TNNB

The New Neighbor Boy

Chapters 6-10

Chapter Six

Keep in mind, nobody had Caller-ID back then, not in our area, anyway. There was no way Leon could know who'd called him.

"Ti-Rone," I said again – "Tyrone!"

It was like one of those word-scramble puzzles, or that Boggle-game.

There was just one problem with my theory – Ronnie T. King, if he WAS this 'Tyrone' person and this Leon-guy had him, sure as hell wouldn't have had any clothes that were 'something in white satin, angelic,' and not good enough to wear to a wedding.

"He wasn't wearing ring-bearer shit when he went missing," I thought, "And who's Kim?" I said to myself.

Then it hit me – what was I really thinking? What was I accusing Mr. Poore of?

I was thinking that Mr. Poore and his realtor friend had grabbed a kid and planned to keep him! Yes, that's what I was thinking. And I was beginning to think I might be next. There was just too much to it, too much weirdness.

Especially after the deal with the AC unit – he'd come over and done it. I just knew it. How else did he KNOW? Mom didn't know why it quit, and I hadn't gone near it.

And I was Canyon's new 'playmate' after all. He'd said it.

Kim and Tyrone, whoever they were, were playmates.

That word gave me chills.

But what was Tyrone recovering from? Recovering from being snatched, maybe?

This whole deal with the new boy next door was just too much. I had to figure it out.

What was bugging me most was how Mr. Poore knew we cussed, and how he knew we were at the The Shack. I got to thinking about the pharmacy receipt. I looked it up in the phone book, and saw that Myers' was like a half-hour bike ride there. Nothing I couldn't handle.

I went and got $3 out of my piggy bank and put it in my shoe and set out.

It was getting damn hot out, and I needed a drink bad when I got there. Heck, I almost melted. I went in the front door, to the soda fountain part, and ordered a $1 cherry phosphate. Myers' had this antique look to it, and the front was made into a 1950's thing. I was sitting there in the AC, cooling off, when I thought it might be best to just ask.

"Excuse me, but what kind of tubing do you have?" I asked the girl.

"You mean surgical tubing, or like hardware?" She replied. "All we have is the medical supply type. Bulk you can buy, but things like catheters and gastric tubes have to have a prescription on file."

Now, I wasn't real smart in school, remember, but I wasn't dumb either. "Would it work on a fish tank, to make the line longer?" I just made it up, since I had no clue what a 'catheter' was.

"I bet it would!" The girl agreed.

I finished my soda and we went to look at the tubing.

It was colored, they had it in rolls, and it was cheap. I bought a 2' [60 cm] length for 75 cents and put the receipt in my other shoe.

I got home around three and called Scott.

"Scott, remember that receipt?" I asked him, "That you saw?"

"Huh?"

"Mr. Poore's receipt from Myers' – what did it say?"

"Surge-tube" Scott said. "For short. eight characters, SURGTUBE."

That was one thing I remembered – most retail computers only printed eight letters to an item. I looked at my receipt.

They matched.

"SURGTUBE"

I had to give Scott one thing – he might have been a bastard sometimes, but he had a brain like a bear trap. He never forgot anything.

"Dude, I'm grounded 'til Monday," he sighed. "For five fuckin' minutes of lateness! Can you believe that shit?"

"Yeah, I can," I agreed, "Thanks. I gotta go!"

I went up to my room and started writing things down, starting with Canyon being a twelve-year-old nudist sunbather bodybuilder with no balls. I ended my list with the anagram of Ronnie T. being "Tyrone", the missing kid.

"Something from the wedding store," I mumbled, and I went back down for the phone book. I was still thinking this was all just too much to be coincidence. I scratched at my necklace. It was still snug, but I must have been getting used to it. I decided that, hurt feelings or not, it had to come off. Maybe I could ask Canyon to weave a clasp in it? That would be fine. After all, I DID like it.

By the address, I saw that there was no way I'd make it to the wedding place downtown on my bike. It was on the other side of town, and it was getting on towards rush-hour anyway. I called instead.

A man answered the phone, and OK, I figured he'd sound 3; gay. But he didn't.

"Thank you for calling The Bouncing Bride, this is Samuel, how can I help you?" He asked.

