Paolo

Beach Boys

Chapter I
Runaway

Cole Edwards realized he was lost as he let his bicycle coast to a stop at the top of a hill. After his thrilling ride at near 60 mph [100 km/h] down the hill's very steep complimenting one, he was laughing and shaking with adrenaline, despite his predicament. His legs were wobbly as he dismounted, rubbing at his somewhat sore crotch. He'd been riding for quite some time, and his legs seemed confused by the furious pedaling down the previous hill to build up such insane speed. One wrong move, the boy knew, and he'd have been road kill if he'd crashed the red 18-speed mountain bike.

He looked all around, the smell of salt and distant sounds of waves letting him know that he was somewhere near the ocean. He ran a hand through his somewhat curly, shoulder-length black hair and nearly fell over into the grass at the side of the two-lane highway. He shrugged off his backpack and found a bottle of water in it. He was almost out, making a mental note that he'd have to hit a gas station restroom to wash up and refill his bottles soon. Glancing down the way, he saw a high red 'M' sign and smiled. Just what he needed – a convenience store. He poured the water over his head, and opened another to drink.

At 48 inches [1.22 m] and 60 lbs. [27 kg], Cole was a bit undersized for an eleven year old and built more like an eight year old. He might have looked it, but he wasn't an oblivious kid. Cole knew how things worked. He already knew that when your parents were too busy for you, and when your mother just up and ran off with the FedEx driver, that you got stuck with anyone who would take you. Such was Cole's predicament, with his father abroad on business and having dumped him with his good friend and business associate's family.

Having pretty much been raised by his nanny, Cole had been quite surprised some weeks earlier when his father had called on the Internet phone service to announce that he wasn't coming back, and that Cole would be staying with the Martins for good. He would send a monthly stipend to support the boy, and come to visit whenever he could.

To Cole, that translated as 'See ya around, kid', and that he probably wouldn't see the man ever again; not that he saw much of him as it was. His nanny, Helen, had been summarily sacked, although with a severance package, and Cole figured that he'd never see her again either. It had been a tearful goodbye, and later that night at the Martins' home, Cole had just sat staring at the computer screen wallpaper for quite some time.

"I love you, Cole," the video had said, before the S.K.Y.P.E. window had closed.

No, you don't, Cole had thought.

"Why doesn't he want me, Mr. Martin?" Cole had finally asked, as he was settled into his new home. "I wasn't a bad kid, was I?"

But despite the reassurances that such was not the case, Cole realized that things were different at the Martins'. For one, they weren't affectionate at all; the most contact he ever got was a pat on the head or a clap on the back. No one hugged him, no one tucked him in at night, and the household rules were unbearable. The Martins were quite religious, and although Cole wasn't sure what religion it was, he found it insufferable. Whatever god they worshipped, Cole determined, wanted nothing to do with him. Why else would 'he' have left him in such a predicament?

Church, church, church, the itchy black suits and ties, the Sunday afternoons with guests in formal clothes, and all the kids who were afraid to even talk, much less play?

The Martins, Cole soon found, were insane.

For starters, Cole liked to sleep naked, which had shocked his new family. Being small, he was given pyjamas with feet, a one-piece for little kids, to sleep in, no matter how warm it was. He wasn't even allowed to go barefoot, and all of his short-or-sleeveless shirts had been replaced by long-sleeved ones and hoodies. His short pants were all replaced with trousers and jeans, and he was given a pair of trainers [sneakers] and a pair of boots instead of his usual sandals or flip-flops. He was only allowed three minutes for a shower, and then it was into his itchy, hot pyjamas and slippers and 'gloves'.

These were much like lace-up boxing gloves that made it impossible for him to use his hands, and were impossible for him to take off once the laces were knotted. Then it was right to bed at eight-thirty with his door locked behind him.

"What's these for?" Cole had asked Mr. Martin that first night, "I can't even scratch my nose! What if I have to pee?"

"Those are to keep you from violating yourself in the night, and if you wet the bed, you'll be wearing Goodnights from now on," Mr. Martin had told him, which translated to Cole as 'so you won't play with your dick'. After all, the first time they'd seen the boy scratch his balls, they'd gone haywire and spanked him. Cole couldn't imagine what they'd do if they caught him playing with his dick.

And then there were those spankings. Every little thing that he did wrong, it seemed, Cole got a spanking. It was about the only time he got touched, really, and he began making mistakes intentionally just for the attention. Bent bare-assed over Mr. Martin's knees and paddled, Cole had been told over and over how vile and sinful he was for getting an erection while being beaten.

After a while, Cole was wondering if Mr. Martin were right. It felt sort of good to get spanked, it made his dick really hard, and well 3; he was on Mr. Martin's lap with his bare ass getting some kind of attention? Someone was at least touching him 3;?

He'd lasted a month before he'd run away.

The doctor visit and the promise of a haircut had been the last straw. He could deal with the clothes and pyjamas, he thought, and even the gloves. He could deal with the religious services, he didn't really mind the spankings or the lack of affection, but no one was cutting his hair!

Cole had inquired at the doctor's office why he needed a shot in the bum, and a painful one at that. They'd told him that he'd been given a massive dose of time-released Lupron and Depo, so that he'd not be troubled with "sins of the flesh' and 'lust' until he was intellectually ready to deal with it.

The doctor had then shown him a small string of rubber beads on a string, called an 'orchidometer', which was used to gauge the size of his testicles. Puberty, he had said, began earlier and earlier and was something that should be put off if it could – hence the shot.

That, and Mr. Martin wanted his mane of thick black hair buzzed off to 1/8 inch [3 mm], never longer than 1/2 inch [13 mm], just as his and his own son's was. "It's not natural to become sexually aroused at your age, especially when being punished!" Mr. Martin had added, "And that hair makes you look like a girl!"

That night, Cole had searched the restricted Internet for the drug's name. As he read the results, he made his choice. "I'm outta here," he decided, appalled that his new 'parents' were effectively neutering him with medication, and probably their own son as well.

It wasn't that hard to get away, really. Cole used his foot to push his second floor window open, then slid down the TV antenna pole like a fireman and onto the lawn. He then went to the woodpile and rubbed his 'boxing glove' on the axe until the laces were cut. He pulled that one off with his teeth, and freed his other hand. The key to the garage was under a fake rock in the flower garden, as was the house key. He found his old clothes in a garbage bag destined for the Goodwill charity, and grabbed his favorites to stuff in his backpack. As it was an early spring, he dressed in khaki shorts and a red T-shirt, leaving his hated pajamas on the floor as he pulled on his favorite thick-soled brown sandals. He put the new trainers [sneakers] in the pack, though. After all, they were pretty cool high tops with neon green trim and strings.

Just for good measure, he carved the words "FUCK YOU!" with the key into the side of the Martins' new Lexus and urinated into the gas tank. Then, in a stroke of pure diabolical genius, he took a shit in the driver's seat.

Back in the house, carefully sneaking into the laundry room, he dumped the box of detergent out to find Mr. Martin's cash in a sandwich bag at the bottom of the box. "Idiot," he sniffed. He shoved the money, about $1500 in assorted bills, into his backpack. He grabbed a blanket from the shelf. He then mounted his bike, and set off.

Cole Edwards had no idea where he was going. He might be able to find Helen, but he doubted it. He didn't know where she lived now, and he didn't know his own way home. It had been a very long car ride to the Martins' house in the country. The Dramamine pills they'd given him had also made him sleepy and stupid, so he'd missed most of the trip, and Cole wasn't sure where he even was as he pedaled off into the night.

He rode all night before he stopped in the morning, hiding his bike in the bushes and weeds near a dry drain pipe under the highway and sleeping exhaustedly in it almost all day before resuming his ride again. When he did, he saw a green road sign: "Springfield 31 [50 km]"

***

It wasn't that hard, really, being on your own, Cole found. No one paid any attention to a kid ordering fast food, or eating alone. Every time he was questioned about not being in school, he replied that he was home schooled, learning about money on a 'field trip', and that the cashier had gotten his change wrong. He demanded the receipt, too, and faked a call on his pay-as-you-go cell phone to his 'parents' to report on his 'homework'. He had gotten a small stenographer's notebook and a pen, and he took notes. Clerks tended to freak out when he did this, and rapidly began to ignore him.

Buying the phone had been no problem, either, as the bewildered clerk at the local big box store hadn't cared one way or the other about selling one to a minor for his home school report.

He'd only been bothered once by a man in the restroom of a truck stop where he'd stopped to purchase a shower and hot meal. Cole knew what perverts were, but he had to admit that he'd liked it when the man had put his arm across his shoulders. He missed that contact, but he was also scared of what the man might do to him.

"I have to get back to my dad, sir," he'd explained, "The Snyder truck, the orange one? #2393 out back." In fact, Cole had seen that very truck pull in to get fuel when he'd arrived, and the man driving it had been a very large and threatening person.

The pervert had backed off at once, although he insisted that an employee escort the boy back. Once outside, Cole grabbed his bike from the bushes and fled, reminding himself to be very careful of travel centers in the future. From then on, he would wait and follow a family in.

The employee who escorted him didn't make the connection as he walked back in and passed by a bulletin board, where hung Cole's photo among many other missing children. After all, it was near shift-change and time to go home.

Such was Cole's routine for most of the month of May. He would ride at night, consult his phone as to where he was, hide during the day, and eat at whichever restaurant caught his fancy. After about a month, though, he realized that he'd gone through about half of his money and began buying cheap tinned foods and getting water from convenience stores, where he could also wash up in their restrooms. He only went to laundromats when he just had to, and began to worry about his bike's tires. He found that if you waited until closing time, a lot of good untouched food would be tossed out from buffet eateries, too, and the feral cats were pretty good dinner company.

Once he was recognized, and had to make a run for it when a clerk in a gas station had reported him. He'd spent the night hiding in someone's garage with a friendly dog, and figured that he'd get some reader glasses and knock out the lenses for a disguise. And a hat. If it worked for Clark Kent/Superman, he thought, it would work for him too.

Cole kept going.

***

As he rolled into the 'M' station at the bottom of the next hill to get a snack and clean up, he inquired of the clerk as to the fastest way to get to the ocean. Cole had always wanted to see the ocean, and he was very surprised to see that he'd covered about 1,200 miles [2,000 km] in the month he'd been on the road.

"Bit late to be out, isn't it?" The teenage boy clerk asked him.

"I'm new in town, staying with my Aunt, and I'm lost," Cole lied, checking his phone. "And I don't get this GPS thing. Where's Seaview Drive again?" He asked, as it sounded like a good place to go. "She'll be mad if I'm out too late!"

And so the boy explained it to Cole, and after cleaning up, he was on his way again.

"Damn, that kid's got some legs!" the clerk wondered, as he watched Cole go. His eyebrow went up. He looked at the bulletin board at the printouts of missing kids. "Nah, hair's wrong, and he's too little," the clerk thought.

***

Seaview turned out to be a resort community of some kind, Cole saw. There were cottages and larger houses with pristine lawns all along the way, all of them immaculate. The houses closer to the sea were built on high pilings, and there were quite a few of these behind a high woven-wire fence with signs along it here and there:

He even passed a big wrought iron gate with a computerized entry system to a nice road that seemed to go back a long way from the main highway.

"Seriously?" Cole muttered, seeing no voltage signs on the fence as he went a few miles down the way where the fences seemed to be in a state disrepair. He found a loose spot in the fence, threw his pack over, and pulled his bike under it. He then rode on down the steep grassy slope, right out into the sand and to the water's edge as the sun began to set. A warm wind was blowing up from the south, and the salt spray cleared the boy's head at once.

He rubbed his aching crotch and just stared in awe at the sea. There was just enough moonlight to see the outline of a few distant, tiny islands with sandy beaches.

He wondered if there were sharks?

Cole then stripped off his clothes, placing his meager possessions well back from the water. He splashed about in the water for a while as the crescent moon rose higher, with only the sounds of roosting birds and lapping waves for company. There was no one there to notice how his legs had toned up, or the miniscule six-pack that was beginning to form at his stomach.

Not tired at all, with his days and nights reversed from his covert travel, Cole decided to explore the beach. He didn't dress again, and let the air dry him. He laughed at his shrunken genitals, suddenly quite aware that he was nude in public. But he figured there would be no one there at night, all those rich and fancy people having gone home already. Indeed, the beach was deserted for as far as he could see.

Cole spent the night exploring, the meager moon reflecting on the sea providing him enough light as it reflected off the water. The chill on his bare skin was invigorating, and Cole thought he might just have found his own little heaven. He found some seashells, which fascinated him. He found some clumps of seaweed, which he'd read that you could eat. Cole didn't like it, though; it tasted too much like spinach. He even found a sea turtle, who didn't seem to mind his company at all as Cole studied it. There were smooth and rounded rocks everywhere, but it was the signs of old campfires and a few bits of trash that made Cole realize that he'd better find somewhere to hide, come morning.

He found what appeared to be some kind of abandoned shed some ways from where he'd sneaked in under the fence. It was built on stilts, like the houses he'd seen, and wasn't in too bad of a state of disrepair. There was a sputtering old security light on, but it was so dim that Cole thought it might not last the night. The shed was probably twice as large as his bedroom had been, and contained only a few things like rakes, shovels, an empty gas can, a small workbench with a few tools, and a fine layer of dust over everything. Behind it, the boy found that it was in fact a small service shed for a fenced electrical substation of some kind. It was partially hidden by scrubby pine trees, and it was humming and putting out weak heat. Cole thought about staying in it, then decided it would be safer under the shed.

He pulled a flashlight [torch] from his pack, and crawled in the still-warm sand under the little shed's porch. The sand went all the way under the shed, and there was nothing there but for a few pipes and warm electrical conduits. The other three sides were enclosed by plywood, with a small vent screen on the far end.

"Perfect!" Cole decided, as he ran back to fetch his pack and bike and move in. Once he'd hidden his things, he got a rake from the shed and dragged it behind him, hiding his tracks. He then went back to happily splashing about naked in the sea, but not too far out lest an undertow get him. He'd read about those.

He'd also read about clams, and as he explored the beach some more, he was amazed at the amount of nocturnal life that was out and about. He gathered up some clams, some large crabs, and even found a good-sized fish caught in a tide pool. He found matches and a large bucket in the shed, and after building a fire with dead grass and driftwood in the lee of the shed where it wouldn't be seen, he boiled up his catch. Cole ate like a king as the sun was coming up.

"Sure beats buffet throw-out," he sighed happily, realizing that perhaps being in the Scouts hadn't been a waste of time after all.

He then crawled under the shed, snuggling himself down into the warm sand. His hand strayed to his genitals, and while it felt good to touch them, Cole didn't get hard. He hadn't gotten hard even once since the painful Lupron shots. In fact, his little penis had shrunk up to no more than a nub and his balls had retreated back up into his body in the cold water, taking his scrotum with it and making him almost look like a girl. He remembered the stupid 'boxing gloves' Mr. Martin had made him wear so he couldn't play with himself, and snickered.

He remembered lying in bed, his little 2-inch [5 cm] erection pulsing with his heartbeat. He couldn't really touch it with the gloves on his hands, though, and he'd wanted to. Instead, he'd rolled over and tried to rub his erection on his mattress, because that felt good. Nothing ever happened, like he'd read about, though; but it still felt good to play with it.

Cole knew he was still a few years away from things like jerking off, or even sex, but like most boys his age, he was curious about it. Before coming to the Martins', he'd seen videos on the Internet. He'd had 'the film' at school. Cole knew what sex was, after all, and what boys used a penis for. He knew that you could use it on a girl in the front, or on a guy in the back. But Cole's penis remained limp and unresponsive as he fondled it. In fact, there wasn't much feeling in it at all.

He knew he'd been circumcised as a baby, as most of the other boys were. He thought back to the hot showers in school after gym class, and he missed that camaraderie and horseplay. He even missed the jokes about being gay if you got a boner in the shower. He played with himself for a bit longer, but got no reaction from his sexual organs.

"Fucking shots," he muttered, hoping that they'd wear off soon. He thought about the Martins again, picturing Max Martin all snug in his bed, gloves and all, probably oblivious to the fact that he even had genitals. "Idiot," Cole snorted, remembering that Max had taken great joy in tattling on him and getting him spanked.

"You're a sicko," Max had told Cole, after his father had given Cole a bare-ass whipping which had produced an erection. "You must be a pervert!"

"Yeah, well, I'm a free pervert now," Cole told himself, as he ran his hands along his thighs and up over his hard stomach which was full of fresh seafood. It made him shiver, and Cole giggled.

It wasn't the same, though, he realized. He missed Helen giving him his bath and toweling him off afterwards. He missed her hugs and goodnight kisses. He missed wrestling around with his friends at school. But he especially missed those rare moments of affection from his parents.

Cole fell asleep wondering where they were, or if they even missed him. Oddly enough, he dreamed about the man at the travel center.

He awoke later that afternoon, somewhere around 4PM. As the shed had electricity, he consulted his recharged phone. He was indeed at Seaview, at the furthest edge of the community, it seemed, about halfway down the coast. He snickered at the cliché name, and saw that the nearest house was some distance down the beach. He looked all around, stretching in the hot sun, but he couldn't see it.

The beach was deserted.

"Tuesday," Cole observed, "Maybe they're all at work?"

He took advantage of the late afternoon daylight to do some more exploring, having pulled on his shorts again, just in case. The sand was hot on his bare feet, and he skirted the water's edge where it was cooler. He'd walked quite a ways before he could just see the rooftop of the house that his phone had told him was there. He didn't go any further, though, when he saw the sand bore signs of recent visitation. The last thing he wanted was for someone to find him and turn him in to the cops to send him back to the Martins'. No fucking way was he going back there!

