Dirt

Whatever Happened To Tommy Vescu

A BoyToys, Inc Universe story

Chapters 4-5

Kon Yan

I wondered how sincere that smile was. Especially since it took a call from the Unified Slave Authority before an appointment was (grudgingly) granted. She totally ignored me. Not even a slight glance. I suppose she was quite used to naked slaves. Although I wondered, I mean it WAS a factory. I was trying not to imagine getting my projecting penis caught in some other projecting piece of equipment. And I was in such a good mood, I was doing my best to maintain strict formal slave protocol. I wish that my mouth gag and muzzle were in place and covering my mouth instead of in our luggage. At least my master had acceded to my (unstated of course) wishes and put me in my extreme harness which held my head straight ahead and my arms firmly crossed behind my back so I didn't have to worry about making some unauthorized movement. Sometimes the more severe bondage gear was quite able to put one's mind at ease besides giving one a measure of emotional comfort. My master was always so considerate that way. Although this day he was using a virtual leash rather than a real one so that he did not have to worry about holding onto the thing himself. I usually did not care for the thing since it was a bit more difficult to judge just how close I needed to stay before it tugged at my neck collar (or whatever portion of my anatomy it was currently 'attached' to). And he had installed me into that new chastity device he had purchased at the club; he had seen a similar one on another slave in the restaurant, one of the dog-boys in fact. It looked quite simple. Merely a small silver tube encasing my penis and kept in place by a ring – a quite large ring more than two inches [5 cm] in diameter – which transected the tube horizontally just behind the glans and 'virtually' ran through the very flesh of my penis. It sure felt as if it were a real ring. I was quite intrigued by the technology since it did not need an actual piercing – something my master refused to give me saying that it would somehow mar 'perfection.' I also liked how the ring swung as I walked.

My master presented his identification to the 4 inch [10 cm] smile (the woman) who met us at the office of the Vice-President of Production and Slave Labor Utilization. Since almost all the labor used in the main plant at this particular factory was provided by slaves, I supposed that it was logical that the person in charge of production be also in charge of the means of that production. I was also quite curious to learn just how the slaves were actually utilized and treated at this factory, especially since BoyServices, Inc had been for some time now been held up as the model for such slave utilization. (I wondered also just how over utilized I was utilizing the word utilize).

I paid strict attention to my master as he greeted the smile. "Here are my temporary investigative credentials from the Unified Slave Authority, giving me limited authority to investigate the whereabouts of a recent Indenture. His name is Tommy Vescu. Their data banks show that he has been here for the past four months."

Right to the point.

The woman remained a bit hesitant. "I certainly do not understand the necessity of going through all the trouble of bothering anyone at the Unified Slave Authority. We would certainly have been quite willing to cooperate fully. Our operation is a model for the industry."

I was struck by the way in which she was able to maintain that smile and speak at the same time. I was starting to wonder if she had her lips and mouth enhanced in some way. And I am quite certain that I could count all 32 teeth. I visualized her needing quite some time to keep them so visually perfect. (About that I had no worry. My teeth have been long since removed. I barely remember even having used teeth).

She was continuing her propaganda speech. "We only used Slave Authority approved motivational methods and are quite the proponent of using positive feedback behavioral cues. Pain is only used as a last resort and is rarely necessary after our very short but effective training period." OK, I am willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for now. Perhaps 'self-aggrandizing' speech could be more accurate.

My master waited through her spiel with notable patience, of which he had more than the average person. But he was finally to cut in.

"Ms. Tusch, I am certain that everything here is as advertised. Please be assured that my particular mission is quite limited. I am in no way inspecting or evaluating anything for anybody."

"Very well Mr. Dumitrov. What was that name again?"

"Tommy Vescu, a six year Indenture from South Bhat'u Province. Identification number I-69-9934-2 PB." He continued I suspect as if he were locked in some sort of battle of words. "Small 12 year old of mixed Russian and Mongol ethnic heritage. Cute. Very cute. Possibly with a nearly impregnable dialect unless he had an expensive memory adjustment, which I doubt."

I was waiting for my master to give the dimensions of the boy's penis next.

"I am still a bit in the dark here Mr. Dumitrov. Why the need to come here personally? This could all have been accomplished quite easily over the Net."

"But I tried exactly that Ms. Tusch. But I was given no help. I was told that the slave in question was allowed absolutely no communication with anyone outside this factory."

Finally Ms. Tusch showed some true concern. "That, Mr. Dumitrov I find difficult to believe. And if true, is certainly most unusual. I could understand if the slave in question were a Class Three, but we simply do not utilize Class Three slaves. Only Class One Indenture and occasionally Class Two Consensual. And we certainly abide quite strictly to all laws and regulations currently in force. Which, Mr. Dumitrov, would allow them free access to the WSI at least once a week if they wish to communicate, nonverbally of course, with the outside world. Including relatives."

This last sentence was intoned with heavy emphasis, as if to convince my master of her absolute dedication to any rule promulgated by the Slave Authority. And I almost missed that 'nonverbally' adjunct.

My master was ready to reply but she continued: "I assure you that no slave here is denied any legal or authorized right to communicate with their family. So you can understand why I am skeptical."

"I am quite certain Ms. Tusch, that your company makes all reasonable effort to make sure you abide with all requisite Slave Authority regulations. But for some reason, of which I am trying to get to the bottom, it seems no attempt to communicate with said slave Indenture has been successful. In fact, his own mother had not even been able to find out where her son had been taken nor who had in fact acquired him at auction."

My master did not also mention the unusual circumstance of the price bid for merely a factory worker slave.

Ms. Tusch, to her credit, became motivated. She spoke a command and then touched several spots on a suddenly appearing virtual screen.

"Ah, here we are Mr. Dumitrov. Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB." And as an aside she commented: "No slave here is allowed to retain their former name. Only slave designations are used." She went back to reading the screen: "Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB, formerly Tommy Vescu, a six year voluntary self Indenture from South Bhat'u Province. Exactly as described."

Now I was quite interested. Tommy did exist, and evidently existed right here. Another touch and she exhibited minute facial cues which I interpreted – having received such training for my becoming a field agent for BoyAbductions, Lmt. – as a slight worry, evidently caused by the information shown on her screen.

"Well that's strange. Why would a voluntary Indenture be assigned a Class Five Interdiction by the Slave Authority?"

A Class Five Interdiction meant that the slave in question was to have absolutely no contact of any kind, nor be there any exchange of information, with any person at all except for slave authority personal, outside his workplace. A total informational black out so to speak.

It was a rhetorical question but elicited a reply from my master.

"He shouldn't," my master vehemently declared, "especially since I know for a fact that he has living relatives who have obviously taken no measure to end communications."

Ms. Tusch was now so visibly concerned that no expert training in deciphering and interpreting minute visual cues was necessary. "Mr. Dumitrov, I assure you that our management has always followed strict and legal Slave Authority protocol. Our record since our reorganization 12 years ago has been spotless."

Another touch and she stated: "Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB is currently at his work station in building B. Obviously he is already a highly skilled worker; that is where much of our production utilizing miniature force fields is accomplished. It also means that Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB is a well conditioned and trusted slave."

She touched several spots on her virtual screen and announced. "Security will meet us there. I shall take you there myself. I would suggest that the fastest way at this time to possibly discover what may be happening is to question the slave himself. According to our record here, Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB has been one of our most outstanding and productive slaves. Quite remarkable since he has been here only four months, and it shows here that he has also taking advantage of our educational programs pursuant to state certification."

My master was anxious to go but Ms. Tusch seemed intent on relating all facets of Tommy's accomplishments. Another touch and more information: "It states here that Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB has adapted quite admirably to his Indenture and his behavioral stats are consistently indicative of a content and happy slave."

Apparently our Tommy Vescu was a paragon 3; even if only a slave.

As we were guided by a magnetic rail, our driverless cart quickly carried the four of us – we were joined by a very large security agent – across a short aircar runway, and inward to building B. Unfortunately Ms. Tusch was still intent on regaling us with her company's merits.

"And even beyond regulation requirements, all our slaves are only required to fulfill 14 hour work periods with up to five minute breaks every hour. It is during that time when those who have earned them, received their rewards."

I was now at a quandary. That sounded somewhat vague.

Ms. Tusch persevered despite my master's obvious inattention: "As you will discover our slaves are highly motivated, and almost all of them frequently achieve maximum reward and thus are allowed two free days away from their works stations every 30 days. And for many who have achieved this reward goal, one of those days they may elect to spend either in our own educational or recreational facilities. It is at this time when they may receive visits from relatives either via full 360-holo Net hook up, or if the relative so desires, in person."

She seemed to have ignored the major caveat concerning our Tommy Vescu, Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB, namely: "Except if said slave has a Class Five Interdiction by the Slave Authority."

Damn! My penis sure is being stimulated by that new chastity device. I resisted entertaining a bad thought. About my master. And I couldn't believe it. I was starting to suspect we were being taken the long way so that Ms. Tusch could continue her spiel.

"After their 14 hour work period, all slaves whose production has been up to par, are allowed a two hour free time unencumbered by any short term restrictive devices. Except for the mandatory obedience collar of course and their ankle and wrist cuffs. They are still required, however, to keep their mouth adjuncts in place. They may opt for recreation in our state of the art rec facility or make use of our ed facility. Many of our younger Indentures take full advantage of this latter opportunity."

Ms. Tusch, you are starting to repeat yourself I thought. And what precisely are 'mouth adjuncts'? I suspected we would find out very shortly. I also was wondering just how 'happy and content' their slaves really were. And that led me to my next thought. I wondered exactly what drug regimens were allowed to be used on Class One and Class Two Slaves. I knew that for myself, a Class Three Slave, I used to worry about this way back, but I very soon understood that obedience is the only real possibility – of course, there ARE those rare times when a slave realizes that he must disobey for the benefit of his master. And also of course accept his punishment afterwards. And as for my own master, I was no longer worried.

And well, my master does on occasion use certain 'good' drugs. There have been those times when I found I absolutely could not put my mind to anything other than my sexual boy parts. And those of my master. I had to resist smiling as I remembered that one time we sort of had a two person orgy which lasted a full week. Damn there are some mighty fine drugs out there.

Finally we reached building B and the cart stopped just inside the building. Ms. Tusch disembarked and bid the rest of us to so the same. She explained.

"Mr. Dumitrov, Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB is currently being disengaged from his work station and will be brought here shortly. We will stay here. As far as reasonably possible I do not allow non-company personnel beyond this visitor area."

I could see an actual area designated for visitors including communication devices for various uses. While waiting Ms. Tusch continued her monologue, during which I took in as much as my situation would permit.

There was an entire area of seemingly endless places – 'work stations' Ms. Tusch called them – which were repeated in an almost endless line and looking in another direction I realized that the number of lines also seemed endless. My master approached one such work station quite closely and I was able to view the area, along with its slave occupant, quite closely myself. I was surprised first off by the seeming luxury of the 'chair' the slave was sitting in. Or upon further observation, attached to. In spite of our very close proximity, the slave worker seemed not al all distracted, and after a few minutes I realized that he didn't even register that there were four additional people standing and conversing right next to him – OK, two were conversing. OK ALREADY, one person verbalizing, and my master making bold effort to be polite and barely keeping reign on his patience. (Satisfied? And besides, there is no rule which states that a slave is automatically required to tell the entire truth ALL the time, well, except to his master, or when his master so commands). Getting back to the supporting framework in which the slave was attached. Oops, according to Ms. Tusch it is an 'advanced ergonomically designed comfort and production station facilitating couch.' Where the word 'couch' could fit in is beyond me. The thing, although quite obviously well cushioned with no doubt the latest in micro force field and specialized foam technology, can probably be better described as a bondage chair for slave workers. And noting just how the worked was attached and fitted with 'production enhancement devices,' and 'emotional stabilization controls,' and 'behavior adjustment aids,' I had absolutely no doubt that Ms. Tusch was at the top of her field in achieving the highest production standards in the 'slave utilization' industry.

And if you heard a loud 'snicker' in that, please don't tell my master.

I suppose I could most easily start from the feet and work upwards. First of all, the slave's feet were 'wearing' what appeared to be moderate-sized boot-like things which I discovered later actually were lightweight, safety approved, and even comfortable, and in fact periodically gave out a small series of strategically engineered micro force fields to make sure that the slave worker's feet never get tired. (Heck, I was wondering if I could 'accidentally' bring to my master's notice the advantages of good slave footwear). Of course immediately above those 'wonder-boots' were the slave's ankle cuffs – of a permanent, non-chaffing, and washable variety – which were attached to small stanchions on the floor by way of heavy straps. Just enough slack for the slave to move his feet back and forth. But next came the 'chair itself' which I had to admit was quite impressive, even if the slave worker was 'comfortably strapped in.' I did notice that those few times that the slave had to bend or reach forward the very chair itself sensed his body cues and moved forward exactly enough to allow the worker to perform the necessary task. And that 'strapping in' was accomplished quite efficiently by way of his permanently attached slave harness – also chaff-resistant and washable. Apparently technology today is advanced enough to have designed a slave harness which never needs to be removed. (Quite a time saver)! The several I eventually saw were quite simple in design but definitely allowed for an optimal array of attachment points. A wide belt circled the slave's waist and another, his mid-chest region. Then a set of three circular belts were connected end to end, the middle of which rested on the slave's shoulders having been slipped over his head. The two end circular belts must have required the slave put his entire arms through the opening so that the belts came to ride from on top of each shoulder, and circling under each arm, the bottom edges joining the encircling chest belt. Next, a belt was attached to the middle of the one encircling the slave's head straight down the middle of his back, attaching itself to both the chest belt and the waist belt. A similar belt went down the slave's front. That back belt extended beyond the waist and as it entered the slave's ass crack it narrowed and thickened into a heavy cord and widened again just before it joined the circular belt which fitted snuggly around the slave's genitals. The top of this genital belt was attached to the waist belt by two small belts extending like a 'V'. Finally there were two wide belts encircling the slave's upper thighs immediately below the groin, and fitting tightly below the slave's torso. These two thigh belts were attached to the lower sides of the genital belt, and also via short extensions to the back of the waist belt just over the point of the hips. In addition to this main array of connecting belts, the slave was also fitted with cuffs immediately above each elbow and each knee. And there were a multitude of attachment points throughout this entire array.

It took me some time to actually make note of this entire array making up the slave harness, and eventually came to the conclusion that the harness could not possibly have been merely 'put on.' The harness fit so tightly and so perfectly and all the belts appeared to be one continuous 'belt.' I later learned that indeed the harness was not only assembled right on the boy's body, but that it was permanently bonded right to his flesh.

Getting back to the 'chair,' it had the usual wide molded seat, and a high back which seemed almost to swallow the slave worker. And depending on the necessary range of motion required for the slave's immediate task any number of attachments of belt array to chair were put into use. There was absolutely no way the slave would make any 'unnecessary non-productive' movement.

At this particular 'work station' – there were a lot of variations – the slave's ankle cuffs and thigh cuffs were so attached to only provide for minimal movement. Likewise an extending framework allowed other attachments of his wrist and upper arm cuffs by belts exactly long enough to only allow that movement necessary for the assigned tasks. (Heck, no picking one's nose. Of course NO slave is ever permitted to touch his own genitals without permission)! And speaking of nose and genitals, I must describe the more interesting features of the slave's 'ergonomic and facilitative habitat.' Apparently, not readily visible, each slave was fitted with a PERMANENT waste disposal butt plug which is actually attached to the interior of the slave's rectum and sphincters. What a horrific waste of a perfectly good butt hole! I mean I sure enjoy my butt plugs, but damn I sure enjoy my master's penis a whole lot more!

OK, I usually enjoy the feel of my butt plugs, so long as my master had not fitted me with one of those punishment kinds. I remember this one for instance which appeared quite harmless. It was just the standard annealing butt plug of average dimensions, about 10 inches [25 cm] long and only about 2½ inches [6 cm] in width, except for the bulb anchoring portion which was actually variable, but it had one strange addition – a valve at the bottom. When my master fitted in me, I was able to accommodate myself to it quite easily but then he put a long tube into my piss slit which also anchored itself. But then he connected a small tube from the valve at the bottom of the butt plug to the one in the penis tube. And damn, every time I had to take a pee, it would actively pump it into my rectum. By the end of the day I was, well, let's just say a bit uncomfortable.

Well needless to say, this 'chair' allowed a waste disposal tube to be attached to the slave's waste disposal butt plug. And because it housed both mechanical and hydraulic means of forced elimination it was quite hefty in size. I now know why all the factory slaves around this place walked 'not quite right.' I also found out that only when hooked to a work station would fecal elimination be allowed. And the exact same with urinary elimination. And that brings me to the worker slave's chastity device. It too is PERMANENT! (Although later I learned it was not specifically a sex-deterrent device, only a sex control device). Anyway they all looked quite alike except for size of course. A permanent large gage tube was annealed to the entire length of the slave's urethra from the bladder where it effectively eliminated the person's ability to actually control themselves, and exited a short distance from the end of the outside tube which also was permanently attached about the full length of the slave's penis. In fact it quite literally held the slave's penis totally captive and jutted outwards in quite an obscene manner. It made all the slaves appear to have a collective array of the some of our planet's largest sexual equipment. I wondered how some of the older Class Two Slaves here could walk around very comfortably with this thing jutting out from their groins all the time. One I swear was fully 15 inches [38 cm] long! And in addition a separate connecting pouch was permanently affixed to the slave's scrotum and the connecting ring forced their testicles against the bottom of their sacs. Again, the valve at the end of all these urethral tubes was always and only connected to a urinary waist disposal tube when the slave was at the station. (There were occasional exceptions to this waste disposal arrangement but you get the general idea).

