost forgot his mission. With a monumental force of will he stopped his exploration. He pulled up the boy's briefs and then his pants, but still kept him in his arms. The doctor was living one of his fantasies. The boy was now finally starting to realize just what he had allowed the man to do to him and a touch of guilt, coupled with a rushing return of fear, quickly brought him back to reality.

"What are you going to do to me? Can I go home now?"

The doctor thought for a moment and not anxious to lose his connection with the boy, prevaricated and delayed.

"Well, do you want to go home boy? Maybe you'd rather stay with me."

What amazed the doctor was the pause that occurred in the boy's response. As if he was even considering the doctor's offer.

"No thanks. I need to go home."

"You don't sound too sure boy. What's the matter at home?"

"Nothing really."

"I'd really like to know boy. Maybe I can help."

"No. You can't do anything. I just can't wait to be out of there. My step-mom hates me and my dad doesn't care anymore since he found out about me."

"Found out what?"

By this time the boy was actually crying. The doctor held him even tighter and the boy responded.

"You know. About what I am."

"When did this happen?"

"Well just last month. I didn't even know myself until almost then -- well not for sure. Not until I started having wet dreams about boys." The boy exclaimed in anger: "My step-mom just calls me a half-breed freak. She said terrible things about my real mom just because she wasn't Chinese."

The doctor was amazed at the boy's apparent unconcern at his situation. His hands were still taped to his waist. But he had all the information they needed for now.

"OK boy. I tell you what. I think your dream of becoming a sex slave is going to come true."

The boy suddenly woke up to his predicament. In a hurry. And his intelligence made a rapid assessment.

"Shit am I dumb!" Then he asked: "What's going to happen to me? Can't you let me go? I promise I won't tell."

"Too late boy. And besides, you're way too valuable."

The boy's ineffectual struggling was easily overcome, especially when the doctor opened the door and the other two men came in. One was Mr. Kerry who was smiling broadly as he relayed via cell phone to Mr. Dubrandt the newly discovered information. Instructions were relayed. A special container would be delivered in the morning. The boy would be kept there until he was made ready for shipment. A lot of money made things happen fast.

The doctor had to release the boy's hands and arms to make his examination. As he unwound the tape he also noted the boy's extreme arousal and sighed.

"Oh if things could have been a bit different," he thought. "Well at least I had him for twenty minutes."