As he was picking his way through some rounded boulders near a hill, wondering if he might find some berry vines, he saw a sign near the edge of the sand:

an arrow pointed. Cole looked back towards his shed, now a speck in the distance. He could just see the fence there, which he hadn't seen in the dark that previous night. He was obviously at the very far end of the property, and he knew what a kilometer was. "Pretty big beach," he nodded, pulling off his shorts. "Well, can't break the rules!" He told himself happily, as he stepped on something that poked his bare foot. "Youch!" He looked around. "Raspberries!" He exclaimed happily.

When he'd eaten his fill, staining his fingers and mouth purple, he looked out over the sea. The small islands looked disappointing; there wasn't even one coconut palm out there, he saw.

Cole settled into a routine. He would sleep all day, and get up in the late afternoon. He would scavenge up berries, and found an early June Apple tree halfway up the hill that yielded plenty of little yellow apples. At night, he'd take his flashlight [torch] and hunt crabs and clams. He used some of his money to buy a fishing pole at the 'M' station, and soon figured out that Todd, the teenaged night clerk, worked every night shift but for Monday and Tuesday. Todd would always give him a free fountain soda, and took the boy's money to put more time on the cell phone.

"My aunt can't figure it out," Cole lied to him.

No one ever came to Cole's end of the beach, it seemed, but for an old naked man in a golf cart who came about once a week to check the electrical stuff and putter about the shed. But with Cole's bike hidden, and sleeping under the shed, the old fellow never noticed him. Other than a few passing boats now and again, there was no one.

Cole was lonely.

The afternoons and nights seemed to go on and on, with really nothing to do. After all, there was only so much biking, fishing and swimming that Cole could do. But at least he didn't have to worry about laundry, preferring to stay naked, and his packed clothes stayed clean. There was plenty of food, and when he really needed someone to talk to, there was always Todd.

The month of June went by slowly, turning incredibly hot. Even the evening sand was almost too hot to walk on barefoot, and Cole had to wear his sandals. There were sometimes thunderstorms in the evenings, but the shed was more than enough protection. Still, he missed Helen very much during the storms. He was afraid of storms, and she had always come to rock him and assure him that it was OK.

The shed was also protection from the slowly increasing amount of people that he saw. As summer began in earnest, with school being out and vacations being taken, Cole found more and people on the beach. There were never big crowds, per say, but the idea that someone might recognize him and call the police was enough to keep him holed up all during the day.

Besides, it was a nude beach, after all, and Cole decided that after a few days, there were people on the beach that he really didn't want to see! "Oh my God, cover that up!" He would mumble to himself.

Cole didn't realize it, but all of his activity and being outside naked in the afternoon sun had toned and tanned him quite well. His black hair continued to grow out, which Todd had commented about. Cole took to pulling it back into a ponytail, just to keep it out of his face. He still played with himself before he went to sleep in the very early morning hours, but he still wasn't getting hard. In fact, even discounting the shrinkage from the cold water, it seemed to Cole that his genitals were getting smaller. Most of the time, he had to pull on his penis just to be able to pee, and his balls seldom dropped down into their tiny sack.

"Water's cold, isn't it?" An older man commented one day, as Cole had given in to the heat and gone on down to the far end of the beach where a man with a pushcart was selling ice cream at the short boardwalk. In fact, Cole had noticed, on busy days, no one paid any attention at all to another naked boy on the nude beach, and he could literally disappear into the crowd at the busy areas.

"Sure is, sir," Cole nodded politely, not wanting to attract attention as he got his treat, and recognizing him as the old man who checked the power substation. He'd only brought two one-dollar bills, as he really had nowhere to put his money. He tried to not look at the gentleman, as the naked older man was something that Cole didn't want to really see. "I'm never getting old and fat," he silently told himself, as a black boy (actually deep brown, with long cornrow braids) bumped into him.

"Oh, sorry!" the black boy offered. "Say, you're new here aren't you?"

"Y-yeah, just moved here," Cole replied, "I 3; I finally got up the nerve to 3; you know?" He fumbled, gesturing around at the others.

The black boy laughed and offered his hand. "Brighton's the name," he introduced himself. "I grew up here, live waaaaay over there," He pointed down the way, "the house WAY WAY over there." Cole could just see the tip of the roof behind a hill. "So I pretty much know everybody."

"Nice thing about a private community beach," the old man added, as he toddled off with a sundae.

"Oh, man, Mr. Albert, put that thing away!" Brighton laughed. Mr. Albert flipped him the bird, and they both laughed.

"I'll have you know I was a hot young man once!" He called back.

"Yeah, like two million ice cream cones ago!" Brighton laughed back. "So, who you here with?" He then asked Cole. "Never seen you before?" He reminded him.

"I 3; I 3; uhhhm," Cole fumbled again. Brighton smiled.

"You sneaked in?" Brighton laughed, clapping Cole on the back. "S'ok, man, kids do that a lot! Wanna see naked people, I guess, but I dunno," he looked around slyly. "Don't worry, security probably won't care about a stray kid."

"Security?!" Cole gasped.

"Yeah, but they're cool," Brighton explained. "Jus' stay away from the power substation, touch one of them transformers, and you'll be fried!" He bent down to whisper, "And don't swim out to the islands! You'll get ate by a shark!"

"Oh, right!" Cole agreed, clutching at his ice cream. "Sh-shark?"

The black boy nodded. "So, you get here after school let out?" Brighton went on, "Don't remember you?"

"Yeah, just moved here," Cole replied, and it wasn't really a lie. "I'm so lost." He looked around nervously, noting that a few people in line were watching them. What if someone recognizes me? He fretted, as the crowd seemed to be closing in on him, staring 3;

He felt like the buffet worker had just seen him in the dumpster.

He felt like the time the man in the travel center restroom had tried to grab him.

He felt like the time he'd had to run from the cops.

Then Cole bolted.

"That was weird?" Brighton shrugged.

Cole ran all the way back to the most deserted strip of the beach, then vanished into the tall grass on the hill. He crawled along, still clutching his melting ice cream treat, and then bolted it down. He got an instant brain-freeze. He dropped the wrapper, stuffing it under a clump of grass. He then crawled through the grass around the curve of the hill, through the trees, until he reached the shed. He scuttled back under the building. "Shit!" he declared, as he crawled back out, grabbed a rake, and erased his tracks.

He hid under the shed until nightfall, trying to sleep, playing games on his phone, then searching for stuff about the Seaview area, but finding out nothing. It was like Seaview didn't exist, or just wasn't advertised, online. He tried several searches for 'nudist resort, nude beach, nudist colony,' but got no 'Seaview'. When night finally fell, Cole put on his red ball cap, glasses, a black T-shirt, black shorts, and his trainers. He then got his bike out, went under the fence, and rode down to see Todd.

"Wow, you're all dressed up!" Todd greeted him. "What's the occasion, Harry?" he joked, referring to Cole's glasses as they had their usual chat session.

On his way out, Cole snatched the missing child poster when Todd went to the bathroom. And although he could have done so easily, Cole never stole anything – except for a roll of toilet paper from the restroom.

***

The next morning, when he should have been just getting to sleep, Cole heard something.

A boy's voice.

"Tracks up to the grass, grass is mashed down," Cole recognized Brighton's voice, talking to himself. "Weak spot in the fence? Where do they sneak in at?" There was a snap. "Power station!"

Cole held his breath until he had to breathe. He huddled in the sand, naked, trying to dig himself in and hide. Surely Brighton wouldn't come to something as dangerous as the power shed?

"Ice cream wrapper! Tracks over there, bike track up the hill?" Brighton was talking to himself. "Ah! Looks like size 6 [38 EU] Nike tracks!"

"Shit!" Cole thought. "My tracks!"

"HEY, COLE? You out there, dude?" Brighton called. Cole didn't answer him. "C'mon, man, I can see your tracks, and the bike trail, I ain't stupid!" Brighton added. "If you don't come out, I'm gonna go get security!"

Cole's heart skipped. Very carefully, he wriggled towards the underside of the porch, where he could see a pair of small, brown, bare feet. One of them was tapping on the sand.

"God, maybe the sharks got him?" The boy said.

"Hey," Cole offered lamely, poking his head out from under the porch.

"So, you wanna hang out today?" Brighton asked, as if nothing at all were amiss. He smiled, and Cole saw his dental braces. "I can show you all around the beach, but I'm not allowed outside the fence."

Cole smiled. If Brighton didn't go out, he probably hadn't seen the missing kids posters, either. "I know a spot in the fence you can sneak under!" Cole whispered back.

"No shit?" Brighton beamed at him, smiling a crooked little smile. "I knew it had to be down here somewhere, 'cause you can't sneak in where it's good fence. Followed your trail, you know."

"I tried to hide it," Cole sighed, taking a good look at the boy.

Brighton's black hair was long and braided, and he was a rich chocolate brown color all over except for his palms and soles. He didn't have a wide nose, but it was larger than Cole's, as were his lips. He wore a thick gold herringbone necklace that must have cost a lot. In addition to his braces, Brighton had large diamond earrings in both ears, and a fancy digital watch on his right wrist mounted on a thick woven black leather band with a large gold toned ring hanging off the band. There was a matching band on his other wrist, and it had a small etched gold plate that read BRIGHTON and another one he couldn't see. He was a full head taller than Cole, and he was trim with the beginnings of musculature and not much fat at all. He sort of strutted as he walked, like he was arrogant – or had to poop bad, Cole thought.

Naturally, Cole's eyes moved down his slim frame as he got out of his hidey-hole and stood up. Brighton's genitals, Cole noticed, looked odd. He tried to be discrete, but Brighton caught him looking.

"Bet you thought black boys were bigger?" Brighton laughed.

Cole blushed, feeling his face go hot. "I 3; I 3; uh 3; sorry!" He offered. Then he looked back. "What is that thing?"

"This?" Brighton pointed to his crotch. His small genitals were sealed inside what looked like thick clear plastic, not really noticeable as it was so clear and his skin was so dark. "It's called a CB-X-Junior 2," Brighton explained. "My dad makes 'em an' sells 'em!"

"Is it like a cup [box] or something, to protect your balls?" Cole asked, suddenly embarrassed at his own small package while studying Brighton's encased larger one. Brighton appeared to be twice his size, but then again, he was black, and Cole knew that black boys always had bigger packages than white boys.

Brighton smiled. "No, it's a chastity device."

"Whas'that?" Cole asked, fascinated.

"Well," Brighton thought about how to explain it. "I guess it does protect me, like a cup would. When I have it on, I can't touch my junk. It keeps me from getting hard, and I can't play with it, you know? I can't get hit in the balls, either, since everything's all tucked and locked in."

"Locked?!" Cole gasped. "You mean you can't take it off? How do you pee?"

"There's a hole in the end of the penis tube, and I sit down," Brighton explained. He then lifted his confined package a bit. "See the sunken little screw heads? Those have to come out with a specialty tipped power screwdriver. The tube is screwed onto the ring that's around my balls, and the ring's too small to slide off without smashing my nuts flat."

"WHY do you have it?" Cole asked, remembering the Martins and his 'boxing gloves'. "Did you play with it too much or something?"

Brighton laughed. "Nah, I never play with it. I can't play it! That's why I wear it. It's OK, don't freak out, man!" Brighton noted the look on the white boy's face. "I don't mind that Daddy makes me wear it, and it doesn't hurt. Hell, I don't even know it's there, really, and nobody at the beach even looks. That's how I knew you didn't belong here, Cole."

"M-me?" Cole squeaked.

"You're not wearing one," Brighton added. "All the member boys wear one. You're just lucky that no one really notices. I mean, you see one naked boy at the beach, you seen 'em all, right? Damn, man, this sand's hot!" They moved nearer the water.

"You should get some flip-flops," Cole advised.

"Never wear shoes," Brighton replied. "Never wear clothes neither, except for school, either. Nudist resort, and community, remember? You left Nike prints in the sand, man. Big clue."

"Right," Cole nodded. "So is your dad like a religious nut? I know all about them," Cole said, "I used to have to wear boxing gloves to bed so I couldn't fiddle with mine!"

Brighton laughed.

"They gave me shots so I can't get hard or go into puberty," Cole then blurted, not sure why it had come out.

"That why you ran away?" Brighton asked, as they stopped to sit in the damp sand near the water.

Cole nodded. "My folks dumped me with some crazy religious people who thought I was 'vile'. Hell, I couldn't even wear shorts or go barefoot!"

"That why you ran off to a nude beach resort?" Brighton laughed again, and Cole liked the sound of it. "Man, I'd run off, too!"

"That was an accident. I just thought the place looked nice, and I found a place to hide, and 3;" Cole went on to explain how he'd been living – buffet throw-out food, the little money he had, and digging clams and catching fish, living under the shed where it was warm at night.

"That'll do great, 'til winter gets here, man," Brighton warned him. "It goes down to like freezing, you know, 32F [0°C], and you're fucked," he added. "Where you from, anyway?"

Cole decided to risk it. "Crawford's Towne," he replied. "Then it was like hours in the car to my 'foster family'. I don't know where that was. I been biking for a month. Ride at night, hide in the day. Jus' wanted to see the ocean."

Brighton's jaw dropped. "Dude! Tha's like a thousand miles [1,500 km] inland! You must'a' did like 30 miles [50 km] a day or more!"

Cole yawned. "Sorry, it's bedtime for me," he apologized. "You got me up in the middle of the night!"

"Sorry," Brighton replied, "But man, if you wanna hide your tracks, use a tree branch! No one uses a rake on the deserted end of the beach! It's a dead giveaway. He looked around. "No shells, either. You pick 'em all up?"

Cole nodded.

"You're gonna wear a path in the grass, and someone's gonna see the hole in the fence," Brighton speculated. "They got pictures of you posted all over, like in stores and shit?"

Cole nodded and went to fetch the poster to show him. "You gonna turn me in?" He asked glumly, unable to imagine what the Martins would do to him if he were to be sent back.

Brighton shook his head. "No, man, least – not 'til winter comes. We 3; we could ask my dad?" Brighton then added. "He's cool?"

Cole paled and shook his head.

"C'mon, man? You can come to my house. Get a real hot bath, wash that mop'o'hair you got, and eat some real food. Dad won't mind, honest! He'll just think you're a newbie here. He's always glad to meet new boys."

"What about 3;?" Cole pointed to Brighton's crotch. "You said everybody wears one?"

"Only boys," Brighton corrected him, "'cept for a couple what's been neutered." He looked over at Cole's tiny package and blinked. "You been neutered, Cole?"

"No, cold water does it every time, they climb up inside me," Cole answered, and it was enormously funny for some reason. "What's 'neutered' mean?"

"Like a dog or cat, you know? Balls cut off so you can't have hard-ons or fuck, or breed? Kinda makes you more calm and submissive?"

Cole snorted. "Those fuckin' shots did that," he explained.

"I think Dad will understand," Brighton reminded him. "C'mon, Cole? Seriously, dude, what you gonna do when winter comes? Those power coils won't get that shed much above freezing, and the wind's a bitch! Ain't no berries or fruit trees, or even gardens to rob, then!"

"He 3; he won't mind?" Cole asked timidly, wondering if he really was 'submissive and calm', but sorely being tempted by a hot bath, good food, and just having someone to talk to.

"Nahhh," Brighton drawled, offering his hand.

Cole took it, and then he pulled the black boy into a hug, suddenly bursting into tears.

When he was done, Cole felt totally stupid. He wiped his nose on his arm, and Brighton suggested he wash up in the mild surf. "Shrink that little white-boy junk up some more!" He laughed.

Brighton was always laughing, Cole thought, as he watched his new friend offering his hand again. He took it, noting the odd way that Brighton walked again as he led him down the beach.

They walked along the beach back towards Brighton's house. They walked, and walked, and walked some more. Just how far was it?

Cole noted that the beach wasn't too crowded. There were a few parents, small children playing in the sand, a couple of surfers (all nude, of course), but really not that busy of a day. Cole just kept his eyes fixed on the little bit of roof he could see that was slowly getting larger.

When they finally arrived, after climbing up a long grassy hill and crossing about an acre of lawn, Brighton punched a code into an electronic gate lock on the high chain link fence that surrounded the house.

Brighton's house

"Watch out, it's electric," Brighton warned Cole. "And don't ever, EVER, pee on it!" He smiled.

Cole couldn't imagine what that would do to you. He'd heard jokes about it, of course, and one boy at school claimed to have done it once. Once.

The house was, Cole could only think, unbelievable. It was a Cape Cod style, and it was huge. It was a two story, with a terrace patio surrounding half of it. There were Greek style pillars at one end, just to the side of a huge swimming pool with its own waterfall. Brighton looked a bit embarrassed.

"I told dad it was too much," he shrugged. "Hell, I get lost in it sometimes."

"I bet!" Cole gasped.

A young Caucasian man wearing only an apron that covered his front greeted them on the patio. He was quite tall, and Cole flinched back. If not for Brighton's grip on his hand, he might have run.

"I see we have a guest?" The young man wondered, his voice not deep like a man's at all. Cole had eavesdropped on plenty of conversations, and this guy's voice sounded more like Todd's at the gas station. "Wash the sand off of yourselves," he added.

"I know, Trey, I know," Brighton sighed. "This is Cole. He's new in town."

"Uh, hi?" Cole managed, as Brighton fetched a garden hose to clean the sand off of them.

"You're very nearly late for lunch, Brighton," Trey admonished him. "You know your father doesn't like it when you're late for meals," he reminded him in an urbane tone.

"Oh stop being such a butler, Trey," Brighton rolled his eyes. "Get the stick outta your butt!"

"You first," Trey retorted, holding the door open for them.

"What does your dad do for a living?" Cole wondered, looking all around.

Brighton shrugged as he led Cole through a receiving room that could have held the entire Martin home. "He does some work on 3D graphic modeling software, does photography in our studio, buys and sells stuff online, even writes fiction when he gets the chance," Brighton explained. "And he plays with the stock market, too. 2007-8 bit his ass pretty hard, though."