You gotta be kidding me? Bouncing Bride?

"Have you got a boys' size XL formal suit in white satin?" I asked, "I have a church program in an hour, and I just spilled grape juice all over my costume!" I lied to him. I was pretty pleased with myself for making that one up!

"I'm sorry, young man, but my only white satin boys' XL just went out this evening. May I suggest Jeffers over in 3;"

"No, thanks, but no time!"

"Soak it in white vinegar and peroxide, now!" He suggested. "Good luck, my boy!" Then he hung up.

Dinner was tomorrow night at Canyon's, and Canyon was going to be wearing white satin from the wedding place 3;

I put that on my 'weird-list' and made a decision. I called Scott back and told him that if he didn't hear from me by Saturday noon, to call the cops.

I just hoped he'd do it, since he laughed at me and wondered what I'd been smokin' 3;

It was hot and stuffy in the house, and the bike ride had worn me out. I scavenged some food, went outside, and turned the garden hose on myself. It was colder than hell, but God it felt good! I sat there on the little cement slab we called a patio, at the raggedy umbrella table, and ate bologna & cheese sandwiches and drank pop. I just sat there, thinking, until the bugs came after me and I had to go in.

I went upstairs, got naked, and laid down in front of my fan.

It wasn't working.

Bathtub, I thought, and went and filled it with cool water. I got in, laid back, and put my sweaty head under. One thing Mr. Poore might have right, I'd feel a lot cooler in summer with shorter hair. But hell, no one had a haircut like Canyon's! They'd laugh at me. I cringed at what Scott and them might say.

I was just laying there, soaking, seeing how long I could hold my breath, when I started getting hard thinking about Canyon. I didn't know why I got hard, just that I did. The film said boys in puberty got hard for no reason, or even just a thought. Maybe I was finally hitting it, then? I liked that idea as I reached for the soap.

Things were going pretty good – I was staying hard, thinking about Canyon jacking me off, and really going at it when the phone started ringing. Figuring it might be mom, I sighed and got up to get the one in her room.

"Hello?"

"Benny, dear," mom answered me, "We're getting out at 6 after all! How would you like to go see a movie before I leave town?"

"Sure!" I said.

"Take a bath, then," mom told me, and hung up.

I went back to the tub and took a real bath, with soap. I tried to get hard and jerk off, but it just didn't work that time. I guess the mood was gone? I tried harder, but all it did was make my nuts hurt, so I quit. "Scott, you fucker," I swore under my breath and blamed it all on him for hitting me.

This wasn't really all that weird. One or two times a month, mom would take me to the discount night at the movies. I didn't care what it was, either. They had popcorn, pop, and candy. That's all that mattered!

Mom sprang it on me that night in the theater. I guess it was her idea of cushioning the blow, huh? We were sitting there watching this movie about a wild archaeologist when she leaned over and whispered, "I'll be gone for two weeks, Benny. You'll be staying with Mr. Poore and Canyon until I get back."

I spilled my popcorn.

"WHAT?!"

"Quiet!" The usher told me.

"Later," mom said, and that was that. No Scott, no Aunt Mabel.

Two weeks in Weirdsville with the new neighbors.

The movie was pretty good, though 3;

I went straight to bed when we got home. I was nodding in the car, and mom reminded me I had to get up and be at Canyon's at 8AM for breakfast. I crawled into bed, naked, fan going full blast, and was out like a light.

My alarm clock was going off in what felt like no time at all. I got up, stretched, and took my morning wood to the bathroom. It went down as soon as I started peeing. The only weird thing, when I realized I had to shit, was a sore spot on my butt cheek. I turned to the mirror on the door, and it looked like a tiny little bug bite. I checked my clock. It was 7:45, and mom was downstairs rattling around. I pulled on a pair of shorts and went down to get my usual breakfast of cold cereal, hoping the milk wasn't bad.

She stopped me, though, reminding me that I was going to eat with Canyon. She had to be in the office at 9, so she was already on the way out the door. A peck to the cheek, and off she went. That at least solved the problem of going over to Canyon's place, I guess.