But so far, all I have described only deals with the slave from his neck down. First of all the slave – with very infrequent exceptions – only is permitted nourishment (with the exception of water) when his (so-called) semi-permanent mouth and throat gag-muzzle combination, which doubles as a force feeding apparatus, is attached to a feeding tube while at his work station. The exception as I said is water. The slave himself is actually allowed to fit a water delivery tube into the small portal provided in his mouth gag-muzzle. And the only time when this mouth gag-muzzle-forced feeding apparatus is ever removed is either during serious illness, or those very rare times the slave is given permission to verbally communicate with another person. Almost never another worker. Almost never anybody. Not even their supervisor. Verbal communication there is strictly the supervisor gives orders and the slave obeys. And again, what an utterly abominable waste of yet another good sex hole!

I was told by my master later that many of the slaves there had not actually had their mouth gags-muzzles-forced feeding tubes removed, nor had they spoken aloud, for several years. In fact one Class Two Slave there, with no outside relatives, had been in his gag-muzzle-feeding tube for the entire duration of his so far 18 year residence at this facility!

But in addition to this arrangement of gag-muzzle, there is an additional face mask affair which is affixed over the slave's entire face and head during his work period. It only allows sound and sight which is directly connected to his work. Another clever (ok, diabolical) 'production efficiency measure.' From the outside this mask helmet thing looks like a slave's head and face is covered with a very thick rubber mask, although it is certainly not flexible. The only things exiting this mask helmet affair, besides the slave's neck, are his feeding and breathing tubes. I was also told later that both visual and auditory cues, via remote computer hook up, can give the slave instruction and/or assistance during his work session. At least this mask affair is only worn during work.

Everything was run with ruthless efficiency.

And for the Seventh Depth of Denebian Darkness, how can these poor slaves survive with their sex parts forever in lock-up so to speak! And at that thought I was forced to give my full attention back to my master.

I could tell my master was getting impatient; his replies were getting more polite. Of course with quite subtle sarcasm which my master had developed to a fine art. He prides himself in his skill to be able to cut a person to the quick without the other person even realizing that they were insulted.

But amid the administrator's ramble about productivity and the company's record with the Slave Authority, we were all suddenly distracted by the actions of the worker slave right next to us. He had evidently stopped his work and as we had been informed been allowed his short hourly break. (And considering the rather ruthless 'utilization' of the workers here, I was thinking that this 'about five minutes every hour' rather generous). But in only a matter of moments my master and I were both taken aback by the sudden nearly palsied movements of the slave quite forcefully moving against almost all his bonds. And making a weird throat noise. And I was even more surprised by the total lack of reaction either by Ms. Tusch or the security guard. As per formal protocol I faced my master and looked a question at him.

In his turn he addressed Ms. Tusch. "Is this normal?"

She interrupted another of her own verbal barrages and looked at my master as if what HE asked were the only abnormal event to have happened. Of course when her attention was directed to the slave in question she smiled and replied: "Oh of course, as I previously mentioned we are quite advanced and progressive in our use of positive behavioral reinforcement and reward. I can see from the overhead monitor this this slave's production has been meeting production objectives and standards, thus he is merely having his hourly reward."

I probably was not quite a smart as I thought because it was fully two seconds after my master smiled before I realized what must have been happening. And I was at least relieved to know that this poor slave's sexual equipment was also being 'well utilized.'

Of course, Ms. Tusch had to take this time to explain in too much detail: "As you will note, all slaves are fitted with permanent genital and rectal control devices. We maintain total and strict control. The slave in no way has any control over any of his bodily functions including sexual excitation, feeding, or waste removal. With the only exception that the slave, when away from his work station, may imbibe water by inserting a water access tube into the small port on his muzzle and mouth gag."

I looked over at the slave in question, who apparently was still in the throws of a considerable orgasmic climax, while she continued. "All sexual feedback responses are monitored by computer and all stimulation measures take into account the slave's specific personal response parameters. He is thus rewarded by the stimulation of both his genitals and rectum in accordance with his known optimal response. Our best workers may be so stimulated to orgasm as much as 12 to 13 times a day. But of course only as reward for work production. Any other necessary behavioral modifications are achieved through the administration of varying kinds and types of pain to those same regions and via remote sensor and stimulation."

I shuddered at the absolute control this factory maintained over all aspects of the worker slaves' physical life. I thought my own formal slave protocols to be the acme of laxity in comparison.

Vasili Dumitrov

And as for Ms. Tusch's hard sell, after all the 'company-speak' is filtered out, it merely boils down to the fact that the slave's entire value here is determined by the amount of production the company can get out of them. All that so-called 'positive behavioral reinforcement and such' had been summed up centuries ago with three words: 'stick and carrot.'

I finally looked at Ms. Tusch while her ongoing spin doctoring had been sidetracked by the unusual spectacle of the worker slave's sexual display, to again inquire about the object of our missing slave. The floor of this working area was quite extensive but how long should it take to release a slave from his station and bring him here?

"Ms. Tusch, if I may reiterate, where is Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB?"

"Please be patient Mr. Dumitrov." And then she put her hand to her ear probably an indication of a mic bud. And her glasses – no one wears glasses anymore except for artifice – doubled not doubt as a com and computer screen. "Ah, I have been informed that he is finally on his way. Only a matter of minutes."

Finally I could see a small boy, in obvious moderate physical restraint, being conducted over to us. By his bearing and carriage and the way he held himself as he walked I surmised that he seemed relatively healthy definitely physically, and probably emotionally as well. I could see my own slave measuring him. His thoughts no doubt concerning the slave's well being. I have begun to really admire my slave's continued altruistic mentality. I suspect I am a better person today because of my slave.

The security guard conducting the boy departed immediately upon the boy's arrival. The boy himself knelt – with surprising agility considering the degree of his restraint – as per his slave protocol with head looking downward. I looked down at a quite young boy of a bit above average looks and frame. But something did not feel right.

I could also see the tenseness of his body possibly due to this unique interruption of his usual regimen. But quite obediently he knelt there unmoving and quiet, although I noted that his mouth plug and muzzle were still attached. I thought that their construction and manner of attachment quite harsh. In fact it appeared that the muzzle, which extended from the boy's nose to well below his chin, was in fact totally bonded to the entire lower half of his face. There was an obvious portal in the midst of the muzzle, a muzzle whose expanse indicated that the boy's mouth was being held wide open I could only imagine what the interior of his mouth was like. I could also see actual attachment points on the boy's head for the attachment points of his 'attentive and facilitative head and face encasement device.' There were at least five points of attachment which appeared to be anchored right into the boy's face. It could not be said that the boy was naked. Along with the standard obedience collar, his body harness was quite extensive and appeared to be actually bonded right to the boy's body. There was a parody of a penis tube extended from his totally encased genitalia which on an apparent 12 year old looked quite obscene. The boy's arms were currently held in only relative immobility with anchor points of wrist to thigh and elbow to chest belt. His feat in knelling belied the fact that his ankle cuffs had been attached to a short strap no more than eight inches [20 cm] long. No wonder it had taken the boy so long to arrive.

In spite of the relative freedom given to his head and neck, and likewise to his four limbs, he remained totally immobile throughout my minimal inspection. His body language bespoke of a boy trained to be totally submissive to outside control. I was starting to wonder about Ms. Tusch's pronouncement of his being 'a content and happy slave.'

And he was literally vibrating. This indicated an intense fear. Could it only be because of this total departure form his normally controlled and totally mapped out regimen? I was starting to doubt it. There was something definitely wrong. What, however, I had no idea. As much as I could see of the boy he definitely fit the description given by the Slave Authority and he also fit completely the 360-holo I had also received. This, to all appearances was indeed Mrs. Vescu's lost boy.

I looked at my own slave and I suspect he was realizing that his own usual bondage restrictions and physical controls were quite tame in comparison.

"Ms. Tusch. Who is able to give this boy verbal commands?" Most commonly a slave's obedience collar is only operational by a select few if not only one person, and even more commonly by only a specific tonal inflection as with my own slave.

"It requires only a mechanical augment obtainable by a security code through our com and computer network. When anyone receives authorization, a mic implanted in the slave worker's ear not only picks up the voice of the person but an additional tone from the computer itself. I have already made arrangements for you to have such authorizations for this specific slave worker. Command him and he must obey."

"Boy, stand and look at me."

He complied with such ease the boy was no doubt quite experienced in allowing his body seemingly moving without his own volition.

"Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB, are you Tommy Vescu?"

He shook his head no!

But then Ms. Vescu intervened. "Of course he said no. All slaves here are required to give up their former name. He is now Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB."

I then looked at Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB again and asked: "Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB, were you ever called Tommy Vescu?"

He nodded yes, but almost collapsed.

I looked at both Ms. Tusch – who had a smirk on her mug I wanted to wipe off. And I turned back to the small boy and I could see the look of stark fear in his eyes, and his body was visibly shaking. Something was definitely not right. I decided to run a 'perfer-DNA' scan. It was not complete but would be about 99.998% certain. I removed the necessary scanner from my pocket and touched his skin. My scanner was already programmed with the complete DNA scans of Tommy Vescu obtained form the Slave authority's original physical. Ten seconds later it pinged its results. Absolute match. So what exactly was wrong?

"Ms. Tusch. DNA results match this boy with the records of Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB, aka Tommy Vescu as per those records in the slave Authority's archives. However, I still have four major concerns? One, just why is there a Class Five Interdict on this boy? Two, just how come your company supposedly outbid BoyIsland, Inc. for this boy's Indenture despite it being an unusually high price to pay for a mere six year factory slave Indenture. Three, why did it need the intervention of a high official in the Unified Slave Authority to even discover the whereabouts of Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB? Four, why did it need the intervention of that same high official in the Unified Slave Authority to force some official in your company to allow me this visit? And there is a fifth. How come this poor 12 year old boy is shaking like a Tanobian Tremor Tree Leaf?"

At that moment my slave actually touched my hand! Extraordinary! He would never have made such a breach in his slave protocol without need. He knows, however, that he has such permission if circumstances warrant. And will only be punished if his judgment proves to be in error. And my boy almost never makes that egregious an error. I was instantly alerted. Though the action may not have alerted anyone else.

"Mr. Dumitrov," Ms. Tusch began in a verbally haughty manner, "We have the boy's answer and also the indisputable 3;"

I interrupted her by holding up my hand. "Ms. Tusch. My slave has something important to say."

She looked at me as if to say that any opinion or even interference from a slave is pure indulgence. But before she could reply I addressed my slave.

"Boy, speak."

My slave actually made a smirk at Ms. Tusch. That I will punish him for.

"Master, ask me if I were ever called Tommy Vescu?"

I stared at him and realized what he was implying. "Boy, were you ever called Tommy Vescu?"

"Yes master, I was Tommy Vescu. I had been Tommy Vescu for my entire life until I was made a slave." His smirk I could now take. (And yes he will still be punished for it, but then rewarded as it all became clear).

I looked at Ms. Tusch, "You see, we must approach this from a different angle. My slave is implying that this boy is NOT the son of Mrs. Velda Vescu, regardless of his answer or his supposed DNA match."

I also realized that although a slave is conditioned to speak only the truth, he is still capable of lying if he can overcome his conditioning. But he can not overcome the imperative of an obedience collar. I could also see a fracture in Ms. Tusch's composure.

"Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB. I command you to only nod yes if it is the truth. Are you in fact the boy born Tommy Vescu?"

The boy looked up at me in absolute terror. But of course his obedience collar now will have forced him to reply truthfully. His head barely started to move when he immediately collapsed onto the floor in a fetal position and his hands trying time and again to move from their attachment to his thigh cuffs. It was quite evident that the boy was in serious pain, as his entire body seemed to be shaking apart. I was absolutely appalled at this horrific spectacle. Recognizing that I had to remove the imperative forced upon him by his collar, I dropped next to him and shouted for him to ignore the last question. But unfortunately, in his current state, he seemed not to be able to even receive any outside stimulus, let alone my voice.

I was then not too startled to see my own slave totally disregarding any semblance of obedience and draping his own body over the stricken boy. But I would worry about that later. I soon realized that my slave was intent at more than merely comforting the boy. He placed his left cuff to the back of the boy's collar and I was aghast when I realized just what he had done. I knew what was imbedded within that cuff, the mere possession of such an object, let alone its use, demanded a six year mandatory prison sentence, or a 12 year Indenture – the choice was up to the person so convicted. It did not matter if it was my slave who possessed such a device or used it. I was totally and legally responsible for all actions of my Class Three Slave. My slave had put me into immediate serious danger. Of course I also knew that he had possessed such an object and yet allowed it. I was the one who placed it into the boy's cuff to begin with. The device, the latest in illegal technology, when placed within very close proximity of any obedience collar of more recent manufacture, would temporarily disable the command feature of that collar. Of course I was fully aware that my own slave could disassemble his cuff, and attach the device to his own collar, and for all intents and purposes, with only a modicum of planning and resources also at his disposal, escape from his own slavery. You may wonder – but I do not – just why he has not done so. Of course that was all beside the point.

The slave in question immediately stopped screaming and lay still but was barely moving about and emitting a low moan. I sincerely hoped that the boy was all right. Two slave medical personnel – they were medical practitioners for slaves, and they themselves also were slaves – opened several cases and attached monitors to the boy at his chest, behind his neck, and on his right wrist directly over his slave cuff. Immediately a virtual screen appeared. Several other touches on the monitor and one of the attendants looked up at Ms. Tusch.

"Mistress. No immediate danger and apparently no permanent damage. Although there has been a serious trauma to his nervous system, specifically to those neurons which excite and transmit pain."

The other attendant visibly blanched as he touched another spot on the monitor. His voice visibly shook as he announced: "Mistress. There has been 6.86 seconds of class six pain throughout 20% of his nervous system. It's a miracle, or perhaps unfortunately a shame, that this boy remained conscious. In fact I do not know just how this could have been accomplished considering the nature of the attack to his nervous system."

The boy was injected with several drugs to permit him comfort and rest. It was not 'til then when he finally did stop trembling.

My own slave, looked up at me with the pain of more than just guilt. And then I understood. He was not worried about himself, but his master. I smiled at him trying to allay his worst fears. So far no one had understood the role of that illegal device. I would suppose, and this is what I will maintain, it was my own next command which had released the boy. No one would be able to contradict this position. I hoped.

For the moment I was more concerned about my slave than anything else that was going on around us. "Boy. I can not fault you. We will discuss your breech of conduct later."

Those nearby, if paying attention at all, would assume I was only addressing my slave's movement to the other boy.

What I was most concerned about was any possibility of discovery of the object which was in my slave's cuff. It no doubt allowed the poor Indentured slave to be released from whatever mechanism which had caused his pain. As to exactly what DID cause the boy's physical reaction was still open to question although I did have several possible guesses.

But I first addressed Ms. Tusch, and several other officials who had gathered.

"It is quite fortunate that this boy could attend to my last command. Evidently the first one triggered some device within or on his person to cause the reaction we saw. I suspect some sort of neural implant. But for what purpose I can not fathom."

My slave then touched my arm.

I looked at him and nodded, giving him permission to speak.

"Master, if I may presume to interject. Two things. One, only a class two or class three neural implant specifically designed for response to outside agency, could have caused such a reaction. And two, I can envision one scenario which could not only explain why it had been implanted, but would also clear up our mystery. As I inferred before, I believe that this boy is NOT the son of Mrs. Vescu. I would suggest someone do the following. Transmit a message to Mrs. Velda Vescu, to relay to us as soon as possible, an electronic holo of her Indentured son."

I was immediately frustrated with myself. I should have come to the same conclusions. Of course I had been somewhat distracted with envisioning my eventual incarceration and future enslavement. IF this boy was indeed NOT Tommy Vescu, which I now most definitely believed, then that digital image from the Slave Authority was not of Mrs. Vescu's son but of this very boy we had here. This deception implied some deep cover-up within the depths of the Slave Authority.

The two slave medics lifted the comatose boy onto a grav lift which had been brought over to the area. They were directed to take the boy to the slave medical facility. I know that there were laws in place to give protections to Indentures under these circumstances. (But them I realized that who knows who or what this boy really is. I decided to make sure everyone treated him as an Indenture at least for the time being. I also noted several company people there but for now ignored them. I addressed Ms. Tusch who was now as distressed as myself and my slave. I was only wondering just what she was distressed about.

"Ms. Tusch, what my slave has possible discovered is this. We should now suspect that some how, some slave authority records have been tampered with. And that THIS boy is most likely not Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB, but some one else, probably another slave in the system. I suspect, as does my slave, that for some reason, no doubt a very profitable one for the culprit, the identities of two slaves have been switched."