"Language!" Trey gave the black boy a light cuff to the back of his head as he put down a tray of sandwiches and sliced vegetables with creamy dip on the table in front of them.

"Can you toast these?" Brighton asked. "And maybe get some soup?"

"It's 95F [35°C] outside!" Trey complained.

"And the beach is cold!" Brighton reminded him.

Trey rolled his eyes and glanced at Cole's withered little package. "Apparently so," he agreed, giving Brighton a look as well. "I see yours didn't fall off?"

Cole blushed again. Being nude on a nude beach was one thing, but sitting in Brighton's house with a strange man serving them lunch was quite another. At least Trey had an apron.

When he returned with the soup and hot sandwiches, he also plugged a small USB device into Brighton's right wrist cuff. The light came on, then Trey unplugged it and fled.

Cole ate his food with some gusto, as Brighton just nibbled at his and watched. "This is good," Cole managed around a mouthful.

"Gluten free no-wheat bread, and all that healthy stuff like free-range meat," Brighton explained. "Low carb, high protein." He thought for a moment, watching Cole eat. "How long you been on the run?" He whispered excitedly.

Cole shrugged. "I left in May, I think. It's late June now." He then began telling his story, as they kept checking to see that Trey wasn't listening.

"Dude! You got lucky no one grabbed your ass in a truck stop and raped you or something!" Brighton exclaimed. "Kids like you disappear all the time!" He pulled a face. "Seriously, you ate out of dumpsters?"

"Those Chinese buffets toss a lot of good egg rolls," Cole grinned. "The rice is kinda hard to eat though," he laughed. It was hard not to, what with Brighton's infectious smile all the time and the simple companionship. "And sometimes, you can find an abandoned car to sleep in. Minivans have good reclining seats, and you can hide your bike in the back."

"Hide your bike where?" A very deep and booming voice asked, and Cole froze. He looked over his shoulder, and promptly dropped the remainder of his sandwich in his soup with a PLOP! His jaw dropped.

Coming up on them fast was a huge black man that looked like he should be a professional NFL player [North American Football League player, American football, not soccer]. He was very muscular, the same brown tone as his son, with a shaven head and a black goatee flecked in gray.

He was also naked.

Cole gulped at the size of the man's flaccid package. He's seen naked men online before in sex videos, but Brighton's father was unbelievable! Beneath his amazing cock was a scrotum that looked bigger than Cole's fist, but he was totally shaven there as well – except for one neat patch just above his cock, which was encircled at the base by a very large gold ring that disappeared behind his ample balls.

"Well, who's your new friend, son?" The man asked, in a voice that sounded like that one singer that Helen had liked. What was his name? White? Hayes? Cole couldn't remember. But his voice was smooth, and his smile reassuring as he joined them for lunch. "YO, Trey!" He called. "I'm dyin' over here!"

"Daddy, this is Cole. I met him on the beach yesterday, remember?" Brighton explained.

"Oh, the new boy who freaked out and run off?" Brighton's father recalled. "Well, Albert usually has that effect on people. So whereabouts you live, Cole? Brighton says you're new in town?"

"Uhm, down the way past the far end, up the hill from the power station, sir," Cole offered in a very small voice.

"Nice manners, you can call me 'Mr. Day', or just 'sir', if you like, boy."

Cole glanced at his new friend. "Brighton Day?" He grinned.

"Because he does brighten my days," Mr. Day nodded. Then he pulled his son over and kissed him on the mouth, hard. Cole dropped his spoon again. It wasn't a simple father/son peck on the cheek – it was a passionate, deep lover's kiss which Brighton returned. Mr. Day slapped his own leg, and Brighton moved to sit on it as his father's arms encircled him.

Cole felt a lump in his throat and took a drink of his ice water.

Trey arrived with a tray, and shook his head. "Master, how many times must I tell you to get a room? Right in front of young Master Day's guest, too," He snorted, as he fled again.

Cole wondered if Alfred, the butler on the Batman cartoons, might have sounded like that when he was a young man?

"So, does Cole need a free sample of the newest CB-Junior?" Mr. Day asked his son, and Cole choked on the rest of his sandwich. Mr. Day reached over and pounded on his back. "Spit it out, boy, don't make me do the Heimlich Maneuver on you!"

Cole couldn't' begin to imagine 3;

Once Cole was recovered, he wasn't sure what to say as Trey returned and presented them with two small iced cupcakes. Mr. Day tried his. "The hell is this?" Mr. Day asked.

Trey then reached into his apron pocket and pulled out what looked to Cole like a bee-sting pen, as he called them. He jabbed Brighton in the thigh with it.

"OWWWWW!" Brighton howled. "Not so hard!"

"You ate ice cream again!" Trey accused him. "Your blood sugar, according to your monitor," he held up the USB stick, "Was over 200 mg/dl [11 mmo/l] when you got home!"

"Boy, what have I told you about eatin' outside this house?" Mr. Day asked firmly.

"Not to do it, because my insulin is carefully balanced for three low-carb, perfectly timed meals a day to keep me between 80 and 130 mg/dl [4.4-7.2 mmol/l] at all times," Brighton recited. "I'm Type-1 diabetic," Brighton explained, showing the other side of his right leather cuff to Cole, where there was a chrome medic alert tag on it. "I'm sorry, Daddy," Brighton added, hanging his head. "I screwed up. I deserve to be punished."

"Oh, you will be," Mr. Day promised, "But that can wait. I want to hear all about Cole, here?" He smiled.

Cole didn't know what to say, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. "How'd you get so huge?" He blurted. "Sir?" He held his arms up like a muscle-flexing pose.

Mr. Day laughed, jostling Brighton on his lap. It was a rich laugh that was infectious and not mocking at all. "You work out, eat right, and live clean," Mr. Day informed him. "You find a good woman, then get yourself a good boy, and it all just comes together. Lots of sex, too!" He added with a smirk. Cole wondered where Mrs. Day, was then?

"Dad!" Brighton flinched, his face turning a more reddish brown.

"Man, I've seen some white boys in my day, but I think we're gonna have to check your pulse, Cole," Mr. Day smiled. "You say you moved into the old Smith place, way on up past the shed?"

Brighton smiled at Cole. Cole caught it. "Yes, sir! Not long ago, sir!"

"Tha's outside the perimeter, I think?" Mr. Day observed, "You sneakin' into our beach, boy?"

"Yes, sir," Cole confessed. "I don't think I can afford a membership."

"So where you from?" He persisted.

"Crawford's Towne," Cole said truthfully, instantly realizing that he might have just made a mistake that would make it possible for Mr. Day to identify him.

"Thousand miles [1,500 km] inland," Mr. Day shook his head. "See what you been missin'? Nice place. I'd sneak in, too, if I didn't already live here!" He thought for a moment. "Next time we have a neighborhood meeting, I'll see about gettin' you a free pass," Mr. Day added, and Cole noted how he dropped the 'g' from all his verbs. He seemed very easygoing and pleasant, even though he looked menacing.

"I'd like that, sir!" Cole nodded.

"So, what you think about the place so far?" Mr. Day inquired of him further.

"Well, there's a lot of people on the beach that, erm, don't need to be, I think, sir," Cole said truthfully, with a smirk. "But it's really nice here!"

"I see," Mr. Day nodded. "So wha's your folks do?"

"My dad works all the time, I never see him," Cole replied. "I'm just sorta on my own, since the nanny left," he added, and it was the truth, after all. Cole sniffed, sort of biting his lower lip.

"Well, if Brighton here took a shine to you," Mr. Day offered, "Then you're welcome in my house any time. There's some rules, though."

"Sir?" Cole squeaked.

"Number one, you come in clean. I don't wanna find no sand in my house!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Number two, manners. You got that one already, I think. Number three, boys do not wear clothes in this house."

"Yes, sir," Cole gulped. "Brighton already told me!"

"Keeps the laundry bills down, and clothes are expensive," Mr. Day nodded. "Besides, why cover up somethin' like this?" He made his son stand, and slapped his butt as the boy turned. "Adonis be jealous," Mr. Day smiled. "Tha's what you get when you work out. You ever see such a thing?" He peered over the table a bit. "Looks like you got some tan comin', and good legs? You work out?"

"I bike a lot, sir," Cole offered, as he stood up when Brighton nodded curtly at him.

"May I?" Mr. Day asked, and Cole nodded as he touched his hand. It sent a shiver through him, and Cole gasped. Mr. Day examined his arms, had him flex his biceps, and stretch. Cole was a bit embarrassed, but he said nothing, as Mr. Day looked him over. After all, it felt nice to have someone paying attention to him.

"You kinda stringy, skinny arms, but you got great legs and a nice six-pack comin' on," Mr. Day pointed out, giving his belly a poke. Cole laughed. "Bike ridin' do that to a boy. We need to work on this upper body, though. If it's all right with yo' daddy, you come over every day until school takes up and work out with Brighton. What you think, son?"

"Yes, sir!" Brighton beamed at him.

Mr. Day's eyebrow then went up. "You been fixed, boy?" He asked.

"Sir?" Cole gasped, remembering that he was, after all, naked.

"I knew you white boys was tiny down there, but you got any nuts in that pouch, son? Or the squirrels get 'em and hide 'em for the winter already?"

"Oh, no, sir!" Cole gasped, "I mean, yes, sir! They go up inside when they get too cold!"

Mr. Day looked at Brighton. "Tha's the last rule, though, Cole," he added. "All the boys here gots to wear a CB device, keep you from playin' with it. Boys got no reason to play with it, or use it! Go makin' babies we don't need, or makin' a mess in the sheets, get all tired and don't work out right, thinkin' 'bout sex all the time, walkin' 'round the beach with a boner pokin' out, scare the folks!" He considered it for a bit.

Cole thought that Mr. Day with a boner would be scary!

"They gave me shots, sir," Cole admitted. "Nothing works down there because of the Lupron. I can't 3; can't get hard, sir." Cole couldn't believe he was having this conversation, but then again, he was having a hard time believing that his new friend actually wore one of the chastity things and didn't seem to mind it.

"I'll think of somethin'," Mr. Day observed, still taking note of Cole's tiny package.

"Shots?" Trey wondered, as he came back in to collect the dishes. "That's one way to do it, I suppose. Sir, it is past lunchtime. It's time for Master Brighton to rest for an hour, then his workout thereafter." He sniffed. "However, might I suggest that someone have a hot bath and a date with a large bottle of conditioner?" He nodded to Cole. "I smell a hint of earth, sea, fish, and 'boy'."

"C'mon, Cole," Brighton offered.

He led him up the stairs to a bathroom that looked like something Cole had only seen in hotel advertisements. It was huge, with a sunken bathtub at the far end and more pillars around it, much like the patio outside.

"No, dude, you need more than that," Brighton advised, as they got clean in the huge tub. "Turn around and let me do it."

"How do you wash your hair?" Cole had to ask.

"Once a week, Trey undoes the braids and scrubs it out," Brighton explained. "I look like a gigantic black dandelion puff!" He laughed. "My hair's never been cut."

"Mine hasn't been in a couple years," Cole nodded. "My foster family wanted to shave it off."

"You gots nice hair," Brighton agreed, "Once it's clean. You need more than ocean water, or a gas station sink, you know, Cole."

"Probably the only place I'll ever have hair," Cole sighed, "Unless these shots wear off."

"Hair's not a big deal, Daddy waxes his off, but for a little bit," Brighton explained. "So will I, when it starts to grow in. Now the goatee, that's cool, though!"

As Brighton worked out the tangles in Cole's hair, Cole asked, "So if I have to wear one of those CB things, how do I keep it on?"

"Well, if we get you warm enough, your balls should drop," Brighton wondered. "Seriously, though, even if you can't get hard, you still have to wear one. You runnin' around without one is gonna have security all over you in minute, 'less you're with me or Dad."

"How many boys live here?" Cole asked.

"Lots," Brighton replied. "You get a CB when you're like six, or you get big enough. If Daddy can fit one on them little guys, he can fit one on you." Brighton paused. "You go to the 'M' station to clean up and use the bathroom?"

"Yeah," Cole nodded. "The toilet paper sucks, though. My butt's been sore for weeks!"

They both laughed at that. "You need a little enema, and then use the bidet," Brighton advised. "No paper. It washes you off."

"Brighton, this place is kinda weird," Cole pointed out, as they got out of the bath and Brighton handed Cole a hair dryer. He stood there, his braids dripping, until Cole was done. The conditioner had worked wonders; Cole's mane of black hair was shining and tangle-free, and hung past his shoulders in dark waves.

When Brighton was done drying his braids, Cole noticed that he'd removed his necklace. The black boy then picked up what looked like a thick gold-finished metal ring from the vanity. He pushed it down over his head, bending his ears in the process and squishing his nose in to make it fit. He had to push harder to get it past his chin and around his neck properly, then he pressed on it with both hands from each side. The collar clicked a few times until it was snugly up against his throat.

"What's that for?" Cole wondered.

"Decoration, and it's got a GPS device in it, too," Brighton explained.

"Looks like a slave collar," Cole pointed out. "It's pretty, but it looks too big and heavy!"

"It is," Brighton agreed. "Hey, your balls are back!" He laughed.

Cole gulped. His stomach grumbled. "I think I have to go," He mumbled. Brighton pointed at the toilet, leaving the room.

"Where's the paper?" Cole called some time later.

"Dude, you're still in there?" Brighton stuck his head in the door. "OH MY GOD! What crawled up your ass and died?! Push the button for the bidet wash, remember?"

Cole found it not unpleasant, and it certainly beat the gas station's awful toilet paper.

"You sure you don't want an enema?" Brighton asked him. "Dad can mix one up that doesn't cramp hardly at all, and you'll feel a lot better." He then explained it to Cole.

"No way do I want a hose up my butt!" Cole protested.

"Well, you still gotta get a CB-Junior put on," Brighton reminded him, which made his friend cringe. Brighton saw this. "Don't worry, Daddy won't hurt you. If you don't want him to do it, I can do it. Or Trey can."

"D-does it hurt?" Cole asked, as they exited the bathroom. Trey shortly went in, spraying air freshener and complaining loudly about the state of someone's colon!

With Brighton's allocated rest period up, which to Cole meant 'afternoon nap', they went in search of Mr. Day. They found him lounging near the pool, having just completed a call on his mobile phone.

"Well, I'm fresh outta stock," the boys heard him say, "And no, I have no idea. It's not like one is just going to waltz into my back yard! What? Yes, yes – do call Harve, maybe he know. Goodbye!"

"Daddy?" Brighton asked, "You need to explain the CB thing to Cole, sir."

Mr. Day didn't get up, but he did chuckle. He took off his mirrored sunglasses and gave Cole a look. "I see the squirrels brought the nuts back?" He joked.

"Yes, sir," Cole nodded, looking down at his feet.

"Cole, I know this is probably somethin' very weird for you, but the rule is the rule – boys your age have to wear the device, or they leave. Didn't Brighton tell you all about it?"

"Yes, sir," Cole agreed. "He said it didn't hurt."

"Just a little bit when you get the first ring, around your balls, if it pinches some," Brighton put in.

"I'll be very careful, Cole," Mr. Day assured him. "That, or you can't come back. Those are the rules. If security finds you here alone without a device on, you be forcibly removed. Brighton, go and fetch me a kit, will you, son? Cole, come here."

"Yes, sir," both boys said, and Brighton fled back into the house.

"Cole, it's nothing to be afraid of. Are you afraid of having me touch you down there?" Mr. Day asked.

Cole nodded. "Isn't that 3; child molesting, sir?" He asked.

Mr. Day smiled, and it was reassuring. He offered his hand. "I have never, ever, hurt a boy, or done anything to Brighton, or any other boy, that didn't agree to it," he explained. "That's the next rule – no one does anything he doesn't want to do. All you have to do is say 'no', and it all stops. No questions asked." He thought for a moment, holding Cole's trembling hand. "Did it bother you, the way I kiss my son?"

"Yes, sir," Cole mumbled.

"Look at me when I talk to you, boy," Mr. Day reminded him, and Cole had tears on his face when he looked up. He wiped them away, his hands enormous on Cole's small face. "You want to stay here, with beach privileges? You want to be able to come here, inside the gated community at Seaview, and play with Brighton and his other friends?"

Cole nodded.

"Then you have to wear a CB," Mr. Day repeated. "It won't hurt, and you get used to it pretty fast. I know you're scared, Cole, but I also thinks you're lonesome. You like Bright, don't you?"

Cole nodded again.

"Bright has a lot of friends, Cole. I know you just moved, and you miss yours. You could have a lot of friends again, too, if you stay here, but the boys in this community don't leave the property unless it's with their parents, so they wouldn't be coming to see you, and you wouldn't be coming to see them," Mr. Day went on, just as Brighton returned with the kit.

"Look here," Mr. Day explained, "This little ring," he held up a metal ring just a bit thicker than the average keychain ring in girth, "This goes over your balls, up against your body. Your balls fit through it, and then we use this," he held up a small battery operated screwdriver device, "to snug it up. If it's too tight, we loosen it. Then we put the lower cap on," he held up a clear plastic piece that looked like a scrotum itself, "to cover up your sac. It'll protect your little balls, too, so they don't get hit. Three more little screws hold it to the thick ring around your sac. Then the tube," he held one up, a curved tube with a small hole in the end, also clear, "goes over your penis. It fits snug, just slides on easy. three little screws hold it to the ring. And that's that. Takes a couple minutes, then it's no more boners, no more playin' with it, and you can come in anytime you like. Only community boys here have these, Cole. They be very hard to make, and very expensive."

He let Cole examine it, and the boy had to admit, it didn't look that bad. Besides, he thought, he couldn't get hard anyway.