I waited until it said 7:56. Yawning, I went outside, around the stupid bush, and dropped my shorts there. Then I kicked them over towards the fence. If nothing else, I figured I could pull them under it if I had to make an emergency run for it. I looked around, saw it was all clear, and pulled on the gate.

It opened.

I looked around for a stick or something, but didn't see one I could reach. It was almost 8 by then, and if I was late, well 3; that might mess up the schedule and who knew what would happen? I mean, we already had a one hour of some kind of 'detention,' not swimming, and I didn't want to add to it.

I also didn't want Canyon in trouble, remembering his red butt.

The gate closed behind me with a CLICK!

I was trapped – again.

On their patio, Canyon was just bringing out a big tray. He saw me, and almost dropped it. "BENNY!" He yelled, as he put the tray down and came running to hug me. "I've missed you so, yesterday! How was the bike ride to town? You didn't slide off the seat, did you?" He winked at me.

"No, it was good," I said, and hugged him back.

HOW DID HE KNOW THAT?!

We went to the breakfast table. Mr. Poore nodded. I was watching Canyon. We sat. He sat when his dad nodded, I noticed.

I also noticed that Canyon filled the plates: scrambled eggs with bits of ham and cheese, green pepper, a western omelet, I thought. There were crisp strips of bacon, wheat toast, butter, and juice. Canyon evaluated the plate he was filling, Mr. Poore nodded at him, and he put some more on it. He nodded to the boy again. Canyon gave me the plate, and it was loaded. The only difference was that Canyon only got one slice of toast; I had two.

I wasn't sure what to do then. It smelled good, I mean I was used to cold cereal every day! But there was so much of it.

"Eat up, and eat it all," Mr. Poore told me.

"Sir?" I had to ask, "There's so much?"

"Yes," he grinned at me, so I started to eat.

"This is all natural food, Benny," he told me, "The only thing I do not use is sugar, therefore the juice has Sweet-y-Lo in it. Canyon is NOT allowed to have sugar. I can tell from looking at you that you consume a great deal of sugar?"

OK, I wasn't fat. I wasn't that tall, either, but I was 3; I guess 3; soft. And what was that? He bought us sugary stuff yesterday, Scott and me?

"You have a slight build," Mr. Poore went on, as we boys ate, "It would be easy for you to balloon up into a fat boy in no time. No one wants a fat boy," He added. "Do we, Canyon?"

"No, sir!" Canyon replied heartily. "He doesn't have big bones, sir."

I looked at him sitting there, stuffing down his eggs, but so mannerly at the same time. He got up to refill the juices, just like a waiter, giving me a perfect view of his 'neat' and almost empty crotch. He asked his dad when he wanted more, and served it. Me, I was lucky to be able to clean my first plate. Canyon's earrings flashed when the sun hit them, when he filled my glass, and I could see he was oiled again already. He smelled like fruit, and when he smiled at me with those perfect teeth of his, I got hard at once. He turned his back to me to go and sit down again, and his butt wasn't red. Maybe a tiny bit pink?

I scooted in a bit, to hide my two inches [5 cm] under the table.

I noticed no one had said a thing about the missing penis trap!

I couldn't help but look at Canyon, though! I mean, I'd never met a boy with no balls before! To say nothing of his muscles. I was used to seeing everyone else, even last year, bigger and taller than me and starting to get black pubic hair (except Denny, the redhead; his was even red!), grow some, and really just leave my scrawny ass (arse?) in the so-called dust. But little Canyon had them all beat in the strength department, I can tell you.

When we were done eating, Mr. Poore turned to me again while Canyon cleared away the mess.

"We have breakfast at 8, every day, Benny. We chat until 9, by then the dishes are done, and Canyon's morning workout runs until 10. It is intense, and you may find it painful. However, the boy has told me that you agreed to it with him, to build some muscles?"

I nodded. I had.

But what had I agreed to?

"At 10, you will clean up, a fast shower. From 10 to 12 is morning study. We are doing Spanish architecture right now, history, and how it influenced the colonization of Mexico and carried over."

"Like adobe brick, sir?" I asked.

"Yes, and don't interrupt!" He said firmly.

"I 3; I'm sorry!"

