Ganymede

Life is a Ball

(Second part)

Callawashie Creek Mall. June 11th, 2000

Martin pressed forward into the machine. Unseen, he reached for his crotch to rearrange his slowly stiffening penis so that it could extend beyond his underpants and reach against his lower belly. That way he could rub himself against the machine when he wanted. He watched with frequent and admiring glances.

The boy ambled closer to a group of older boys playing a survival game with digital creatures and simulated lasers that screeched with every shot. They were young teenagers, all of them a head or more higher than the boy who held Martin's interest. The young boy lingered there for several minutes, watching one of them rack up a high score much to the chagrin of his companions. They ignored him. Unable to get their attention, he finally walked away to make another circuit of the arcade. This time he passed within a few feet of his admirer.

Martin could not help but whistle under his breath when he saw the boy up close. In Martin's limited vocabulary, he was suddenly so far beyond 'cute' it took his breath away. The boy wasn't just handsome or good-looking. He was 'drop-dead gorgeous'. It was all the man could think of to describe the boy who he now realized was very beautiful.

He had finely sculpted features, a small pert nose, and a pretty mouth that seemed to say 'kiss me, Martin'. His big sombre eyes held Martin's gaze for several seconds before he quickly, almost guiltily looked away. A moment later, they made eye contact again. This time it was a lingering glance. The boy's eyes flickered and his head turned away again. The show of uncertain interest made Martin smile slightly. The boy had the 'fag-look', Martin had decided the instant he first saw him. His first impressions were confirmed. The boy's hair was naturally straight and light-colored, but it was strangely styled, even for the game arcade. It looked just right. The ridge of the boy's hair consisted of short red-blue-hued spikes tinted with a fading purple dye down the center. It was much longer and streaked with blond-brown at the back. It was shorter on the sides so that it had the appearance of bristles.

Maybe the boy had been blond when he was younger, Martin mused, or perhaps he was still blond under the dye. He liked boys with blond hair and blue eyes. They looked very innocent on the surface, but from Martin's experience, they were no different to other boys underneath. They were just as horny as other boys when they became excited. Side on, Martin's first impressions were further confirmed by two small coils of curling hair, one on either side of the boy's slender neck. They reached to his shoulders, one falling behind, the other in front. The glittering stud in the boy's small right ear was enough to cause Martin to fantasize about licking it with his tongue. It provided still more support for his untested hypothesis. It even looked like a diamond. He had always wanted to give a boy a diamond stud for services rendered, but he was barely able to pay the rent on his trailer. Everything about the boy excited him and made his heart beat faster.

However, the man's adrenaline surge was caused by factors beyond appearance. The boy possessed an aura that demanded his attention. He radiated energy that seemed to make the air vibrate around him. It seemed to Martin that there was a wonderful scent rising from the slender body, the smell of youth becoming musky, a smell tinged not only with childish sweetness, but sweat and feces. It was the smell that came after sex. He wanted to ravish the boy's smooth skin, suck on his tender lips, grind his genitals in the silky hairless skin of the boy's small crotch.

"He's hot," Martin murmured to himself. "He's so fuckin' hot, I can't stand it."

The boy was agile in his movements, emphasizing his slight build and natural elegance. Like a seasoned stage performer, he had 'presence'. He sauntered with a carefree attitude, apparently at ease with the raucous world around him while always standing apart from it. Martin guessed that even with shoes on, he was several inches under five feet and weighed less than eighty pounds. He wore a dark-green tee shirt advertising Heiniken Beer that was several sizes too big for him. Even the tee shirt conveyed a roguish quality that seemed to be entirely in character. His cut-off-at-the knees denim shorts were marked with juvenile printing and crudely crafted drawings. The crotch was paler than the surrounding denim, vaguely hinting that it had seen more wear and tear than the rest of the shorts. They were loose-fitting and gave nothing away except that they had once been expensive-label jeans, an impression reinforced by white Nike Air-sneakers. Despite the fashionable 'grunge', the pre-teen looked and acted very differently to the other boy-punks who frequented the mall. It was only after he saw the boy's perfect teeth that Martin had no doubts that the brilliant sparkle in the lobe of his ear came from a real diamond. The boy's mouth opened slightly, his pink tongue pressed forward and daintily swiped his upper lip. To Martin, the gesture was intentional and distinctly arousing.

During those next few seconds, something in Martin's demeanor caught the boy's attention and his head swivelled around again to glance back at the man one more time. This time, Martin smiled and returned his gaze with a deliberate, yet very appreciative stare. It was a look that said everything that needed to be said. Man and boy shared that look of mutual interest for what seemed to be a very long time, but in reality was only a few seconds. During that momentary meeting, Martin mentally undressed the curious boy. In awe, he filled in the details of an imagined nude body with a practiced eye and many years of experience. His eyes glanced briefly away, dropping to the boy's groin and hovered there just for an instant. There wasn't much to indicate gender behind his shorts. He could easily pass for a girl. Martin considered that possibility with distaste. He was proud that he had never 'done it with a cunt'. He deliberately rubbed his thumb against his first finger, the often exchanged signal for advertising the opportunity to receive money for intercourse. All the while, he continued to hold the boy's gaze.

Even if the gesture was not understood, the intensity of his look was enough to make the boy uncomfortable. He scowled, turned away quickly, and continued on his way.

"Good move, you fucking idiot. Now you scared him off," Martin thought. "God, he's certainly beautiful, though. I'd like to get him in bed. I'd stick more than a few inches into his boy-ass before I was done with him. I bet he has a tight little ass too, but he wouldn't be tight for very long, not after the first time I cummed in his guts."

For a few seconds after the boy departed, Martin considered leaving his half-finished game and following him around the arcade like a hungry dog lapping at his fleeting heels. Like a dog, he was in heat. Once the urge had formed, there was little he could do to stop it. After a one-month hiatus, he needed some 'boy-ass' badly. This time, Martin smiled self-consciously and resisted the temptation. The child's parents or friends had to be somewhere in the vicinity. This was neither the time nor place for what he wanted to do with the boy, but if could get him alone 3; Martin pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind and went back to concentrating on his virtual Formula One race. With five laps to go, he was still in third place, and closing rapidly on the leaders. However, his interest in the game had been shattered, vanished like the punk-haired gamin.

He spun out on the last lap after taking the S-bends at thirty miles an hour faster than appropriate. The virtual car slammed into the virtual barricade, burst into virtual flames, and the screen went black.

A quick glance at his watch told Martin it was well past time for lunch. He glanced around the arcade quickly, wondering where the boy had gone to. There was no sign of him. It seemed that he had missed yet another opportunity.

Outside the arcade, the afternoon traffic had become a steady flow of seasonal shoppers walking up and down both levels of the mall. The food court had little to interest him, certainly there was nothing with alcohol. He settled for a couple of chocolate chip cookies and a lukewarm cup of coffee. He found a seat beside the fountain and sat with his back to it, with his legs propped up on the adjoining chair. He liked to eat and watch the passing parade. Like every moment he was awake, Martin Hale was always on the lookout for an attractive boy.

Nearly ten minutes passed before Martin saw him again. The boy was wandering aimlessly from store to store, pausing to look in the windows, entering briefly if he was interested in what he saw. Martin half-closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts. If sheer will power could accomplish what he wanted, his fantasies would be realized.

Slowly, almost inevitably, the strikingly handsome boy approached the food court. He moved elegantly, his long slender legs reminding Martin of a deer in the woods, ever ready to take flight. He lingered at the other side of the fountain, looking around, slowly appearing to become braver. Every few seconds he glanced around him, evoking the sense that he was looking for someone, waiting for someone to meet him, trying to make up his mind. His eyes passed over Martin, came back, paused, went away again. For a moment his attention was diverted by people waiting in line to buy food. Martin heard the buzzing voices of other people in his ears, increasingly distant. There was just him and the BOY.

There was much stronger light in the food court and from where he say he saw that the boy had an intelligent face, despite his attempt to appear punk. The boy's eyes quickly flickered back, away, back again, providing nothing more than glimpses. Momentarily, they looked directly at each other. Martin's unwavering gaze had been enough to make the boy feel uncomfortable again. Martin smiled slightly and the boy immediately glanced away. However, his eyes quickly returned. Now Martin knew the youngster was interested. His heart beat faster. Like a wild animal, he enjoyed the hunt nearly as much as devouring his prey.

The boy sauntered a few paces, turned around, hesitated, took a slow deep breath, cautiously lifted his head, and exchanged a meaningful look. He focused with unblinking eyes. His confidence appeared to build with every second. Martin smiled again, his eyes never leaving the boy's deliberate gaze. Finally, Martin nodded once, barely moving his head. He felt his heart begin to beat even faster as it responded to a massive surge of excitement, knowing the familiar sense of triumph. He had no qualms when it came to taking advantage of a willing victim.

The boy hesitated, breathed out slowly, began to walk. He followed an unwavering line towards the men's bathroom. Martin smirked. This was too easy. He stood up, glanced quickly around the food court, and trailed his ten-year-old victim to a his rendezvous with destiny.

The boy was already standing at the urinal when Martin came past the privacy partition. His head was bent forward, eyes studying the task at hand. Martin paused, studying the boy from behind. Now, his heart was pounding. Martin started to walk towards him, his attention partially diverted until he was certain that the cubicles were unoccupied. They were alone. He breathed out with relief. He stopped beside the boy and stepped close to the adjoining urinal. A sideways, downward glance revealed nothing, and left him wondering whether the boy even had his penis out. Perhaps he had already finished urinating and closed his zipper. Perhaps he never intended to start. Martin quivered with excitement and felt gooseflesh. He took a fresh breath deeply into his lungs, licking his lips while he studied the chrome-plated flush-fitting at the top of the white porcelain.