"But playing with it feels nice, sir," he protested.

"But if you can't play it," Mr. Day explained patiently, "You can do other things with your time. Work out, read, study, play, and not be worried about it. If you outgrow it, you can get a bigger one."

"Cole, I had mine since I was six," Brighton reminded him. "I'm eleven now, and really, I don't know it's there." He sighed. "Cole, I don't want you to go," he added. "But if you move away, Daddy will take it off. It's not like you have it on for the rest of your life!"

Cole fondled the little bits, amazed at how small the screws were. The main 'sac ring', he thought of it, looked thick and felt heavy, though. It had all those little holes in it, too, but it felt smooth. He weighed it in his hand.

"Help hold them little balls down, too. Balls up inside o'you can get cancer," Day warned him.

"Sir, will young master Cole be staying for dinner?" Trey called from the door, "I need to know how many game hens to roast, sir?"

"Put it on me, sir," Cole agreed. "You said you'd take it back if I have to go?"

Mr. Day nodded. He then put on a pair of glasses. "Bifocals," He explained, "gotta see the little boogers to put 'em in! Now, you stand still, but don't wiggle, all right? Put your hands up on the back of your head. Good, spread your feet," he added. "I'm gonna touch you now, OK?"

"OK," Cole nodded, tensing up.

"Relax," Mr. Day said soothingly. Cole gasped as those large warm hands touched him. He'd never been touched down there, except by the doctor. But this was no doctor visit; this wasn't a hernia check, or a size test. Mr. Day's hands were warm and gentle, as he worked the boy's tight scrotum, urging his tiny testicles down through the snug ring. Cole winced as one went in, and Mr. Day gently tugged at his scrotum to bring it on through. Getting the second one in took a bit more work, and Mr. Day apologized for hurting him.

"It's OK, sir," Cole shook his head. "It's not so bad, just achy." He flinched harder when the second one went in and the ring was pushed up snug to his body. Mr. Day squeezed it, and it clicked, like Brighton's collar had. He clicked it a couple more times, and Cole knew that the ring was getting smaller so that it would not come back off over his balls.

"You OK, boy?"

"Fine, sir," Cole nodded. "That wasn't so bad."

"Told you," Brighton smiled.

Mr. Day then secured the lower portion, covering Cole's scrotum. It looked like he had a plastic coated scrotum, in fact. He ran the tiny screws in with the driver, and Cole tugged at the ring when he was told to.

Sure enough, the ring would not come off over his little testicles. It was far too small for that.

"I 3; I want Brighton to do the other part, sir," Cole then spoke up.

Mr. Day nodded and handed the penis tube and screwdriver to his boy.

Brighton then slipped the penis tube in place, forcing the boy's little member into a downward position. He then screwed it into place, the longer screws penetrating the lower cap and the ring as well.

"All done!" Mr. Day declared, patting Cole's back. "You did very good, boy!"

"Th-thank you, sir," Cole replied, looking down in wonder at his encased genitals. He could see them, but he could not touch them. He felt a twitch at the back of his penis, and he realized with a start that he was trying to get hard!

"I 3; I think I'm getting a stiffie!" Cole announced.

"Not in that, you won't," Brighton reminded him, and Cole knew what he meant. There was some pressure that was a bit uncomfortable, and then, as if his little cock knew that it had nowhere to go, the pressure stopped.

"That was weird!" Cole observed.

"You get used to it," Brighton nodded happily. "Welcome to the neighborhood, Cole!"

"I 3; I can stay now? On the beach?" Cole asked shyly.

"Yes," they both answered.

"Thank you," Cole said in a very small voice, still fiddling with his CB-Junior. Sure enough, it was not coming off. Not without the screwdriver, at least.

"I keep this in my safe!" Mr. Day smiled at him. "So don't get no ideas, boy!"

"No sir!" Cole gasped, shaking his head.

"Trey, one more for dinner!" Mr. Day called out.

"Are you quite sure you won't have another stray wander in, sir?" Trey shouted back.

"I should be so lucky," Mr. Day snorted. "Now, tha's not so bad, is it, boy?"

"Bit heavy, sir," Cole shook his head, the sunlight glistening on his clean black hair and making it look blue in the shadows.

Mr. Day put a hand to the boy's cheek. "You are a fine looking boy, Cole," he then told them. "You should be a kids' clothing model or something, in all the ads!"

"Really?" Cole wondered, looking down at his feet again. "Then 3; then how come nobody wants me?" He asked. He felt stupid, but he couldn't help it. He started to cry again, remembering his mom, then his dad, and how they'd both left him.

Then he felt those hands on him, lifting him up. They were firm but gentle, and Cole felt warm skin against his all over his front as Mr. Day took him in his arms and held him. He tenderly kissed the boy's forehead, then drew his face down into his own shoulder. He rubbed the boy's back and just held him, letting him cry it out until it had passed. Then he kissed his cheek. Cole just stared at him, feeling his own heart beating hard. It had been so long since he'd been held, comforted.

"Some men beats a good dog, 'til it run away," Mr. Day said, slipping back into his 'black man' accent from this professional tone, "And some men run a nice car 'til it blows up. Some people jus' don' know what they got, even when it be gone!" He explained. "Boy, I think I be havin' me a talk with yo' guardians," Mr. Day concluded.

Cole gulped.

Mr. Day put him down, and then Brighton hugged him. He then quickly gave him peck on the cheek, his face going more red-brown again. Still, he was smiling and Cole couldn't help but smile back. He'd never been kissed by a boy before, and he didn't know how to feel about it.

"You two go work out 'til dinner," Mr. Day advised, giving his son another of those passionate kisses as he dismissed them.

Cole watched as Mr. Day put his son down, rubbing his hands on his own biceps. Despite the heat of the day, Cole suddenly felt chilled and more alone than he'd ever felt. His little cock struggled a bit in its new cage, but that feeling of pressure persisted this time as he watched Brighton being loved.

"Sir?" Cole held his arms out like a toddler, and in fact, he looked like a toddler before the enormous black man. "Can I 3;?" He fumbled, and Mr. Day hugged him up again. Cole hugged him back this time, then whispered in his ear, "Can you kiss me like that, sir?"

And Mr. Day did.

Brighton gasped.

Cole felt his hot lips, so large, covering his entire mouth and chin. It was warm, wet, and he felt a tickling on his lips, realizing that it was Mr. Day's tongue! The man was licking at the boy's lips, and Cole opened his mouth just a bit. He felt Day's tongue enter his mouth, gently exploring, rubbing at his own, and then it was over.

He felt the hot patio tiles under his bare feet again, and his little cock throbbing in its prison. Cole realized with a start that if not for the device, he'd have been rock hard!

Mr. Day, he saw, was though!

And he was gigantic! Even in the videos, Cole had never seen an erection so large!

Mr. Day laughed. "Good lesson, boys," he smirked. "A man can't control that! You bump it, or just have to pee in the morning, an' it come standin' up all on its own! Scare some folks with it, too!"

"OH my God, you're huge!" Cole blurted, and both father and son nearly collapsed in laughter. "I 3; I'm sorry!" He quickly added. "I didn't mean 3;!"

"No harm done, boy," Mr. Day assured him, giving his bare butt a little swat. "Off you go!"

"Thank you, sir," Cole managed, looking a bit shocked. "No one ever 3; ever kissed me like that before," he sniffed, feeling somehow abandoned all over again now that he was free of those massive arms.

"No one does anything they don't want to here," Mr. Day reminded him, "Except work out!" He added with a bright smile, pointing at the door.

"Yes, sir!" Both boys shouted, and off they went.

Trey came out the door, dodging the boys deftly as he brought a tall iced drink for Mr. Day. "Well, you're looking suitably aroused, sir," Trey observed. "I take it the new boy seems to be working out?"

"He's a good little kisser," Mr. Day nodded, sounding wistful, as his accent vanished again. He sipped his drink, paying no attention to his now-wilting erection. "Trey, call up Charlene at the realtors place. I want to know who bought the Smith house, and see if they kept the phone number. Something isn't right about Cole." He shook his head. "I have a feeling that he's not been treated very well." He sighed. "Damn shame. I could fall in love with that little white boy!"

"At once, sir," Trey retreated.

***

"This looks like the YMCA in here!" Cole exclaimed, as Brighton led him into their very own gym. There were basketball goals at each end of the polished hardwood floor, and around the perimeter, a black Astroturf running track with four lanes. At the far end was a smaller swimming pool behind glass doors, and an elevated stage at the other end with all sorts of workout equipment.

"We need to work on your arms," Brighton advised. "All that bike riding got you some great legs, but your arms are too skinny!"

They started out small, with only very little weights on the barbells. Brighton helped Cole with them, making sure there was no danger that he was going to drop the thing on himself. When Cole was comfortable lifting the weight he had, Brighton added another smaller one.

After about half an hour, they had to stop. "My arms are like wet noodles!" Cole complained.

"Then get on the leg press," Brighton told him, adjusting the barbells to four times what Cole had done.

"No way!" Cole gasped, as Brighton lifted the weights over the security rungs.

"Cole, you have to adjust the pins for the weights, or 3;" Brighton then gasped, as Cole lifted the rack of weights with his legs. "No way!"

They both laughed. "Your legs are too skinny!" Cole chided him.

As they did another half hour of slow and easy presses, not pushing it, Brighton told Cole to get some water from the small refrigerator at the side of the room. "Bring me a cookie, too," Brighton added, as rubbed at his forehead. "I'm low! I have to eat something!"

"What is that thing?" Cole asked. "A monitor?"

Brighton nodded. "There's a tiny little chip implanted in my vein and it reads my blood sugar level every five minutes. If it's too low, it sets off an alarm. I don't usually have to worry about it being high, but if that goes off, I have to take a shot like Trey gave me. Dad's been working on this thing for a while, so he can patent it and sell it."

"What happens if you get too low?" Cole asked, handing him a cookie that looked homemade. Brighton ate it.

"I could pass out and die," Brighton said seriously. "That's why Dad's working on a better design than the one on the market now," he held up his cuffed wrist. "If I go too high for too long, well, you can go blind, or have to have your feet or legs cut off from vein damage."

"I'm sorry," Cole offered. "How'd you get it?"

"It just happens to kids at random," Brighton shrugged. "But I don't let it bother me. Sucks sometimes, that I can't eat what I want, but Trey's got it all worked out. I eat low-carb, same times every day, and take the same dose of insulin every day. That keeps me pretty stable." He shivered. "Passing out sucks, man. I hate it."

"Your dad takes care of you, though," Cole sighed. "You'll be OK."

"I couldn't run away like you did, I'd be dead in a week," Brighton said.

"You'd never run away from here," Cole shook his head. "You got it made! I 3; I'd never run away from here," he added wistfully. "Brighton, don't tell your dad, please?" Cole begged. "Don't tell him I 3; I lied! I don't want him to be mad at me!"

"He won't call the cops, Cole," Brighton assured him with a grin. "Besides, his best friend is a cop! Harve, that he was talking to before." His grin then turned a bit wicked. "You like my dad, don't you?"

Cole felt his face going hot again, and his cock stirring in its prison. The pressure felt funny, but not painful. Cole touched his CB device. Brighton laughed.

"Y-yeah," Cole admitted, taking a long drink of his water. "He's not like 3; Mr. Martin was. He 3; likes me, doesn't he?"

"More than you know, buddy," Brighton laughed again, as he moved to the leg press. "I think I'm good now, the cookie [biscuit] did its job!"

As Brighton laid down on the leg press and raised his legs, Cole noticed something: coming off the back of Brighton's CB device was a thin, curved metal rod that seemed attached to his scrotum ring. It disappeared between his butt cheeks, and when the black boy flexed his legs, Cole could see that it looked like it disappeared into his anus!

"What's that?" Cole asked.

"What's what?" Brighton replied.

"That thing on your CB that goes towards your butt?" Cole wondered. "It looks like it goes up your butt!"

"It does," Brighton admitted. "It's called a butt plug." Cole looked confused.

"What's it do?" He pulled a face.

"Well, up inside me, there's a bullet-shaped plug made of special rubber. It's about so big," he held up his hands and made the shape with his thumbs and forefingers, which made Cole gasp, "The rod off the back of the CB holds it in me, so it won't come out."

"Why?" Cole had to ask, totally confused now.

"Well," Brighton replied, "For one thing, with the plug in me, I can't have an accident. I got a bowel problem, so I get an enema every night to clean me out." He thought a bit more. "And it 3; feels good," he added.

"How does having a plug stuck up your butt feel good?" Cole gasped.

"You know what a prostate gland is, Cole?" Brighton asked. Cole shook his head. "Oh. Well anyway, the plug touches it. It's a gland up inside you just under your bladder. It sort of 3; makes you feel like you wanna 3; you know 3; get off? Like all the time, but just having it in there won't do it. So you're kinda 3; horny 3; all the time, and it keeps you kinda loose and ready."

"Makes it easier to get an enema?" Cole wondered.

"That, too," Brighton nodded. "If your arms are OK now, you need to a bit more," he added.

"So you have to have a plug in you?" Cole wondered again, picking up a small set of dumbbells to hoist. "But why would you like being horny? I mean, I know what that is, but if you are, and you can't play with your dick, ain't that kinda 3; silly? Why would you wanna be?"

Brighton shrugged, still doing his presses. "I like the way it feels. And with it in me, I always know when I'll have a bowel movement."

"Oh," Cole conceded. Then his eyebrows went up. "So it's like being fucked up the butt while it's in there?" Then he instantly regretted saying it. His face went pink. But Brighton didn't seem to mind.

"24/7," Brighton grinned, as he gave up on the leg weights. "I gotta stop, or I won't be able to walk! Wish I had legs like yours!"

"Wish I had arms like yours," Cole replied.

"You hang around long enough, and we both will!" Brighton surmised.

"Brighton, would your dad be mad at me if 3; if he found out I ran away?" Cole finally asked. "I feel bad about lying to him."

"No, buddy, Daddy would never get mad at you for that. In case you didn't notice, he likes you! He don't kiss just anyone like that!"

Cole blushed again. "I noticed! Brighton?"

"Yeah?"

"Does liking that plug thing in your butt make you gay?" Cole fumbled. "And 3; and how come your dad got hard when he kissed me?"

"Cole, I dunno if I'm gay or not, hell, I'm only eleven!" Brighton shrugged. "I never even kissed a girl before, but I know I don't get 3; feelings 3; around them. Not like I do when 3;"

"You're around boys?" Cole interrupted.

Brighton nodded. "I get hard, or try to, sometimes when boys are around," he admitted. "Dad goes 3; goes both ways," He admitted. "He says you should do what you like to do, and if it feels good, go for it." He laughed yet again, pointing at his chastity device. "Not like I can do much about it, though!"

They both laughed at that.

"Dad says I'll decide when I'm ready," Brighton then added.

"I 3; I think your dad got turned on when he kissed me," Cole wondered, "But I 3; I liked it," he admitted.

Brighton got up and put his arms around the smaller boy's shoulders. "Been too long since somebody loved you, Cole," he told him. "And love don't mean sex. Daddy says sex is good when you can get it, but love is more important." He then kissed Cole's ear, and Cole jumped a bit.

He felt his trapped little cock stirring again.

"Brighton, I 3; I dunno," he mumbled. "Boys don't kiss boys, do they? You're supposed to kiss girls?"

"You kiss people you love," Brighton replied, leaning a bit closer. "And I care about you, Cole. Not jus' 'cause you're all alone, but 'cause I really like you. I don't want you to go. Nobody deserves to be left out, like you been."

Cole sniffled, wiping his face on the sweat towel hanging from the weight set. He looked down at his feet again.

"Brighton, can you kiss me 3; like your dad did?" He asked shyly.

And Brighton did that. Cole felt his lips opening, and then Brighton's tongue in his mouth. He tried to do the same, unsure if he was doing it right. He'd never kissed a boy before. Hell, he'd never kissed anyone before except for Helen and his mom, and those were 'mom kisses'. He could hardly remember his father ever kissing him.

This kiss was more, though, as Cole felt Brighton's hands on his chest, his stomach, and then his back. He pulled the black boy closer, feeling the sucking pressure on his mouth as he tried to do yet the same. Brighton was trembling, and Cole felt it too. His cock felt like it was under enormous pressure, and he squeezed his legs together. He thought he might pee, but he didn't want to break it off. He wanted it to go on, it felt so good.

Then it ended.

Both boys sat there on the weight bench, staring at each other, their hands moving over one another's sweaty bodies in exploration.

They kissed again, without words this time.

"BOYS!" Trey's voice then shouted, making them both jump. "Wash up and dress for dinner! God, it smells like sweat in here! You have half an hour!"

"Dinner, already?" Cole wondered.

Brighton checked his watch. "Guess we lost track of the time!"

Cole just sat there, looking shocked. As Brighton led him from the gym, Cole asked, "How do we dress if we're not allowed clothes? Mine are all in the shed?"

"Eh, just some little things, you can borrow some of my spare stuff, buddy," Brighton assured him, as he led Cole back his bathroom on wobbly legs.

"Two baths in one day?" Cole wondered, as they bathed yet again.

"You sweat, you stink, you clean up," Brighton nodded.

"Does Trey ever stop, or take that apron off?" Cole asked.

"Only when he goes to bed," Brighton nodded, handing Cole a towel. Then he went to rummage about in the vanity drawers. "Here, put this on and click it down," he suggested, handing Cole a polished chrome collar shaped like his own. It was larger, and Cole pulled it over his head easily. He shook his long hair out of it, and clicked it down as Brighton had done before.

"Don't choke yourself!" Brighton laughed. "Here, see how you look in these," he handed Cole two thick cuffs made of shining black patent leather with the same types of hanging rings that Brighton's had. They snapped shut over Cole's wrists, but were a tiny bit loose. Still, they did not slide off over his hands.