He smiled at me. "Quite all right, Benny, we'll deal with your little error later." He reached over and squeezed my thigh. "We have lunch at 12, which I prepare and serve. 12:30 is another shorter workout, and from 1-2, you do nothing but sunbathe. After the workout, you will want to lay down, trust me!" He grinned wickedly.

WHAT were we going to do?

"From 2 to 4 is swimming, since it's summer, but I have decided that your one hour punishment will take the place of the diving part for today. At 4, you dry off, have a shake, and nap for two hours. I realize you are not accustomed to that, but I think you will be begging for that nap when it comes." He paused.

"Yes, sir!" I offered.

"Very, very good, Benny!" He slapped my leg, and my little dick was harder.

What the hell is THAT? I wondered.

"From 6 to 8, you have free time. You may watch the telly 3; TV, sorry! Or watch a tape. For those two hours, you do what YOU want to do. Canyon sometimes goes over his homework, too, just to be safe, as errors are punished. Dinner is at 8, then baths, then bedtime at 9. You will get up shortly before 8 in the morning, and I prepare breakfast. I do not allow Canyon to cook, yet. Questions?"

I nodded. He nodded back.

"My mother told me that I'll be staying with you, sir?" I made sure I got the 'sir' on there. For some reason, I felt the need to.

"For a maximum of two weeks," he reminded me, "Yes." He then whistled, loud, and Canyon came running. "Go and fetch me Benny's papers, boy! There's a good lad!" He smiled, as Canyon scampered off again.

"Sir, this isn't quite like the other day is it? And what papers?" I had to ask.

"Your first day over was buggered up by your very arrival," Mr. Poore informed me, as Canyon returned with the papers. "This is all the legal work concerning your stay with us, Benny. In short, it gives me the right to give you food, shelter, medical care if needed, first aid," he waved his hand around, "blah blah blah, the usual things. It gives me the right to seek professional care for you, such as the ER, if needed, and to shelter you, feed you, and all that rot! It also gives me the right to punish you – as I see fit."

He paused again.

I gulped.

OK, I admit it – it scared me.

Hell, it terrified me!

"Yes, sir," I managed. He then showed me the papers, signed and initialed by my mom in a dozen places. It was her signature, all right, on 'Thomas & Fredericks Law Offices' letterhead, so it was real. He then had Canyon run and get a pen, and he made me sign in several places, too.

"In effect, you are now my child until your mother returns," Mr. Poore smiled at me. He then got up and hugged me. I wasn't ready for what he did next:

He kissed me, on the mouth, and it wasn't a short peck, either.

It was a long, serious kiss like you see in the movies.

I don't know why, either, but when he had a hold of me, I hugged him back. It felt like the other night, and I felt almost sick when he put me down.

"Welcome to the family, Benny," He told me, with a glance at Canyon.

"Brother Benny!" Canyon laughed, and he hugged and kissed me too. I was getting sort of used to that by then, though. I mean, with mom, it was a peck on the cheek if you were lucky. That was it. She hadn't hugged me a long time.

"I see you still have a small problem?" Mr. Poore then asked, pointing at my rock-hard little dick. His was hard was well, but Canyon's wasn't. But neither mentioned the cock trap?

"I 3; I'm sorry, sir!" I offered, wondering when in hell I was going to have time to snoop, what with that tight schedule? If I was going to figure this out, I was going to have be very careful. If nothing else, I decided, I WOULD run through the streets naked to escape!

"Recite the schedule, please, Benny?" He prompted me.

"Up at 8, eat.
8-9, chat and clean up dishes.
9-10, workout.
10-12, school.
Lunch at 12.
12:30, workout some more.
1-2, sunbathing.
2-4, swim, dive, sun. But 1 hour detention today!
4-6, nap, protein shake at 4.
6-8, free time, TV, or study more. Eat dinner at 8, then take a bath, be in bed by 9. Get up at 8?" I recited, hoping I had it right.

Canyon clapped his hands and laughed like a little kid. Mr. Poore nodded his approval. "'Detention'? I like that word, Father!" Canyon laughed.

"So do I! We do not deviate, for any reason," Mr. Poore then said, "If I have to leave, Canyon does it all on his own. He is trustworthy, for if he makes an error, he knows he will be punished. I control every minute of his days, and I will control yours as well, Benny. The only way to attain your goals, and to succeed at life, is to have rigid structure!"