"Mr. Dumitrov, I am now starting to believe that something is truly amiss. But I am certain that OUR company is not the culprit as you put it. Be that as it may, I will give you all assistance necessary to clear this up."

I was almost starting to like Ms. Tusch at least a little bit until she then looked at my slave who was now not so meekly kneeling at my side. "And I trust that your slave will be suitably punished. His actions have been rebellious."

But instead of fomenting antagonism I placated her. It gets more results anyway. "I assure you Ms. Tusch, I will not only give my slave his just deserts, but fully intend to use my neural nebulizer on his most delicate boy parts until he has screamed himself hoarse."

She made a 'hurump' sound at my slave suspecting that he was now put into his proper place. My slave knew that we did not even own any neural nebulizer. I now made several requests with as much diplomacy as I could muster.

"Ms. Tusch, if I may. I certainly do not want to overstep the bounds of my limited authorization from the United Slave Authority. However, if you could please do several things. One, could you please send to my com all relevant records concerning I-69-9934-2 PB, including his sale and purchase. Two, if possible, could you please make sure that I-69-9934-2 PB receives all necessary care and to scan for a possible neural implant. Probably you will need a magnetic resonance imager. My slave is quite conversant in these things, and he suspects a class three neural inhibitor which you know is entirely organic, so be aware. Three, I need to interrogate I-69-9934-2 PB when he sufficiently recovers."

Ms. Tusch seemed mollified. But she seemed no have a natural animus against slaves. "Certainly, all these things will be expedited. And I assure you that our medical team and our technology is up to the task of finding any possible implant, and I am certain that our technicians need not guess as to its nature. We will 3;"

Now I was fuming. So I smiled even more. I could see my slave smirking again. His punishments were mounting. But perhaps only after he gets his just rewards. I was quite proud of him these last couple of days. I allowed her to continue.

" 3;no doubt determine what it is which caused the collapse of I-69-9934-2 PB and lastly, I am sure that I-69-9934-2 PB can be provided with writing materials so that he can answer your questions."

"Ms. Tusch. I am quite grateful for you cooperation. And I will be grateful for any assistance from your medical technicians. However, my slave is actually better trained in these matters than I and in this matter I would defer to his opinion. If he believes that it is a class three neural inhibitor, I would be willing to bet my entire fortune on it."

(I have only a very modest fortune, and I have only overstated the facts by a smidge. And that last smirk by my slave will be addressed).

"Furthermore, I will need to actually speak to I-69-9934-2 PB. So if you could be so kind as to remove his 'temporary' mouth gag and muzzle, I would be so grateful."

I gave her my most guileless smile at which again my slave smirked. Maybe that gag and muzzle from I-69-9934-2 PB can be transferred onto my smirking slave.

I truly was not expecting the distress inherent in her reply. And she totally passed over my implicit insult.

"But Mr. Dumitrov, the interior mouth gag and forced feeding device is anchored into the boy's upper and lower mandibles and the device itself extends into his throat. Not only that, the device fills the entirety of the boy's mouth and its entire surface is directly bonded to the boy's mouth and tongue. The muzzle is likewise completely bonded and in addition, to maintain necessary rigidity and immobility of the boy's mouth, tongue, and lips, so that its forced feeding function can be maintained with a minimum of maintenance problems, the mouth gag and muzzle are fused into one unit. There is also the problem of the permanently implanted nose tubes. Before speech would be possible those too would have to be removed. This all would involve major surgery to remove the device and recovery time would be more than 24 hours. Not to mention the unconscionable expense. I am sorry the removal of the mouth gag and muzzle is neither warranted, nor financially possible."

I too had access to a remote com. I just hoped that the signal here was adequate. I touched a control on my wrist comp and a virtual screen appeared. Several touches and information appeared on a virtual screen.

I smiled my most oily smile.

"Ms. Tusch. Allow me to quote. This is from the Article 4, part b of the Indenture, Consensual, and Non-Consensual Slavery Laws of the Aligned Nations of 621 AF. It concerns the regulations and protections of citizen Indentures. 'Pursuant to regulation 13, the fine imposed for violation of medical right of citizen Indentures may be not less than 30,000 BHU and not more than 230,000 BHU.'"

"And this is from Article 4, part a. 'No permanent implant of such a nature which may impede either speech or normal facility of taking in nourishment may be expedited against any minor under the age of 14 without the express consent of his previous his legal guardian or legal representative 3;'"

"Need I continue Ms. Tusch?"

A bit flustered she countered. "I assure you Mr. Dumitrov, That implant is not of a permanent nature as per regulation 34, article 6, concerning the 3;"

I interrupted. "Ms. Tusch, Not only has that law been superseded, but no Slave Judge, where I come from, will ever determine that the gag and muzzle that you described to me as being non-permanent. You yourself mentioned major surgery and I have that recorded."

I finally got my way. And when I threatened to send an inspector from the Unified Federal Slave Authority to see if any other unfortunate minors under the age of 14 were so encumbered she suddenly became totally compliant. I never mentioned that I most likely would never be able to arrange any such thing. I have to admit that my own slave was at times fitted with equally as harsh gags and muzzles but only on a temporary basis.

Thus it was only an hour later and just after my slave and I had a small repast in our functional accommodation – yes he was not fitted with a force feeding gag – when Ms. Tusch messaged me that yes there was an implant as described by my slave, and yes it has been successfully countered – removal required major surgery and was unnecessary – and yes the slave at that very minute was having his muzzle and gag removed, and was expected to be recovered enough to be interrogated later this evening.

I was curious however. This very company was the ones who had produced said feeding gag and muzzle. They also had similar ones which were not implanted into the bones of the face and many did not require the removal of the slave's teeth. (Although my own slave had not had his teeth since modification and has managed quite well without them). I was intrigued. So I again commed my most favorite Production and Slave Utilization manager via full 360-holo data stream. (Next best thing to being there).

"Ah, Mr. Dumitrov. It's been only an hour. Can't stay away?"

"I was wondering 3;"

Three hours later my slave returned quite furious. I told him I'd get even for those smirks. He had been directed to present himself to one of the company's technicians who mapped his mouth and throat digitally and behold the gag and muzzle (and required nasal tubes) were ready in record time. In fact my slave delivered them to me. I immediately commanded him to kneel and open his mouth. I followed the easy directions and first secured the nose tubes so that breathing would not be endangered. Then the quite severe mouth and throat gag. It actually extended a full four inches [10 cm] into his throat. I smiled as he gagged so violently as I forced it down his throat. (Damn he should have been used to having tubular objects forced into his throat). I next slipped the mouth part into his mouth which had its own compartment into which his tongue was secured. I then touched a control and an enzyme was released from the surface of the gag which made a temporary seal within his mouth and throat. I had fun forcing him to submit to this extreme gag. I then held up the muzzle portion. It too sealed temporarily to the outside of his mouth and lower face. It looked remarkably like the one on I-69-9934-2 PB. except it was not actually bonded to my slaves flesh. I touched another control and it expanded until his mouth was held open with some significant tension. My slave groaned.

"Boy, you do know that I really appreciate what you did today, but nonetheless you must be punished."

Then his eyes opened widely when I lifted a huge tube and fitted into the port on the muzzle and gag.

"Boy, I wonder how much smirking you will be doing after say a month of forced-feeding?"

Since he was not in any formal slave mode he quickly stood, grabbed a virtual pad, and wrote: "Flight back. Need to speak to flight tower. Etc."

"I wrote down a name."

He looked up at me puzzled and wrote: "Who that?"

"Temporary replacement pilot. I've engaged him for a month!" I laughed quite uproariously.

I found out later, as I had suspected, that the gag actually was a sexual turn-on for my slave. It was his not piloting his precious Tuskagee VI which most bothered him. I however, never did hire any replacement pilot. The gag and muzzle was not too difficult to remove and of course put back in. And in truth, my slave did deserve much.

I was again surprised that late that afternoon I was asked if I could show up at the medical facility. Of course my slave accompanied me – along with his new gag and muzzle. For the very first time I thought that the smile of Ms. Tusch was almost genuine as she observed my slave being gagged and even quite obsequious – the way he actually gets when he's trying to make a point. Of course he was quite hampered by not being actually allowed to do much other than wait on his master. But when I arrived there I too had a couple surprises. When I arrived at their medical facility I realized that they were quite serious about the health of their slaves. Also that I-69-9934-2 PB was sleeping well and should awaken in a few hours. He was totally unencumbered by any gag but I was curious by the ten or so minor blemished around his mouth.

An honest to goodness real live doctor answered. "Those had been holes through which the gag and muzzles had been anchored about the boy's mouth."

He said it as if he were talking about a cold sore. But I was more surprised to see a man, a much older man, but another slave still with mouth gag, muzzle, and penis tube, etc. sitting in the bed with the boy and holding his hand, who upon seeing me enter, immediately knelt and assumed formal slave posture and position.

"Mr. Dumitrov," spoke Ms. Tusch, "Meet C-14-5368-4 GN. He is a class Two Consensual slave and evidently has partnered with I-69-9934-2 PB.

Now I was really confused. Partnered? Could that mean what I think it means?

Ms. Tusch continued: "Well, I just thought of something. We have discovered over the years, that we get best motivational results when we allow those who wish to pair up, do so. And you would be surprised how often they form either permanent or semi-permanent liaisons. And quite often, especially among our permanent Class 2 slaves, it frequently involves man-boy combinations. Of course our young Class 1 Indentures more frequently pair up with another boy more their age and status. However, in this case, Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB, has recently bonded with a much older Class 2 slave. Uncommon, bit not entirely surprising."

I was not going to admit that I finally thought that this company was not entirely heartless. Even if it was claimed to be to increase production. "And what might this have to do with our investigation?"

"Well, can you give me another person whom our Indenture might have opened up to other than the man with whom he has been sharing a bed with for the past six weeks? They can not speak but they do communicate." Eventually I questioned C-14-5368-4 GN by way of old fashioned paper and pen, and discovered a number of things, but mostly unhelpful for the investigation. It seems that C-14-5368-4 GN was much older than he looked, but his prior master, who recently died, had allowed him an expensive 're-juv.' I never did discover how he wound up here, but he found a small boy totally lost and afraid and they bonded. He said that they were both good for each other. But he did mention one thing which helped a bit.

He pointed to a spot on perineum of his small 'partner.' He wrote: "I was always curious why 'PB' here would never mention anything about where he came from or how he wound up a slave. But that mark there. That is called the mark of Sodom. That is a tattoo placed on people considered damned just before they are cast out from their religious group and shunned. This boy was no doubt on the streets and then somehow got picked up by some slave trader. One thing I know for sure, he's from Cathland, belonged to some fanatical cult there, and was cast aside. The sign of Sodom probably refers to his unforgivable sin."

There was also something I knew. A high percentage of our Class Three Slaves were obtained from Cathland, one of the two Non-Aligned Nations. I was suddenly very interested in I-69-9934-2 PB. No wonder he was happy here as a six year Indenture rather than a Class Three Slave. I was also sure that he would not want to tell me anything if it meant him finding himself back as a Class Three Slave. I looked at it from several angles and decided that I sure didn't have to mention anything. And I knew that the present owner of the slave only wanted this mess to go away.

And my own slave was also giving me 'that look.' And I also noted that he was sure amped up sex wise. His little penis, merely in the simple chastity by way of another neural inhibitor of a much less serious kind that senses any impending climax and stops it, was twitching like mad. The inhibitor was in the form of a small rod that simply fit into my boy's penis slit and temporarily seals itself there. And I like the way it makes my boy's penis jut straight out. But right now it is wobbling up and down with his pulse. My own penis was doing some twitching of its own. I couldn't wait to make better use of my boy's sex holes later today. Well at least the rear one.

By the time I had finished with the boy's 'partner,' the doctor had left but surprisingly Ms. Tusch had stayed. And I was certainly going to be back later this evening, the time when it was expected I-69-9934-2 PB was judged to be able to be awakened from his forced sleep. It was mentioned that the boy might wind up having recurring 'ghost pain' from his earlier ordeal. That neural implant was a serious thing. Now hopefully neutralized. And the people at the top of my probable shit list were that Slave Brokerage firm who 'handled' Tommy's Indenture. It was quite possible that BoyServices were relatively innocent. Especially after I discovered just a bit ago from the records set me, that the auction 'price' actually paid for Tommy was actually considerably less than what Boy Island supposedly bid. Several people had been victims of a mendacious plot. So for now I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

But I was also curious, which invited my next several questions for Ms. Tusch. We had been talking about the medical facility and how the company cared for its slave workers. It turns out that good health insured good productivity. But I had to ask.

"Ms. Tusch, about your policy concerning this pairing thing. I am still curious. When and how do you allow then to enjoy sex with each other?"

Ms. Tusch looked horrified. "We most certainly do not allow any such thing!"

Now I was getting riled again. I really hated these irrational anti-sexiholics. Especially one's who seem to have no trouble buying slaves.

"Ms. Tusch," I started, and deliberately picked up my slave and started fondling his cute little boy genitals. "But why ever not?"

She gave me a look which would have wilted a lesser man, and stated haughtily: "It would be counter productive! We use sex as a primary positive motivational tool. If we allowed it indiscriminately, why it would impact negatively on production!"

"But surely, sex is good. It makes people happy. Surely if you allowed it between workers they would be in better mindsets."

"Mr. Dumitrov. No doubt you know your business, but I know mine. Sex can not be merely given away. It must ONLY be associated with reward for maintaining standards and productions levels!"

It was finally getting through to me. To Ms. Tusch it was all business, absolutely nothing else was part of the equation.

"You mean to tell me that these so-called bond mates or whatever you call them never have sex?"

"Why certainly. We most certainly do everything we can to dissociate sexual pleasure from anything other than reward for work productivity."

I should have known. And if my slave had not been muzzled, I was sure he would have done more than smirked. He was sure bouncing up and down though, as I not only fondled his penis with one hand but started pushing in and out with his butt plug. And wow did he jump when I hit the neural exciter in that same plug. I so enjoyed playing with my slaveboy! The heck with production.

But then I remembered C-14-5368-4 GN. Just sitting there now holding his sleeping partner's hand. Quite touching actually but quite a contrast. A big black guy at least 6 foot 4 inches [1.90 m], and a small 12 year old blond with a slightly darker skin tone and unusual facial makeup. But still the contrast was striking. But I could certainly tell that the guy felt strongly for the boy, even without the no-sex rule.

But here he was being non-productive for most of his work day! I asked Ms. Tusch about it.

"Mr. Dumitrov, I assure you, we only make decisions based on a purely pragmatic basis. And pairing people improves moral and thus production. Just knowing that if something would happen to one's partner, you would be allowed to be there for him, well that helps moral not just for these two, but their being together is seen by hundreds of others."

She almost had me convinced but we were interrupted when she got a com call, for which she set up a security shield. I only hear the last few words as she dropped it just a few seconds before she was finished. "Sure honey, use your security pass and come up."

And a few minutes in walked a small but absolutely stunning boy who could have not been a day over nine. And stark total naked! No cuffs, no harness, no butt plug, and his small three inch [7½ cm] boner bouncing up and down. With beautiful bronze skin, bright green eyes, and a smile to light up the day with. He positively bounced into the room and launched himself at Ms. Tusch! He wore nor possessed nothing except a small plastic security pass secured to a lanyard about his neck. And I finally noticed – NO SLAVE COLLAR! I absolutely could not conceive of Ms. Tusch as ever having a son.

The boy however seemed totally nonplused, and exclaimed quite loudly as he bounced onto Ms. Tusch's lap. "Hi big momma. Can I play with your 'tuschie' now?" And he gave out a bright giggle.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT! Behave yourself, we have guests, important guests. And stop bouncing up and down; you very well know I have NO penis!"

I was so flummoxed, I even stopped my ministration of my slave's sex parts for which I received his evil look, but I could tell he did not have his heart in it as he too was absorbed by the small package of boy pulchritude before us. Stunning was not enough. He exuded boy sex. He would have sold for a bundle at any Slave Auction. And that alluring visage! It was actually quite evident that he had absolutely no interest in any of Ms. Tusch's sex parts. His inviting eyes positively smoldered as he looked me square in the eyes and with no inhibition whatsoever, sucked on his finger as his comportment and expression absolutely BEGGED me to grab him up and ravish him there on the spot. As dedicated as I was to my one slave boy, I was even tempted, until I came to my senses and smiled at my own wonderful sex toy.

And then another boy came in! This one an exact replica of the first. But totally coal black! He was a bit more staid in his greeting. "Good day mom. Things going good? Heard there was a big ruckus."

He too went to Ms. Tusch but with a modicum of restraint and sat next to her, but still leaning into her. The indomitable Tusch a Mom?! It was so difficult to even consider. I was quite flabbergasted. Here were two small, evidently free boys, possibly 9 (or barely possibly 10), yet totally naked, one greeting Ms. Tusch with vulgar familiarity, and the other a seeming exact opposite but only as to personality and skin color!

Evidently Ms. Tusch was having the last laugh. "Mr. Dumitrov, meet Claire, and Sam, short for Samantha. My two children."

I, for the first time in my life, could not speak. I finally blurted out: "Children? 3; Claire? Samantha? But their both boys!"