Brighton then produced four more cuffs, two of which he put on his own ankles. He gave Cole the other two, and Cole copied him.

"These are like manacles?" Cole observed. "This is weird, dressing up in leather!" He sniffed a cuff. "Smells nice!"

"We just dressing for dinner," Brighton shrugged. "Too bad you don't have pierced ears. You do have ears, don't you?" he laughed.

"I feel weird," Cole repeated, rubbing at his cuffs.

"And being here naked all day didn't feel weird? Being kissed by Dad wasn't weird?"

"WeirDER," Cole clarified it. "But OK," he grinned.

"Do that again," Brighton asked.

"Do what?"

"Smile," Brighton explained, and Cole couldn't help but smile again. "Dad was right, man," he sighed, "Those fuckin' idiots didn't know what they had with you."

Then Cole remembered something. "Are you gonna get 3; spanked later, for eating ice cream?" He asked.

Brighton nodded. "Not lookin' forward to that," he admitted. "Dad swings a wicked strap!"

"I 3; I got spanked a lot at the Martins'," Cole confessed. "I used to get in trouble just so someone would notice me. They said I was sick in the head, 'cause I got hard when I got spanked."

Brighton laughed again. "So do I, Cole!" he nodded. "Tha's jus' part of it! Some boys get turned on by a good whippin'!"

"But that's not normal, is it?" Cole asked, as they headed downstairs to dinner.

"It's all normal to me," Brighton said. "Wearin' clothes and shoes is weird." He shook his head, making his long braids wave. "Not lovin' your kid is weird."

"Well, don't you two little cubs just look stunning?" Trey observed, as the boys entered the dining room. Like the rest of the house, it was huge. The table looked like it could seat about thirty people.

"We're only using this end," Brighton assured him, pulling out a chair for Cole.

Before they could sit, however, Mr. Day arrived. He was naked, of course, and he looked pretty much the same, other than the addition of some gold jewelry. He stopped at the head of the table, and Cole saw his unbelievable cock getting hard again. He cleared his throat.

"Cole, have you called your Aunt, or whomever, to tell her you're staying?" Mr. Day asked with no accent.

"Oh! I'm sorry sir, no!"

"Go and do that," Mr. Day told him. Cole ran to the phone that Trey pointed out and dialed his own mobile number, waiting for the tone to leave a message, as he knew it would go to his voice mail.

Cole talked to his own phone as if talking to his supposed Aunt, then hung up. "It's all good, sir," he nodded, returning to the table.

Mr. Day stared at him. Cole fidgeted a bit in his seat next to Brighton.

"Did I do something wrong, sir?" Cole had to ask.

Mr. Day shook his head. "You look stunning," he breathed. "Excellent work, Brighton, my boy. Cole, would you like to keep that collar? It looks good on you. Very stylish!"

Cole didn't know what to say. In fact, he had no idea how to get the thing back off!

"Yes, sir?" He replied, as Trey brought out roast game hens, a mixed mushroom/olive salad in vinegar and oil with peppers and spices, and steamed sprouts that were vividly green in butter.

"Then it is yours," Mr. Day nodded. "Do you like white or red wine, Cole?" He asked.

"W-wine, sir?" Cole gasped.

"I advise the light red for Master Cole, sir," Trey offered, "As he must be unaccustomed to consuming alcohol."

"Very good, Trey," Mr. Day agreed. "Bring Brighton and I some Shyraz, would you? Perhaps the 2006?"

Trey returned with two bottles, uncorked them, and handed Cole the cork. "Sniff it," he added, rolling his eyes.

"Smells like grapes, sir?" Cole observed.

"Very good, not woody?" Mr. Day asked.

"No, sir?"

"Then the wine is still good," He explained, as Trey poured them some.

Cole sipped his wine only when Brighton did his, and he almost choked. It was strong and tasted like grape juice gone bad. Still, he liked the smell and drank some more, wondering if it would get him drunk? He'd never tasted alcohol before, not even beer. He thought he might like it.

"Well eat, boys," Mr. Day said.

"There are fifteen grams of carbohydrate on that plate, Master Brighton," Trey pointed out, as he pulled another pen from his pocket and jabbed Brighton's thigh with it.

"Do you have to do it like that?" Brighton protested.

"I do," Trey nodded. "We shall download your constant blood glucose monitor logs after dinner."

"How did the workout go, boys?" Mr. Day asked, as Cole found that he liked the olives.

The boys looked up at him.

"I believe their workout was interrupted by some impromptu snogging, sir," Trey put in, as he then fled with the empty tray.

"Do tell?" Mr. Day smiled at them.

Cole felt like he wanted slide right down and out of his chair and fall through the floor. He got another drink of his wine. It helped.

"You want us to kiss and tell, sir?" Cole smiled, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy.

"I thought you kissed very well, boy," Mr. Day nodded. "Does it bother you that you got caught kissing a boy?" He then asked.

Cole looked at Brighton, then back at his father. "No sir. I like Brighton. There's nothing wrong with that, is there, sir?"

"Not so long as you both wanted to, no. Does it worry you that it might make you gay?" Mr. Day asked, and Cole flinched at hearing is own question come back at him.

"I don't know sir, I'm only eleven!" Cole replied. "I never even kissed a girl, but for my mom and my nanny."

"Oh? And where is your mother, then?" Mr. Day asked.

"She ran off with the FedEx driver," Cole snorted, finishing off his wine as he speared a large olive on his fork. Trey refilled his glass with a snicker – the first time Cole had even seen him crack a smile.

Mr. Day snorted and coughed into his napkin, laughing. Brighton just sighed and sipped his wine. "Did she really?"

Cole nodded. "Yeah, then dad dumped me. Sir," he almost forgot that bit. "The Martins said I was a pervert, too!" He suddenly felt the need to add.

"And who were they?" Mr. Day asked.

"Dad's friends, before I come here, sir," Cole replied.

"I see," Mr. Day nodded. "Well, it's all right, at least in this house, to show those you care about, some love and affection, boy."

Cole blinked. Mr. Day sounded different. In fact, he sounded a lot like his own dad when he was talking business. His smooth 'black man' accent had gone.

"But let's not have that interfere with our routine, all right?" Mr. Day asked of them.

"Yes, sir!" Both boys agreed.

Mr. Day didn't address the topic again at dinner, which was a good thing, as Cole was still a bit embarrassed about it. He was still wondering if he were a pervert, or even gay, as he cleaned his plate. It was a lot of food, but the small boy managed to finish it.

"That was really good, shir, thank yooo," he slurred his words a bit. Then he yawned, his young body apparently confused by his interrupted and reversed schedule of day and night. The wine hadn't helped, either.

"Oh, Trey, would you redial Cole's home and tell him he'll be spending the night?" Mr. Day called out. "I don't think it'd be too smart to send a drunken boy home! We all might get arrested."

"Very good, sir," Trey replied, doing just that. He looked a bit confused, then hung up the phone after leaving a message. "I believe that Auntie must be busy, sir," he said.

Cole was nodding over his plate, and didn't hear him.

"Bright, take Cole to a guest room and put him to bed, would you, son?"

"Yes, sir," Brighton replied, but Cole then fell out of his chair.

"Ohhhhh, man," He groaned, "I can't shtand up!"

"Sir, I believe the child is drunk," Trey observed. "I think you shall have to carry him up?"

"I think I will," Mr. Day agreed, as he got up to collect Cole.

"I's shorry," Cole slurred, as Mr. Day carried him out.

The last thing that Cole remembered was being tucked in and kissed goodnight

***

He awoke to find himself in what looked like a hotel room. The bed was large, and the room was cool. He was covered by blankets, and for a moment, Cole couldn't understand why he didn't feel warm sand all over himself, or hear the ocean. He sat up, but instantly fell back onto his pillow as his head threatened to explode!

He groaned as the door opened.

"Hangover?" Trey asked him.

"Wh-what time is it?" Cole whimpered, as Trey put a cool cloth on his forehead and coaxed him into drinking a few ounces of some kind of 3; something. It tasted awful. He saw that he was still wearing his collar and cuffs.

"It is twenty-four hours since you passed out, Cole," Trey informed him.

Cole sat up again, ignoring his throbbing head. Then he felt something strange. There was something warm and wet between his legs! He threw back the blankets and gasped.

He was wearing a Goodnights big-boy diaper, and it was soaked. He felt his face going hot.

"Mr. Day was unsure if you wet the bed, as some boys do," Trey explained. "We apologize. Can you get up and go and change it? You've already been through three of them, you know," he grinned.

"I 3; I slept a whole day?" Cole wondered, as he wobbled off to the bathroom, promising that he'd never drink again, and humiliated that someone had had to change his diapers.

"Please use the shower, Cole," Trey told him, and the boy noted that Trey addressed him by name – not by 'sir' as he did with the Days. He then began spraying Lysol all about. "And try to pee. Do you need to have a bowel movement?"

"I don't want no em-mena!" Cole called back, as he washed up. When he was done, Cole found that he did, in fact, need to go. When he was done, Trey made him wash up again. Cole saw that the soapy water could get to his encased genitals through the vent holes in the plastic, and he carefully dried them and his hair with the blow dryer.

By the time he was done, his head was feeling better, but he was still unsteady on his feet. "Won't the water hurt these?" He asked of Trey, pointing out his cuffs.

"No," Trey replied, and Cole noted that he was now wearing a different apron. This one was beige. "Now, as you've had quite a bout, Mr. Day wants you to have a very light dinner, and go right back to bed. Your Aunt, or whoever, is not answering the phone, and we have been quite concerned," Trey went on.

"She's probably busy, but she'll check the machine," Cole fibbed. "It's OK."

Trey gave him a look, and Cole got a bad feeling. He wondered if Trey knew? What if he'd hit redial and gotten Cole's own phone? He felt stupid for setting it up with his own message. After all, who was gonna call a runaway with an illegally purchased phone?

"I shall return with some hot soup and vegetable crackers," Trey explained. "In the meantime, there is television, some DVD's, or the music channels. Mr. Day wants you to take it easy until tomorrow, recall?"

"OK," Cole nodded, looking around the plain "hotel" room.

"He would also like to know if you like this room, or if you would prefer one close to Master Brighton's?" Trey asked.

"Huh?!"

"For when you stay over, as I am sure you will," Trey explained. "This is just a guest suite, hence the lack of décor," he snorted. "Or I suppose you could share Master Brighton's room?" He grinned. "Not that you two could get up to much?" He nodded at Cole's protected genitals.

"Trey, is Brighton really sick?" Cole had to ask, as he sat down on the bed again.

"We manage his condition very well, Cole," Trey replied. "He's fine, in fact. He's in very good shape." Cole's stomach rumbled. "I'll be right back," Trey said, as he left.

Cole tried the door, and it was not locked. He didn't recognize the hallway, though, and didn't want anyone mad at him for snooping. He went back to the TV and turned it on.

"In other news, authorities in the Springfield area outside Crawford’s Towne," A newscaster was saying, "Have given up the months-long search for missing eleven year old Cole Eric Edwards. Even though authorities in neighboring states were notified to be on the lookout for the boy, who was spotted by a truck driver over 200 miles [320 km] from his foster home, and by a Q-Mart sales clerk in Ohio, there have been no other signs of the boy." She went on to describe Cole perfectly, as a color image of the boy flashed on the screen. "Cole was last seen headed east on a red mountain bike, carrying a black backpack with a green Nike emblem and wearing black/white/green Nike Air Current mid-high sneakers [trainers] 3;"

Cole listened to the report, which then cut to an interview with Mr. Martin. "We're praying for Cole's safe return to us, and while we hate to discuss it, we feel that anyone who sees Cole should know that the boy is mentally ill. He certainly can't take care of himself, and we fear the worst."

"There is a substantial reward being offered for information leading to Cole's safe return to his foster family," the newscaster went on. "Anyone who has seen Cole should contact their local authorities at 555- 3;"

Cole shut the TV off and fell back on the bed, wondering if Mr. Day or anyone else around the beach community had seen the report. Surely they had, he thought, and a lot of folks on the beach had seen him. There was no way anyone could miss him now, not with his picture all over the news.

When Trey arrived with his dinner, a hearty chicken noodle soup with celery and carrots and a pitcher of ice water and a lemon wedge, Cole found that he was hungry again and ate it all as Trey waited. When he was done, Trey gave him a small pill. "That's to help you get back to sleep," he explained. "Tomorrow morning, Master Day wishes to have a talk with you, Cole."

"OK," Cole acquiesced.

Then Trey fetched him another Goodnights diaper, explaining to the embarrassed boy that he would not wake up until morning, and that his bladder certainly couldn't go another fourteen or so hours without relief. "Mr. Day is also worried that you've overdone it, Cole, and that you need rest."

Cole gave in and got back into bed. As Trey turned out the light and left, Cole sighed. He was worried about his bike and all his things back at the shed, but he knew that he was in no shape to go back and fetch them. Besides, he remembered that the Day's fence was electric, and he didn't know the access code to the gates. As he snuggled down into the bed, Cole realized that he liked it a lot better than the sand.

***

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Cole heard a deep voice saying.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned, sitting up in bed to find Mr. Day and Brighton sitting on the edges. They were both naked, of course, and Brighton was 'dressed' as he usually was with his woven cuffs and gold collar.

Mr. Day pulled back the blankets and gave him a hand up. "Why don't you and Brighton go wash up while I wait?" He suggested, paying no attention to Cole's soaked Goodnights.

Cole just nodded. Once in the shower, Brighton spoke up. "You OK, man?"

Cole nodded again, picking up the soap.

"Lemme wash your back," Brighton suggested, and Cole trembled as the black boy's hands moved over him. It felt good, and Cole relaxed. He returned the favor, the boys lathering each other all over. Cole flinched when Brighton's hand moved to his butt.

"Still sore from the rough toilet paper?"

"Not really, yeah, some," Cole answered. "Sorry I got sick on you guys."

"Can't hold your liquor?" Brighton laughed, pulling him closer. He kissed him, lightly, on the cheek. The smaller boy smiled.

"Can't hold my pee, either," Cole snickered. "I feel like a baby."

"Muscle relaxer and sedative," Brighton explained. "Shouldn't have done so much the other day. You wore out, Cole, and the wine did it. You just run outta gas. You gotta rest up." He then moved his hand over Cole's buttocks again. "I got some salve, make that rash feel better," he offered.

Cole nodded, and kissed him again, unsure of why he was doing it – only knowing that he wanted (or needed) to do it. When they had finished and dried off, Brighton fetched a tube of ointment and gently spread it on Cole's anus. "Now don't freak, man," he warned him, as he slowly pressed his finger to Cole's hole. "Push out a little bit." Cole did that, and yelped when Brighton's finger entered him. The salve took effect at once, soothing and numbing his anus. Brighton wiggled his finger a bit, and Cole's entrapped penis flinched. He felt pressure, and the sudden need to pee. Then the black boy pulled his finger out.

"What was that?" Cole gasped.

"Your prostate, an' it's really little," Brighton explained. "Feel good?"

Cole could only nod, stunned. "D-does your plug do that to you all the time?" Cole had to ask.

"Pretty much," Brighton shrugged, "But it's too small to, like, do it all the time, unless I move right."

"Do you 3; get off 3; if you do that, with your finger 3; for a long time?" Cole asked.

Brighton nodded. "Fingers, or other things." Cole's jaw dropped.

"BOYS!" Mr. Day called, before Cole asked another question.

"Daddy wants to talk to you, Cole," Brighton said plainly.

As they returned, Mr. Day ordered Cole onto his lap. He was not erect, and he looked very serious. In fact, Cole was a bit frightened as the large black man took him into his arms and held him tightly. He kissed his ear. Brighton sat on Cole's bed.

"Is there something you want to tell us, Cole?" Mr. Day asked.

"S-sir?"

"We saw the news, Cole," Brighton said. "Daddy knows."

"Oh!"

Mr. Day straightened up. "The Smith place is still for sale, I called the realtor," he informed Cole. "No one livin' in it. I had Trey check your story the other day, when you come." He then picked up the phone he'd brought from the dining room and punched 'redial'.

"Hey, it's me, leave a message!" A boy's voice said. BEEP!

"You called your own phone to cover it, and Trey found that out when you passed out at dinner," Mr. Day went on. "You got no Aunt, boy. You all alone, livin' on our beach?"

Cole could only nod, as he'd just been busted. Like at the beach, he'd covered his tracks, but not well enough.

Mr. Day's face hardened. "You lied to me, boy, but I can understand why," he added, glancing at his son. "I know that Bright knew, and he's been punished for not tellin' me sooner. He's jus' now able to sit down again."

"I'm sorry, sir," Cole started to cry. "I 3; I'll get my things and go, sir," he choked. "I 3; I'll be OK, honest! I can go to 3;"

"To where?!" Mr. Day demanded, holding the squirming boy more tightly. "What you do when it come September, boy? Live in that shed with them light clothes you got? Steal a blanket? You got enough money to buy a heater?"

Cole really didn't know. He'd not checked his stuff in a few days, and he wasn't sure how much money he had left. He didn't know what to say.

"Y-you gonna t-turn me in for the reward, sir?" Cole managed.

"Money don' mean nuthin' to me," Mr. Day replied, his smooth accent in force, "I could pay that reward a million times over." He smoothed Cole's hair, now soft from being so clean, and cuddled him.

"Y-you're not too mad?" Cole sniffled.

"Upset, is all, that you didn't tell us the truth, and angry that my son tried to hide it." He paused. "But I can understand it. Cole, you know you can trust us all now? When you come home with Bright, you know we could have done anything to you? Hell, boy, we could have raped, robbed and murdered you, and no one would have ever found out! Goin' home with a stranger? The hell you thinkin'?"