"Yes, sir!" I said, when he paused.

"Now, if you have to go to the bathroom, you will do this at the beginning or end of meal times, or when you go to bed. We do not have potty breaks during the routine. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" I nodded. Then I held up my hand on impulse. By now, I was pretty scared and thinking I should have run away and hid at Scott's! But I had to figure it out. Surely I could survive two weeks of it, if Canyon had for 3; how long? Life? I didn't know.

But I was going to find out.

"What is it?" Mr. Poore smiled.

"But what if I HAVE to go, sir?" I asked.

"If you cannot control your own bodily functions, I shall control them for you, Benny," he assured me, "Legally, I can now do that. If you have an accident like a baby, you will be treated like a baby. Is that clear?"

"Yes, SIR!" I gasped.

I mean, what the hell was he going to do? Put a cork in my 3;? I froze. Didn't Canyon say he had bowel problems? I started to shiver, despite the 80F [27°C] heat already. I thought about that clear little ring that I'd seen sticking out of his butt cheeks. What the hell was it?

"Oh, I think he'll do just splendidly, Canyon," Mr. Poore told the boy.

"I think so too, Father," Canyon smiled, and his watch beeped. "9! Time to work out!" He crowed.

"If you have to pee, pee now!" Mr. Poore warned us.

That first workout damn near killed me.

Mr. Poore led us to his answer to a family room. It was large, and filled with exercise equipment. There were weight sets, treadmills, and all sorts of things I'd never seen before. If the "Y" had it, so did he. He started us on weights. Bench pressing.

From 9-10, we lifted. We did side presses. The room wasn't as cool as the rest of the house, and it didn't take long to start sweating. It didn't take long for my arms to start hurting, either. And he only left us once when the phone rang.

"Canyon," I panted, "I can't do this!" I was near to tears, it hurt so bad. HOW did Canyon DO it every day?

Canyon looked serious, but he didn't stop moving. "Don't stop, Benny, and for Christ's sake, don't get up! Just keep working! You can do it!" He encouraged me. Mr. Poore came back in, checked on us, and somehow, I made it to 10.

We had switched to sit-ups and leg work at 9:30. For an hour. Non-stop. I couldn't hardly walk!

I was amazed at how much stronger than me Canyon was. The kid had to have been pushing twice as much weight as I was!

Canyon just seemed sweaty, though. Sweaty and cheery and egging me on.

When Canyon's watch beeped, it was 10, and time for school. Mr. Poore made us drink a quart of ice water, each, then take a fast shower.

So we studied Spain until 12. Mr. Poore explained that there was more academic focus in bad weather, and I was shocked to find out that Canyon didn't have weekends. The schedule didn't vary on Saturday or Sunday, either. All we had to do to stop his lecturing was hold up our hands, just like in school. We sat at little desks in what used to be the utility room, complete with a blackboard and everything. And boy, was I glad to sit down and just listen! I thought my limbs would fall off. It was like the bad dream of waking up naked in school, only this time, the three of us really were. The difference was, he praised us and it was a lot of fun, really. I didn't think being home-schooled like Canyon would be half bad!

By the time noon got there, I had to pee so bad that I was dancing. They laughed, but I made it to the bathroom just in time.

Lunch was simple – cold meat and cheese and vegetables, and a few whole grain crackers. Another quart of ice water, with lemon. I had about three more crackers than Canyon, though. But I got stuffed again.

The 12:30 workout was a nightmare: calisthenics.

For almost half an hour, we did jumping jacks, toe touches, push-ups, more sit-ups, and then we had to do laps around the back yard for ten minutes, non-stop. I thought I was going to puke, I was so sore and hot and tired. This proved the only exception to the clothes rule – Canyon and I were given running shoes. They came back off when were done.

At 1, it was another quart of ice water. I almost couldn't get it down, but the looks Canyon was giving me got me to do it. I stumbled over to where I'd first seen him sunning himself, and let him put oil all over my sore body. Then I just collapsed and started to drift off.

"Habla usted español?" Canyon then said cheerfully, and I opened my eyes to see the boombox again. Canyon had his Spanish tapes, and pencils and paper.