The 'boys' turned toward me almost in unison and loudly exclaimed: "I'm not a boy! I'm a sex toy!" Two voices in seeming stereo. And at that pronouncement they both started playing with their small little boy penises, with not an ounce of modesty or concern of who might be looking on, even in front of their 'Mom.' And I was sure that their other hands were fingering the butt holes of their respective brother. And there was the severe and seemingly UN-motherly Mrs. Tusch smiling as she watched her charges 'enjoying themselves.' I for one, sure knew that the scene was quite arousing.

"But Ms. Tusch. Claire and Samantha?"

"Why Mr. Dumitrov. You own a Class Three Slave, tote him about with you obscenely accoutered, fondle him in public, and now you are concerned about mere convention?"

My slave squirmed on my lap, my formidable penis stiff and riding his butt cleft, and he squirmed against it, but I was too distracted to really react to him.

As I watched two 'innocent' boys obviously making every effort to bring each other and themselves to climax, and Ms. Tusch, seemingly totally unconcerned, I stammered out a question. "Where?"

"Ah. You have a modicum of intelligence after all Vasili Dumitrov. These two boys, actually unrelated, had been abducted, and unscrupulously and illegally sold at auction as Class Three Slaves. They are in fact sons of friends of mine who had the misfortune to enlist their sons in a phony modeling scam. They were subsequently modified for sex and sex appeal – as you no doubt are aware I can see – having been altered at BoyToys, Inc. who obviously do not scrutinize enough where their stock comes from. It took me almost two years and half my financial recourses but to make it short, I finally rescued them! But not before they had been irrevocable made into sex machines and boy vamps, and been ensconced for a year in a boy brothel on the Icarus Ring-world! They in fact are 13 years of age and their future prospects are limited, but I love them and intend to do my best by them."

At this very moment both boys went into a long climax with of course 'Claire' moaning quite loudly. I waited 'til they were evidently done, both now with seemingly angelic smiles, and I spoke: "But Claire and Samantha?"

"Mr. Dumitrov. I LIKED those names and always wanted daughters. This is as close as I will probably ever get. And besides, the boys liked the names too."

I knew when I was beat. "Ms. Tusch. I absolutely take back half of the things I thought about you. Maybe there is something under that business exterior after all."

"Mr. Dumitrov. Before I got here, no slave had more than three or four free hours a week, and worked 16 hour shifts. No slave ever had a day off. No slave was ever allowed to pair up or sleep with another. And no slave was ever allowed to experience sex or orgasm. Now they have two free hours at the end of their daily shift. Now they have comfortable work stations. And now they also can switch from job to job if they have the aptitude. Now they do have one or two days off every month. Now they may have some recreation and the Indentures can finish an education for when they do leave here. And this medical facility is as good as any private one you might go to. The slaves here work only 80 percent of the hours they worked before I got here yet production is up 40 percent. And for the Seven Curses of Deneb, at least some of those poor Indentures are even happy for once in their lives!"

I looked over at the big black slave holding onto the bedridden small white boy slave and could see a smirk in that boy's eyes too.

Kon Yan

Of course then I looked at that big black guy sitting on that bed. And I wonder when the last time he had his off?

And WOW did my master get gotten earlier today. That Tusch woman really got him good. (Ok, I had her wrong too, but don't let my master know. I am pretending I had her all figured out all the way. But Dastardly Death Dogs of Deneb, I absolutely never saw such an alluring pair of free boys before. And I had to chuckle when my master finally asked Ms. Tusch if the two boys had such flagrant sex with any others. She smiled, touched a com link and announced: "To date, 75 with Sam, and 97 with Claire. That's just the number of men, not the number of instances." Ms. Tusch and my master were laughing together before we left!

And now he is really starting to believe Ms. Tusch when she claimed that BoyServices were not at least deliberately complicit in whatever happened with Tommy.

But questioning I-69-9934-2 PB was quite an ordeal, for I-69-9934-2 PB that is. If he didn't have that big plug up his butt I swear he'd have been scared shitless – literally!

'Big G' – that's what Slave C-14-5368-4 GN said to call him, or more accurately wrote – sat up against the soft bed extension and was holding on so tight to what he called his 'PB.' And he was absolutely delighted to actually hear his 'PB' speak even if the kid could barely whisper.

My master however got us eventually back to the matter at hand.

"First of all boy, I am sorry this has happened to you. Are you feeling better?"

The boy was so conditioned in slave obedience and submission he was even more afraid to not answer than answer. Although so obviously not by much. And the entire time he tried to burry himself into his 'partner.'

The boy merely nodded.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"I-69-9934-2 PB" Came out but was barely audible.

My master laughed. "Can you tell me your name before you became a slave?"

He started shaking and burst out crying, but finally answered. "Boni."

"Was that your full name?"

He shook his head no.

"What are you so afraid of Boni?"

Now the boy I thought was going to pass out again. My master tried to sooth him down.

"You don't have to answer that. How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

That surprised both me and my master. He had barely looked 11.

"Look 'PB,' let me tell you what I think happened with you. Just nod if I am correct. OK?"

He nodded.

"You grew up in Cathland."

Nod.

"You were had to live on the streets for a while."

Another nod.

"Your parents didn't want you anymore."

The boy started crying almost uncontrollably. But nodded yes.

You were than taken and to be sold as a slave.

At this I thought he boy was again going to collapse. He was shaking all over and buried himself deeper into the side of 'big G.' But still his slave conditioning won out and he again nodded.

"Good. I am pretty sure now what happened. You would have been obviously been sold as a Class Three Slave. A slave for life. But then some man gave you a chance to just be Indentured for six years.

The boy started moaning and pleading. "Please don't send me back. Please."

"Boy, this is what is going to happen no matter what you say to me. You are now officially a six year Indenture. You are I-69-9934-2 PB, no matter what you tell me. Can you understand that."

The small boy stopped crying and tried to rub his eyes. "How?"

My master smiled. A breakthrough.

"Look you seem like a smart boy. BoyServices who own you now, don't want any problems with the Slave Authority. Also the woman who runs the slave part of the business here likes you and is a good person."

I resisted rolling my eyes at that one!

"And if I ever find the real Tommy his owner wont want any trouble either. So all I really need from you is your real name and your real slave number. And I promise you will STAY I-69-9934-2 PB, and be free in less than six years."

"Boni. Boniface VonDamon. I can't remember my number, or at least all of it. It had a lot of '8's in it and started with an 'N'."

My master smiled. That just might be enough.

"Look boy I know this had to be really hard on you, can you remember any more?"

The boy was finally over his worst fright. "I was stolen."

Through a whole lot of fits and starts his story unfolded.

It went something like this: Some big guy promised him a big meal if he'd suck him but he woke up with a bad headache in a dark room. He was then brought into a big fancy room (most definitely a court room) after they cleaned him up and someone told him that he was now a slave – forever. He said he knew about the different kinds. That he was a Three. (No doubt a Class Three Slave). He said he couldn't stop crying. He was then taken away and told he would be sold but a couple days later he was promised to only be an Indenture slave for six years if he never told anyone and if he pretended his name was Tommy something. Vescu he thought. They made him write it several times. And then they said they would make sure he'd never tell the truth. They said they would make sure he'd wind up where no one was allowed to talk and they put this thing in his head just to make sure.

All that took more than a half hour to get out of him. He was so terribly frightened they'd make him a Class Three Slave again.

My master tried to assure him that this would not happen but I knew my master couldn't be absolutely sure. The closest to the boy's original slave code we could get was something like: N 188 ???? 28 CL. Maybe there was another 8 in there somewhere he thought. But my master was pretty sure that was all he needed. Tommy, here we come.

That night I STILL had that gag and muzzle on and my master fed me with that tube again. He also made sure it tasted like crap – LITERALLY! But our sex that night was great. Maybe all that stuff my master did to punish me also seemed to sex me up good. But I think my master almost gave in when he realized I could not lick his butt hole the way he usually liked. He really likes it when he just about sits on my face and 'makes me' lick his butt hole all over. (He doesn't have to 'make me' very hard; I'm sort of self motivated in this regard). But this time it was him who I swear wanted to push his tongue into my butt hole so that it would come out my mouth. I had three orgasms in less than two hours! But I sure missed sucking on my master's big 8 incher [20 cm]! I liked how he's so hairy all over and the way he 'forces' me to do stuff. Of course I like best when he throws me down – literally – and shoves into me in one sudden thrust. It really hurts for just a minute – I sort of like that hurt – but then I start totally shaking all over as he keeps plowing in and out. It seems the harder and the more he tries to crush me the sexier I get. Too bad we didn't have time to use all the bondage stuff we brought. We were both pretty tired. But I so really like being all bound up so I can hardly move. I like when he almost treats me like a rag doll. Well a rag doll with two all important holes. You may wonder how come I don't mind being a slave any more. Well mostly. Well just being a slave gets me so all sexed up. In fact if it were all sex all the time, I'd WANT to be a slave. I would have volunteered. But sometimes it's real hard being a slave. And it's hard to explain. But now I want to please my master. I really do. So being a good slave no matter what is now what I want to do even if every once in a while it gets so hard. And I'm not talking about the torture stuff. That's hard too but hell, all you really have to do is yell and scream. And that's easy. And my master really – OK mostly never really hurts me too much. And wow does the sex after seem so good.

Am I making any sense? I mean even when I have to admit I don't like being a slave absolutely all the time, I'd still never even think of wanting to be anything but my master's slave. I mean being a worker slave like at the factory, well THAT would REALLY suck big time. But I have my own master which makes all the difference. And except for real minor stuff that my master just thinks is funny anyway (even if he still punishes me for it), I REALLY never, never, ever deliberately disobey him. Even today it was for a real reason and I knew he'd want me to break one oh my slave rules. And I LIKE being punished because of it. I know that don't make sense but if he didn't punish me I'd feel really wrong somehow. Maybe I've been a slave so long that anything else feels wrong.

And my master asked me just yesterday, after he said I'd did real good during that REALLY hard torture night well – DAMN that was I think the very 'hurt ingest' I'd even been tortured. Where was I at? Oh yeah. He asked if it were 19 years ago and I wasn't a slave yet and I'd known what my next 19 years would be like and I actually had a choice would I choose my life that I had? Wow, was that a hard question to answer.

And I told him I couldn't answer. But I think I've figured it out. IF I had to take ALL 19 years leaving nothing out, or NONE of the 19 years, and never have any of it, I think I'd want choose to be a slave again. But I'd also like to toss out some of the stuff here or there if I could. Does that make sense?

But there's more and this is the scary part. Real scary. If I had to choose between being FORCED into being the slave with the life exactly as I had, or CHOOSING to be this same slave and yet be able to leave out all the parts I really hated? Guess what. I'd want the first choice. Now that's scary!

Ah ha! My master had me fly anyway! Though he did force that gag back into me right afterwards and I still had to eat by being force fed. And with that 'crap' again! But we are both real excited. It's strange how being in a good mood makes that gag thing and all the rest a fun bad thing instead of a not so fun bad thing.

And my master promised he'd find a good place where I'd have all kinds of neat stuff done to me. I really like being strapped down and all, and having absolutely no recourse but to accept what is done to me. Even a lot of the pain stuff. It's strange. If I was just standing there and my master said I was going to get say ten swipes with a cane, I'd not really like it. I'd do it just because I had to but that's all. I'd ONLY like doing it because he said HE wanted to do it to me. But take it another way. Say I was getting ten swipes BECAUSE I knew I was slave and HAD to therefore let it happen, THEN I wouldn't mind at all. In fact, even though I'd not like the swipes themselves, I'd LIKE getting them because I was a slave had HAD to let it happen. Now is that crazy or what? And there's more. Say I was a slave and I thus HAD to have the ten swipes BECAUSE I was a slave and HAD to take them, and even better I was tied down and couldn't move and felt totally helpless at the same time, and THEN I'd almost ENJOY the swipes themselves!

(And what's really crazy, there's sometimes I do stuff wrong JUST to BE punished! Don't let my master know).

Oh, I forgot to say just why we were both in such a good mood. Two things. One we discovered (we think) just what happened to Tommy. First of all, we found that a 'Boniface VonDamon' WAS sold at just about the same time Tommy was sold and at the exact same auction and by the exact same slave brokerage company. Can you spell 'coincidence'? NOT! And also guess what? (And my master keeps jibing me with this). He sold for more than SEVEN times than what I sold for! (And I was expensive)! No wonder they tried this scam. My master surmised that Tommy if sold as a permanent Class Three Slave gets WAY more than Boni sold as a Class Three Slave. So much more that someone did a switch. We haven't found out just who yet but my master said that can wait. Just somebody with that Slave Brokerage place that sold both Tommy and Boni.

Also there can probably one really GOOD reason for Tommy to have sold for SO much. VERY few slaves are able to get the really fancy and really complicated gene splices. And guess where 94% of all the really fancy slave gene splices happen? You peaked!

So that's where we are headed. My master tried real hard to find out who actually bought Tommy but so far no luck. But almost for sure Tommy was taken to the BoyToys, Inc labs. And almost certainly under the name of Boniface VonDamon. And I was wondering how I'd feel about visiting the very place where I lost my freedom – it was that very first gene splice injection which had permanently sealed my fate – and where I was modified into the slave I was today.

Think about it. I was just ten years old. Actually I was 9 when sold. I remember being almost always too hot or too cold and too hungry. My parents were never there – they were always working, trying to get enough money to get back to a real world. I had a sister too but barely remember her. She was a lot older and born on a different planet. We had pumped in air from the big converters. (I never did know what they 'converted' or how the air came out). And as far back as I could remember I was fitted with knee pads and hand pads and, with my feet stuck in glove things so they would not get scraped up. 'Course they couldn't move too much either. They sent us kids into the holes too small for big people and had us set explosives. Some kids were never heard from again. And when my parents died in some air breech I never mourned, I hardy knew them. It was my friend Digger (I never knew his real name) who I really missed when I was made a slave. Wow that was more an adventure than anything else. I never really knew what a full belly and clean body were until that time when I awoke on that ship. Digger was there too so I couldn't keep from smiling.

Well we were finally separated and I was really scared for a while. Someone said I was a slave, after I got sent to this big room where everyone was speaking in words I couldn't understand. When they explained just what a slave was, and I said of course. I'd been a slave all my life. So that wasn't the real scary part. But even being scared, I decided being warm and not hungry and scared was better than anything before.

All kinds of grownup things went on but all I really knew was that all kinds of doctor stuff was done, people touched me all over – even where they shouldn't touch me – and finally I was told that I was very fortunate, that some place was going to make me into a sex boy. I couldn't really understand 'cause I was just a kid. But I remembered all that touching and I only pretended to not want them to do that stuff to me. Wow, I liked it. I remember that time they brought me into this room, all medical stuff around and told me to just relax and let things happen. When they removed my smock I was secretly thrilled, standing there buck naked. I never knew just why but that's how I felt. Then some guy put me into this chair with a big helmet and separate places for my legs and arms and strapped me in. All this time they were smiling and joking and saying I would make them all rich when I was sold. That scared me a bit, but I sure like what they did to me on that chair. First they seemed to think I was such a good boy when as they strapped me tight – legs arms and everything – I was being a 'good boy' by not fussing too much. I know that the more I couldn't move something I more thrilled I felt. Then they started touching me all over, first with a person did it and then with a wand of some sort. Later I was really sorry it ended so soon. But I sure liked when that big guy rubbed me all over with his hands. And then I went into 'whoopee-land' when they put thing into my peepee and started get me that amazing feeling. (Digger and I invented that word for when we felt really good). It got so strong I was scared for a while but they were all so happy, I was happy too. And wow. I now realize it was my very first orgasm. To this day I always think of being molested as a good thing. That's what one guy said was happening to me. But when they put something into my butt hole, at first I thought it was so gross. That's where poop came from. And no one touched me there before. But double wow. In a few minutes I thought it even better than what they did to my 3 inch [7½ cm] peepee.

Finally it was all over and then I got scared all over again. But two days later I was put into this really strange and scary box. They called it a boy cage, but it was so comfortable and nice feeling I had a hard time thinking of it as a cage. And wow again, they did all kinds of things to my peepee hole and my pooper hole and even my nose and mouth. It was that mouth thing that made my mouth hurt that I didn't like. But finally I went to sleep and the next thing I knew I was in this big room with this tank and all kind of doctor things all around. I was told that I was a very special boy and I would get a very special master – all I had to do was to make sure I'd stay a boy all the time. They said I was going to have all that stuff done to my private parts by my new master. I smiled. I willingly let them put tubes again into me. This time nothing hurt. In fact it all felt sort of thrilling. Even the one in my mouth was OK; it didn't hurt this time. And the food which came out was the best I'd ever tasted. I was sure grateful to all the doctors there who were going to make me into such a special boy.

I only got scared once, and it was not when they said they gave me what was called a genie-splice. That just stung a bit. It was when I was put into this tank, and then somehow I started floating right in mid air. And then it filled with liquid. That was when I got so scared. I was going to drown. But someone kept telling me to breath. Finally I could not hold my breath so I did. And wow, after a couple 'water' breaths I though it so neat I was like a fish. Soon I fell to sleep and when I woke up I was the new me.