"If you were a hairless little boy, you'd be right at the top of my list," Martin said softly.

The boy froze. "Huh?"

"You heard me." Martin waited. It seemed as if he could hear his heart thumping. "Are you?"

Seconds passed. "Am I 3; what?" Frozen in place, the beautiful boy inhaled the last word.

"Are you a hairless little boy? Have you got any hair down there?"

"Huh?" Breathing out.

"I bet you are hairless. I bet you don't have even one tiny hair anywhere near your cute little dick. You don't, do you? You want to show me?" Martin added. "Prove you're hairless, and you'll be right on the top of my list."

The boy swallowed. "You mean 3; You want me to show you 3; down there?"

"I like my boys without any hair," Martin smirked. "Except on their heads."

"You're a fag!" the boy proclaimed heatedly.

Martin grinned, articulating his response with cruel enjoyment. "You think I'm a fag? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. I'm not a fag, at least not if you mean I like to fuck men in the ass."

He watched the boy carefully. The pre-teen appeared to be nervous, but whether it was from fear or excitement, it was impossible to tell. He seemed to tremble, finding each word said to him more thrilling than the last. He was very nervous. Martin followed his instinct, and instinct told him the boy was his for the taking. With his dyed hair and gold ear ring, the boy even looked like he had come out of the closet. Perhaps he had even had homosexual experiences already. That would make things interesting, although it would remove the thrill of taking his virginity. Martin preferred virgins. There was something about taking a boy's innocence, about showing him the difference between pain and pleasure was a simple matter of how far, how hard, and how fast he was fucked. Taking a boy's virginity gave Martin a thrill like no other. He enjoyed sending a boy back to his loving parents with a nagging urge that could only be satisfied when a man's penis was inside him. There had been lots of boys before this one, and a good many of them had been virgins. From appearances, it was possible that the boy would be a willing victim, and that excited Martin even more.

"You know what I really like? I'm not a fag but what I really like are fag-boys! Hairless little fag-boys, that is," Martin added and raised an eyebrow with a suggestive leer. "And do you know what I really like more than anything else?"

The boy moved his head slightly. It was just enough to show that he was interested in hearing more.

Martin smiled. "What I like are fag-boys who have tiny cocks," he teased. he watched the boy's reaction. It was exactly what he expected. The boy cringed.

"I bet you have a nice little cock, don't you? Maybe I ought to call it a wiener. That's what boys your age call it, isn't it? A wiener, when it's small, and a stiffie when it's all big and hard?" he suggested with a downward leer. "I'd be surprised if you're not getting a stiffie right now. In fact, maybe you've already got one hiding down there."

The boy tensed, gulping air into his parched throat, knowing the truth of those words. It was small, the smallest of any of his friends from school. Again he swallowed. The words burned his ears. Throughout his slender body, he felt a weird, overpowering thrill. His heart was racing, urging him on. The man was talking in a low voice. It was barely more than a whisper, but he heard every word clearly. What he was hearing made him tremble with excitement. The man was talking about his penis. He was talking about his penis being hard, and it was. It was very hard. It seemed to take all of his concerted effort merely to breath out. The warnings about strangers in toilets were forgotten in an instant. He realized intuitively that if he stayed there much longer it would soon be more, much more than mere words. He did not understand why he wanted more.

He was aware of the man's proximity, and it made him self-conscious. That his erection was barely long enough to project beyond the opening in his shorts, gave no solace. The sound and motion beside him startled him. He was very aware that the man was slowly opening his zipper.

"You've got a hard-on, haven't you?" Martin asked crudely.

The boy nodded awkwardly, afraid to look across and confirm what both of them already knew. His penis was very hard. It had been that way since he first walked into the toilet, since he saw the man looking at him from the other side of the fountain. He had recognized him right away. It was the same man who had been in the arcade. His penis was so stiff that it was impossible for him to urinate, even if he wanted to.

"You like to play with it, don't you," Martin said huskily.

Again the boy nodded slightly, exerting all of his willpower to resist temptation. He should have felt revulsion. Instead he was more excited than he had ever been during his ten years.

"Yeah! Especially when it's hard, I bet. It's fun to rub it when it's sticking up. Up and down. Up and down. It feels really good when you go fast, doesn't it?"

He smiled down at the shy boy. From the side of his face and neck, Martin could see that he was starting to blush. The boy was standing perfectly still. He was obviously interested. It was time to go the next step. With the fingers of one hand, Martin levered his underpants down and out of the way, clearing the way for his semi-erect penis to protrude through the opening in his jeans. He grasped it with his other hand, jacking the full length with deliberate slowness.

"It feels so fucking good when you get off, doesn't it?" he said breathily. "Yeah, it's so fucking good."

The boy tensed, trying with all his might to reject thoughts that rose up inside him and conquered his inhibitions. He wanted desperately to say nothing, to leave for the safety that lay right outside the door to the men's toilet. Instead he nodded slightly, acknowledging that not only did he masturbate, he loved the feelings that came with it. His delayed response caused Martin to interpret.

"You know, kid. Masturbate! Jerk off! Pull your meat!"

The boy smiled slightly, amused that an adult would talk so openly about a subject that just about every boy his age made jokes about. Martin smirked back at him knowingly. The words had a special magic because they were dirty words.

"Playing with your dick feels so fucking good. Up and down. Up and down, faster and faster until you cum." Martin rubbed relentlessly with a slow steady motion. He sighed loudly to convey his enjoyment. "You can't cum yet, can you?"

"Uh-uh," the boy replied nervously.

He did not understand why he wanted to stay, yet he knew he could not leave. Suddenly, he felt very hot, his small hands clammy, his brow feverish. He did not have to look to know what the man was doing, yet it was all he could do not to turn his head. He wanted badly to see the man's penis. Instead, he looked upwards.

Martin grinned again. "That's what I thought. I didn't think so. You're not old enough, not by a long shot. Of course, there's only one way to make sure you can't cum," he suggested teasingly. He allowed the offer to stand without further elaboration.

"I s'pose," the boy mumbled.

"You know what feels better than playing with it?" Martin asked slyly. The boy regarded him uncertainly, not answering except with his eyes. "Letting someone else play with it." He smiled.

The boy shivered, meeting Martin's unrelenting gaze. He felt strange. His inner sense was invoked. All reason was gone. he followed his true nature, obeying thoughts that disregarded inhibition and warnings about strangers. It was a feeling of acceptance. He knew what he wanted. He wanted the man to touch his penis, but more than anything else he wanted to touch the man's penis. He nodded slightly, finally allowing his eyes to see. His eyes lowered. The man's thick shaft was partially hidden by his slowly moving hand. However, the boy could see the pale smooth-shaven base and the swollen glans, bulging red and shiny. His mouth opened in silent amazement. The man's nearly erect penis was big. It looked bigger than his father's penis, far bigger than he had ever imagined. It was far larger than the vaguely remembered images that filled his dreams at night.

"What's your name?" Martin asked.

"Justin 3;"

"What's your last name, Justin?"

" 3; Edwards," the boy murmured self-consciously. For some reason he was no longer afraid.

"You're not from around here, are you Justin?" Martin continued.

Justin's lips moved slightly. He was still very nervous. "I'm here with my dad. He's got some business here at the mall. When he's done, we're going to visit MOUSE."

"Good. I thought you might be staying at the park."

"We are," the boy admitted with a secretive whisper.

Martin smiled reassuringly. At times like this he imagined that he had a Rasputin-like power over boys. "How old are you, Justin?"

"Ten!"

"So you're not old enough to drive, huh?" Martin teased persistently. It provoked a slight smile. "But you're certainly old enough to know what you want, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Martin nodded. "You think it's a secret, don't you Justin?"

"What's a secret?"

"What you're thinking about right now. But I know your dirty little secret. I know what you want."

"Huh?" Justin asked uncertainly.

"I bet you're a good little cocksucker?"

Justin's eyes opened wide. He wanted to shake his head in denial. How many times had he pretended, forming his lips into an "o" and moving his tongue over an imagined penis?

"You always do what you're told, don't you, Justin? You never get into trouble, do you? No one knows what you really want is a man-cock to suck. I can tell, you know."

The boy stared directly ahead, his eyes unwavering from the white porcelain bowl before him. A crimson blush extended to the collar of his shirt. Even his ears felt red-hot, perhaps from shame, perhaps from the strange thrill of hearing an adult say words that were used in the playground.

"You want to meet a guy, don't you? You want to meet a man who'll teach you what it means to be a fag-boy. You are a fag-boy, aren't you Justin?"

He heard Justin's sudden intake of air. It was as good as an affirmative 'yes'. Martin grinned. Even if he was frightened, the boy was about to get what he wanted. In his experience, a little fear made what happened the first time even more exciting. Every boy had to have a first time he would never forget. This boy would never forget how he learned what was expected of him. Combined with just the right amount of pain, the lessons were never forgotten. After all, all said and done, it was only what both of them wanted.

Martin stopped masturbating only moments before it was too late. His penis was throbbing urgently, its bloated gnarled dark shaft still pulsing as the threat of ejaculation slowly receded. By Caucasian standards, it was very big. A statistician would have placed it in the 90th percentile. He grinned despite the interruption to his imminent satisfaction. He backed away from the urinal, his erection protruding through his open zipper like a thick stake. He observed the boy's momentary hesitation, caution and willpower fighting a losing battle with curiosity and sexual arousal. Bewildered, Justin glanced down, his eyes immediately growing large again.