How can he do it? I thought.

"You'll get used to it, son," Mr. Poore told me, as he knelt down to rub something on my back. As we listened and talked Spanish with the tape, making notes, he moved down my back to my butt cheeks. I flinched when he hit the sore spot, but when he got to my legs, I just whimpered. Whatever it was felt so good, though, and his touching me 3; my dick was pressing into the hard patio so much it hurt, but I didn't wanna move.

I realized that I had taken an hour from Canyon that one day, so our swimming lessons began at 2. It was all I could do to move, but I had to keep swimming. At least the water took the stress off of me, some.

At 3, he stopped us.

"Canyon, you may sun now, and do more schoolwork, or swim and dive. It is time for Benny to learn what happens when he makes an error. I must take him inside and instruct him." Mr. Poore told us.

I was shaking by then, and he had to help me out of the pool.

"Yes, sir," Canyon said, looking like he was about to cry again.

I know I wanted to.

"One hour of punishment," Mr. Poore told me, as helped me down the stairs and into the basement. By then, I was a sweaty, shaking mess. Laying out hadn't helped; I was still weak. He flicked on the lights – all of them – and I could see where all the hardware store money had gone:

The basement was huge, made up like a family room, but it contained lots of furniture like I'd never seen before. The bench that I'd laid on before was off to the side, and in the middle, near the wall was a barber's chair. It faced the wall, towards a big mirror, and as he guided me over to it, I could see the straps on the arms and footrest, and thick belt on the seat. I looked around. The room and the furniture looked threatening.

I saw straps on just about everything, like restraints 3;

I bolted, but he grabbed me. I tried to struggle, but I was so limp and weak I couldn't. He put me in the chair, and I started crying when he buckled my wrists down and secured my feet. I felt stupid, but something had snapped. I was terrified. Suddenly I didn't care about Canyon, my Tyrone theory, or anything! I just wanted OUT!

"I thought you might protest, they sometimes do," he told me, "That is an error, Benny. I never said I was going to cut your hair today, or how short. Your actions, however, have earned you a punishment, since you did not trust me and assumed."

"You 3; you can't!" I gasped. "This is 3; weird! It's illegal! You can't tie me up!"

"Oh, but I can, and I have!" Mr. Poore informed me. "You see, you and your mother BOTH signed the forms. You both gave legal consent for me to perform any sort of aid and/or succor to your person – or punishment."

He was right, he had me.

And he knew it.

Even mom had agreed, she'd signed it.

And I doubted she'd even read it.

That was mom for you.

"Now, Benny, you have made several errors, and you offered to take Canyon's punishment from the other day. Do you remember that promise?" He asked.

"Yes, sir," I choked out, staring at the naked boy in the mirror who was strapped into a barber's chair that was being jacked up higher and higher.

"That was very noble of you, Benny. For that, you have a choice. Normally, I would shave your head – bald – with a straight razor, for being such a bad boy. If you moved, you would be cut and bleed badly. Maybe even bleed to death. However 3;" He paused. I just looked at him, trying stop crying. "Would you like to be bald, or have a haircut like Canyon's? The choice is yours, since you're new at this, and clearly not ready for real punishment."

"C-Canyon's, please, sir, thanks!" I said quickly. Adrenaline was pumping, and I was starting to come out of my wobblyness. Still, I couldn't move; I was strapped in.

"Why?" He asked, as he got out a set of cordless clippers.

"I 3; I like Canyon, sir. Can I look like him, too?" I tried to flatter him.

I think it worked. He looked shocked. Then he smiled.

"Oh, Benny, that's a beautiful thing to say! Of course you can look like him! It might take six months of exercise, but you can! And you will!" He said happily. Then he kissed me again. So help me, I don't know what it was! I was hard again, and I didn't want him to stop. Shit, am I gay? I wondered wildly. There I was, naked, restrained, being kissed by a man, and I was turned on?! I didn't have much time to think about it, though, because then he turned the clippers on.

I closed my eyes.

I could feel the hair falling.

I could feel the thing vibrating.

I could feel the bare blades on my scalp.