But there are certain things were so clear in my mind to this day. One, on that very day I was put into that tank was my 10th birthday and I remember thinking what a great present. And the second, that one guy there in charge, they called him Max. Dr. Max Dogood.

I always loved the sex part of being a slave. It was the always obeying and punishment part that was hard. But in a strange way, even though I hated feeling pain, I sort of liked when I pleased my master. And even stranger, I liked being a slave – mostly. I was finally loved and cared for. Of course I got lucky; I got a great master. Several years later I found out that Digger wound up in a boy sex brothel called SynCity. He's still nine years old and still there. He looked a lot like me but not quite as dark and with not quite as strong a Mongol heritage in his looks. And he said once to get him out of there they'd have to use an Acme Mine Scoop. I also later discovered that they'd made him one of the horniest – and cutest – nine year olds on the planet. (Almost as cute as me)! Last time I'd visited him I was afraid when I heard all this screaming coming from his dungeon room. (They had him a permanent resident in one of their Dungeons) When we got there, instead of having a client, there was a doctor and they had just put actual pins through his ankles and wrists.

He smiled! "Yan! Guess what! See those bars over there?" I looked and saw two bars, one about three feet [90 cm] long and the other about 2½ [75 cm]. When I picked them up I realized they had a universal ball joint on each end. I looked back at Digger as the doctor was just finished applying the last liquid bandage.

"Just think Yan, those bars will be fitted onto my ankles and wrists permanent! NOW I'm really going to feel so helpless. It makes me so sexy feeling."

Of course that was Digger. Spreader bars, made of some kind of slightly springy carbon fiber – and permanent ones no less! And sure long for a small nine year old. And I simply did not know how he could feel any more 'sexed up.' My master told me that Digger had had a neural implants put against the nerves coming from both his sphincters and groin. He already had a near constant libido at 6.2 on the Menchner Scale. And the last time I was here he'd just had his urethra rerouted to come out between his small boy scrotum and his butt hole. There was a small ceramic valve there which took a special fitting to open and drain. Also they put some attachment all the way to his bladder and cut out the valve that controlled his urine flow. He had no control over his bladder any more and said it was so neat most of the time feeling like he had to pee.

Strange kid that Digger. I was happy for him. But they also did something to him that he never grew up, even cognitively. Like a real nine year old forever. A super horny nine year suck-fuck toy old forever. I was certain that several years from now it would be something new. He did mentioned once that he had this overpowering need to be not just used for sex, but to have a feeling of helplessness while being so used.

As I was thinking back on that last visit, I was sure he would absolutely go ape over the gag and muzzle thing my master still was forcing me to wear. (OK I sort of liked it too knowing it was not going to be permanent, but I'm pretending m to my master it is such a cruel punishment; so don't tell him). But knowing Digger 3; On the other hand he liked having the largest penises around stuffed down his little boy throat too much, definitely not a permanent one.

Well anyway that was where I was made to have a ten year old looking body forever. And how come I can be sexed so much. And where my sex parts – and a few other things – were 'enhanced.' So that my special boy holes would become so good at giving my master pleasure. And don't wear out. And become his special property. In addition I can't really shoot sperm. My real testicles had been removed and special ceramic ones were put in. Ones which also hold special bacteria which produce a fancy and powerful aphrodisiac and other stuff which can make my master – when he sucks me off – able to have better and more frequent orgasms. (There's a better way now to do this same thing but that's what was done to me).

Well anyway, that's where we are headed. We are supposed to meet a guy who used to run the labs but who's retired now, a Dr. Maximillion Dogood. [First introduced in: BoyToys, Inc.] Reunion time!

I said there were two things. The other is we are going to get a special tour of the labs. They mostly specialize now in just modifying boys for special boy brothels, and places like The Xanadu Pleasure Dome, or SynCity, or the Isle of Circe, where all kinds of boys are kept for men to have sex stuff with. And other stuff. And of course there is a whole lot more boys like me being modified to be made into slaves for just one master. I am totally excited! My master keeps kidding me that he was going to trade me in but I really don't believe him. But of course I replied I'd probably get a better master than the one I got. (I paid for that one I tell you!)

And strangely, while talking to me about how I was such a special boy to have been chosen for modification and sex use was when he said his intuition finally kicked in. He opined: "I should have seen it right away. That boy at that slave worker factory was merely ordinary. Definitely not a candidate for BoyIsland without modification. A boy lover myself I should have recognized this."

Chapter 5
A Boy Discovers the Real World of Slavery

Tommy

The guy asking that question was the first one who interviewed me over the WSI Net when I first got this idea about how to help my Mom. And my brothers. I was starting to get real scared. Ok, I was real scared over the entire last ten days. (When I wasn't being bored stiff that is). But today I was even getting 'scareder.' A LOT 'scareder.' In fact I realized up to now I didn't even know what the word scared even meant.

But so much how I thought things were going to be, just wasn't. You know what the worst thing about being taken by a Slave Brokerage house and prepared for auction? Or the part that has to happen first where you are taken before the Slave Judge to become an Indentured Slave in the first place? Or then being actually being auctioned off? Well I will tell you. The very worst thing is when NOTHING happens! You would think that all kinds of stuff is going to be done to you and all kinds of people will interview you, or you will be taken all kinds of places, even if those places are like the courtroom, or the auction house, or whatever. Well no. Most of the time you are locked in a room – alone. With absolute NOTHING to do. But worry. For al lot of the time it's just plain BORING! But then you start to wonder what all is happening. And no one tells you anything! So it goes back and forth from boring to worrying back to boring, like you are the ball on a board court. The wall – the racket – the wall – the racket 3; Well you get the picture?

At first, things happened so fast you are much more excited than scared. And a lot more interested in all the stuff going on around you and where boredom isn't in your vocabulary. But after the first few days then absolutely nothing happens. OK, that's probably not really true. All kinds of things are happening. And even things which concern you. But it all happens without you. It's like you are a toy in house for sale. First people come at look at you. You get all kinds of ideas about what is happening, who might want you and for how much. But then nothing. It all has to do with realtors, or banks, or mortgage people, or and maybe all kinds of bartering back and forth, and arranging for movers, and a whole lot of stuff. But it all happens without you actually being involved.

Well let me start from the start. (And just to let you know, even if I don't mention it much, you are REALLY scared but so much is happening this 'scaredness' is sort of buried under all your other thoughts). So anyway first I am in this really strange box. Well it was called a boy cage. Now how's that for a scary name? But it is much more like a weird kind of box than a cage. Heck no bars or nothing. But in a real cage you have room to move even if it could be small. But in this thing I could not move a single eyebrow. Ooops. Not right. My eyebrows were almost the only thing I could move! And maybe an eyelid. And wow, I was put into this box totally starkers! Ever get to take off all your clothes in front of two scary strangers? My boner was SO embarrassing. But it felt real exhilarating at the same time. Like the very first time you got naked with a friend and touched each other. Yeah – touched you THERE! Or when a bunch of the guys wrestled you to the ground to take down you pants, and your underpants to see your private stuff. Sure you fight them but not too much. You really don't want to get away. Because you are thrilled that it is happening to you. That's what I mean. With all that going on, the scaredness gets almost not really looked at.

And so now I'm in this box and I'm being shipped just as if I were some merchandise. (Of course I will be soon). You see I signed a virtual contract with this Slave brokerage company which is legally binding. I can not get out of being sold as a slave even if I changed my mind. Well not a forever slave, just one for six years. They called it an Indenture. Strange word. But it means the same thing. Adults make up all kinds of different stuff but most of it's all the same. I don't know how come, but when people become adults they forget what's important.

But anyway here I am being shipped across the country in the box. It was actually called a SafeSecure Boy Cage, and I am telling you that so you can understand what else is so weird. To keep me 'safe' I guess they make sure all my body parts are placed in all this cushiony stuff and they said even micro force fields keep me from moving. But the very best part, they put things into me. I mean right into my pisser slit and into my butt hole and the thing which really is getting tiresome there is this big gag filling my mouth. I say best part because it really gets me so aroused. Yes, that sex stuff. Strange but I think just a couple months ago I felt almost the same thing but I couldn't figure it out. That's not exactly true. But I can't explain it. Its like before it was thrilling but now its more than thrilling. Now I get this urgency in my penis and groin. That's still not exact but the best I can do. Like several months ago my pisser would get stiff for no reason – well, except it sure did if someone was near you when your pisser was showing. But it wasn't a sex feeling. Just a thrill feeling. But just lately that's all been changing. Now you know right off that you want to rub up and down on your pisser. And it feels great.

Well anyway I can't say it any better so I will talk about other things. Here I was naked in this box being shipped and all this stuff was put into parts of my body that kept making me feel sex stuff all the time. I was great. Even being forced into this box and being so totally unable to move, all this also got me so sexed up. I LIKED it. Well except my mouth was aching a bit. And my butt hole was hurting a bit. But it didn't seem to matter. The great sex feeling was so much better than the bad stuff.

And then I got delivered. I can't believe that I even fell to sleep. And now it was all so exciting again. People opened my box and took all that stuff out of my pisser and my butt hole and mouth and damn I felt so sexed up. Even though I was sort of sacred it was all part of an adventure. And it was thrilling to be naked in front of strangers even if I pretended to cover my privates with my hand. And wow was I thrilled when they made me take my hands away. I didn't precisely know what was happening except I was put into this room like a doctor's office and had to wait all naked. Finally two guys came in, one a doctor and a person who I think had something to do with selling me. Wow just the idea of being sold got me so aroused. They did a lot of tests and a lot of scans and drew blood an all that and finally I was told to get into this big round machine. They said it was a real special brain scan. Anyway, it was all exciting at least then. And finally I got to go to the bathroom and then eat. And all totally naked. I was shocked when there were times when I actually forgot that I was naked. Well that very next day I was given this cloak thing to wear and no belt or nothing. And some rubber foot things. And I was taken before the Slave Judge and had to wait forever but finally I had to tell everyone I wanted to be Indentured for six years, and suddenly I was officially a slave. I guess 'til then I could have gotten out of it. I almost didn't say yes when I was thinking about my Mom and how upset she was about it, but finally I realized I had to do it to so my Mom could keep all the money the Slave brokers gave her.

Anyway, I ate and then was put into this bare van and taken back to that first place and put into a bare room with nothing to do at all. Except start to worry. But that afternoon two guys came into the room all excited like. They said something about me being special and about gene splices. I knew about that stuff but it didn't matter anyway since that stuff can only happen to real all the time slaves. Any way I did get to feel special when the guy made me take another scan and said it was more than just the splice stuff. I guess I had the right kind of brain or something. But it still didn't matter since another guy said it was all arranged just as the moving person said to my Mom way back when this all got started. I was going to be a brothel boy on BoyIsland. It was actually exciting only I knew my Mom would have been horrified. And not just by the brothel thing but more by the fact it was with men rather than women. I never could let her know I liked boys and not girls. She was real old fashioned that way. And besides she actually believed all that preaching stuff. I pretended to go along but didn't really,

Well my only real worry was I hoped I didn't have to do all that sex stuff with some one too ugly or too smelly. So I kept imagining being made to do sex with guys that really excited me. And to think that just a couple months ago I never had these kinds of thoughts. Sure I was shown how to get that great sex feeling with my pisser but it wasn't until real recent that I started realizing I was attracted to boys. In fact the ides of having to even touch a girl down there made me almost retch. I even know from the WSI Net that guys even licked girls down there. Now THAT really makes me want to loose it. But a guy, wow! I started to remember when some of my friends pulled down my pants and I got all excited. Well now it made sense. Now that I know about myself. And like that time, just the idea of being forced to do things made it all that more intense. I knew enough from the stuff on the Net that I guess I am much more passive sex wise. I sure LIKE the idea of someone – of course he has to be trim and not smelly or fat – and being made to suck him or having him force his own pisser into my butt hole, now THAT REALLY gets me all powerfully sexed up. I can't wait. Especially this is a real rich place and the men there are all rich enough to make sure that are trim and look good. Even old guys now can get re-juved. Even old guys I wouldn't mind so long as they weren't all wrinkly. And I am thrilled that these guys want to give me drugs to make sure I stay a boy and also make sure I'm always sexed up. Just thinking about my next six years is so thrilling!

But then I just had to wait for the formal auction. I guess only state run auctions are legal. So even with the bid by BoyIsland, I had to wait. But they told me it was pretty much a done deal. They all make arrangements with each other not to keep bidding each other up. I mean all the ritzy special boy places where they are rich enough to make sure their boys are all cute and made to stay young. (Though I never thought of myself as cute). But he said that it was also hard to get Indentures or really young looking boys since you had to be 12 to let yourself to be indentured and for a lot of places most 12 year old boys are already too old. Now I was really surprised to learn that a whole lot of men like only boys who are not mature yet. Even little kids. How weird it that? So I guess I still look like a little kid even if I am 12 all ready. But I guess it will be a good month or so before I really become a brothel boy. I mean this guy mentioned just yesterday that I needed to be 'conditioned' – whatever that is, and trained, and I do know what that means. I hope I can learn how to suck good. And he also said that I had to be started on a drug regimen. I also know what that is all about. I read up. It's part that not maturing stuff. To keep me a boy physically. They even said that the small part I've matured can even be reversed since it would be caught in time. And I am sure glad that after I would still be able to orgasm and stuff. And that's what the other part of the drugs are for. They said I'd be kept constantly real sexed up, or horny as some of the other kids called it. I sure like that idea. Heck. The more I think about all this I'm wondering maybe I could STAY a kid and have all this sex done to me forever. Well, I'm sure I think I'd want to grow up sometime and get a career, and maybe even marry, and adopt kids. But that's a long, long ways off. At least six years off.

Well that's when things started getting boring. I mean they took all kinds of test, and then a couple 360-holos of me totally naked, and then asked me all kinds of questions about mostly sex stuff and what I though I might like to do. (I was really afraid to say too much. I mean a lot of what really excited me was too embarrassing to talk about). The only strange thing, and a bit scary too, was when that one guy came in and brought this big machine and put this thing on my head and made me watch all kinds of porn. And wow, talk about far out. Some of that stuff I'd be almost too embarrassed to even think about let alone talk about, not to mention actually doing. Strange, not once did he ask me a question. In fact I was gagged and even muzzled the entire time. And wow, that sure made me so aroused! That guy said he was from Kanadu something but I tried to look it up later that one time I actually got access (against the rules) to a com but couldn't find it anywhere. Sounds like something way up north or something. One thing he did show me which REALLY turned me on, but please don't tell anyone, was boys who were changed to look a bit like animals. Not real animals – that would be gross – but just parts of them like ears that stuck up, or having a cute furry tail or something. I fantasized that night about wagging my own imaginary tail. I was trying to decide what kind of tail would look good on me. See, I told I was getting bored.

Well anyway the boredom set in for almost a week. I couldn't understand why they didn't at least let us have a com or even a digi-cube, or anything. But they wouldn't even let us talk together even though there were boys right in the both rooms next to me.

But it was just after I was told that the auction was over. And that's another thing – who ever thought you could be auctioned off without ever even knowing about it? But here's where things really started getting scary. That very first guy came in, took my DNA and all my scans over again, and then said I'd been sold. Well that was OK, even if scary when I though wow, I had been sold! But then he said I was sold not to BoyIsland, but to that guy from Kanadu. I started to worry. The BoyIsland guy said that no one would bid against them and that their bid was too high for anyone else anyway. So what suddenly happened?

Well that Kanadu guy was also – so he said – from a very special boy sex place. And he said only millionaires could even afford it. So I thought this would even be better. Millionaires all get re-juvs, don't they? I started thinking about having all these rich men playing with my sex parts. I masturbated a whole lot those ten days or so. There was one fantasy where these two big dark skinned guys held me down while I was struggling – but really nor too much – while this other guy started molesting me, touching me all over. Once I almost came with out hardly even touching myself think about this. Another fantasy I had was a couple guys tying me to a big bed while things were shoved up my butt hole and then I was forced to lick another mans sex parts and even all around his butt hole.

Well, finally a couple of days later two men came again with that Boy Cage thing and FINALLY things were happening again; I was all trussed up again inside that thing except the top had not been totally done up around my head yet when one of them mentioned my being shipped to some place called BoyToys. Well that didn't get me too worried. Maybe I wasn't sold to that Kanadu place after all. I felt disappointed, but BoyToys sounded like it was still a man-boy place any way. So I was so sexed up being in that box again I just wanted to GO. But just as the front of the box was pulled up around my face which just let me eyes see out, right after that sucking gag thing was put into my mouth, one guy just happened to say one thing that chilled me totally stark raving scared. I kept thinking those words that whole trip and got more panic stricken as I thought on it. The words were etched in my brain. He said: "Another boy for the BoyToy labs. They sure are the best at modifying boys to make into sex toys."