"Hey Justin, is mine the biggest cock you've ever seen, or what?" Martin taunted.

"It's huge," Justin admitted breathily.

He trembled slightly, unable to take his eyes away from the jutting organ. His heart pounded. The engorged organ seemed to pulse with life. It was a man's penis, huge and still very erect despite the interruption in stimulation. The purple-hued glans was widely flared, the thick shaft variegated with swollen blue veins.

"Do you want to play with it?"

"I guess 3;" Justin answered softly.

His right hand felt clammy. Deep inside he wanted to reach out and touch it, hold it in his hand, rub his fingers along it. There was a feeling like butterflies in his stomach.

"It's not a whole lot of fun playing with a guy's dick where someone might see you. Let's go in the can. Then you can get it all out," Martin said crudely.

He placed his hand on Justin's thin shoulder. His fingers gripped firmly, showing who was in control. He moved quickly now. It was important that there was no time for the boy to change his mind. Justin glanced up, his eyes questioning yet no longer afraid or nervous. It seemed like he had been waiting all of his life for this moment.

Guiding the boy's movements, Martin started to walk towards the cubicle at the far end of the row. He opened the partition door and looked inside to see whether it would lock securely. It wasn't safe, not by a long shot. Although what he had in mind would only take a few minutes, it was possible that someone would come in. He leaned against the tiled wall. Victory was at hand. He smiled reassuringly, delaying as long as possible. For what he wanted to do, the boy had to be sexually aroused. Then he would do whatever Martin wanted. He flexed his penis with hungry anxiety, gleefully observing the boy's continuing fascination. He wondered why boys were so attracted to adult penises. Was it the same reason why men like him were attracted to juvenile penises.

"You ever play with your ass, Justin?" he asked crudely. "Maybe like sticking a finger up your chute to see how it feels."

Justin winced. His brow felt feverish. He wondered how the man knew about that. He swallowed, compressing his lips with determined resistance. He tried to shake his head, tried to deny the truth of it.

"You like how it feels back there, don't you. There's nothing quite like a finger up a tight little ass, excepting something bigger than a finger." Martin grinned crudely. "Have you ever tried anything else up there? Most boys do sooner or later."

Again Justin swallowed. His throat was dry, and the heat of his forehead had expanded to his entire face. He felt red-hot, blushing with shame at the secret that this stranger had confronted him with. Finally, he nodded.

"Sometimes," he mumbled.

Martin grinned triumphantly. "Yeah! I thought so. You look like the sort of boy who likes to play ass games. Let me guess what you use." He pretended to think. "It has to be something available around the house. The handle of a dust-broom maybe?" Justin regarded him uncertainly and Martin smirked. "Not that, huh? How's about a candle? You ever stuck a taper up your chute?" Another look, less uncertain, more guilty. Martin laughed. "Hm 3; I'm getting close, aren't I? Let's see, it's not a dust-broom, and it's not a candle. Maybe you're into the fruits and vegetables. Banana? Carrot? No, I didn't think so."

"I got this thing I use," Justin said nervously.

Martin raised an eyebrow. "I bet you do! What is it, Justin? A hairbrush?"

"A 3; a bowling pin," Justin answered softly. "It's made out of plastic. It's from a set I got when I was a kid. Sometimes 3; sometimes I sit on it and force it into me." Justin trembled. "If I push hard it goes in really deep."

Martin's eyes narrowed. He studied the boy. "Yeah, I bet you like it nice and deep. It's better when it's deep." He smiled reassuringly. The boy might be a virgin but he was a willing victim. It was all too easy. "It felt good too, I bet. It's not as good as the real thing. You want to lose your cherry properly?" he asked boldly.

"Huh? Lose my cherry?" Justin repeated.

Martin smirked. By the time he had finished with him, the child would well and truly know the meaning of losing his 'cherry'.

"It means you want a man to fuck your cute little hiney, Justin. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in? Maybe when you're playing with your bowling pin you've thought about taking a cock up your ass?"

Justin hesitated, then he nodded slightly. "I guess," he ventured tentatively.

"Well Justin, what say we start off by getting better acquainted at my place."

"Acquainted?"

"With what I've got in mind, Justin, we're going to become close friends. There's no better friend than the guy who fucks your ass. I'll be your first time, won't it?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, every boy has to have a first time. You're going to have a lot of fun with me as your friend. First, before we leave here, we're going to have a quick look at each other's dicks, just to make sure you've got a small one down there," Martin grinned shamelessly at the red-faced boy. "And unless I'm mistaken, you'll want to do more than just look at what I've got down there. Mine sure isn't small like yours. It's what a boy like you needs. Then, I'm going to take you somewhere real private because I think I've got what you want, and I know you've got what I want."

Justin looked up again. He was no longer uncertain. He felt a warm glow and he smiled.

"Okay," he murmured.

Martin smirked, slowly nodding as if every question had been answered, as if everything was decided.

"You're a fag, Justin. That means you're going to be my little fuck-boy. I'm going to take your cherry, fuck-boy, and after I'm done, if you're interested, I've even got a few friends who would like to meet you."

"Maybe," Justin responded uncertainly.

Martin grinned crudely. "These friends of mine know what to do with a boy-pussy. Today's your lucky day, Justin. Hell, if you're a good boy we'll even make a movie of how you lost your ass-cherry. You're going to be a bit sore in your hiney afterwards, but you'll get over it in a few days. You're going to have more fun today than you've had in your entire life. And after we're finished with you, you'll live to fuck. Getting you ass fucked will be your only reason to wake up in the morning."

Emergency Room. Orlando Children's Hospital, June 12th 2000

"Yes, of course! Look! Can't this wait, Doctor? For God's sake! I really want to see my son."

"We understand, Mr. Edwards. I know the last few days have been very difficult for you 3; for both of you. I'll be as quick as we can. Before you see him, it's important that I talk to you first. I really can't stress how important. How quickly Justin recovers is going to depend a lot on you."

"Look," I leaned forward angrily. "I've answered all your questions up till now. If you have any more, I'll answer them just as soon as I've seen Justin."

"Mr. Edwards," the doctor said with grim determination. "Please be patient. It's imperative that you listen to me. You may not want to hear what I have to say, but there's no choice. It's about your son. You have to hear me out."

"What about my son? What do you have to say that can't wait until I've seen him."

"It's about his injuries 3; about what happened to him. It's better that you know before you see him." Branston slowly rubbed the fingers of one hand against the palm, then squeezed until his knuckles turned pale.

I sat up suddenly, feeling fear unlike any other. "What?" I took a quick breath. "The nurse outside said he was okay. She said that he needed a few stitches and then he was going up go to the children's ward to sleep."

"Mr. Edwards, please understand. The nurse, well 3; I instructed her to say very little to until we'd talked with you."

"Then talk, goddamn it! What's wrong with Justin?"

"He was gone twenty-four hours, Mr. Edwards. Some things happened to him during that time. Bad things. This isn't easy. Can I call you Alex?"

I nodded quickly. "What happened?"

"We don't know exactly. Maybe we'll never know all the details. Your son is heavily sedated at the moment. Several specialists have seen him during the last two hours since he was brought to the emergency room."

"But he'll be okay?" I interrupted.

"More or less. There are two areas we're worried about right now. I'll discuss them in a minute. There are some other physical injuries that are mostly repairable without surgery. Mentally, well it's much more than shock. He has signs of post traumatic stress syndrome. So far the shock has been fairly slight, but it could turn out to be much worse. He had to be sedated when he first came in."

"How bad is he?" I demanded. I felt my stomach heave, opening a chasm that seemed to have no bottom.

"He'll come out of sedation in a short while. He'll be aware of his condition relatively quickly. You'll have to be able to support him. He's going to need surgery later today."

"How bad?"

"Mr. Edwards, Alex. He's doing a lot better than 3; well what we should expect under the circumstances." The doctor took a deep breath. "Alex, he was with a pervert."

"What? You said 3;" I groaned, turning to Detective Ellis.

"I know what I said, Alex. I was trying to make it easier for you. Doctor Branston, I think you'd better tell him about the boy's injuries."

"The boy's name is Justin! For God's sake, tell me!" I interjected.

"I said he was with a pervert. That's not completely correct. Sadist would be a better word."

"Oh God!" I covered my face with my hands, imagining the worst.

My beautiful blond-headed, blue-eyed angel was disfigured and mutilated. With a terrible suspicion of what had happened to him, I slumped back in the chair. Despite the agony of the last twenty-four hours, I finally began to understand the expression, 'emotionally distraught'. It was hard to speak, almost impossible to concentrate.

"Tell me!" I said simply, my voice barely more than a muted whisper.

The doctor was silent for several seconds. He lifted back a single sheet of paper on his desk. There was a ring. Perhaps half-an-inch [13 mm] in diameter and an eighth-of-an-inch [3 mm] thick. At one time it had been polished chrome. Now it was dull crimson-red, bloodied. I stopped breathing, staring, feeling nothing. It was a momentary respite. I recognized the object. It was a key-ring that could be purchased in automotive stores or from almost any hardware store. The doctor started speaking and I tried to listen, then tried to block out the merciless monotone words.

" 3;This ring, Mr. Edwards. It was taken from around Justin's penis. Both of his testicles had been pushed through it as well. For obvious reasons, a thing like this is often referred to as a cock-ring. There was a chain attached to it earlier, but it was cut off."