He shaved the sides, up to my temples, down to stubble. He called it a "0000" cut. I called it bald. Then he combed out my tangled dark mop, and went after it with scissors, measuring the length with his fingers. It looked silly, when I thought he was done, but then he began blending the ½" [12 mm] he'd left on top. It faded right into the shaved part, and then he rubbed some cool gel into it. I dunno how long it took. He was meticulous.

Then he put some shaving cream on my neck and sideburns. He pulled out a wicked razor knife, and began shaving. "Sit still, good boy, don't move, don't talk," he encouraged me. I sat still as a statue, visions of losing an ear in my mind.

I could feel him patting it dry, then wiping it with cool aftershave. It stung some, and when I looked up, he was holding a hose connected to a faucet in the wall. He sprayed me off with warm water, chair and all! Then he grabbed up a nice camera.

"No, please," I whimpered.

The red AF sensor light on the front came on, and he took a picture.

(Film, digital didn't exist then. And auto focus was something brand new!)

FLASH!

Suddenly I smiled. The boy in the mirror looked nice, handsome, even. Soft, but nice. He was smiling at me, too, I thought.

"Do you like it, Benny?"

That was me?

"Yes, sir! It's great, thank you, sir!" I said happily. (I remember that NOW, but I didn't then. Back then, I was 12. It was fine. I had an army haircut, like Canyon's and I loved it. But I didn't know why. All I knew was that I loved it. It made no sense; I was sure I'd hate it, I'd been so scared.)

He freed me, and gave me a towel. I still ached as I dried off, and I cleaned up the mess when he told me to without arguing. There was a floor drain for it all, and it was easy. But this much I knew – I was NOT going to argue. But he had taken naked pictures of me? THAT was illegal, I KNEW! I asked about it, adding my concern for him and Canyon.

"I only took pictures of your head," Mr. Poore assured me, "And it's so considerate of you to ask!"

"Oh!"

He then told me it was 4. My haircut had taken the hour of detention time. It was time for the protein shake and the nap. Boy, was I ready for that nap!

"We'll discuss you punishments that you'll be taking for Canyon, as well as for you own slight errors, later, Benny. For now, we have a schedule to see to. Upstairs!" He pointed. As I passed him, he slapped me across my bare butt so hard that I yelped!

"That's a sample, boy," He warned me, "for later."

"Yes, sir," I said, and we went up to find Canyon in the kitchen with the blender going full tilt. He poured us our drinks. three of them. I was surprised as we all had one. We were then told to go and lay down. Canyon seemed to be just bursting to say something, and he kept smiling at me. His father nodded at him.

"Benny! It looks so GOOD!" He almost squealed, touching the near-bald sides of my head and patting my nape. (That's the back of your neck.) "It looks like mine!"

"Benjamin chose that style, since he was given a choice," Mr. Poore told his son. "He was a bad boy about it at first, but we'll deal with that later, shall we? So we don't alarm him too badly on his first day, what?"

I figured a spanking was coming later, then. I tried not to think about it.

"Oh, yes, sir," Canyon said in a low, quiet tone, as we laid down on the warm palettes in the living room, and Canyon evaluated the red handprint on my butt. I was out as soon as my head hit the palette.

The alarm went off at 6, and I was surprised that I felt so good when I woke up. Napping might not be such a bad idea after all? I was still sore, but my legs no longer felt like rubber. I was wondering what to do with the two hours of free time, but Canyon had that planned. He had a video about the Spanish conquest in the New World, and we watched them overrun the Mayans, or somebody down there. Mr. Poore retired to his office, wherever that was, and told us to behave.

I decided to try and pry some more out of Canyon, but he wasn't very helpful. He did tell me he was sure that his father could put a clasp in my necklace, but he didn't see why. I just looked at his neck, as his was off again. The tanline was very white where his necklace was usually locked on. It was the only tanline on him.

"You'll get a line like me, too," he assured me. I thought it might flatter him, so I touched the sides of his head with both hands. It was rough, and he giggled when I rubbed his ears and tickled his neck. Yeah, he was pretty immature, in some ways, I thought. I don't know why, but everything that had been buzzing in my head – the Tyrone mystery, what was up with Canyon, the dick-trap tube, all of it – just went right out my ear.