Now I know that sometimes I really act stupid. But I was smart enough to think through what all that could means. I kept thinking about two things in particular. And then I added up two plus one and got ten. One, was that only PERMANENT slaves. Like Class Two or Class Three were allowed to be legally modified. And two, what kind of boy sex place would send a boy to be modified? I kept mulling over that until suddenly a chill sent shock waves right through me. If I had not been held so securely I would have started shaking. That Kanadu guy kept repeating all kinds of shots showing MODIFIED boys near the end when was here and had that thing stuck on my head. And all too many of them were part boys, part animals! That was when I counted to ten and went way past terrified all the way to petrified. And it was not so much about being modified. In fact that sort of scared me in an exciting way. It was the implication. The only way I would be modified was if somehow someone made a mistake – or a deliberate mistake – and I was now being treated as a permanent slave. I did not want to be a slave forever! I figured six year was OK, especially if I only had to have sex with a lot of guys, probably rich guys. But this changed everything. And especially if it were a Class Three Slave. They could do anything they wanted to you, and sometimes did. And you could never object! Even torture which had me sweating blood. I HATED even minor pain. I was the biggest wimp on the planet.

I think I alternated from uncontrollable crying to thinking, to 'this could not possibly be happening,' back to crying again. All the way to where I was going.

And when I got there I had just about had myself convinced I was all panicking for nothing. Then the cage was being opened the very first thing I saw was a slave with a permanent collar and he was totally naked! He looked no more than five or six years old and was totally naked. A slave! The reality that there was indeed a world of slavery was hitting home. My emotions started to soar. And I was wondering who in the world would have a naked six year old slave? And before anything else was done something touched my neck; I felt a sharp sting.

Then I heard that small slave boy scamper away yelling: "Master, that boy's here. The one for the last splice tank."

Obviously trying to alert someone in authority. I looked around. If it hadn't been for that shot I probably would have fainted from pure panic. But half way into that panic I suddenly felt totally OK. It was strange. I read about drugs and all. I mean this wasn't what I though any drug would feel at least that I had ever imagined. This was like all my emotions – and I mean ALL – simply vanished. At least the panic vanished too. But I could now think with a totally clear mind. It was like I was thinking about some story which concerned someone else and didn't require any emotion at all. It was almost like arguing about why you thought a word was spelled with a 'Y' while someone else was adamant it was with an 'I.' Like it really didn't MATTER. Yet the fact was still there. So too it was like that here.

I was thinking so clearly: "Wait a minute I think there's been a mistake. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be put into any gene-splice tank. I shouldn't be modified at all. I shouldn't be a Class Three Salve." All academic and not really gut wrenching.

So I very calmly stood when finally released from the box/cage.

And very calmly told someone that I thought there'd been a mistake. And was very calmly led to another room where several big tanks were lining one wall and there were hundreds of monitors all around. And I very calmly noticed all the busy activity with most the people in lab coats. And one guy in a bright pink coat actually introducing himself like he was my new teacher in school. Which by the way I was probably going to miss next week. Starting the next year that is.

All the while an entire series of quite miniature sensors were being placed at various spots on my body. I was merely interested. In fact I found myself automatically following all instructions as if I had absolutely nothing else better to do, and didn't want to make a fuss. I couldn't believe it. Several hours went by and here I was sitting on a low counter, hooked up to a million monitors, by remote micro sensors, while someone was making a ten thousand BHU detailed DNA analysis – just making sure of course – since it had been done that week before and the first gene splice had already been prepared after the computers had made its ten hour run – at 4,000 BHU a minute by the way. Finally that Dr. Erastes came back and actually paid enough attention to hear what I was trying to say.

"I think there's been a mistake doctor. I'm not supposed to be here."

"Well I always say double check your double checks." And addressing this time an even different and somewhat older boy he ordered: "Boo, could you get that data cube again?"

"Yes master, right away."

And yet another boy, maybe 11 or 12 and a rich chocolate brown in color, seemed totally unconcerned about his total nudity, and with an obvious cute 3½ inch [9 cm] boner swinging about as he scooted off. He soon returned handing the doctor a small cube. Yes, here was definitely a far different reality. This Dr. Erastes, actually a seemingly very friendly guy, put the cube into a slot and a virtual screen instantly popped into being. He then touched several spots announced: "No. You're the right lad. Got all the data right here. See, this look like you?"

Another touch and a life sized holo of my naked self popped into being two feet [60 cm] away.

"Wow, I never realized I looked that cute." That was what I said.

"Good, we are ready. And without another word from me – I was a half second away from telling this Dr. Erastes exactly why I was still the wrong person, he touched my neck with another instrument, another sting, and instantly I was totally unable to move. Well not exactly. I could move but almost infinitely slowly, and I could still breathe. But that was all. My last thought before I was helped into this big tank was: "Drats!"

My life ended with that incongruous thought.

And I watched with almost infinite interest as the thin liquid filled the now sealed up tank, and I heard by some mic in my ears to breath in the liquid and not try to hold my breathe. I was so fascinated by the very concept of breathing a liquid, I thought I'd give it a go. And except for finding it just a bit harder to breathe I was surprised to note that it gave me so much oxygen that I only needed to breathe out an in about twice a minute.

And for the next several minutes, everything was absolutely so fascinating I just took it all in with avid interest. I was surprised in fact how all matter of fact it all was. Here I was in a big liquid floating comfortably – and suddenly was fascinated by the surmise that there must have also been micro force fields holding me since I did not sink in such a thin liquid and I could barely move a finger, let alone much of my other parts. I was also wondering just how I would get enough to eat when this small tube snaked out to me and that thing in my ear told me to open my mouth. I did. And suddenly the end anchored itself there. I suddenly started feeling drowsy and my very last though was not one that had anything whatever to do with my not wanting this to happen or anything even remotely connected. I only wondered just what modifications I would discover when I awoke.

Which was almost four months later!

That was when I did panic. And had to be sedated. I awoke again feeling remarkably well. In fact I felt about the best I'd been my entire life. But just couldn't seem to remember anything. I looked over to see some person in a lab coat and couldn't understand why I couldn't seem to focus quite right. It was as if I had to keep turning my head back and forth just a bit to see first with one eye and then the other. And for some reason all the colors seemed just a tiny bit more vivid. I was fascinated. And that was when I discovered something just a bit disconcerting. I mean all my life when I turned my eyes downward I could just see maybe a very small part of my nose. But now suddenly I saw a huge projection at the end of which was this totally cute small black knob of a nose. And when I tried to focus inward my sight was blocked on both sides by a long extension of that ridge thing that stopped at that nose. And that was when my memories rushed back into my mind. And that was when I realized that that ridge and that nose was WRONG! And that was when my thoughts made a thousand calculations per millisecond. With absolute and dreaded certainty I absolute KNEW I had been transformed into an animal! I suddenly tried to get up and I had trouble making the lower half of me work And that just made things that much worse. I assumed – incorrectly – that something had gone wrong and I was partially paralyzed!

Fortunately another sharp sting on the neck and this time I fell asleep in record time. I never later could even remember lying back down.

Fortunately, the very next time I woke up three other people were watching me, one of whom I remembered as Dr. Erastes, and even more fortunately they must have given me something like that first shot which seemed months ago. And in fact it was.

I heard a voice from far away. "How are you feeling lad?"

I was academically amused. But not emotionally. No emotions at all.

I answered with what I believed to be the height of humor (without the emotion): "I don't doctor."

It had been Dr. Erastes who had asked.

He laughed. I wondered what was so funny and thought about what I had said. I new it had been an attempt at humor intellectually, but there was not real mirth in it.

"Quite right lad. Not with that much 'quatro-nul' in your system."

I looked around and realized many things all at once. I indeed seemed to have a slightly different kind of sight. Like I had to concentrate to bring two halves of everything into one picture; like if I stopped trying the world seemed to split in two, right down the middle, although there was some overlap. My right eye seemed to see the right 60% of the room, while my left the left 60%. The doctor must have realized what was happening since I was again slightly shifting my head back and forth.

"Don't try to force it lad. Your brain will soon stitch your vision together all on its own. Almost like magic. Wonderful thing the brain. Your eyes are now spread farther apart, and aimed slightly more to the side. You should actually see more than you did before. Your vision now takes in about 30 % more field of vision although you stereoscopic vision will be about 50% more limited. And some changes like yours state that color is more vivid."

I understood everything right away and found the process fascinating.

When I awoke the last time my legs wouldn't quite work. I looked down and saw something which I had trouble understanding. "Doctor what happened to my legs?"

And without him replying I suddenly understood. How dense I thought. My legs were now those of some animal. Interesting. And I was trying to decide if I actually liked the idea of being part animal. That was when I lifted my arm to see if that too had changed. At first it seemed the same then I noticed some differences. Mostly it was the hand. Well it was a hand but the fingers were a bit wrong. And I also realized my arm felt a bit thicker somehow. My hand was stumpier and the same with my fingers, and the fingernails were much bigger black thick things. I turned my hand and arm over and there was fur covering the back of my hand and along the back of my forearm; I thought it quite appealing. A light tawny brown. And soft. And that was when I realized that my face was all wrong.

"Doctor. May I see a mirror?" My voice was even different. A bit lower but not by much. Still a boy's voice. But more timber in it. And I also realized my hearing was so much better. And more directional. And that was when I realized that I could actually turn my ears – ears that stuck up and now sat more toward the top of my head. And I could smell each of the different people. I could discern them as very different people just by smell. But I simple could not put a word to what I was experiencing. All a bit confusing. I lay back down trying to fit it all together. Well I was right. I had been modified in to a part animal. That was when I suddenly jumped up and hit my head into the proffered mirror.

I was momentarily distracted. I looked so different. There was still a goodly amount of human shape but my head and face was definitely just as much animal looking. I thought it aesthetically pleasing actually. Maybe even cute. Large soulful brown eyes, below very heavy brows. A somewhat elongated face but difficult to call it an actual snout. I was trying to dredge up from memory just what a goat looked like and I could only discern a modicum of goat features now instead of my old one. The nose was a cute snub of black more animal like than human and with large – very large – open nostrils and right below, a narrow and slightly protruding mouth. I opened it. Yes definitely animal like and with almost no chin at all below, but wider than you would think a goat's mouth would be on a head this size. (I found out later that they couldn't allow the gene splice go too far with my head so to still accommodate the human sized brain). I sort of liked it. But with that thought, I started trembling. I was part ANIMAL! It was finally starting to get through to me. And that was when I simply had to know. I flung the mirror aside and 'courageously' looked down at myself. Definitely an animal. From about several inches below the waist down started the furry part – dark tan furry part. And the animal part. The thighs humped much more like an animal, and the groin seemed deeper within the folds of my legs. My legs were slightly folded at the knees and they seemed much more at 'rest' in that position, and the knees seemed not far enough away. And that was when I realized that my thighs were not long enough. But I stretched my legs out and the ends were all wrong. What should have been my feet, what my brain was telling were my feet, was now a long part that seemed longer than both thigh and calf, and definitely no longer a foot. And it just felt so weird. I tried to stand up, and an attendant quickly came and grabbed onto my (partly furry) arm. Good thing, I almost fell. The thing that should have been a foot was a long single bone and simply would not step down right. When I tried to walk, it was like I had to walk on my toes. Well at least two toes per 'foot' which together was now my hoof! It was difficult not to use terms that really no longer fit. I had hooves! Split hooves. And then my mind made a big leap! I looked over at the doctor and asked: "Is that possible? You made me into a faun?"

The doctor smiled. "On the first guess. And by far I must say my best work. Everything should be fully functional."

I was fascinated, and I knew I should have been horrified, but I wasn't. And then I brought my feet back onto the bed and I looked back down at myself with a wisp of emotion. My first thought was that something was really wrong – my penis was simply not there. My heart almost stopped before I realized there was this large roll of flesh that was partly attached to my very lower abdomen. I had a penis sheath now. Inside it felt like it was still there. I had to reach down with my hand and I start rubbing my palm over the top of the sheath. Suddenly I felt an intense stirring in my groin, a BIG stirring. More intense than I'd ever even thought I COULD have. I was absolutely mesmerized as I watched the tip of my penis peek out from the curved opening. A seemingly slender tip. The attendant grabbed my hand and at the same time the doctor sprayed something up my nose. My arousal simply died, and my emotional thrust quieted down.

But I kept looking down and kept thinking. I was so mixed up all of a sudden. I wasn't a boy down there any more. And the thought occurred to me. Even during those few throws of serious arousal I shuddered with emotion, emotion the doctor said I should not be experiencing. I had to ask.

"Doctor. Am I still a person?"

He laughed. "However you want to think of it. Most of our boy-animal mixes prefer to think of themselves as boys but in part animal form. One such as yourself insists everyone always think of him as neither boy nor animal, but a faun. I suspect it does not especially matter in the end. You can still think like a boy. But more important, all our animal-boy mixes grow to really like and enjoy their new bodies. The mind is a very adaptable thing. Just like your eyesight will clear up, how you think of yourself will clear up and adapt to who and what you are as the new you."

I couldn't quite understand all that but the emotional surge passed and I took one thing he said and kept in in mind. That they came to like their new selves. And heck, I did think what I was now was pretty neat.

I suddenly wanted to walk. I jumped out of bed, landed on my feet – I mean my two hooves, and promptly fell on my butt. That was when I reached back and realized that I had a tail! I seemed to like the idea that I now had a tail. A real tail. For several minutes I could not stop touching it or wagging it. I was delighted in a very muted way, I realized I was indeed feeling at least some degree of emotion, but not very strongly. I assumed the drug had not been administered as strongly as when I as was being readied to be put into that tank. I looked at the doctor as the two attendants were trying to help me onto my 3;hooves. I was having difficulty standing let alone walking.

"Doctor, will I ever actually walk?"

That was not going to be my question.

He answered. "Most animal-boys like you take about two days. Don't let yourself become discouraged. Your brain needs to learn how to move quite very different legs. And especially your balance will need to be reestablished."

"Doctor, what I was about to ask, how long? How long in that tank?"

"Almost four months. We can do all the gene splices a lot faster than years ago. You had a series of six gene splices gradually changing you into a faun. Some people use the word satyr, but we think the word faun fits better. It sounds more like the cute animal-boy like you are."

"What will happen to me doctor?"

"You of course are owned by a very wealthy organization. Two brothers actually. Our full transformation costs on you are upwards of one point three million BHU."

"Wow. I'm expensive!

I was momentarily elated by that thought. And I made just a bit of a laugh. It sounded funny, and I remembered my mouth and throat were so different. But I smiled – or my mouth parts tried to do a smile.

"Doctor, I am sure I could not afford myself."

But my mood collapsed suddenly. I became suddenly a bit fearful. I still had to remember someone OWNED me. It was really hard to think that way. Being actually owned. And I suddenly remembered that probably for my whole life.

"Doctor, maybe I need some more of that medication. My emotions are coming out and going all over the place."

"Look lad. It's a shock. But you will be surprised how fast you will get used to the idea of being a faun. And besides, you're maxed out on that med already. Your animal-boy form experiences emotions a lot more than you're are used to."

Over the next several hours I practiced everything. My entire body needed practice. But one good thing I was almost seeing good again. Not normal, but I could see clearly so long as I didn't try to stare too long at one point. One thing that got to me a bit was how I could see so far almost behind me. I kept getting started a bit when someone came from back behind me. But by the end of two hours I was almost could take several steps without falling. Hooves sure didn't have a lot of surface area. And I kept trying to step with my ankle, and that was supposed to be way off the floor. I had to specifically make myself think about walking only on my toes. Try it, its hard.

And every time I looked down at my groin and legs I got all shivery realizing I was this strange animal-boy, and not a real boy any more. It was really strange. But a bit exciting at the same time. And I also realized that the idea of being a faun seemed to give me a sexual thrill too.

And I found out that I simply could not eat. Until I finally got the hang of really using my tongue more. It could really extend quite a bit now and I needed it to keep bringing food into my mouth. (Later I will be reminded that that long tongue would become an important thing when having sex with my clients). But for these next couple days everyone mostly kept trying to make me concentrate on getting used to my new me.

That was when I remembered again that this new me was a new me for a reason. That was also when I had to confront the fact that I would probably never be free again. I asked the doctor again what was going to happen to me.

This time he answered. "Well boy, you do know that your new owners bought you because you were special. Special because you could take all those gene splices successfully. And almost as important, you should realize that most boys simply could not handle being made into a faun. But you, I think, you are realizing that the idea even excites you."

He was right. Every time I though of what they had done to me, the thought came out more positive than negative.

"But doctor. I'm a real slave aren't I?"

"Yes boy. Someone owns you."

"I still have trouble really taking that in. I mean before it felt pretty easy. Just six years then it was all over. Now, I simply do not know."

Bummer. And just when I was feeling pretty good about myself. I sighed.

But Dr. Erastes was suddenly alerted to something possibly amiss.

"Boy, just what do you mean?"

Dr. Pais Erastes

I had questioned the boy, and at long last the full story came out. And the amazing plot would have almost totally worked because most animal-boy creations were usually made to loose all memories of their families. But there was an exception in this one case. It was deemed that this boy could make the adjustment better with most of his memories intact. The only major memory erased was the boy's first name. And that was only to facilitate the boy accepting his new self identity, and his new life.