Half-an-inch [13 mm] in diameter, slightly more than an eighth-of-an-inch [3 mm] in thickness, and it had been forced over Justin's penis and testicles. I shuddered and vaguely, stupidly wondered why it was bloodied. The last time I had seen Justin naked was in the hotel room after his morning shower. Then his uncircumcised penis was limp, barely two inches [5 cm] long including the foreskin. If it was half-an-inch [13 mm] in diameter he would have been lucky. Momentarily, I wondered how big his penis became when it was restrained by the cock-ring. It wouldn't be much thicker than normal, maybe three quarters-of-an-inch [20 mm].

"The ring was very hard to remove 3; For obvious reasons it couldn't be cut it off." I felt bile rising into my throat. "Oh God!"

"It had been forced all the way down to the base. It had probably been placed there sometime yesterday. Fortunately, it wasn't there long enough to cause his urine to back up in his bladder so there is no damage to it as far as we can tell. The bladder is functioning okay, although your son has temporarily lost urinary control. That's normal when stress is involved. At some point, probably when the ring was first placed on him, his testicles were also pushed through it. At the base of his penis 3; well it's thicker there so the blood flow was restricted. There was some damage to his urethra, that's the vessel that conveys urine from the bladder. There's a lot of discoloration. There is some bad bruising on his scrotum from it as well."

I imagined a short penis, incredibly hard and dark purple, sticking out through the hard metal band. I envisioned blood encrusted skin, incredible pain. I felt rage and hatred for the man who had done it.

"Can-c-c-can you fix it?"

"The urethra can be repaired surgically if necessary. A urologist was with him earlier. However, that itself isn't the problem."

"Then what is?"

"As you can see, Alex, the ring isn't very big. It was there for some time."

"I d-d-don't understand."

"When it was placed there it was probably a tight fit, and he was probably soft at the time. Then later, when he was erect, and he was probably erect a lot, it would have been extremely tight. His erection would not have gone down easily. In fact, it might have stayed that way for hours. The band cut the flow of blood off entirely."

"Oh God! How bad is it?"

"The discoloration I mentioned earlier is because the inside of Justin's penis has been badly bruised. The swelling has blocked virtually all of the passage. Normal urinary function will be impossible for him for quite a while. In fact, we currently have a catheter inserted through his penis."

"Jesus! The fucking animals."

"I'm sorry! The point is, well there may be some permanent damage to the penis. We can't be sure for a few days."

"What about surgery, Doctor? Can't it be reconstructed?"

"Under most situations it's possible to reconstruct the urinary passage and remove the damaged tissue. In Justin's case the urologist is not recommending surgery. At least not yet. His plan is to utilize the catheter for a few days and see what happens. It's entirely possible that your son won't need surgery. The swelling will go down, of course. However, the tissue inside is a different matter. His erectile function could be impaired if there's been damage to the urethra."

"What sort of surgery?" I asked nervously.

"If we can't reconstruct it, sometimes we have to make a permanent opening in the urethra before the damaged area."

"Jesus!"

"Right now, Justin's penis is 3; well it's not a pretty sight, Mr. Edwards. I hope that surgery is unnecessary. If the urethra has to be reconstructed, there would be an unsightly scar along the length of his penis. The other way 3; well, it may be a bit unusual in appearance and function, but it would look much better."

"He'd be able to urinate normally?"

"More or less. He'd have to sit down, of course. There was a time when he first came into Emergency 3; There was a possibility that Justin's penis would have to be removed completely. I think we're past that point now."

I swallowed. "Thank God! The other 3; you know 3; will he be able 3;"

"The reproductive function?" The doctor smiled vaguely. "The good news, if there is any good news, is that his capacity for erection seems to be relatively unaffected. In fact, that was what changed the urologist's decision to remove his penis."

"I don't understand."

"Your son had an erection while the ring was being removed. Considering the nature of his injury, it was rather surprising. There was more bleeding, of course, but the erectile tissue is basically still in working condition. Your son is all boy."

I smiled weakly, thankful for anything. "Why? Why would someone do something like that?"

"The ring? Who in the hell knows! I can speculate. He may have had trouble becoming erect at some point. His abductors wanted to see him aroused, perhaps. With the chain attached to it, maybe they led him around by it. God only knows."

"You just said abductors. Why?" I demanded.

The detective glanced at me guiltily. "As you know Alex, Justin was seen leaving the mall with one man, but that doesn't necessarily mean that the man was alone. There is evidence to suggest that several men were involved."

"Several men? Evidence like what?" I demanded nervously.

I had a terrible sinking feeling that I had not heard the worst of it, knew without a shadow of a doubt that the horrors of my imagination of the last day and night were nothing compared to what had really happened.

"The amount of semen we found for one thing," the doctor answered flatly. He paused momentarily, as if uncertain about what was to come next. "Your son hasn't eaten recently, perhaps not even during the entire time he was gone." Again he hesitated, glancing at the man beside him. "It's standard medical procedure. His stomach was pumped. It was mostly semen."

"Oh God!"

"The amount of it was 3; well it was inconsistent with the amount one would find from just one captor, even if it happened a number of times over twenty-four hours. There had to be at least several others involved. We think he had oral sex many times. God only knows how often it happened 3;"

"We hope to get a genetic match from it," the detective interjected. He shrugged uncomfortably. "If we have something on record, or catch someone later on who matches it, we'll have the evidence for a conviction."

"Jesus!"

"I'm sorry, Alex. If there was a way not to tell you all of this, believe me, I wouldn't."

"Let me see Justin."

"It's not a pretty sight. You have to be prepared for the worst."

I sighed from deep within. There was more I had to hear. "What is the worst?"

Doctor and detective exchanged a silent look. Neither spoke for several seconds. I stared at Ellis. Over the last twenty-four hours we had become something akin to friends. If anyone had to tell me what happened to Justin I wanted it to be him.

"Alex, I don't know how to say this. There is no easy way. Your son was raped."

"God! I have to assume it wasn't just once. It wasn't, was it? It wouldn't be one time if several men were involved?"

"If you must know, Alex. God I wish I didn't have to tell you this. He was anally raped repeatedly during the period. The condition of Justin's anus is indicative of, well, of prolonged intercourse. Most of the time, I expect even when he was left alone, you understand what I'm saying, or when he was sleeping, I expect an object was inserted into his anus."

"An object? Like what?"

"Homosexuals refer to them as 'butt plugs'. It's used to expand the anus prior to having sex."

"I know what a goddamn butt plug is!" I snarled.

"One was removed from Justin in the Emergency room."

"God! NO!"

"Justin is 3; well maybe he's lucky it was used. It kept him fully dilated. In fact, it may have even helped to limit the damage. All things considered, he's very lucky to be alive after what was done to him."

"I want to see him!" I demanded angrily.

"Mr. Edwards, please. In a few more minutes, that's all. You have to hear me out first."

"Alex, you have to understand."

"He needs me. I 3; I 3;" I sobbed. I looked up and glared at Ellis. I needed to blame someone besides myself. "You fucking bastard. You said he'd probably be okay," I swore.

"Alex, I know. At the time, it seemed like the best thing to tell you. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

"God! You said he probably wasn't abducted. You said he was seen walking out of the mall. You said he probably just ran away. He'd be back as soon as he got hungry. Now this!"

"We know he wasn't forced. I haven't told you much about the man he went with for that reason. I didn't want you to worry without reason."

"Without reason?" I repeated mindlessly.

"It's possible Justin wanted to go with him. There's a witness who said that he went willingly."

"I want to see it. The thing you took out of him."

I don't know why I asked to see it. I knew what a butt plug looked like. I had used them often enough myself. It was like something snapped inside me. Hatred of an unknown man, of men who had tormented my son's body, overwhelmed me. Twenty-four hours, living a day and night in growing horror; endless, terrible fear from not knowing where Justin was; rage at myself for leaving him alone in the mall for three hours while I closed a multi-million deal to buy a 25 percent share of the real estate for my company. I always seemed to be putting business first. My self-hatred was matched by my loathing for the men who had abducted him, the men who had done this terrible thing to the beautiful boy who I had always thought of as my son.

I watched with sick apprehension as Ellis reached into his briefcase. It was in a clear bag, a skin of nearly invisible plastic that revealed far more than I wanted to see. It was a crude and cheap imitation of a human penis. Six inches [15 cm] long, perhaps longer, a knob on one end, a bulbous swelling on the other to represent a glans. Between the ends, the thickness varied, reaching two inches [5 cm] in the center, more than an inch and a half [4 cm] just before the knob. It was cream-colored, still glistening with an oily sheen of the lubricant that had once coated it. It was streaked with a brown film that could have been blood or feces. My stomach heaved and I fought against the urge to vomit.

"Mr. Edwards 3; Alex 3;"

I looked up slowly. "How bad is he injured?" I murmured.

"Your son's rectum is in reasonable condition under the circumstances. There are several tears in the rectal wall, none of them serious. He's lucky his bowel wasn't ruptured. However, his sphincter has been badly damaged."

"Damaged how?" I asked nervously while I returned to contemplate the object on the table.

"Your son is just ten years old, isn't he? At that age, even though the anus is quite small, the sphincter muscle can expand enough to allow relatively large masses to pass though. However, something the size of this plug, or the size of a man's penis, would still have to be forced through his anus. The muscle tissue of the sphincter is damaged as a result."

"What are you getting at?"

"Muscle damage isn't necessarily irreversible. Actually tears heal quite rapidly, and some muscles can become stronger as a result. However, in a situation like this 3;"

"WHAT?" I said loudly and impatiently.