"I 3; I just n-knew," Cole fumbled. "It was such a 3; a nice place here. Even the people at the beach were nice to me. I mean, a neighborhood like this? And you got security, and fences, and other kids? It felt safe." Cole paused to blow his nose. Brighton handed him a glass of water.

When he recovered a bit, he went on.

"Brighton promised not to tell, until it got cold," Cole explained. "He was going to watch out for me. And it was fun, sir! It really is, living on the beach, and all."

"You didn't tell me you was gonna come clean in the fall, boy," Mr. Day confronted his son. "You might'a' got less'a beatin', if you did!" Then he smiled. "Hard to punish a boy what likes a good ass-warmin'!"

Cole managed a grin. "Mr. Martin said I was a sick pervert, 'cause I got hard when he spanked me," Cole admitted. "But that was the only time they ever 3; touched me." Then his stomach rumbled.

"Why don' we go get breakfast, then we all go out by the pool an' you tell us your whole story?" Mr. Day suggested.

"Yes, sir," Cole smiled, and Mr. Day smiled at him. It made Cole feel weak as the man drew him up. Then he kissed him again. When it was over, Cole was lightheaded. Mr. Day took his son's hand, bent to kiss him, too, and they went down to eat.

***

When they stepped out onto the patio after breakfast, Cole stopped, which nearly caused Brighton to jerk his arm out of the socket, as he was holding his hand.

Cole's bike was parked on the patio, and his backpack was sitting by it. There was a large sack full of seashells, and other trinkets that Cole had collected on the beach. His phone was sitting on a small table, charging, showing missed calls for the first time ever.

"Brighton took me an' Mr. Albert to your hideout yesterday, while you wuz sleepin'," Mr. Day explained. "Got all your stuff, 'for someone stole it."

"Th-thanks, sir," Cole mumbled, feeling ashamed.

"Campin' out be one thing," Mr. Day explained, "But livin' in that shed be dangerous. An' what if someone come through the fence, like you done, and get you, boy?" He then ushered them over to some comfortable chairs in the shade. "Now Cole, you just sit a while an' tell Mistah Day all about youself," he ordered the small boy.

And so Cole did that.

All of it.

From his arrival at the Martins', to his discovery of the shed at the beach, Cole left nothing out. He was still talking when it came time for lunch, over four hours later. Many times, Brighton or Mr. Day interrupted and asked something, and they just sat and talked all morning. Cole found that it felt good to finally be sharing his story with someone. Many times, the boys saw, Mr. Day reached for a tissue to wipe his face. It shocked Cole to see someone so large, so strong, being so moved by his story. He'd never seen a man cry.

When they finished a light lunch of cold meats and cheese with lemon-iced tea, Mr. Day got up and began to pace, ranting to himself about Cole's father, the Martins, and people in general.

"I can't send you back to that kinda life, boy, with folks what don' love you," Mr. Day finally decided. "But if I gets caught with you," he went over to Cole's pack and pulled out the round, black glasses. He smiled. "That boy what work nights at the 'M', Todd, calls you 'Harry'?"

Cole nodded. "It's a joke."

"You damn lucky he didn't recognize your picture," Mr. Day went on, although he next pulled out the missing child flyer of Cole.

"You're not gonna turn me in, though, sir? You said?" Cole asked again.

"Boy, if anyone was to find out what we did here, my ass be in jail so fast!" Mr. Day replied, still pacing.

"But I wanted to do it, sir?" Cole spoke up.

"Don' matter, it's still illegal," Mr. Day corrected him. "So I can't turn you in. What we supposed to do, keep him?" He asked of Brighton.

Brighton smiled and nodded. "Yes, sir! We have to keep him, Daddy. I mean, what else can we do with him?"

Mr. Day thought for a moment. Then he turned to Cole. He went back to his chair and called the boy over. "First off, I gots to let Harvey in on it," he stated. "He be the chief o'the PO-leeece [police] 'round here," Mr. Day explained. Cole shook his head and looked panicked. "Don' worry, boy, see what we do is this – Harve be takin' down all the posters, and do a bit o'magic on his computer files. Once he get you out'the database of missin' kids, no one be lookin' for you, and they go take all them flyers with your picture on 'em down. Like I said, he be cool." Mr. Day looked sly. "Harve likes little boys," he added with a smirk.

Brighton laughed.

"Does he 3; does he 3; DO 3; things with them?" Cole gasped.

"Nothin' the boy don' wanna do," Mr. Day reminded him. "What the boy want, the boy get – to a point."

"Do 3; do you like boys, sir?" Cole had to ask.

"Dad likes anything with a pulse," Brighton piped up, laughing all the more.

"Boy, I peel the skin right off'a'yo ass!" Mr. Day retorted, but he was laughing too. Then he turned back to Cole, who was trembling again. "But there are more rules, Cole, if you gon'stay with us."

"I thought so, sir," Cole nodded, tugging at his CB device. "Like this?"

Mr. Day nodded. "You wear that, yes, an' you don't leave the community. You already got one o'Brighton's collars on, and unless you go swimmin', it stay on. Beach security can take it off. There's GPS in it, so I always know where you at. An' if you go over the fence, I gets an alarm."

Cole couldn't believe it!

"Trust me, don't do it, Cole," Brighton advised.

"But why?!" Cole exclaimed.

"To keep you safe, an' keep you from runnin' off," Mr. Day explained. "You knows all'bout runnin' off, boy?"

"I'd never run away from here!" Cole shook his head. Then he thought of something. "Brighton wasn't wearing his collar at the beach when he found me, sir? But he could have run off then?"

"I forgot it that day," Brighton admitted. "Got a good spankin' for it, too!" He smiled. "But if I hadn't, I wouldn't have found you, Cole!"

"So I have to wear the collar and the CB?" Cole confirmed. "What about the cuffs?" He held up his wrist.

"Optional," Mr. Day nodded. "The less you wear, the better, but for dressin' up! Besides, you get tan lines if you wear 'em to the beach!"

"Doesn't Brighton get 3;" Cole thought for a second, then realized that hearing this coming from a black man was enormously funny. They all had a good laugh.

"The next part might kinda hard," Mr. Day went on. "So long as you here, the CB stays on. If you stay here 'til you 18, it stays on. I take it off one time a week for a good cleanin', which I do. You do not touch your stuff, boy. You never get to use it. When you get older, you don't get to jerk off. You don't get no sex that way. Boys got other things to think about."

Cole nodded. After all, he didn't know how to do it, and probably couldn't do it anyway.

"And there is sex, boy, but only if you want to," Mr. Day reminded him. "Brighton can show you some DVD's, if you want. But if you don't want to, no one – even me – will even touch you."

Cole froze. He knew all about sex, and he knew something, or thought he did, about gay sex. It was a joke at school with the other boys, but after what Brighton had already told him 3;

"Real sex, like 3; all the way?" Cole gasped. "Like 3; in the butt?"

"Don' tell me you ain't figured it out yet, boy?" Mr. Day smiled, and Brighton was laughing.

"All the way, any which way, sirs," Trey put in, as he came with fresh drinks. "I take it we're keeping this one, sir?"

Mr. Day nodded with a great grin.

"Charming," Trey huffed. "Of course, you realize, sir, that you'll have to call a meeting of the community and introduce him?"

"EVERYBODY?!" Cole squeaked.

They all nodded. "You've seen most of 'em at the beach so far," Brighton assured him.

"Even Mr. Albert?" Cole gasped.

"Even him," Mr. Day smiled. "He's a very lovely man, though, once you get to know him. You thank him for bringin' yo things on his cart, hear?"

Cole was thinking of other things, but his mind was spinning so fast that he didn't know what to ask next. He wanted to ask about sex, to understand why he had to wear a CB, what enemas were all about, and all sorts of things. But he didn't want to be rude, either. He didn't want Mr. Day mad at him again. So he kept quiet for the moment.

"We can talk more later, boy," Mr. Day then decided. "Trey, fetch some oil. I want the boys to take it easy today. Just float around the pool, get some sun, have fun."

"Be bums," Trey rolled his eyes, as he fetched the oil.

Mr. Day's touch was gentle as he oiled the boys down. Brighton and Cole helped one another, and then returned the favor to the large man. Brighton had floated out on an inflatable raft, when Cole paused before wading into the shallow end.

"Sir?" He asked Mr. Day. "Today, in the shower, well, my butt's been sore, and Brighton had this stuff, he put on it?"

"Yes?"

"Well," Cole blushed again, "Brighton has a plug in him, right?" Mr. Day nodded. "He said it feels good, and when he 3; he put the salve on me, he 3;" Cole's voice dropped to a whisper. "He put some inside me! With his finger!"

"And did you like that, boy?" Mr. Day smiled.

Cole nodded. "Brighton says his plug makes him feel good, sir?"

Mr. Day nodded. "Do you want one, too, Cole? Of course, you have to be clean inside, which means you'll have to learn what an enema is? You'll have to have one every day, you know. And if we fit you with a plug for your cute little butt, you'll have to wear it all the time! It attaches to your CB, you see, and you can't take it out. Only I can. It only comes out if you're getting an enema, or if 3;"

"Or getting sex?" Cole butted in.

"Don' be interruptin' me!"

"Sorry sir!" Cole blinked. "But Brighton said he likes it?"

"The plug do a lot of things for a boy, Cole," Mr. Day nodded, "But he's right, it feels good. But it also causes frustration. It can make you horny, but you can't do nothin' about it, so it might you kinda crazy for a while. And remember, it'll be in you for as long as you live here."

Cole's eyes went wide. "You never ever get to take it out?"

Mr. Day shook his head. "Only me, and only for cleanin', or sex. Here, turn around," he told him, oiling up his finger. "This what Brighton did?"

He then gently inserted only a short bit of his finger into the boy. Cole went rigid and gasped, his head arching back as Mr. Day pressed 'his button'.

"Y-yes s-sir!"

He then withdrew.

"Oh, wow!" Cole sighed.

"You think about that today, boy, while I go call Harve, so he can make sure we can keep you here!" He then gave Cole a smart slap to his bottom. "An' we talk about your punishment for lyin' to me, later?"

"Yes, sir!" Cole's eyes went wide. He hadn't thought of that. Inside his CB device, his little cock stirred in futility as his collar and cuffs were removed. Totally naked, he confronted Mr. Day, who was now fully erect. And although Cole's mind made another connection, he kept quiet.

He looked up at Mr. Day.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"C-can 3; can I call you 'daddy', too?" Cole asked timidly.

Cole's answer came in the form of being swept up, kissed again until he thought he'd pass out from lack of air, and then being tossed into the pool!

After a lazy day of just lounging about the pool, being shown around the Days' property, and simply taking it easy after his collapse (as Mr. Day called it), Cole got a bit of a surprise at dinner. They had a dinner guest.

A man that Cole wouldn't have given a second look to on the street walked in just before Trey yelled at them to 'dress for dinner', thus interrupting their harassing of Brighton's X-Box. What got Cole's attention was that he was clothed – in a policeman's uniform!

Cole began to tremble.

"Hey, Mr. Pearce!" Brighton jumped up to greet him. "Dad didn't say you were coming!"

On the game screen, Cole crashed his stolen airplane right into a skyscraper, as he was staring at Officer Pearce.

"Not yet," the cop smiled back, giving Brighton a hug and a smack to his bare butt. "Where's your daddy?"

Brighton thought about it. "From all the cussin' and yellin' comin' from the electronics room, and since Trey's poked my fingers like ten times today, I think he's fightin' the firmware program for my monitor, sir," Brighton held up his right wrist.

"I see," Pearce nodded. "I also see you've got a new little friend, too?" He smiled at Cole.

"H-hi?" Cole squeaked in reply, giving him a weak little wave.

"Chief Pearce, you are totally overdressed for dinner, sir," Trey complained, as he came in with a drink on a tray. Brighton called it 'butt-ell-ling', meaning 'being such a butler'. He glared at the boys, who were only clad in collars and CB's.

Cole wasn't sure what to do, so he followed Brighton out of the room. He felt just a bit self-conscious in front of the stranger, especially a cop, but he didn't mind when Pearce tousled his hair on the way by.

"That boy's been driving me nuts for weeks!" Pearce told Trey. "I couldn't believe it when Todd mentioned that his little nightly guest might be the Edwards boy."

"I'd have arrested him the first night, sir," Trey commented, just as Mr. Day came in the room. He was dressed in a white apron speckled with a few burn marks, with a magnifying headset of some kind sticking up off of his bald head and carrying a tablet, which he tossed at the sofa with a snort.

"Damn soldering iron blew up," Mr. Day complained, shaking Pearce's hand. "How was your day, Harve?"

"Well, it's not every day I get to scare the wits out of a runaway, after having him declared legally dead," Pearce grinned. "Tiny little guy, ain't he?"

Day nodded. "Starved for more than just good food, poor kid. I still can't believe he didn't run off when he met Brighton."

"I noticed you've got him in a CB already," Pearce sipped at his drink. "So you're really keeping him? Not that we have much choice now."

"How'd that go?" Day wondered, as they sat.

"Well, you'll recall the old Candace Building on Third and Maple?" Day nodded at him. "City's been wanting it demolished for years now, so last night, me and the boys set fire to it!" He laughed. "Hell of a blaze!" He fished what looked like small teeth out of his pocket and handed them to Day. "Todd made these in his ceramics class last year in high school, for just such a case. They'll pass as the real thing, and we made up a set based on the dental records for Cole, and sent the lab one of Todd's baby teeth. Then I intercepted the DNA scans and switched them with the material you gave me."

Day snickered. "How weird is that, Cole landin' at the gas station where your boy works? So he's goin' off to State U this fall?"

Pearce nodded. "We wanted him to know what it's like to have a job and have to earn your own way," he nodded. "Of course, his CB is going with him, too," he smiled brightly. "He's still griping about the itchy uniform."

"Don't we all?" Day smiled back. "So you torched the Candace Building, and put these fake remains in it?"

Pearce nodded. "I have to admit, I've never seen a family so unconcerned. The kid's gone for months on end, and then when we call them to say we've found remains matching his records, they just ask about sending a check for disposal fees? Disposal fees?! I call it a funeral! What the hell kind of family did he come from, Mike?"

"One that just didn't care," Michael Day sighed. "Hell, I'd die if something ever happened to my boy. If Jeannine hadn't passed on, we'd have had ten of 'em by now."

"I think she'd have left you by number five," Pearce patted his friend's arm at the little joke. "She was a good woman, Mike."

Day nodded.

"But getting back to Cole," Pearce changed the subject tactfully, "I'm amazed that he got this far on that bike! Did you see the tires? They need replaced. How'd he do it?"

"Says he rode at night, hid in the day, and had some cash he took from his foster family." He shook his head. "Said he almost got grabbed in a truck stop once, then he got real careful." He cracked his knuckles. "Wish I knew where, I'd like to 'talk' to that man about little boys!"

Pearce laughed. "He's certainly a little looker, isn't he? Todd said it was the high point of his night, having Cole come in to use the restroom and chat. Having Brighton patrol the beach was a great idea, Mike. They always seem to gravitate to the beach, don't they?"

Day nodded. "Curious 'bout all the nekkid folks!" He laughed. Then he looked seriously at Pearce. "You believes in love at first sight?"

Pearce nodded. "It was that way with you and your wife, wasn't it, Mike? You think your boy's in love with Cole?"

"They're eleven," Day shrugged. "Hell, I think I might be in love with him."

"Makes it sort of hard to sell or trade them, that way, doesn't it?" Pearce replied.

"I can't do it to Brighton," Day shook his head. "Give it a while, maybe. See if it's real?"

Pearce nodded. "I know I'll be lost without Todd this fall when school [college/university] takes up."

"Dinner, gents," Trey called, giving Pearce a look. He began to strip off his uniform, rolling his eyes.

"He always was so prim and proper, even when he was a kid," Pearce snorted.

The boys arrived and quietly took their seats as Trey served thick, grilled pork chops with a brown glaze and steamed Normandy mix vegetables. He measured Brighton's out with a glass cup, gave him a carbohydrate count, then stabbed his butt with a pen.

"Would you STOP THAT?!" Brighton yelled at him. Trey smirked at him, the plugged the USB stick into his right cuff.

"Either your firmware is on the fritz, sir, or Master Brighton's diabetes is totally out of control – which I cannot fathom," Trey observed. "Back to the drawing board, sir?"

Day snorted. Brighton rolled his eyes and took an orange pouch from Trey. Cole leaned over to watch him put a control strip into the small electronic meter, jab his finger with a lancet, and let the strip soak in a drop of blood. The meter beeped. "90, [5]" Brighton announced. Trey noted the time.

"You get a sugar free cookie after dinner, sir!"

Brighton rolled his eyes. Cole was fascinated, but he kept sneaking glances at Chief Pearce – or at least, what he could see of him over the table. The boy was decidedly nervous.

"You're looking pretty good for a dead boy," Pearce told him.

Cole choked and snorted ice water out his nose, which was hilarious. "S-sir?" he managed.

"Being the law in this little town, I have arranged for your so-called family to believe that you are dead, Cole," Pearce informed him. "You'll see it on the news later, I'm sure. This way, no one from your home town is going to come looking for you, 'Harry'." He added.

Cole just stared at him.

Only Todd at the 'M' station called him that, and that was just a joke about his wild black hair and glasses.

Pearce laughed. "You're not as alone as you thought you were, kid," he explained, "Your friend Todd is my son, and he knew what you were doing. He didn't make the connection to who you were for a bit, but we were watching you. In a town like this, you notice a new kid on the block. You sort of gave yourself away to him when you stole your own missing child poster from his work! Not to mention the toilet paper!"

Cole blushed. "D-dead, s-sir?" Cole asked, and for just a moment, he thought that the cop might be talking about killing him and eating him! Cole had a vision of himself, naked, roasted, and served on a silver platter like a young pig with an apple stuffed in his mouth!