I had gone back to all the records again and came to the conclusion that the boy was telling the truth but there was absolutely no way that the faun's owner would allow the boy to actually do anything about it. Our own records had absolutely no indication that this boy was anything but the one presented to out lab. Somehow someone had even switched the Slave Authority's own records. So our company can not be thought culpable. I tended to be pragmatic about these things. I'd let it up to the new faun's owner to discover any error and deal with it. And I was sure how that would turn out.

So after some research and several calls to my superiors, I finally gave out a great sigh and returned to the boy. It was not quite fair, but any boy being used in this manner was not quite fair. It was just the way things were. I did my job quite well. With this boy and with his predispositions, and with the modifications made to the boy mentally, I was quite certain that he would eventually come to accept his new life and could even thrive in it. I was quite proud that the boy modifications I am personally responsible for are given the absolutely best chance they could get to at least be content in their new lives, and in many cases even happy. And I fully expected that outcome in this case.

Besides, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it anyway. The boy cried when he came back and I told him what conclusions I had come to.

"Look boy. There is absolutely 100% no way your new owners will let you be anything but a life time slave. They have too much invested in you. As far as communicating with your Mom, you will have to take that up with your owner when you get to where you are going."

Then I gave detail to the boy in brief just what future awaited him, as a faun at his new home at the Xanadu Pleasure Dome. He would in fact be one of the more pampered inhabitants of their entire resort. I just did not dwell on the sex part that much. All in good time. The boy was also definitely not yet ready to handle the intense feelings and out right rampaging libido he would experience when the full force of 'being a faun in heat' came upon him. Not yet.

Besides I had also all kinds of other work to do and other boys to attend to. And of course track down my own little slave and just hope that he had not again gotten into too much trouble. One thing which allowed me to find good sleep at night was the amazing sex I enjoyed with his own little imp of a sex toy. I smiled thinking about my own little animal boy.

Tommy

I suspected that it was all the emotional dampening drugs that allowed me to keep in emotional control and not go completely bonkers with the realization I was a full fledged slave. And a faun.

And that was another thing. It felt so utterly frustrating not being able to remember my own name. But at least I could remember all the other stuff. I sure could remember so many people and events and I full connection to my past, but it also seemed a bit distant somehow now. Like I'd been away years rather than months. It was all quite confusing, and not a little frustration. But underlying it all was that worry, with the little emotion that seemed to seep past the drugs, that how could I ever, EVER tell my Mom, what has happened to her son?

So what I mostly did amidst such potentially disastrous thoughts about my future, I did what many 12 year olds did, think about something else. I probably examined every single square inch of my body even going so far as asking an attendant if I could have use of a 360-holo mirror. I was fascinated by my face. It seemed so alien. Not wrong alien, but not me alien. But I sort of really liked it. But was somehow disappointed not to find horns anywhere. Not even nubbins. But my ears were really neat as they seemed to spring out a couple inches [c. 5 cm] about 45 degrees to each side. And I also seemed to get fascinated with my soft fur. Especially on my face. And I could not get over my fascination with my cute tail. I loved the feel of it swishing against the backs of my thighs even if it didn't reach all that far. And my hooves. Just the sight and feel of them seemed to signify more than almost anything that indeed, I was longer a regular boy. And as I thought about things I started wondering how come I had been all upset wondering what I was. I was just me after all.

And above all I couldn't stop touching my penis sheath and testicles. I was not quite sure how old I was supposed as a goat but I was fascinated by my new equipment. The sheath looked about at least maybe 4 inches [10 cm] long all by itself and I knew that the penis – my penis extended a lot more. And my testicles were much bigger also. I was also wondering if I could produce sperm – goat sperm. But my testicles now swung a bit, not like me before. Though still not really big. Not like picture I remembered seeing. So maybe I was still a boy goat so to speak. But they were still large for a boy. A boy boy I mean. My brain is getting tongue tied.

And all of a sudden I get totally and completely overwhelmed as if it had finally struck me, I WAS A GOAT DOWN THERE. (And the scary thought occurred to me. If I could produce sperm, would it be goat sperm? Or maybe I should just think of myself as a boy-goat. Probably didn't matter anyway. Suddenly I got a big horny feeling and I simply had to rub. I kept rubbing and it – the penis – my penis – started peeking out again. And wow. I just couldn't stop rubbing and I as my penis started emerging I was totally overwhelmed by a sudden mega jump in arousal. And my penis seemed to grow within me. It was such a different experience. The strangely tapered end felt so unfamiliar and so wonderful under my hand. Counting the sheath it felt huge. Well 'specially for a boy. And suddenly it was like my arousal took total control. I started rubbing for all I was worth and damn. It seemed to be alive.

Suddenly I heard some distant alarm and three people suddenly burst into my small room. I just about screamed when two big guys just yanked both my arms away from my own penis. I was amazed to see a really black prong super hard and dripping a whole lot maybe another four or five [10 or 12 cm] inches long. All I wanted was to bring myself to orgasm. I yelled in frustration as I was pulled around with my arms no match for the two bog men. I wailed in abject frustration. The doctor was all excited and shouting something I had no interest in even knowing. Why was he trying to stop me?

I struggled with all I had in me, but I realized I was just too small, and the big men too big, though I almost got one hand back even if it was like a huge bicep my small arm struggled against. I almost thought I was winning there for a second I was so absolutely determined. But I cried out in frustration and abject misery when my arms were finally pinned.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

I was going totally bonkers in frustration and could not stop myself from bucking. And even more – I was bucking wildly. It was then when I felt about the worst pain in my life as something was touched to the small tip of my penis which had just about completely emerged. I actually howled so loud I thought I was going hoarse. But my penis retracted and somehow I no longer felt that urgency – that urgency which right now somehow I couldn't quite understand why I allowed it totally take over and almost blank out any real controlling thought. I still felt an awful need to rub my penis sheath but it was not overpowering. Just really strong. But nothing more than I could easily control. Ok, not easy easy, but control. I thought. Maybe.

I realized that I could now think pretty rationally again. In fact that short run of emotion really was now dwindling. I looked almost dispassionately now at the doctor and realized that he had shoved something right into my small penis sheath. The two attendants were pinning my small body to the bed. Then I felt a very strange sensation and realized that the doctor was pushing something right into my penis – right into the piss hole. (Whatever that tube inside was called). I could feel even if I couldn't see it. I was amazed as I watched inch after inch of this tube being pushed into me. By now I had calmed down enough to try to communicate.

I was now a bit alarmed. "What's happening? "

Further and further this tube disappeared almost like magic inside me. I could feel it right in my penis and much farther. I though that the tube must be coiling around or something it seemed so much the doctor had pushed into me. It burned a bit and I struggled under the unsettling feeling and worse, the thought that something was really wrong.

"Please what's happening?"

"Just stay calm nothing at all serious, just a temporary measure. I'm putting in what's called a catheter. It's to allow your bladder to drain.'

Bladder? What's wrong with my bladder? Why Can't I pee regular?

Finally he squeezed a bulb at his end and I felt something in my lower groin. A tug, and then he took away the bulb and all I could see was this tube coming out of my penis sheath. The doctor still seemed anxious and that was getting me really scared.

Then he grabbed something from a tray someone had retrieved from the other side of the room.

"Please Doc, I'm really scared. What happened? What are you doing?"

"Nothing to worry about. Everything is quite normal – normal for you that is. All I am doing now is putting in a tube called a catheter into your bladder so you can pee."

He was repeating himself and giving me no explanation why.

"But so what. Why can't I pee regular?"

"No need to be concerned – he read minds? – just that we can't allow your penis to emerge yet. Until you are ready. I will explain it all in due time. First things first."

Jeesch! But as my emotions died down pretty good I was mire interested than anxious. And also how come adults always say that: "I'll explain later?" But I could not help from being intensely curious as he was touching and working my penis SHEATH. The very idea, and the very actuality, somehow thrilled me. In fact, even with the medication, a bit of emotion surged through me again.

Then the doc picked up a strange silvery object which almost resembled a tube except on one side it was open almost to near the end and the entire edge had sort of a small flange. By then I realized that the big attendants had released my arms and I propped myself up to get a better look. I again could not stop being amazed when I looked down there. Again the fact that I had animal legs and all seemed to keep impacting my awareness again and again as if the first several times it couldn't really be believed.

I then felt something cold and realized that that tube was being pushed onto my penis sheath. The open slot was so it could fit the entire length – about four inches [10 cm] – because of the fold of flesh connecting it to my abdomen. I was amazed all over again. My nether regions were no longer my familiar penis which I was only just recently getting quite fond of. Then I felt some strange pressure run entirely through that fold of flesh between my penis sheath and body.

"Doc, that almost hurt. What's happening? And why you doing this?"

"What you felt were several interior projections going from one side of this guard to the other. It will anchor it in place. Note the tube we put into you had a very small helmet which form-fitted against the head of your penis and had a small extension tube whish just emerged from your sheath. Watch."

He touched another control and I could see a small hole form at the end of the guard he called it. He then picked up a small piece of metal and seemed to actually insert it into the small hole. He took his hand away and I could see a small plug at the tip of the guard.

"There, that is finally dispensed with. I thought we would have had a bit more time but your actions precipitated things. Buy no matter."

"What are you talking about doc? I'm really confused. And I am so sorry about all that. I don't know what came over me there for a while." But I was also concerned about what he had affixed to my penis sheath. What the heck was that all about?"

He smiled, as the attendants straightened up and pulled the grav tray away. "What I did was to put a genital guard onto your penis sheath so that your penis can not emerge. You are not ready for that. It can create, shall we say, strong emotions and needs." As he noted the look in my face he added: "We will definitely be taking it off. Probably in a couple days or so when we know it 3;, well, how shall I put it, yes, when we are certain that you no longer have need of it. I will explain more later, but rest assured, it WILL be coming off."

Dr. Pais Erastes

Tommy

I was also informed that later this morning I was finally having some of the things explained to him by Dr. Erastes about his 'condition' with specific reference to his sexual needs. And use.

The doctor started his long awaited explanation with almost no preamble. And his manner seemed just a bit more peremptory.

"What has happened is this. We have so genetically manipulated your body to make your sex drive exceed 7.7 on the Menchner scale, more than 4 times that of an oversexed 18 year old boy, but only when your penis extends beyond your penis sheath. That is why you were almost uncontrollable yesterday when your penis started emerging. I had expected that the drugs you are on now to have kept your sex drive in check enough to allow your body its normal penis extension without putting you into heat. But it appears that your new faun metabolism is coming on line faster than we had anticipated."

Faun metabolism? Heat? The new faun was trying to make sense of those things and what they now meant to him.

"But Doc, I don't understand 3;"

The doctor interrupted: "Allow me to explain boy. Remember you are now a slave. You will also have to be properly trained and conditioned to accept all necessary conditions of that status. So you may as well start right now. You will listen and respond with attention and deference appropriate to proper slave comportment."

I sort of gulped. But there was an almost visceral automatic compliance within me which seemed to take some measure of control. Almost as if by nature I recognized that this master-slave relationship was 3; well, normal.

"Now from our experience, when a person is so modified after puberty has well started, it results in a faun who will be able to experience genital triggered orgasm by the usual methods. However that is not what we want. What made you so valuable were a number of factors. One, your genetic compatibility with all the necessary gene splices. That is difficult to find. But more so was your predisposition to male-male sex, sexual submission, and even some measure of positive response to being forced into slavery."

I was cognitively dubious of that characteristic and I tentatively voiced my objection. But realized at the same time perhaps I was being not entirely accurate in assessing my current feelings.

"Quite the contrary boy, you will very soon discover with the enhancements we have made in your brain pathways intensifying this predisposition, that you will thrive being so controlled."

When he saw my look, he added: "Well, I see that you are conflicted already. Just allow your nature manifest itself. It will bring you to a place of contentment that you will not experience until you do."

He smiled as he continued in his usual enthusiastic manner.

"And then there was the matter of not only finding the right boy with the right set of genetic conditions and predispositions, but one at the precise physiological development – namely, your being at the very cusp of your journey through puberty. That was critical. As you have been told, you are owned by the Buddingo brothers. And will shortly be confined to their Faun Compound in their magnificent boy resort. And you will also soon discover that you will be one of the more valuable properties in that resort."

It felt so strange being referred to as a property and being confined. And scary. I knew that I should definitely be more concerned or even pissed off, but those drugs 3; The doctor mentioned that the dosage was to be gradually reduced. But that was not the entire story. Feelings were now definitely starting to come through. I also definitely had this feeling of elation; it almost even felt in part sexual in nature. And at that mention of being 'valuable,' the incongruous thought flashed through my mind: "If you mother could see you now." But my mind seemed to be finally coming to grips with the reality of my now really BEING a slave.

"Doctor, what about formal State Slave training." I shuddered, thinking about it. "Won't I..." I never got to finish.

"Ah boy. A bit naïve. Almost all the training you will need will be how to submit and respond properly when being used for sex. That will essentially be your life's occupation."

He had the gumption to actually grin when he said that, seemingly expecting me to accept being made into a pure sex slave as if it were perfectly normal. The very idea had made me both fearful but yet excited at the same time. Yes, that drug had certainly worn off a bit.

But I grabbed onto one thing he mentioned.

"Doctor, why was the timing so critical?" And I also asked about how come my penis barely extended when I went to pee.

"Ahh, very important and at the very crux of the problem facing us as we were trying to make a perfect sex slave. A being not only a slave in fact, but a slave to their own libido."

This did not exactly reassure me.

"You see, we want a creature who will not only welcome being used sexually, and even more than one thriving on it. We wanted even more so one that will absolutely have an all abiding need to be used. And to have sex. You see, we need a creature first who can be conditioned to maintain control when the situation warrants it. And for which you will be soon getting the requisite conditioning and training. And you will have to maintain proper control without any drug regimen. But to maintain this degree of control demanded it will only be only be possible when you penis remains within its sheath. The ability to control your penis extension has been put into you by genetic splice."

(And of course there is also that particular interaction of human and goat genes which seems to have resulted in a higher libido. And also happens to be VERY much greater at this faun's stage of sexual development, just when that penis IS extended. It would seem that the folklore about a faun's sex drive has been to be discovered as more than just a fable).

"But your brain now needs to be conditioned and to learn, so to speak, just how to use that control. And mark my word, you WILL obey your directive to keep you penis sheathed when expected! I warn you about that. I know that you conditioning and training in this respect will be harsh but you MUST and WILL achieve it. And it is essential that you recognize that any breach in this regard will be punished quite harshly. You are a slave and you be forced to obey!"

And I was starting to like this person? I was getting a foreboding.

As for that penis extension thing, he explained that after the drugs hade all been out of my system and my libido would be in full charge, partial extension would definitely NOT be any concern.

"Please do not be too overly concerned. Our training methods are nearly foolproof."

And THAT is supposed to make me feel at ease?

"Now to the good part. You will note from yesterday that when your penis is allowed to extend itself out of its sheath it will biologically trigger within your system an essentially uncontrollable need for sexual stimulation, and orgasmic climax. Without this satiation you will quickly become rather unable to function entirely as a human boy. But this is what your owners want. They want you to abandon yourself to your animal part."

He invited any question.

"But that means that like yesterday I will not be able to control this need until I at least can complete masturbating myself," I asked with not a little dread.

"Ahhh. Absolutely incorrect. What this means is that you will go totally unsatiated until SOMEONE ELSE brings you to climax and this can only be accomplished by anal and rectal stimulation!"

Now I was perplexed. "Why!"

"THAT brings to the fruits of my genius. And precisely why we had to do the gene splices at the precise time. You see, you have been engineered to never be able to come to climax through penile stimulation. To the brink yes, but no further! Ingenious, yes?"

I was thinking more on the lines of truly diabolical. But it did have its own logic. I was starting to suspect (understatement!) that they will have no trouble motivating me to do as 'required' in this compound.

"Look boy. I take great pride in manufacturing sex objects who will enjoy their future roles. I do not callously produce specimens for emotional destruction. I have taken great pains in restructuring your brain pathways to ensure that you will thrive in your future occupation and environment. And I choose with deliberate dedication. I will have you know that most people in exactly your position could not have ever, no matter what restructuring had been done, attained even now your degree of equanimity. Or even enthusiasm. Admit it boy. You DO feel it! You should know that your drug regimen has already been cut in half. No mater what, the Buddingo brothers of the world will have their sex slaves. I will make sure that those sex slaves will be at least content, and if not actually thrive in their submission and future situations. You should be thanking me!"

I was not entirely mollified. And yet 3; But I was now intent on learning in how to adapt to my new body and succeed in at least surviving. The good doctor then outlined the regimen for the next two days. Which included my 'conditioning and training.'

The remaining morning consisted in 'body training' – getting of know how to use my body all over again. I though I was making good progress. But do you know how difficult it is to maintain one's balance on just two hooves, hooves not especially designed to make purchase on a smooth floor? But I made good strides.

Of course, just when I started moving 'normally' I would get another look either in a mirrored reflection or look down at my strangely shaped furry legs with their hooved pasterns – I had to learn new words, like cannon, pastern, and hocks, – my strange (and exciting) sheathed genitals, and my unrecognizable face. (I still didn't understand why I did not have horns – I almost felt disappointed. And I was still anxious and excited to get my first real view of my penis). And I seemed not to get over the idea that I now had a furry tail.