"There may be permanent damage to the sphincter, that's the muscle that provides closure for the rectum."

"I know what a goddamn sphincter is," I said angrily.

"I'm sorry. Justin's currently using a colostomy bag. There's a chance, just a chance mind you, but it may have to stay."

"You're telling me Justin needs a colostomy aren't you?"

"No, at least not yet. But it is a possibility and I want you to be aware of it. I'm just trying to prepare you if that happens. We'll know more in a few days. There's a strong chance that the muscle will recover enough to make it unnecessary. There are ways to strength the voluntary action of the sphincter enough to achieve a nearly normal function. Like any muscle damage it responds to physical therapy. If that doesn't work, there is an operation that places a rubber band around the anus to provide sufficient pressure for closure to occur."

"God!" I groaned.

Physically, Justin was the perfect boy. Long, lean legs, slender abdomen, firmly muscled chest. Jazz-dancing kept him in excellent shape. He was four-foot-six inches [1.37 m] tall and weighed eighty-three pounds [38 kg]. When he wanted, he could move faster than I could. Then this! What they were telling me was that he would never be the same. My hand shook angrily.

"Is there anything else?" I groaned.

Again the doctor and detective exchanged a silent look. I shuddered. I knew then that I had yet to hear the worst. The silence was long and I shifted uncomfortably.

"There's not a lot of internal damage considering the way your son was treated, Mr. Edwards. We've taken several x-rays to be sure. There's a cracked rib and he has bruised lungs. I suspect he was punched several times in the lower abdomen. We know his kidneys are also bruised because he's passing some blood in his urine."

"That's all?" I asked with immediate relief.

"He has some other minor injuries. Some cuts and abrasions on his lower abdomen, a few bruises. Other than the damage to his groin, these are mostly on his buttocks and thighs. He was tied up part of the time so there are rope burns on his wrists and ankles." The doctor paused. He took a deep breath.

"God! What else? There's something you haven't told you, isn't there?" I demanded.

My patience seemed unnatural under the circumstances. Yet I knew the doctor was holding something back. I could see it in his eyes and the reluctance to meet my gaze. I glared at Ellis again. He looked away. The doctor nodded slightly. This was his responsibility and he knew it.

"Alex," the doctor breathed out. "What I'm about to say is among the hardest things I've ever had to say to a parent."

"Justin's going to die, isn't he? That's what you're trying to tell me."

"No! Trust me, he's not going to die from this. What was done to him is not life-threatening in itself."

"Justin was infected with Aids?" I suggested nervously.

That had to be what they were holding back. I had a terrible feeling of sinking in a black bottomless pit. My beautiful boy was doomed.

"I don't think so!"

"What do you mean, you don't think so? There are tests, aren't there?" I demanded. I was nearly incoherent with fear.

"Yes, there are tests. However, the tests won't even begin for about six weeks. It takes that long for the virus to multiply enough to show up. We did a test already, just to make sure he wasn't already infected. He's not by the way. It's getting to be standard practice in any sexual assault case. Anyway, I think the tests will continue to be negative."

"Why is that?"

"Because he had multiple attackers," the doctor answered simply.

"I don't understand why that would mean anything."

"Because of the risk, you see. If one of them had Aids, the others wouldn't have taken turns with him, at least not after the first time, and certainly not without condoms being used. There's plenty of evidence to suggest they weren't used."

"Then what? What are you trying to tell me?"

"During the time he was with them, he was subjected to a lot of pain. The ring we removed from his penis was only part of what was done to him."

"It was only twenty-four hours," I said. "What else happened to him?" I asked in horrified disbelief that it could become worse.

"He was tortured. It was mostly during sex, I would imagine," Ellis said slowly. "The things that were done to him were probably done then. Mostly sexual things."

"What things?" I asked.

I heard my anger fading, hoping that not only had I had heard the worst of it, but I would be with him in a few minutes.

"I was going to tell you later on, but if you're going into the operating room with him it's probably better that you know beforehand. The good news is that most of his flesh injuries are not going to be permanent. The worst is a puncture through his foreskin, probably from a hot needle. They may have been going to insert a ring or stud, but didn't for some reason. It'll close by itself in a few weeks. The others are bite marks. None of them have penetrated the epidermis, the skin, deeply enough to be problematic. They're on his groin and buttocks mostly. His nipples received a lot of attention too. They're going to be quite sore for a few days. However, once the rawness goes away, he'll be fine."

"You said the good news again." I glared at Branston, knowing he was holding something back, something worse than all the rest. His face was a facade for the truth he did not want me to know.

"Yes, I did."

"Earlier you said that if there was any good news, it was that he could still have erections. What's the bad news?" I challenged.

"His scrotum is very badly swollen," the doctor answered slowly. "Generally a boy's testes can be palpated even when there is considerable injury to the scrotal tissue. In Justin's case 3;"

"What is it?" I demanded flatly.

"Even though a ten-year-old boy's testes are generally still quite small, they're firm and the shape is well defined. I found it extremely difficult to identify any testicular mass on the right side. Justin's right testicle, well it's still there, but it's very spongy. The left one isn't in much better shape but at least it's intact."

"I presume you're telling me something that's wrong with them," I said nervously.

"Yes. The extent of actual testicular damage is very hard to determine without opening his scrotum. He's scheduled for surgery about an hour from now. The point is, a boy's testicles are very susceptible to damage under certain circumstances. For example, we get a lot of injuries from soccer. If parents knew the risks, I'm sure 3;"

"Get to the point, Doctor!"

"I'm trying. A boy can be injured with a kick to the groin, but other than a lot of pain, he's basically going to be all right. That's because the testes are able to move with the blow, even into the inguinal canals if necessary. In Justin's case that couldn't happen, not with the band around them. I suspect both his testes were subjected to frequent and very hard squeezing."

"God! The poor kid. It must have hurt like hell."

The doctor nodded understandingly. "The pressure applied was enough to cause him great pain. I believe the right testicle has been crushed. For all practical purposes I think it's been ruined. It's possible that there's been too much damage for the other one to function properly. The reduction in blood flow is also problematic. Without blood, the cells begin to die. After a few hours of interruption, testicular functions start to be impaired. As long as twenty-four hours, with the band as tight as it was, the damage is going to be severe."

"What does this mean for him? Does he have to have them removed?" I asked fearfully.

"It's hard to determine at this time. Like I said, the right one is probably going to have to be removed. The left testicle, it's hard to tell. We need your permission to examine him. It's a relatively simple procedure. If what the urologist suspects is true, he'll remove the right testicle at that time. Depending on what he finds when the scrotum is opened, the left one might have to be removed too, Mr. Edwards."

"Fuck!" I groaned. "You're going to castrate the poor kid, aren't you?"

Ellis and Branston shared a guilty look. I resented that the doctor had talked to Detective Ellis and told him about Justin's injuries and the probable outcome. It was clearly no secret.

"It's very likely. Under the circumstances, there isn't much of a choice, Mr. Edwards."

"When 3; when will you know if 3;?"

"Right away. It'll be easy to see if the left testicle has atrophied," Branston answered. He paused. "It has to be removed. Leaving it would only cause problems later on, even gangrene."

"God! And if it hasn't?"

"Then he's very lucky and only the right one needs to be removed. It isn't the end of the world. His reproductive ability is definitely going to be impaired with only one testicle, even if it wasn't damaged. However, there's no question that the left testicle wasn't injured. It's just a matter of how badly."

"How bad are we talking about?" I asked.

"Very bad. If we didn't have the problem with physical injury there's still the interruption of blood flow to worry about. It has been long enough that there's going to be a lot of cell damage. That definitely means a reduction in testicular function. How much damage is the big question right now, but even if the left one remains, my guess is Justin's going to be unable to have children without artificial methods."

"Meaning what?"

"If he keeps his left testicle, with the damage it's sustained, he'll be very lucky if he's able produce a few sperm when he's older. He certainly won't have enough to use the normal method of conception. Of course, with the advances in lab techniques, it's very possible Justin can still be a father, if and when he wants to."

"That's a moot point anyway isn't it, given what the bastards did to him? If he wasn't queer before this happened, he will be now," I said angrily.

"Mr. Edwards, there's really no connection."

I regarded both men with disdain. "He told me he was gay the day before he disappeared. He's only ten and he knew he was." I breathed out slowly. "God! He had a difficult enough relationship with his step-father before this happened. I wonder how much worse it will get for him?" I added. My mind raced into forbidden territory before I squashed the ill-formed thought.

"There's another problem that's related to the damage to his testicles. In a few years, Justin would have entered puberty. After this, with the extent of damage, the fact is he won't mature normally, at least not without hormonal therapy."

"Meaning?" I prompted.

"I think I better explain a bit further, Alex. One testicle is more than enough to produce sufficient testosterone for sexual development to occur. However, the cells in the left one will have deteriorated because of internal hemorrhaging and the interruption to Justin's circulation. Without normal testicular function, Justin will have to have hormone treatments for the rest of his life."

"What 3; happens 3;now?" I groaned.

"As I've said, he'll have surgery to remove the right testicle. As for the other one, the decision will have to be made when his scrotum has been opened."

"Is there any way, you know 3; at his age 3; when other boys see him in the locker room at the pool. They'll make fun of him."

The doctor nodded. "It won't be a problem. The urologist will use an incision that will leave very little scar tissue. In fact, in a few weeks, once the swelling and bruising go away, even Justin will be hard pressed to find it himself. And of course, silicon replacements can be inserted. They can be almost the same size so that there will be no visibly obvious differences. When he's in his early teens, they can be removed and replaced with adult-sized ones."