Pearce then explained it all to him, which made both the boys smile. He even showed them the ceramic fake tooth.

"Wow!" Brighton exclaimed, "Now we don't have to hide you, man!"

Cole didn't know what to say as the reality of there being no chance of going back to his old life soaked in. He smiled.

"I 3; I really get to stay?" Cole breathed, "No one is going to come looking for me?"

Pearce shook his head. Trey switched the TV on, as they'd been talking for a bit. "Your food is getting cold!" He yelled at them.

"And sad news to report this evening," the same newscaster's voice was saying, as the big screen TV came on, "Skeletal remains were found in the wreckage of the Candace Building fire last night, which have been identified through dental records as the missing eleven year old Cole Edwards. Edwards ran away from his foster family in Crawford's Towne in early May, and a few sightings placed him on track for this area. Chief Harve Pearce made the following statement: (the view cut to an on-the-scene shot of Pearce at the burned out building) "It's not unusual for transients to take shelter in old buildings like this, and frankly, we're better off without it. My guess is that the boy had a candle or something for warmth, and fell asleep with it burning. There wasn't much left of the poor little fellow, I'm sorry to say, but at least his family will have closure." He wiped at his face. "But as fast as old buildings like this go up, if he was asleep, he probably never even woke up – mercifully."

Cole snorted.

"You get an Oscar, Harve," Day smiled.

"Sad news, Randall," the newscaster said to her co-anchor.

"Indeed, Sandra," Randall replied. "Turning to 3;"

Cole pulled a face. "That's it?! That's all I get?!" He exclaimed. "'Sad news, Randall'?!" They all looked at him. Even Trey froze. Cole started laughing. Brighton leaned back and gave him a look that spoke volumes. "Found the kid!" Cole ranted, waving his arms about, "Hey, he set fire to your old historical building, but it's all good! It's just sad news, Sandra! No one's gonna miss the 'transient' are they? Here's a baggie with his ashes in it, go throw in the dumpster, would you? Moving on to sports, you know!" Cole continued to laugh. He laughed until he was crying, which soon turned to sobbing.

Brighton put his arm around him. "Hey, Andy Warhol said we all be famous for fifteen minutes!" He joked.

"Cole, you gets a grip on yo'self, now, 'for I do!" Mr. Day warned him.

"Don't make me get the cuffs out, boy," Pearce joked.

Trey came up behind the boy and dumped a pitcher of ice water over his head. Cole screamed and jumped up. "What was that for?!"

"Well, it was either that, or a good slap, and the latter seemed quite rude," Trey informed him. "I'll not have hysterics at dinner, sir. Perhaps a mild sedative, Master?" He asked of Mr. Day.

They all had a good laugh at that, as Trey brought Cole a towel.

"You 3; you faked all that, for me?" Cole then asked Pearce, who smiled and nodded at him. He turned to Mr. Day. "So I can really stay? No one's gonna turn me in now?"

"I'll need a bit of time to get you a new identity set up, kid," Pearce mused, giving Day a look. "I think we should change his name, though, and maybe his hair style? I mean, the kid does sort of stand out in a crowd? 'Cole' isn't that common of a name around here, either. Birth certificate's no problem, my office can create one for him. I'll check with my contacts on the State Police level; I'm sure I can find another 'dead' kid that might still be 'alive' in their records for a social security ID, too."

"Such corruption," Trey commented, as the doorbell rang.

"That'd be Todd," Pearce observed. "You know what a night life schedule is like, don't you, Cole?"

"TODD?!" Cole squeaked, as Trey ushered him in.

"I'm afraid you missed all the excitement, sir," Trey informed him. "Shall I prepare a plate?"

"No, I'm good, thanks," Todd replied. "There's my little buddy!" He said to Cole. "Whassup, Harry?" He smiled. "Lose your specs?"

"It worked for Superman," Cole sniffed.

"Do I even get a hug for all that free soda?" Todd asked.

Cole got up and hugged him. "Thanks," he offered, feeling stupid. "You knew?" He asked, and Todd nodded. Cole kissed him, just tentatively. Then Todd kissed him back.

Cole looked him over. He was used to seeing the teenager in that silly 'M' uniform of red and blue, and it was sort of funny seeing him naked now – complete with a CB device like his own and a collar, only larger. He was evenly tanned and hairless but for his head, which was styled in a short forward brush cut.

"Took me a while, but I knew it was you that was stealing the toilet paper and splashing around in the men's room, kid. You were kind of an odd regular customer."

"You live here, too?" Cole asked.

Todd nodded and took a seat by Cole as they went back to dinner. "I see it didn't take you long to move right in?"

Cole grinned at him. Then he realized something. "You keep everyone out of trouble, don't you, sir?" He asked Pearce. "I mean, like 3; us?"

"How much does he know, Mike?" Pearce asked Day.

"Most of it, I think," Day replied.

"You like boys too, don't you, sir?" Cole asked them.

"Who doesn't?" Todd smiled at him. "You have any idea how worked up you got me when you'd come in?" He laughed.

Cole looked confused. Brighton laughed again.

"It's all in how you raise them," Pearce waved it off. "You remember, Cole, no one gets forced into anything?"

Cole nodded. "Except work outs, sir." He rolled his eyes.

"And doctor visits," Mr. Day cut in. Cole groaned.

"And school," Brighton added.

"Or a job," Todd nodded with a smirk.

"Cole, does it bother you that you're here in a community with a lot of people who like boys?" Pearce asked him.

"Well, I thought it was illegal, sir?" Cole answered. "I mean, I thought the Martins were like, child abuse, when they made me wear gloves at night, or spanked me, but 3; you guys have 3;" he looked down at his lap. "I mean, it's not like 3; normal 3; to put locks on a kid's dick, or a plug in his butt, is it?"

Todd almost choked on his drink. Trey pounded on his back.

"Can we please have at least one peaceful meal in this house?" He demanded.

"Tha's part of discipline, Cole," Mr. Day reminded him. "Sure, not very many people think like that, but it don' really hurt you. An' all the boys here, they all be straight-A students [O-outstanding], all in good shape, an' they all polite. See, boy, the way we think to bring you up, yeah, it's weird, ain't it?" He asked in that smooth accent. Cole nodded. "But it works! See, Cole, we got no problems like drugs here. We got no vandalism, no gang problems, and the old folks like Mr. Albert not be afraid to go out at night. It might be illegal, some folks might say it's even dirty or perverted, but it work!"

"Like the Martins," Cole sniffed.

"They made him wear boxing gloves at night so he couldn't play with it!" Brighton told Todd.

"That's sick!" Todd exclaimed. "Really?"

Cole nodded. "And they locked me in my room at night, too. The spankings weren't too bad, though," he grinned.

"So, boxing gloves are sick, but a CB is OK?" Pearce prompted him.

"It's weird, but 3; I dunno?" Cole replied. "It's kinda a good idea? You don't get hit in the nuts, do you?"

"Not since I was five," Todd agreed, and Cole realized something else. Chief Pearce smiled.

"He's not touched it or been hard for thirteen years. He's never jerked off, or anything else," he glanced at Mr. Day, who nodded. "And when he graduates college, it'll be his choice to get to have it taken off."

"Four more years," Todd smiled at Cole and Brighton. "See, you only got eleven more to go, buddy!"

Cole thought about it. "But like Mr. Day said, sir, then I'll just think about other stuff, like school or sports, right? I don't have to worry about, like, sex stuff until then?"

Trey came in to begin clearing the table and refilling glasses. Cole glanced at the wine, but didn't touch it. "That's a topic for another day, I think, sir," He offered.

"No, I think it be a good time, Trey. With some others here to help explain it, I think it go over easier for Cole."

And so, with a red face, Cole explained what he knew about sex, and such things as he'd seen on the Internet. Having such on open forum certainly helped, too, and Cole couldn't believe that they could all just talk about it like that!

"The Martins would have a stroke!" He informed them seriously.

"Kids these days," Pearce sighed. "Cole, I have to ask, did you ever see a website with boys having sex with adults?

"No, sir!" He looked confused. "Why?"

"Because it's illegal, and those children you see on those sites were probably even being raped." Pearce explained.

"They didn't want to do it?" Cole asked. "But it's OK if we wanted to do it?"

"I wanted to do it," Todd agreed.

"Kids," Pearce sighed again.

"Yeah, dad's still not over the idea of cars instead of horses and buggies," Toddy snickered. Pearce gave his soon a grin. "But hey, it's almost ten! I have to go to work. Thanks, sirs, and goodnight! Guess I won't see you later?" He ruffled Cole's hair. Cole hugged him tightly. Todd whispered for him to hear, "Yeah, it's OK if you want to do it, Harry!"

"Thanks, Todd!" Cole laughed.

"Any time, Harry!" He laughed, giving Brighton a goodbye kiss. Then Cole asked for one, too.

"Four years," Todd sighed, on his way out.

Mr. Day was looking perplexed as they retired to the living room, though. He took Cole on his lap, which was hilarious in that it made it look like Cole had a huge, black erection. Brighton cuddled up with Chief Pearce as Trey brought drinks, with a club soda and fruit chunks for Cole.

"Boy can't hold his liquor," Trey mumbled to Pearce, who was rubbing his hand over Brighton's tummy. Brighton then did another test of his blood sugar, which came out at 110 [6.2]. "Cold dinner, staying up late, chatting," he grumbled.

"I need to talk to Doc Kennedy 'bout that tomorrow, when I take Cole in," he mused.

"WHAT?!" Cole gasped. "But I'm not sick now, -sir?"

"If you gonna live here, I wanna know you OK, and get you all checked out, boy," Day informed him. "Don' you worry, Doc not be hurtin' you 3; much!" He laughed.

Cole gulped and nodded.

"Now, we gonna let some things slide, boy," Day went on. "Since you been sick, an' since this all new to you. But tonight, you be treated jus' like Brighton. Bedtime is nine, but we been talkin', an kept you up. You gots to get used to sleepin' at night again, Cole. You get up at seven. Now, 'for you goes to bed 3; I guess you be wantin' the room next to Brighton?"

"Please, sir?" Cole nodded heartily.

"Thought so. Trey done took all yo' things up there. You goes to bed, you stays in bed. I don' lock your door, an' the bath is right across the hall, 'less you like them Goodnights so much?"

"Uh, no sir," Cole smirked.

"Oh, I bet he's adorable in a diaper," Pearce smiled at Cole.

"Hey! I'm not a baby! Sir 3;" Cole protested, but he did grin.

Day nodded. "Now, since it be late, we need you to see how we get a boy ready for bed."

"Yes, sir," Cole nodded, and Day picked him up.

"I'll let myself out, Mike, I should probably go and see what's up at the office," Pearce excused himself. "Thank you." He then gave Brighton a long kiss goodnight.

Cole motioned to be let down, though, and he hugged Pearce. "Thanks for 3; helping me," he whispered, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Is that OK, sir?"

"I think we've found quite a prize here, Mike," Pearce told Day. "Submissive little guy, isn't he? But no, Cole, that wasn't a very good kiss. You want to try that again?"

And Cole did that.

When they were done, Cole whispered in his ear, "So sex with boys is really OK, sir, if they want to do it?"

"Yes, buddy," Pearce whispered back, and Cole beamed at him. "Yeah, we're keeping this one, Mike!" Pearce smiled, as he handed Cole back off to Day. The boys snickered at his obvious erection.

"Put your uniform back on for patrol, sir!" Trey called.

They then went upstairs to the bathroom that the boys used. Brighton went to the closet, and he pulled out a padded bench on wheels. It had a bulge at one end like a pillow, and a seam in the middle. He then pulled a red bag with a white hose from the closet, and a bottle of something. He also had a plastic measuring beaker.

"Is that for an enema, sir?" Cole gasped. "Do I get one?"

"Brighton will go first," Mr. Day nodded. "See, it be important to keep clean inside, too. And with a plug, you can get constipated. You ever had an enema?"

Cole shook his head.

"Thermometer?"

"No, sir."

"Nothin' up da butt?"

"Just your finger, sir!"

Brighton laid down on the bench, got comfortable, and Mr. Day measured out one quart of warm water and put the liquid from the bottle in it. He poured it into the red bag, then attached the hose, which ended in a bulbous nozzle. He shook it up, then hung it from a pole that telescoped up out of the bench's side. He raised the end, elevating Brighton's legs.

"You'll be needing this, sir," Trey put in, as he entered with the screwdriver. "If that'll be all for the night, sir?" He excused himself.

As Cole watched, fascinated, Mr. Day removed a screw from the underside of Brighton's CB. The small rod running from the backside of the device then came away, and Mr. Day pulled the plug slowly from the squirming boy's rectum. Cole gasped, as the butt plug was as big as his own fist, and longer! Day then placed it in the sink.

When he returned, he put a bit of lubricant on the nozzle and then inserted it into Brighton's butt. He released a clip on the white hose, and the bag began to deflate. Brighton made a small sound, but didn't move.

"All that go up inside you, and wash out all the shit and bad stuff," Mr. Day explained. "You might get a cramp, but it's not bad."

"So it makes you poop?" Cole asked.

Day nodded. "Same time, every night."

"It looks big," Cole fretted, noting that the nozzle was about as large as his fist as well, as was Brighton's butt plug. "I don't know, sir?"

"You need one, bad, trust me! You stink when you go!" Brighton spoke up, as the bag deflated. His father removed the nozzle, and Brighton got up, clearly struggling to hold it in. His belly was inflated, which looked to Cole like he was pregnant!

"Lay down, Cole," Day ordered him, switching the nozzle for a smaller one.

"Oh, OK," Cole squeaked, watching nervously as Mr. Day refilled the bag and hung it up.

Cole felt the cool lubricant on his anus, not unlike the salve that Brighton had used. It felt good, though, as he still had a bit of a rash. He felt Mr. Day's finger probing him, and then it slid in just a bit. Cole flinched with a sharp intake of air.

"Damn boy, you way too tight!" Day observed, removing the nozzle and replacing it with a straight tip. "Ain't no way to put a plug in you, like Bright's, yet!"

"Maybe the one I had when I was six, Daddy?" Brighton suggested, as Cole felt the hose being inserted into him.

"Good, just push out a bit," Day encouraged him. "Good, now clench up to hold it in. Don' you be leakin' on the floor. Bright, once I get Cole full, then you go, so he can."

"Yes, sir."

The hose wasn't so bad, but when Mr. Day released the clip, Cole squealed. He could feel the warm liquid going up inside of him, and it made him have to go urgently. He didn't think he could hold it at all!

"I gotta go!" He cried.

"Hold it in," Day reminded him, massaging his tummy to spread to solution further up into him. Cole squealed again as a cramp hit him, but it soon passed as Day rubbed his tummy some more. Inside his CB, Cole could feel that pressure again, and the hose was touching something up inside of him. He wasn't sure if he liked it, or hated it.

After what felt like forever, with a bloated belly and dancing on the spot, Cole was allowed to relieve himself.

It was less than graceful, and the smell was awful. While Cole was on the toilet, Brighton was getting refilled.

"TWO?!" Cole squeaked.

"Every night," Brighton agreed. "You get used to it, though, and it starts to feel good."

"If you say so," Cole shook his head.

They traded places again, and Cole's second wasn't so bad. It was far from clean, though, and it took a lot of encouragement to keep the confused boy going.

By the time he'd had his fourth session, the input solution was coming out fairly clear, and Mr. Day seemed satisfied. Cole was exhausted, though, and collapsed into the tub with Brighton.

"Don' be drownin'," Day joked, as he joined them in the spacious tub. He took his son on his lap and scrubbed his back. Brighton closed his eyes and groaned. "Feel good?"

"Yeah, Daddy."

"Cole, you turn around so Bright can get that dirt off'a the back'o yo neck," Day told him.

"Daddy, what do you think Cole would look like with his hair done like mine? It's long enough?" Brighton asked.

"Never seen a white boy with black cornrows before," Day observed. "Might be cool?" He agreed.

"OK," Cole mumbled, nodding in the bubbles.

He remembered being hoisted, limp, out of the tub and toweled off. He managed to brush his teeth, and just sort of stood, swaying, as he and Brighton got their CB's and plugs back on. He'd forgotten all about that, but Mr. Day didn't mention it as he picked him up to carry him to bed. After two goodnight kisses, Cole was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"Daddy, you think I should stay here with him, in case he wakes up scared?" Brighton asked.

"Good idea," Day agreed, giving his boy another of those kisses before tucking him in next to Cole. In his sleep, Cole snuggled up against him and moaned.

But there was a little smile on his face.

***

Cole didn't get breakfast that next morning, as he was being taken to the doctor for an examination. He understood that Brighton had to eat, though, but it still seemed unfair as the black boy wolfed his eggs and bacon.

Since they would be taking the car into town, both boys put on shorts and flip-flops. Cole was surprised when he was strapped into the back seat of the Cadillac, with restraints on all limbs and joints, and even across his forehead and chest.

"But I can't move, sir?"

"Tha's the idea," Day replied, as they drove off.

Once at the doctor's office, which was deserted so early, the boys were led by a young male nurse to an exam room. Brighton promised Cole that it would be all right, as he removed his shorts to get weighed. Cole did the same. "Bit puny, this one," the nurse noted of Cole, seemingly nonplussed by their CB's. "Those need to come off, however," he added.

When Dr. Kennedy arrived, Cole was dismayed to see that he had to go first. He hopped up on the table, and was surprised when his wrists were secured to the sides. Mr. Day then removed his CB. He then had to pee in a cup.

"So this is the dead kid, huh?" Kennedy smiled, patting Cole's tummy. "Feed him some more," he started off. "Eleven? Looks more like eight," he went on, feeling Cole all over. He took vitals, found them a bit elevated, but wrote that off to stress. As he worked, it was nothing out of the usual exam, Cole thought, other than that he couldn't move his arms.