That afternoon I started my 'conditioning and training' which in large included maintaining my penis within its sheath. (Showing absolute and due deference of slave to master also was part). The doctor said that I would still probably have need of the help of the genital guard for a number of days yet, so that I will be wearing it well during my delivery to my new 'home,' and at times possibly even after.

But I first had a 'lunch,' if only vegetables could be considered lunch. I was told I would be weaned off all meat products as it allowed for a much pleasant body odour with my animal modifications. And then I had another small rest in my 'caged' bed. (I was still trying to get used to the constant accoutrements of slave captivity).

By the end of my 'rest,' I had fallen into a deep sleep. I was startled when I opened my eyes to see another pair staring me right back. Then the mouth below those eyes smiled – I think. I was so startled at what I saw we bumped heads as I quickly sat up. Holy Capuchin Colony of Caluna! He wasn't human! Or not quite.

The small apparition rubbed his forehead and said with an almost infectious 'bonne humeur,' and attempted 'bon mot': "Hi. I'm master doc's slave. And 'pain in the rear' as he claims sometimes. Which is only fair I think since he uses my rear every night. How you doing?" cheer

I sat up straighter and realized I shouldn't have been too surprised. And damn he was cute! Somehow the animal parts, well, no. He didn't actually have animal parts, bet the entirety of him was animal, well, looked animal LIKE. It was hard to explain. He so obviously was a boy, and by the deviltry I read in his face, with a quite mischievous smile – a bit strange as it looked almost half boy and half monkey, with its strange but cute slightly extended muzzle. Not much but just enough to know it was not pure boy. Below a large moist black button of a nose that came at the end of a barely perceptible upper portion that did not even make a show until well under the heavily hooded and deep set brown eyes. Below that nose came slightly protruding and quite expressive and heavy lips which seemed to be always moving. Like they seemed to mirror the mind that controlled them in extreme curiosity and inquisitiveness. The face and head was covered in quite beautiful looking shimmering very short fur except the black button nose and right about the mouth. The face was remarkable in that your very first though was boy, yet it had so many characteristics of a monkey. And even his body was subtlety changed as the boy seemed to even carry himself a bit different. And except for the usual, in his case a small silvery metallic slave collar, he was absolutely naked. And one thing I did notice which seemed to belie his seeming young age was that his testicles had dropped into their small sac.

He seemed to ignore my confusion and look of incredulity. And garbled: "Hello to you too."

"Master doc sometimes calls me the missing link, probably because I frequently go missing. He says that I am the most spoiled slave on the continent, although I am not quite sure what being a slave means other then when he gets really determined he can use a special voice which makes me do what he wants. Now he say I need to study more than just all that stuff on the WSI Net ed channels, so I can become his assistant. He makes sex slaves you know."

It was at that moment that I realized that this small monkey boy had no real concept of the outside world.

I couldn't help myself: "So what is a boy like you doing in a place like this?"

He giggled. "Silly. I'm not a boy. I'm a monkey boy. I'm special!"

"Boy, I mean special monkey boy, how old are you?"

"Eight and a half. Almost nine."

Damn. He barely looked five. He sure couldn't have been more than 4 or 5 inches [12½ cm] over three feet [90 cm]. But there was not an ounce of surplus flesh though he did look enormously cute, especially with that fur covering most of his body. Only his genital region seemed devoid, as far as I have observed so far. And his small boy (monkey?) penis was jet black, with no foreskin, and jutted a very stiff inch [2½ cm]. I would eventually discover that the good master doc had gengineered his boy to be in near constant sexual arousal. And like myself, he'd been modified never to grow or age physically though he would continue to mature to about a young teen mentally and emotionally.

"How long have you been a slave"?

"As long as I can remember. But I can't remember all the way back."

"What do you mean?"

"Well master doc, he explained that he found me in some terrible place called a cult. I am not real sure what that means but the people they believed all kinds of weird things, which included never allowing their kids to touch the floor or ground until they were six. And that starting at three all the kids were flogged – that is a whip thing he said which really hurts – once a week by being tied to a frame. Also that once a week we were given ice baths. And they were trying to get rid of all our bad things. Whatever that means. Master doc said I was found crawling in a ditch near their compound 'an I was half dead. They said they threw me out because I had too many devils in me."

I was to discover that this little imp was possibly right about his devils. Very mischievous ones at that. We talked about how he was discovered and that his parents were put in prison.

"And he said I would not have lived without a gene splice thing, and so he decided to have fun 'spear-menting. He also said that I had so many terrible nightmares he decided to erase them all, so as I said I cant 'member too far back, 'an he said I was just six when I was found. So he did neat stuff to me and made me look like this. For a while I thought all other kids I saw on the holo were funny looking. I though THEY were different. But anyway he says he likes me like this and that I turned out perfect. See, I even have a neat tail."

He turned around and promptly sat almost on my face. I had to push him away as he was squealing in laughter. I thus also noted that the area around his black anal ring was also without fur, and was surmounted by about a good foot or more of cute monkey tail. He seemed to give off just a hint of an exotic musky smell that was pretty alluring to the nose. Also I noticed that underneath that beautiful short tan brown fur was totally black skin. Thus his skin coloring (and that of his special monkey-boy parts) was somewhat different than what I remembered seeing in holos of monkeys in the wild.

"So, monkey boy, you never did say what you are doing in here?"

He giggled again. "Master doc, shooed me away. I wanted to help but he said, something 'bout not wanting to 'ax-dently' get a two foot [60 cm] boy with a four foot [1.20 m] penis 'stead of a four foot [1.20 m] boy with a two foot [60 cm] penis."

This cute 'monkey' made me laugh. But I just wondered about that two foot [60 cm] penis. Maybe he wasn't kidding.

"So, you going to let me out of my bed cage?" My bed had a force field 'cage' over it selective to my DNA so I was the only one not able to get out of it. It was pretty comfortable though. Even if my strange 'goat' legs failed to lay totally flat like my old boy legs.

The cute kid laughed. "Nope! Slaves can't be TOO naughty. Master doc said to make sure I do nothing that makes my collar sting."

His remark made me automatically bring my hand to my own collar. That was the one thing which kept reminding me that I was a real slave. It was difficult to think of it as a reality. They called it also an obedience collar. It felt awfully strange when I found my body doing stuff automatically when its command function was activated. (Another part of my 'conditioning and training).'

As the 'monkey boy' continued to talk he started, almost absentmindedly, masturbating himself. It was strange to see that hand with the fur along the entirety of both hand and fingers, with the skin on the other side so coal black, to think of this kid as well, 3;a kid. And I could not be but fascinated by the boy's groin area with its so ultra black skin but with his small penis and its small scrotal sac surrounded by a beautiful tan colored fur and seemingly more deep seated within the folds of his thighs that one would have expected. And that prompted me to look down at my own fur covered groin and legs – for the hundredth time.

I seemed to be in an unreal world. Definitely not any future I had envisioned. The monkey boy was avidly describing other 'projects' going on in nearby rooms. In the very next room was a boy, no more than 7 years old, with no arms, two small penises jutting out of his groin, and a mouth devoid of teeth. He had an amazingly bright smile plastered on his face the only time I had gotten to see him just after his having just spent two hours on what they called a fuck-suck practice machine. The monkey boy said he'd gotten a couple swats on his own (slightly padded) rear butt when his master doc had caught him trying to hold the 7 year old's two small stiff penises from moving up and down while riding the machine.

In the room across, were cute, blond, twin boys, about 12, whose bodies had been modified to enable them to withstand being placed into standing, spread eagled, torture frames – permanently. Fortunately their brain pathways had been totally altered so that they would experience tactile pain as sexual pleasure. He described the boys' moaning with their intense sexual arousal as an attendant had been testing with several specialized whips, paddles, and canes, to make sure their physiological responses were accurately programmed. I was trying to envision being forever held in a close fitting metal ceramic framework, looking forward to the next client torturer. He told me that they were destined to spend their entire future lives together in a room in the Iron Dungeon at the Xanadu Pleasure Dome Resort, the same resort where I was supposed to be headed. He got in trouble there too when he decided he wanted to feel what one of the whips felt like. His punishment that time was to feel what one of the canes felt like also. I couldn't believe that he talked about all these things and these other modified boys as if it were all completely normal. What a 'home life.'

The monkey boy suddenly quit talking, arched his upper body back a bit with his tail curved over his groin, and started a high pitched grunting, and soon shuddered all over, going into full fledged spasms that lasted almost two minutes. He then collapsed on me and was out like a light!

Now what? I slid him along side of me on my comfortable grav bed. And several minutes later, just as he was regaining consciousness, the doc came in to retrieve him.

"Sorry about that. But I don't have the heart to put him into chastity, even chemically. He cried all the time. He doesn't understand anything at all about modesty. He is the love of my life though, and I can not now imagine being without him. He is so much more than the mere sex toy I thought I was creating. He seems not to understand that he is a slave. When he matures, intellectually that is, he will understand enough to be fitted with normal slave cuffs, chastity, butt plug, and possibly mouth plug and muzzle. He's been brain pathway modified to enjoy submission and bondage. Even now he likes to be tied up from time to time."

As 'master doc' left, I noted the fondness with which he lifted the barely awake monkey-boy tyke into his arms and wondered just how much of a slave he would ever be. Then I felt so suddenly worried and anxious about my own situation. I had been glad with the momentary distraction. I was actually hoping to get more visits from that bundle of furred energy.

(And I was. That evening he made me a very appreciated visit, and then the very next day a small package was dropped onto my bed next to me containing a quite tightly bagged and squirming slave monkey boy, only his tail and head protruding. He was squealing in delight).

And this was the same person just explaining to me about being conditioned, trained, and forced into a life time of sexual slavery? Quite a conundrum.

The 'training and conditioning' session which started in the mid-afternoon, to my astonishment, but without my foreknowledge of its planned duration, will have lasted through the next 30 hours! I was glad I had not known of its duration or character beforehand.

It started innocently enough by my transfer to a room filled with monitors which would soon be doing their monitoring of both my physiological and mental, and emotive responses, especially those involved in sexual arousal and response. I noted a sort of cuneiform cradle with two well padded vertical extensions at the narrow end. I was unaware 'til now that the drug regimen which had helped keep my emotional responses in check had not only been discontinued, but now a neutralizer had also been introduced by injection to remove the effectiveness of any that remained. My body was placed into the cradle while my head was placed in its own separate embrasure. Several precision sensor arrayed straps were then placed over my head, torso, and arms to allow necessary movement yet not allow escape or injury. My legs were then likewise spread wide and upward and attached to the vertical stanchions. I was held safely immobile. The only portion of the ensconcing cradle that gave me a bit of disquiet was that about my head, but I eventually got used to it. I was also quite able to see my strange feeling and alien legs as they were elevated above my body. For the first time I really studied the relative proportions of their different segments. I was plainly aware that some how the very torso of my body had been made smaller both as to height and width. But now I could see that so too had my rear legs in spite of the considerable length of the canon bones which had replace most of my foot, and the small postern upon which I now walked with its small split hoofs. And until now I had never understood the mechanics of a split hoof as I recently experienced it actually being somewhat elastic along its fissure. I now noticed that both thigh and calves had been considerably shortened especially the latter. No wonder I now felt so much smaller.

But my studied concentration of my lower limbs was brought to a halt as I felt my tail affixed in a slightly downward position – a strange sensation of immobility new to me never having a tail before – and a large feeling and only slightly flexible sound was pushed into my anus and rectum. The feeling was electrifying having never remembered any previous invasion of a most intimate portion of my anatomy. After my initial automatic reaction of aggrieved modesty, I came to absolutely enjoy the amazing sensations being delivered by the combination sensor and active manipulation which I was to find out could send an amazing array of sensations and movements. And it would quite quickly produce in me a sexual need and urgency I had never before had even the slightest inkling could even be experienced. But first that genital guard was removed, during which I realized again that there had been three virtual piercing of the flesh holding much of the length of my penis sheath to my body. The guard was quickly removed and almost instantly I felt so aroused that I could make no effort to maintain the retraction of my penis. But as soon as it exited the sheath the doctor placed a variable density and flexible covering again with both numerous and quite variable sensors and stimulators.

And for the next 30 hours my body experienced the most intense and diabolical sexual torture ever conceived. All to make sure I was conditioned to NEVER release my penis from its sheath unless explicitly allowed or commanded. Every time my penis made its exit from its sheath, it suffered from an amazing barrage of pain and negative stimulation. During the marathon tour through sexual hell I was given all manner of drugs to keep me awake and absolutely aware of everything happening. All designed to make me eventually obtain a sufficient measure of control of my own penis's engorgement and extension. The first 12 hours were solely dedicated in giving me the ability to keep my penis in its sheath. Every time my penis extended I went through immense levels of sheer sexual need, while other 'prompts' – euphemistically speaking – gradually clued me into just how to gain a sufficient measure of control. And for those 12 hours I cried, screamed, yelled, moaned, cursed, and thrashed about sometimes uncontrollably and probably exercised every possible body mechanism in this directed endeavor. I also damned to the Deepest Depth of Denebian Darkness and Desolation every doctor, technician, and worker in this place and everyone who had the remotest contribution to this fiendish assault on my person, and my penis and butt hole. But amazingly by that 12th hour I had actually managed a modicum of success. I was rewarded with a 15 minute break where my bodily fluids were replenished. I also discovered that despite their diminutive size, my legs were pretty strong as they gave their tethers quite a battle.

During this break, my favorite little monkey boy made a quite welcome appearance, regaling me with tales of the more interesting boy modifications he had witnessed at the hands of his talented master doc. The one which really garnered my attention was a baby human-colt who had been delivered by a mare as the successful result of a new experimental chimeric creation involving the importation of human genetic material into the implanted egg. The result was fully expected to be a perfectly formed miniature colt with the cognition and emotive response of a human boy. I wondered how it would feel being raised as of perfectly formed colt yet have all the faculties of a human being. And even more so I wondered exactly what a creation would be used for.

But all too soon the little imp jumped down from his perch atop my abdomen – after devilishly fingering my penis sheath – and my torturous sexual response conditioning resumed. And again I experienced some of the most horrific 'torture' of my young life. But possibly the most difficult part of said conditioning and training was delivering to me the necessary motivation to actively participate in my own attaining not just the ability, but more importantly the will and desire, to want to gain such control. During which, it was the recognition my own strange need to submit to outside control and actually accept my own enslavement that proved instrumental. I believe it was in the 18th hour when that full realization was made, startling me into a bout of relief and tears as I, for the first time, realized that indeed not only was I a slave, but a slave who was well on its way to accept its slavery. It was a startling epiphany. Dr. Erastes, I later learned, was quite pleased. I was given another half hour break.

And during the next six hours, occurred the reversely directed necessary conditioning and training. This time I was made to learn how to actually engorge and extend my penis on demand. This was enormously more satisfying, and easier, although not until that very last hour was my progress rewarded by allowing me to come to an earth and body shattering, and amazingly long drawn out, orgasm and climax. I was then allowed to nap for an hour – the orgasm was totally draining – before alternating periods of training, both of holding in check, and then deliberately extending my penis, resumed. By the 30th hour no drug regimen was having sufficient success in garnering me the necessary awareness to make any continuation significantly beneficial.

I slept for the next 15 hours. Upon awakening I wept deeply. Not so much for what had been just done to me, but much more so because of my emerging realization that I so needed to be a slave. And so welcomed this particular manner of slavery and sexual use. I think at that very moment I stopped thinking of myself as a boy. I had totally accepted the fact that I was now an animal-boy – a faun.

The next day I was again given similar training to reinforce my already acquired control over my penis, and I was indeed amazed at my own ability to retain it and extend it almost at will. The doctor said that I should be quite proud not only of this, but even more so of the realization that indeed, I was, by nature and conditioning, a true slave.

The day after that, I was permitted to say goodbye to the little monkey boy before being prepared for shipment. The monkey boy insisted on pushing home my waste removal butt plug and also inserted the tube into my penis in my preparation for being placed on the now quite familiar SafeSecure Boy Cage, of course modified for my new body. This monkey boy seemed to take such innocent delight in the manipulation of other's intimate sex orifices and other sex parts, including mine. Parts which I will myself would never again be permitted to touch unless given specific permission. Strangely that very idea merely heightened my current thrill of adventure and my now ever present strong sexual arousal.

Several thoughts surprised me as I was reassessing the happenings of my tumultuous previous several days. One didn't. I was actually excited and looking forward to the 'adventure' of my new existence. Sure I was anxious, and possibly still harbored a slight dismay over my limited future, but overlying was – to me – a surprising level of outright acceptance and even anticipation. I felt almost free from any real anxiety, was strangely elated, and had not even the slightest acrimonious feeling at my having been 'stolen' into a life long captivity and 'use.' Notice I said almost free from anxiety. There was still that underlying dread of how my family will, (or if they will ever know) what has happened to me.

And Puck was the name that our new faun had decided on. It was taken from the name of a similar creature in a little know work by an barely remembered writer called Shakespeare, whose works had been rescued from some old library still actually containing things the anthropologists called books. Fortunately what Tommy – oops, we should now be calling him Puck – was not aware of, a partial 'rescue' was on his way at that very moment.