"I expect that's better than nothing! When will you do the operation?" I asked sadly.

"We're getting him ready now, so right away. The nurse outside will give you the permission forms."

"I'm not his father," I said bitterly. "I wish I was. I've tried to reach his mother. She's at a retreat. It's miles from anywhere. I've called her again and again since Justin disappeared at the mall. She hasn't called me back yet."

"But you have the authority to sign, don't you?"

I nodded slightly. I swallowed. "Yes 3; yes, I guess I do. His mother wanted me take care of him this summer. She mentioned it at the airport. I still had guardianship from when we were married. Great job I've done so far."

"Well it wasn't your fault. Something like this could have happened when he was with his mother."

"Can I see him now?" I begged.

The doctor nodded slightly. "If you want. He's under sedation. And of course, you can go into the operating room with him if you want to."

"Fucking bastards! I want to see them hanged, Ellis. Every last one of them."

"I understand how you feel, Alex. The fact is we'll be lucky to catch them," Detective Ellis admitted softly.

"I don't believe it!" I replied viciously. "Justin has to be able to give you descriptions. He spent twenty-four fucking hours with them. He's an incredibly observant kid. He's highly intelligent. He'll know details that'll surprise you."

"It isn't that simple. What I said earlier about how quickly Justin recovers is going to depend a lot on you. How good you are with him the next few weeks is really important."

The doctor took a deep breath. I closed my eyes, barely able to control myself.

"That's why I want to be with him right now," I said angrily.

"Listen, Alex. There's a reason why I just said we'll be lucky to make an arrest. Justin 3;" Ellis began awkwardly.

"What? Why not?"

"Justin isn't talking about what happened to him. Before they sedated him, we had a child psychologist with him for nearly half an hour to try to get at what happened. I wanted to get a description, anything that could help to put these men behind bars. We got nothing of any use from him. There's a real problem, Alex."

"What sort of problem?"

"I've already told you that Justin left the mall with the man quite willingly. What I didn't tell you was that the only witness who could give a description 3; I'm sorry I have to tell you this. The witness was working in the food court. The man he saw leaving with Justin had him in the men's bathroom for nearly fifteen minutes. The fact is 3; Mr. Edwards?"

"Yes," I muttered in response to his attempt to raise my attention.

My eyes were closed, hoping against all hope that I did not hear what he was going to say. Try as I could, I could not block the words out. I knew what he was going to say. Suddenly everything made a lot of sense.

" 3; Justin is not going to tell us what happened, not now, not ever 3; Are you okay, Alex?"

I shook my head. My Justin, my beautiful, intelligent Justin, my blue-eyed, blond-headed Justin. The boy who I loved more than life itself. The boy who smiled angelically at me and said he would be okay by himself for a few hours. Less than an hour after I went to my meeting he had entered the men's toilet looking for sex. Ellis was telling me that he suspected my ten-year-old son was a homosexual, that he had been with a man for fifteen minutes before he walked off with him. How long had I known it would happen? Had I anticipated something like this would happen the night before Justin disappeared.

"He's just ashamed, I expect," I mumbled awkwardly. "He's like that sometimes. When he's frightened or nervous, he tends to clam up."

"Has anything like this happened before? It's not unusual for boys to go through a stage where they're interested in their own sex. Something with boys his own age perhaps?"

I shook my head. I knew nothing with any degree of certainty. I had noticed Justin's unease in the hotel room when we talked about sex. There was a lingering impression that he had done certain things, but not all things. He had a secret that he dared not tell me. There might have been sexual activity with his friends, maybe even someone older. I would have been surprised if he had not engaged in occasional sex play with boys his own age.

I swallowed, knowing that what the detective was asking was very different to childhood sex games. It seemed impossible that a ten-year-old boy was a willing partner in brutal sex with one or more grown men. This was what the detective's question implied, and it terrified me.

"NO!" I answered.

If the finality in my voice was enough to tell them the meeting was ended, that I stood up should have convinced them.

"He needs you, Alex," someone said.

"Catch them quickly, Ellis. Because I'll fucking kill all of them if I find them first."

"Alex, I know how you feel. I understand. I really do. However, the law doesn't operate any differently for you. Take the matter into your hands, and you'll be prosecuted."

"Fuck you, Ellis. I'm going to see my son. And if I see any fucking cops or doctors, even a fucking nurse, while I'm with him, I swear I'll fucking kill them because when I'm done, I'm going into the surgery with him and watch while someone cuts his balls off."

I glanced at them, their faces showing both compassion and understanding. I clenched my fists to prevent a continued outburst. I needed to get away from them, to be with my son, to offer whatever support I could even though he was asleep.

"Alex, there's one more thing before you go to see him."

"WHAT?"

"We want to schedule some time for Justin to see a psychologist. He's going to internalize this. He needs to get it out before he breaks down completely."

"You saying that he'll go crazy? I can help him deal with it. He'll be okay."

"We know you can help him deal with it. And yes, Justin needs you, but this needs an expert. He needs someone trained in dealing with this type of problem. Alex?"

"I'm listening."

The doctor sighed. "Will you give your permission for some counseling?"

"His body has been devastated. He's been raped God-only-knows how many fucking times. He's going to lose his right ball, and maybe his left one too. And now you want to go to work on his mind? Fuck you! YES! You have my fucking permission for him to see a goddamn shrink!" I left, my mind reeling in turmoil.

Room 1031a, Orlando Children's Hospital June 18th, 2000

I had been seated by Justin's side on an uncomfortable plastic-covered seat, holding his inert hand throughout the operation. Through half-closed eyes and occasional circumspect glances, I watched the doctors and nurses moving around the operating room. Their voices were already muted, then further muffled through their face masks. I winced when a silver needle was expertly inserted into Justin's thin forearm and a drip started down a plastic tube. Unfeeling and unknowing, he lay in a drug-induced stupor while they tried to repair his body.

There were two surgeons, both men in their forties. Dr. Patrick was the pediatric urologist. Dr. Lamont was the chief surgeon in the emergency room. Between them, they made a formidable team, a team that could repair the physical damage. Dr. Patrick began the preparation work by removing the catheter with calm detachment. Unlike me, he was oblivious to Justin's nude body.

I tried to look away, yet macabre curiosity brought my eyes back again and again to witness the horror as much as partake of the overpowering beauty of his slender form. On the small soft mound of Justin's pubis, standing out vividly from the pale hairless skin, was the ever-present reminder of the horror that started little more than twenty-four hours earlier.His penis and scrotum were dark and swollen in size so that they looked incongruous. His scrotum appeared to be several times larger and bloated as if filled with fluid.

Minutes ticked by while the urologist tried to insert a thin pliant probe beyond the swollen section of Justin's penis. Finally, he moved his head in an affirmative nod. The surgical decision to open the urethra was postponed and I breathed a sigh of relief. At least that part of him would be intact although the catheter would have to stay for several days longer.

I watched Lamont working above Justin's naked body. I was fascinated by his deft hands. He began by inserting a hollow needle into the darkened swelling of Justin's once tiny scrotum. The drainage of accumulated fluids quickly reduced the size to that of a dark-purple golf-ball. I could feel my heart pounding, each breath becoming increasingly difficult. Because of the need to minimize the scar, the incision was made closely following nature's center-line from the beginning of Justin's penis into the fat pouch of his still-swollen scrotum. It ended at the perineum.

The doctors had warned me again during the pre-surgery briefing that when the scrotum was opened they would be able to determine whether both testicles would have to be removed. I took a deep breath. Dr. Patrick took over again to initiate preparations for the removal of Justin's right testicle. Now, I watched while the skin of his scrotum was peeled back to expose the viscous contents. A thin tube was clamped before it entered the testicle. I closed my eyes, hearing the bland professional voices of the two doctors at work. "I'll need about five millimeters [¼ inch] to work with, Jeff."

"I can't give you anywhere near that much. You'll have to cut him close. Maybe there's enough for a tie-off. It's pretty much destroyed the vas deferens. I'm going to make the cut before the damage finishes as it is."

"Poor little guy," a nurse said softly.

"That's the understatement of the year."

"I've got some bleeding."

"Suction on the right. You got it."

Several minutes ticked past. Each breath was difficult. I watched Justin's face, remembering the joy in his eyes when I visited at Christmas. He had literally jumped into my arms the moment I stepped through the door.

"How's the left one look?"

"Like crap!"

"What do you think?"

"My honest opinion? It's not worth the risk. I think it's too far gone. It hasn't atrophied by the look of it, but it's not worth keeping."

"That's too bad."

The doctor glanced at me, the question unasked. I sighed. Slowly I moved my head. "Whatever you think," I murmured. "I know you have to do what's best for him, but if there's a chance you can save it 3;"

Anything was better than nothing. At least some feeling would remain even if the damaged organ was incapable of functioning as nature intended.

The doctor examined it closer. Slowly he nodded. "We'll try to save it. A day or two from now, we'll know more. Jeff, I think we better leave the silicon out until the left one has settled down. I don't want to have him back here with an infection. "

"I agree. There's no rush to pad him. Maybe he could even wait until he's ready to go pubescent."

The time passed quickly while the two doctors finished up.

"I need a few more minutes to close the scrotum and he's all done, Bob. I need a taper-cut micro-needle with a 9/0 polypropylene suture. Ten centimeters [4 inch] on the end ought to do it."