Dr. Kennedy then raised the end of the table, elevating the boy's rear and legs. "No plug? Has he had an enema?"

"Four of 'em, sir," Cole answered.

"Nice boy," Kennedy observed, as flicked a magnifier down to look at the boy's anus. "No signs of entry, so he's not been raped. Good. Bit of a rash."

"Gas station toilet paper, sir," Cole supplied.

"Use a bidet," Kenney suggested, "Or baby wipes. How'd the enema go?"

"He was a mess," Day grinned. "Gonna take a few more, I think."

"Cole, I am going to give you a rectal exam now, is that all right?" Kennedy asked.

"Yes, sir," Cole said, as he felt a cool slick finger probing him. He gasped as it slid in, touching him just so.

"Tiny little prostate, everything feels normal. I'd recommend a small plug as soon as possible, though. I want him to slowly build up to 1.5 quarts [~1.5 liter], though. Use a generous amount of phospho-soda. Cole, I am going to put some pressure on you now, tell me if this hurts?"

Cole then felt the doctor rubbing on something inside of him, his prostate, he thought. It didn't hurt, not really, but it felt weird and his little penis sprang to attention. "That's small," Kennedy commented.

"They gave me Lupron shots," Cole supplied.

"Well, I've prescribed those before," Kennedy nodded, as he continued to massage the boy's prostate. Cole trembled and gasped, shivering all over. But the doctor didn't stop. Cole decided that he didn't want him to, either! "Sometimes it's best not to grow up too fast, Cole. Be a little boy for a few more years."

"Oh, man!" Cole exclaimed, as something began to burn inside of him. He thought he might pee, but he knew he'd done that already. It felt like something had to get out of him, and Cole began to struggle, bucking his hips. Mr. Day held his legs down as the doctor continued to work.

"I'm stimulating your prostate, Cole. It's perfectly normal. You seem to be fine." He pointed out clinically, as the boy began to struggle harder.

"AIGH!" He screamed, as something seemed to come tearing out of him and made him shake violently all over. Cole couldn't get his breath, and it felt like he was being torn inside out. He gasped and convulsed, and the only thing he could feel was that burning inside of his butt exploding all over him in waves.

Then it was done.

"Good God, I've killed him!" Kennedy joked, noting that Cole had fainted. He brought him around with some smelling salts.

"Oh, shit," Cole moaned. "What was that?"

"A dry orgasm," Kennedy told him. "Boys your age who have not hit puberty can experience many in a row, with the right stimulation. No discharge," he noted in his log, "Testicles are awfully small, too."

"Oh," Cole panted. "Is 3; is that like 3; sex, Daddy?" He asked, looking at Mr. Day with pleading eyes.

"Yes, son," Day replied, laying a hand on his tummy. "Did you like that?"

Cole nodded. "I 3; I want to do it again, sir?"

"Not today," Kennedy disagreed. "It's too much stress." He then moved on to examine Cole's genitals. "I'd recommend this frenulum come off, it's too tight, given the circumcision he had as an infant. They took an awful lot of foreskin off, and it's going to hurt him eventually."

"WHAT?!" Cole gapsed.

"Easy to do, we can do it today," Kennedy commented. "A few stitches, and it'll wither off in a few weeks. No cutting."

"Oh!" Cole sighed in relief. He had to admit, he hardly felt it when the stitches were put in place. He saw three little knots of thread in the stretch of skin that ran on the underside of his penis, and it didn't even hurt that much. Kennedy then took some blood, which wasn't fun at all. Cole tried not to cry, but he failed. He hated needles.

"I'm going to give him a tetanus booster too, and hepatitis shots," Kennedy stated. "I'll let you know if the lab turns up anything," he added. "In the meantime, plenty of food, sleep, not too much exertion. You said he collapsed the other night? Nice muscle tone," he added, feeling at Cole's legs and tickling his feet.

"HEY!"

"Sorry, had to do it," Kennedy apologized. "Did that bother you, Cole?"

"No, sir?" Cole answered, but all he could really think about was the doctor's finger rubbing his 'prostate'.

Day then put the CB back on him, once his erection had wilted again. The poor boy looked spent as Day lifted him off the table.

"Daddy?" Cole asked, and he was surprised to see such a look on the large man's face. "That was OK," he decided. "I want to do that again," he whispered in his ear, which earned him another kiss. "Did I just cum?"

"You came, son," Day smiled at him. "Was it nice?"

Cole nodded.

"Maybe a few days, we see," Day assured him. "Now it be Brighton's turn."

Brighton took the exam table as Cole went to sit on Mr. Day's lap. He could feel his erection behind him, though, and it was strange to see him dressed. He watched as the doctor removed Brighton's CB and plug, wondering what it felt like to have one of those inside you all the time.

Mr. Day and the doctor then began to talk about things like A1C tests as he examined the black boy, and other things that Cole didn't understand. He thought it must be about Brighton's diabetes, and he just listened. The doctor was pretty happy about it, though, and how well they were doing in controlling it. They took an awful lot of blood from Brighton, though, and Cole was fascinated to see just how big Brighton's penis was when it was freed. It was a good four inches [10 cm] hard, and his balls were a lot bigger than Cole's.

"Well into the first phase of puberty," Kennedy observed, as he got a pair of tweezers and yanked at something. Brighton squealed. "Look at that, a tiny little hair! Pretty soon, you'll have to start waxing or shaving him, Mike."

"They grows up too fast," Mr. Day sighed. "But it's got to be."

"Brighton, I'm going to do a rectal now, all right?" Kennedy asked.

"Yes sir!" Brighton agreed, and Cole saw how easily the doctor got three of his fingers into Brighton!

"Very good shape, all things considered, Mike," Kennedy observed, as Brighton began to squirm. "Good volume on the testicles, prostate feels all right. No pains or problems, boy?"

"No, sir!" Brighton gasped, as the doctor continued to work him. "When was the last time he came?"

"Last night," Day said, and Cole stared at him. Had they done something after he'd gone to bed?

Brighton was thrashing now, restrained as Cole had been. The doctor kept working him, then Brighton began to convulse. He cried out once, then went still, breathing hard.

On the tip of his throbbing penis was a small drop of something clear.

"Precum," the doctor observed, taking a sample of it on a swab. "He'll be making a mess in a few weeks, I'll wager!"

"My boy!" Day said proudly, which made Cole sort of feel bad. He wondered how long it would be before he could make a mess. Before he could squirt like the guys in the videos. He saw Brighton's erection beginning to drop, but not before he noticed the exposed head, and the smooth underside with a very tight circumcision. Mr. Day then put the CB back on him, and kissed him.

Once the boys were dressed, Dr. Kennedy dismissed them and promised to call if anything at all turned up. He recommended more ointment for Cole's irritated anus, but other than that, he found nothing wrong. Mr. Day promised to send him Brighton's constant blood sugar monitor's reports, too, and the boys were then dressed and secured in the back of the car again for the ride home.

"Why don't you take Cole to the beach for the afternoon?" Day suggested. "I gots more work to do, an' you can teach him how to use the a boogie board?"

"If there's waves, sir," Brighton commented. "You mean, we get a day off, Daddy?"

Day nodded. "No ice cream!" He warned his son.

"What about the sharks, Daddy?" Cole fretted.

"What sharks?" Day wondered.

"Liar!" Cole yelled at a laughing Brighton.

So, after lunch, Brighton and Cole headed to the beach after a short rest.

"The gate code is 'Brighton11'," the black boy informed him, "Jus' like a phone pad."

"That was wild, what the doctor did," Cole commented.

"You like it?" Brighton asked, smiling.

Cole nodded. "It kinda hurt at first, but it was good!" He paused. "Brighton?"

"Yeah?"

"Does Daddy do that to you?"

Brighton nodded. "Sometimes."

"Is it 3; is it OK with you, if I call him that, too?" Cole asked sincerely.

Brighton stopped. "Cole, we keepin' you forever," Brighton told him. "Far as I'm concerned, you're my little bro' now!" He put his arm around him. "An' don' worry about the rest of it. Don' worry 'bout nothin'. All the boys here are hip."

"They are?" Cole gasped.

"Sure they are!" Brighton smiled. "You'll see. So, you gonna ask Dad for my old baby plug? Doc said you was tight?!"

"Brighton?" Cole asked, as they arrived at the beach, where many people were taking advantage of the nice afternoon, "Does Daddy, I mean, does he 3; use his 3; dick 3; like the doctor did the finger thing?"

Brighton stopped.

"I'm sorry!" Cole held up his hands quickly. "I didn't mean anything! I just wanted to know, 'cause in the videos of guys, they 3;"

"Damn, bro'!" Brighton smiled. Then he laughed again. "You that crazy to get fucked?"

"So they DO do it?" Cole countered, awed, and relieved.

"I been gettin' it in the butt since I was nine," Brighton told him. "So's Todd. So's most o'the boys here. Tha's what it's all about, little bro'!" He then took his hand, and headed over the beachfront stand to get two boards. "There ain't no better way for a daddy to say how much he loves you, but for doin' it to you like that!"

Cole wasn't sure what to say to that.

"Thought so," He finally decided.

"That don' bother you, bro?"

"Not if it feels half as good as what the doctor did to me!" Cole declared with a smile, as they headed into the waves.

"No sharks?"

"No sharks!"

They surfed for a while, and Cole was really getting the hang of it when Brighton decided to take a rest.

"So this is the new boy?" Mr. Albert observed, as he walked up. "You know, I thought I'd seen your face before, Cole!"

"Hello, sir!" Both boys greeted him. "Thank you for taking my stuff, sir!" Cole said.

"Relax, Cole, or whatever Mike wants to call you now. No one here is going to turn you in. Chief Pearce came by last night and told several of us that you were staying." He paused. "I'm sorry you had it so tough, kid," he added.

"Thank you, sir," Cole smiled back at him.

"Boy, if I were about ten years younger, maybe fifteen," he sighed. "How about a hug for an old man?" He asked Brighton, and Cole hugged him too. "You feel OK, Bright?"

"Yes, sir."

"That sugar thing on your arm waterproof?"

"Yes, sir, but it's sorta on the fritz. The meter is lower than it says."

"Then reprogram the firmware, if the numbers are consistently off," Mr. Albert advised. "You know, we used to program computers in my day with punch cards!" He nodded seriously, throwing down a towel to lie down on. "Oh, and you tell your daddy that next time, it's his turn to trim the east hedges!"

The boys listened to him for a while, then just drifted off.

"Worn out," Albert shook his head, as he sat there by the two dozing boys, just reading a book, content in the fact that he was simply near them.

***

The beeping of Brighton's alarm watch woke them up, and the boys saw that it was near 5 o'clock! They'd fallen asleep listening to Mr. Albert, but the old man was gone.

"I'm all greasy!" Cole observed.

"Me too," Brighton agreed. "Mr. Albert must have put some sunscreen on us when we went to sleep, or we'd be cooked!"

"He's nice," Cole decided. "Does he live next door?"

Brighton nodded. "Way down the way, though! C'mon, man, I 3; we 3; gots to be home by half-six!"

The boys ran all the way, hosed off on the patio, and headed right to the shower before Trey could even yell at them for smelling like salt and sand.

Trey served homemade pizza that night, with a vegetable crust that wouldn't irritate Brighton's diabetes. The boys were starving after their day at the beach, and Mr. Day pawned the duty of hedge clipping off upon them! He then presented Cole a pen and paper after a small dessert of coconut flour peanut butter cookies [biscuits].

"Write your name, boy," he told Cole.

Cole, confused, wrote out: Cole Eric Edwards.

"That who you be?" Mr. Day asked.

"I think so, sir?"

"Cole's a boy what got no family, goes on the run, sleep in ditches, and eat out of garbage cans," Mr. Day disagreed. "You not runnin' now, you got a family, so you think you need a new name?"

Cole thought about it, and the more he did, the more it made him feel funny inside. He'd never had a talk with own father as he did with Mr. Day. He couldn't imagine talking sex with his own dad, and he'd certainly never taken a bath with him!

Cole picked up the pen and thought. Then he wrote: Eric Michael Day.

He handed it back to Mr. Day, who looked stunned. He sniffed. Then he held his arms out, and Cole went to him. "Perfect, baby," he whispered in his ear.

Cole was still confused, however. It wasn't about the idea of finding out that many of the men here at this beach liked sex with boys. It wasn't that even the cops seemed to be in on it. It wasn't even the fact that everyone else seemed to just accept it. He got up his nerve to ask.

"Why you taking me in, Daddy?" He finally asked. "I mean, you just found me on the beach. You don't owe me anything, sir?"

"Because no one deserve what you got, Eric," Day told him, trying out the new name the boy had chosen. "No chile deserve to end up alone on the street, dyin' in some dark alley all alone. I won' lie to you, either, boy. You a beautiful chile', and I want to love you. Pretty sure a lot of folks here would, too. An' Bright got no siblings. We wanted a whole team of children," Mr. Day told him, "Me an' the missus."

Cole, or rather, Eric – as he had chosen – gasped. "Wh-what happened to her 3; your wife, sir?"

"She died," Mr. Day said sadly.

"Well, at least she didn't run off with the FedEx man," Cole 3; Eric offered in all innocence, since he didn't know what else to say. He was afraid that Mr. Day would be angry, once he'd said it.

Then they both laughed.

"I cain't gets over it!" The large black man howled in mirth. "Ain't dat jus' da'shit?"

Brighton could only nod, he was so cracked up.

When they'd regained their composure, Mr. Day asked, "You all right, Cole 3; Eric? After today?" Eric replied yes, he was, told them that the only time he'd ever heard his middle name was when he was in trouble.

"I meant with what the Doc done to you?" Mr. Day clarified.

Eric blushed. "I 3; I didn't mind, Daddy," he tried the word again, and found that he liked it. "It felt good, what he did to my butt, but the needles sucked!" Then he looked down again, his signature line that something was bothering him.

"What, boy?" Day pressed him. "You tell yo'Daddy now!"

Eric flinched a little, and when he looked up at him, his eyes were red. "You said you'd let stuff slide, sir, but I want you to punish me!" He sniffed. "I lied to you, and I could'a' got Brighton hurt with the shed thing! I deserve to be punished, Daddy!"

Day stared at him for a moment, open-mouthed. Then he nodded slowly. "I be so proud," he announced, taking the boy in his arms.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"I 3; I want to 3; I want you to put a plug in me, like Brighton's got, too!" Eric decided.

"Why's that?" Day toyed with him, smiling. "You know you can't take it out? You know what we talked about?"

Eric nodded. "But you can't 3; 'cause the doctor said I'm too tight?" Eric persisted. "And if I don't grow some, you can't 3;" he dropped his voice to a whisper, "You can't do it with me!"

Mr. Day considered it for a bit. "You figure it out, that I do it to Brighton? Jus' like Mr. Pearce do it to Todd?"

Eric nodded again. "I want to do it, sir. Brighton says it's the best way to tell a boy you love him, sir!"

"Did he?" Mr. Day looked as if he might cry then, and he held out his hand to his son. Brighton joined them. After a bit of cuddling, Day said, "Go and fetch me your little plug, son. We'll get Co 3; -Eric situated here, then we watch a movie 'for it's time for bed."

When Brighton returned, he had a small plug not even the size of small egg in his hand, and tube of lubricant. Mr. Day used the ointment on Eric, then gently began to press the plug in. "Push out, jus' a little, good," he said soothingly, as the plug began to disappear into the boy.

"Kinda hurts!" Eric gasped.

"You want Daddy to stop?" Day asked.

"No, sir. Put it in me, please," Eric insisted, and slowly, gently, Day did that. The plug slid in suddenly, and Eric went rigid.

"Oh, oh, ah!" He squealed, tensing up and leaning his head back.

"Hold still," Day told him, as he affixed the anchor screw to the boy's scrotal ring to secure it so that it would not come out.

"Oh, damn!" Eric gasped, squirming in his lap.

"Language!"

Trey came in and whacked him over the head with evening newspaper, which he then handed to Brighton. Body of Cole Eric Edwards Found at Candace Fire was the headline, and Brighton hid it.

"Like that, do ya?" Brighton asked with a grin. "You never forget it's in there, bro!"

"Just relax, boy," Day advised him. "Don't fight it, 'cause it not be comin' out."

Eric looked like he'd been hit in the head with a large object. In fact, he looked like he was in shock. Day cuddled him on the sofa, and told him to try not to think about it. "Puts us a movie in, boy," he told Brighton, but it was obvious that Eric wasn't really concentrating on it as he continued to squirm in his new father's lap!

But no matter how he moved, or how he sat still, Eric felt the plug teasing at him, making him feel like he might pee, or that he had to take a shit. It made him feel full, and with no way to get relief. By time for bed, he was ready to have it out!

After his enema, however, the plug went right back in, with only a little protest.

"You sure you want it?" Day asked again.

"I 3; I want you to love me, Daddy!" Eric whimpered, as the plug went back in.

"I couldn't love you anymore, boy," Day comforted him. "Tomorrow night, we talk about that punishment, son," Day then told Eric, as he carried him to his new room and tucked him in. He kissed him goodnight, then so did Brighton. "Tonight, though, you think about it," Day warned him. "And know yo' Daddy be proud o' his new boy!"

He then shut off the light and closed the door.

Eric fidgeted for most of the night, but when he finally got to sleep (after nearly an hour of seeing if he could get the plug out!), he didn't hear the sounds coming from his daddy's room.

He thought about his coming punishment, which he'd even asked for. He felt that familiar pressure in his CB, and the plug was pressing into him like the doctor's finger. It felt good, but it didn't feel as good as before.

But almost 3;

If there was just something he could do to encourage it 3;

He tried to remember what the old saying was about being careful what you wished for 3;

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