Less than an half-an-hour after we had entered, Justin was wheeled out of the operating room into recovery. I sat by his side, thinking. Although my rage had diminished, I felt like my brain was numb. The slightest thing would send me over the edge. All things considered, it was a successful outcome. Justin would have a relatively normal life despite the curious physical appearance of his scrotum for the next few years. If he exercised caution while changing his clothes, it would go unnoticed by all but the most curious with excellent eyesight.

At first glance, his slightly lop-sided scrotum would appear to be normal, if somewhat smaller than average. The scar would be barely visible when the wound had healed. By the time Justin was old enough to be exposed to ridicule during sexual intimacy or tormented by rambunctious boys in the locker-room, he would be operated on again. Silicone would provide the symmetry needed for aesthetics. With the exception of the obvious loss of hormones essential to maturation and the inability to reproduce, his sexual ability would not be unduly restricted. Justin could continue his life much as before, albeit uncomfortably until the severed nerves became desentized. Doctor Lamont assured me that even his Cowper's Glands would eventually become functional, allowing a discharge of pre-seminal fluid when he was sexually mature.

"Mr. Edwards?"

I turned around quickly, returning to the present with a jolt. "Yes?"

The nurse looked at me curiously. "Doctor Steiner has just finished prepping Justin. He'll see you in his office."

I followed her along the passageway, past three or four doors. It was an office typical of a hospital doctor. A wood-grained desk was surrounded by a motley collection of chairs, none equal in comfort to the leather high-backed chair of the occupant. Doctor Steiner looked up and smiled warmly while he continued to hold a file open.

"Hello, Mr. Edwards. It's good to see you again. Your son is doing very nicely, I see. The surgeon's last report is very positive."

"It depends on your perspective," I said. "I don't see it quite the same way as you do. It's hard to see sterility as being positive."

"I'm sorry. I understand completely. But, you know, given what happened to him, Justin's lucky to be alive."

"I know that, too." I sighed despondently and shrugged. "How bad is he taking it?"

"How bad? He knows about his testicles. He's a very intelligent boy. He knows he can't change what happened. He's resigned."

"He was always a bit a of a stoic. How about up here?" I added with a slight gesture to my head.

Steiner nodded slightly. "Let me answer with a question. What has he told you?"

"Nothing really. He keeps saying he's sorry, but he hasn't said what for. It's like he's on a huge guilt trip and too afraid to say why he's guilty."

"It's pretty normal under the circumstances, Mr. Edwards. He has a lot of guilt."

"I think I know what you're going to say. Please don't!"

"I won't. Last time, when he was under hypnosis, I began to understand."

"You said it didn't work."

"In a way, it didn't. That's why you're here, today. Justin has internalized this thing very deeply. He hasn't forgotten anything. He just doesn't want to think about it, so he's pushed it deep down. He's a remarkably bright boy, by the way."

"I know. So what happens today?"

"If you give your permission, it'll take a few minutes for the drug to take."

"What drug?"

"Sodium Pentathol. It's an unusual approach, especially for a child. However, it usually works in situations like this. Once I know what happened, I can begin to work with him to bring it out and discuss it with him."

"The truth and nothing but the truth? Damn it! Why can't we just leave him alone. He's been though enough already," I answered angrily.

"The truth can be unpleasant, Mr. Edwards."

"Compared to what I've been through? I think I can stand it, Doctor. And if I can't, I'll be the one to decide when to leave."

However, I stopped before I reached the position where outright refusal was my only relief. I had to help Justin deal with what happened to him, just as I had to learn how to deal with it myself. Instead, I listened to Dr. Steiner, and now I watched from behind a darkened glass panel that was mirrored on the other side. Justin sat up, his face expressionless, eyes glazed as if staring at something that was either very far away, or inside his own head. He had been that way frequently since he'd woken up nearly a week earlier. The drug made no immediately discernible difference. Perhaps it had not taken full effect. Ever since he had woken up in the recovery room, Justin spoke with hesitancy, and stopped without reason. He wanted to tell, yet the words did not come. His mind had erected a barrier to protect sanity. God, how I wanted my son back the way he'd been before I left him alone in the mall.

The doctor began with a soothing voice, calming Justin with questions about his school, his friends, his pets, anything but what happened. Justin answered exactly as I expected him to. Succinct answers, no elaboration, just the truth. Justin's voice sounded innocent. Steiner changed tack without warning. Suddenly, everything changed. I swallowed bile.

"I want you to think back, about what happened last Thursday afternoon. Where were you?"

"I was at a mall with my dad."

"You went to the video game arcade, didn't you?"

"Yes. Daddy told me not to."

I sat up. It was the first time he said more than enough to answer the question. It had been years since he called me daddy.

"Why did he tell you not to go to the arcade?"

"Because he doesn't like me going there."

"Why not?"

"I don't remember."

Justin was hedging. Surely he would remember my warning about the type of men who frequented arcades. I had started on the warnings against strangers when he was six.

"Why did you go to the arcade?"

"I was waiting for Daddy 3; I still got bored playing the machines."

"What did you do when you left the arcade?"

"I walked around the mall some. Then I felt 3; hungry."

"What did you do?"

"I 3; I went inside."

"Where did you go inside?"

"The toilet."

"Why?"

"I was 3; hungry."

"You were hungry?"

"He kept looking at me."

"Who kept looking at me?"

"The man. He was in the arcade too. He had hungry eyes."

"He had hungry eyes? What does that mean?"

"He kept looking at me."

"Okay. The man followed you into the toilet, didn't he?"

"Yes 3; I don't know why wanted him to."

I breathed out with a shudder. Poor Justin. No wonder he didn't want to remember.

"What happened in the toilet?"

"He stood right next to me. I was scared I couldn't pee even a little bit."

"Why were you scared?"

"I don' know."

"Did you want to leave?"

"No!"

"What did you want to do?"

"I wanted him to touch my cock so bad."

"Did he?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what happened."

"He smiled at me 3;"

"Yes, Justin?"

"He asked if I was hairless. He said he liked hairless little boys. Then he said we should get acquainted because he liked me and I was like him."

Justin's voice seemed to tremble with excitement. He was reliving the moment, experiencing the same incredible thrill.

"What else did he say?"

"He said I was a fag-boy. He asked whether I wanted to lose my cherry," Justin added with increasing fervor.

"What happened then?"

"He asked me to go into the can with him."

There was a slight pause. I was surprised by my apparent calmness.

"Did you want to go with him?"

"Yes."

"What happened there?"

"He sat down on the seat."

"After that?"

Justin was silent for several seconds, fighting the urge to tell. "He pulled my pants all the way down to my feet and started to play with my cock," he said softly. Dr. Steiner's next comment surprised me. "It was nice, wasn't it Justin?"

"Uh huh. It felt good."

"I bet your cock got really hard when he played with it."

Justin stared blankly at his interrogator, his mind no longer challenging each question. "Yes."

"Have you ever done anything like that before?"

"Yes."

I breathed out slowly. I closed my eyes and waited for several long seconds, trying to think of the explanations I would give to Dr. Steiner when the session ended. I wondered whether he would believe me. I remembered what had happened in the hotel room and tried to decide whether it could be classified as child abuse. In reality, I had not really touched him in a sexual way, yet my impression was that Justin knew it was sexual every bit as much as I did.

"Was it with another man?"

"Uh huh!"

I sat up, guiltily. Fear settled over me as I desperately reasoned that my fear was unfounded. I had not touched Justin in a sexual way. It had to be someone else. I listened carefully. The inevitable question, the question I had wanted to ask Justin several times after we had arrived in Florida, but had not been able to ask, had finally come. Perhaps I was so afraid of the answer that I had steered away from it.

"I want you tell me what happened with the other man."

"Mr. McVue played with me in the storeroom," Justin answered blandly.

"Who is Mr. McVue?"

"He's my music teacher at school. He plays with me and Peter Haverstock."

I shivered and the tension evaporated, wondering when it had happened. Perhaps a better question was how long it had been going on for. Somehow, I knew that it was not just a single incident. There had been lots of times, or at least lots of opportunities with the work Justin had undertaken for the Fifth Grade Annual Show. School started in mid-August and the Annual Show was in May. It accounted for Justin's sudden change in behavior towards school. Even his mother had informed me that he looked forward to music class in a way that was disturbing. With deepening fear, I sat back on the corner of the table, watching through the one-way window. Suddenly, I was very glad that I had invoked Justin's rights of privacy. The bond between doctor and patient would insure that only the three of us would know what was unfolding in the other room. There was no tape recording. No video. No witnesses. Nothing. I was glad that Ellis was not standing beside me.

"You like to do things with Peter and Mr. McVue, don't you, Justin?" he asked.

"Uh huh!"

"Does Mr. McVue play with your penis?"

"Of course. I play with his cock too. So does Peter. Sometimes he lets us suck his. Sometimes we suck each others while he watches."

"Do you like to do that?"

"Uh huh!"

Steiner's eyes flickered up, just a few seconds but long enough to make a one-way contact with mine. My fists tightened. He was urging me to leave while I still could. I shook my head even though I knew he could not see me.

"Now Justin, I want you to think back about what happened in the mall toilet. Can you tell me what the man did to you? What did you do with him?"

"He sucked on mine for a while. He put his finger up my butt too. Mr. McVue hadn't done that to me. It felt strange, it even hurt some, but I still liked it. It was different to doing it by myself. It made my cock really hard."

The doctor looked directly at me again, as if trying to see through the reflective wall in front of me. I breathed out, nodding. With unsettling trepidation, I silently urged him to continue with his questions.

"Did you suck his penis, Justin?"

"Yeah! I sucked his cock some. He made me stop after a few minutes 'cause he was going to cum."

"It was something you wanted to do, wasn't it? You liked doing that to him, didn't you?"

"Uh huh. It was a bit smelly, like pee. I guess it kinda bothered me until I got used to it. It was really big, way bigger than Mr. McVue's. Bigger than daddy's too."

"Then what happened?"

"He asked me if I wanted to go to his place, and I said yes."

"You left the mall with him willingly? He didn't force you to go with him, did he, Justin?"

"No. I wanted to go. He had a Harley."

"A motor cycle?"

"Yeah! It was way cool. I got on behind him. Man! It was a rocket. I was scared I'd fall off."

"Where did he take you?"

"I don't know. Some trailer park I think. I got lost after a few minutes."

"Can you describe where he took you?"

"I don't remember it much. I think there was a river we crossed over because I remember going over a bridge. Then we went down a dirt road for a while. There was a verandah along the front of the place where we stopped. There was a bunch of trailers but this one was at the back. It was by itself, I remember the color was cream and white."

Do you remember the number? Was there a number outside, on the door?"

"I think it was sixty-nine?" Justin smirked crudely. "It might have been thirty-six. I didn't really notice. I remember 3;"

"What, Justin?" Steiner asked gently.

"Nothing! I forgot."

"After you went inside, what happened?"

"He took my clothes off and made me walk around the room for him. I had to 'strut my stuff' for him. He said I had a really nice body."

I watched Steiner wince slightly and I felt my distaste for the man grow. Until that Thursday, Justin had been perfect in every way. Every day of his life I had admired him, astounded that such beauty could have been created by someone whose name I did not know as the result of an unfortunate union with his mother.

"Then what happened, Justin?"

"He stood up and started taking his clothes off."

I shuddered as Justin smiled shamelessly. He was remembering, replaying the scene while the man undressed. He was thinking of what he saw. I closed my eyes. I was barely able to breath.

"It was funny."

"What was funny?"

"It was funny because he didn't have any hair there."

"What? Hair? Where?"

"Around his cock, of course," Justin replied with obvious exasperation.

"Oh! You mean around his penis?" Dr. Steiner asked.

"Of course. He said he shaved it off so he would look like a little boy again," Justin explained. "It looked funny," he added seriously.

Unconsciously, he rubbed at his crotch. For a few seconds I thought the sutures were irritating him. They were due to be removed the next day. Then the truth dawned. He was becoming sexually aroused. I felt my heart skip, then pick up a few more beats. That I was excited, was very disturbing. So, he looked like a little boy, I thought to myself.

"Did he say or do anything else you thought was funny, Justin?" Steiner probed.

Justin shrugged disinterestedly, his hand now stroking rhythmically between his thighs. Dr. Steiner's head turned away from Justin and towards me. It was a warning look that penetrated the one-way window.

"He has a really big one," Justin said earnestly. "It's much bigger than daddy's. I'd never seen one that big before. It's long and really thick."

The change in tense from past to present made my stomach churn. He was remembering, making past events that should have been forgotten become his present reality. I could sense the excited charge that flooded him. It was a surge that made his body quiver. The comparison with my penis was unsettling and I felt my stiffness diminish slightly. Justin was not so afflicted, and the pointed disturbance in his loose sweat pants left no uncertainty regarding his erect state. He was breathing deeply, his eyes half closed.

"I wanted to lick the end of it for him, only he wouldn't let me. It tastes salty, you know. the stuff that oozes out before a man cums."

Again, Dr. Steiner looked directly at the mirror. His eyes were narrowed. I resisted the impulse to leave and take Justin with me. The horror of his personal nightmare was beyond comprehension. Yet, I had to stay and hear it all. I would learn what I needed to know.

"What happened then?"

"Martin rubbed his cock all over my tummy. It made me really hot."

"Hot?"

"You know, hot, like horny. I got a hard-on. I've never been that hard before," Justin explained.

"It's called an erection," Dr. Steiner said perfunctorily.

"It got like that 'cause I was so excited. I wasn't afraid any more," Justin said testily. "He started saying things, and calling me names," he added shamelessly.

"You can tell me if you want."

Justin swallowed. His left hand brushed through the few remaining spikes of hair that remained from his visit to the hair salon just one day before his school performance. The colors had faded. The dyed streaks was no longer the red-blue and vivid purple plume that was undeniably homoerotic. They had become muted shades that merely hinted at his underlying sexuality. His other hand was busy, fingers wrapped around the cloth-covered projection, squeezing and rubbing.

"I'm his fuck-boy," Justin murmured. He smiled obscenely. "That's what the hole in my butt is for. So men can fuck me. I don't have a cunt so I use my butt-hole. I want to have their cocks in my boy-pussy."

I felt a cold chill. It was immediately followed by a surge of excitement that overwhelmed me. It was not only the words, 'fuck-boy and boy-pussy, it was the way he used them. No longer did he depreciate his sexuality. He exuded an eroticism that aroused my perverted lust. He had accepted what he was. He was no longer ashamed of his desires. I remembered what happened in the hotel room. The euphoric look on his face was unforgettable. He was in his element, following an inner need that could not be denied. Only a week ago and he had been ashamed. Then I had been barely able to resist, but only because of his shame. Now, I knew I would succumb as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

"Then what happened, Justin?" the Doctor asked dispassionately.

"He made some phone calls."

"Phone calls? To whom?"

"He called some men he knew."

"Men? Who were they?"

"I don't know. They were men who liked boys."

Justin smirked knowingly, looking directly at the psychologist and silently challenging him to pursue the matter further. Steiner backed away quickly.

"Then what happened?"

"We went into the bathroom." Justin gazed down at the floor, still smiling, still remembering.

"And?" Steiner prompted.

"He got out some vaseline and made me lie over the vanity. He put a lot around my butt-hole with his finger, then he stuck it all the way up inside me again."

The look on Justin's face would haunt me until I died. He grinned lasciviously. From the look alone, I could imagine what had happened. He was remembering the intense pleasure of his very first time with something human other than himself. He was feeling the man's finger pushing deeper and deeper until it was all the way inside his rectum. It was something he would never forget.

"He made me get off in only a few seconds, and with just his finger too. God, I was so horny I couldn't stand it," Justin added slyly. "Then he put two fingers up me.

"It felt good, then?" Steiner asked awkwardly.

It was easy to imagine him with his buttocks parted, two fingers inserted into his anus. I gulped air and listened closely.

"Good? God, it felt so fucking incredible I could believe it," Justin laughed. "It hurt for a few seconds until I got used to it, of course. It's always like that when it's tight at first. Then I thought I had died and gone to heaven. After a while he stuck three fingers up me. That hurt too, but only for a while, and then it got better like it always does."

"But you knew what he was doing to you was wrong, didn't you?"

Justin shrugged. He glanced towards the one-way window. I had the disturbing thought that he knew I was watching him, that I could hear every word he said, that the drug was having no effect on him at all. It seemed like he was talking directly to me, parodying my own words from only a few days earlier.

"Wrong? What's wrong with it? What I do with my body is my decision, isn't it? Isn't that what grown-ups tell kids? No one has the right to tell me not to do things that I want to do. I can do anything I want just so long as it doesn't affect anyone else."

Steiner regarded him thoughtfully. "That's true in a way, Justin. However, it's much more complicated than that. What about drugs?"

"I didn't do any drugs, okay," Justin said hotly. " Martin asked me if I wanted to, but I'm not like that."

"Still, you knew it was dangerous. You could have been killed. In fact you were seriously hurt."

"I'm here now, aren't i?"

"I think you need to be older than you are to make the decisions like the ones you're talking about, especially any decisions that involve having sex."

"Like letting him stick his fingers in my butt? It's nothing to be ashamed about, not if it's what I wanted to do," Justin retorted.

"He stuck more than his fingers up there though didn't he?"

Justin laughed crudely. "Why do you care? I'm a fag-boy. I wanted him to fuck me. Besides, he asked me whether I wanted to stay. I could have left before anything happened, if I wanted to."

I sighed. "You poor little bugger," I said softly. "I could have prevented this if only I'd listened to you. You were trying to tell me what you were feeling, weren't you. I should have known what you wanted. But I didn't, and you came out all by yourself."

"I don't know how you can believe that. No boy wants to happened to you."

"How do you know what I want?"

"You didn't want to get hurt, did you?" Steiner asked impatiently.

Justin shrugged. "Of course not. I'm not an idiot. I could have left if I wanted to. I wanted to stay. I didn't know they were going to hurt me. Besides I can't change what they did to me now, can I?" he replied with a learned stoicism that defied his age.

"What happened next?"

"Next?" Justin sighed. "He stuck a hose in me and filled my ass with water. He flushed all the poop out of me so I would have more room inside me. I don't think I ever had a crap like that."

"He gave you an enema," Steiner queried. "Then what?"

"Then he cleaned me up." Justin smiled slightly, remembering more than he was telling. "He told me it was my last chance to leave. If I stayed he couldn't be sure what would happen to me. He told me that I might be hurt."

"You wanted to stay, didn't you Justin?"

"Yes, I already told you I wanted to stay. They arrived just when we came out of the bathroom."

"Who are they? The men he called?"

"There were three of them."

"Can you describe them?"

Justin shrugged absently. Yet I could tell by the way he turned away that his memory was adequate to the task of description.

"What happened then?"

"One of them had a video camera," Justin answered flatly. "You can see all of what happened on tv, if you want. They made tapes of the whole thing."

NEXT PART