We watched the video until almost 8, when Mr. Poore returned and told us to wash up for dinner. "You'll find clothes in the bathroom," he added. "Canyon's are white, yours are black."

Imagine that, I thought.

We took a quick shower with a thing that attached to the tub faucet, and I helped Canyon get dressed. It made me wonder just how long he'd lived like this, as he didn't know what to do with the long socks. Once we were ready, he was wearing a white satin vest over a long-sleeved white dress shirt and a pair of white satin shorts that were pretty short. His white socks came up to almost his knees, and his set had come with what looked like girls' ballet slippers. He was fidgeting with his tie while I fixed his hair.

"You look like a cherub," I told him. He just laughed.

My outfit was the same, only all black, and I had a jacket. I felt silly.

God, I hope Scott doesn't see me! I fretted.

Mr. Poore was delighted, and dressed in a formal black over red tux. He took several pictures of us in the dining room. I sniffed. Someone had been cooking, but I found out he'd had it catered.

"This must have cost a lot, sir," I commented.

"Yes, it did," he patted my butt in reply, as Canyon's watch beeped.

It was 8, and the doorbell rang.

"Go answer the door and invite your mother in, Benny," Mr. Poore told me.

"Mom?" I just stared at her when I opened the door. She was wearing a long dress, red, and she'd put on makeup. I'd never seen her so dressed up, or in heels, and she looked 3; good! I thought Mr. Poore better watch out for himself. She had 'manhunt' written all over her, even if I could count on one hand how many dates she'd ever had.

She looked at me the same way. I felt like an idiot.

"Oh, Benny, you look simply adorable!" She kissed my cheek; the usual fast peck. "Let me look at you! Turn around!" So I revolved a couple times for her, and she grabbed me by the head, rubbing it, and fiddling with my ears. "This haircut is so nice! Did Mr. Poore do it?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I said automatically. "Do you like it?"

"I wish you'd done it sooner," she smirked at me. Then she grabbed my hand and I led her into the dining room. I was going to tell her HOW he'd done it, but then again, there he was.

Mr. Poore greeted her with a quick, businesslike kiss on the cheek. Mom played the embarrassed act. I didn't buy it.

"So where's this boy of yours I hear so much about?" Mom asked, and I looked over to see Canyon peeking shyly around the door frame. No way was I doing this solo. I went and took his hand and pulled him in.

"Oh no! If I have to do this, so do you!" I hissed at him.

"Clothes itch!" He protested, his face red, as I presented him to my mom.

"Mom, this is Canyon Poore, my friend," I introduced him.

Mom looked surprised. Then she got all stupid, you know, like how women do with little kids? Except Canyon wasn't a little kid – he was only like an inch [2½ cm] shorter than me! She pinched his cheeks, bent down and hugged him, and then took his hands in hers and just stared at him like she thought she should know him or something.

"Oh, he looks like a little baby angel!" She smiled at him.

Canyon's face got even redder. I made a face. 'Baby angel'? Boy she didn't know Canyon, that was for sure!

"Pleased to meet you, Mum," he said. (I later found out that was how he greeted ladies.) But right then, it surprised me and I snickered. A warning glare from Mr. Poore shut me up, though. I just stared at him as he then kissed her hand, and then pulled out a chair for her at the table.

We all sat.

Dinner was a huge roast with vegetables, and I wasn't surprised to see Canyon pouring us both big glasses of water. Mr. Poore did the serving, the perfect host, and when I looked at the stack of meat on my plate, I didn't think I'd be able to eat it all. Yeah, I was hungry, still sore, but not so wobbly. That and I didn't know what half the vegetables on my plate were.

"Is this from 'Company's Coming Tonight Catering'?" Mom asked.

"Yes, I thought I'd give them a go, Lois," Mr. Poore replied. "Not remarkable, but still quite good, don't you think?" He looked at Canyon and me.

"Yes, sir!" Canyon said.

"He's so mannerly!" Mom pointed out, "Did you say he'd been ill? I think Benny mentioned it."

"Canyon had an accident, shall we say, when he was 9? It's taken him a while to recover, and he still requires intense therapy, doesn't he, Benjamin?" Mr. Poore asked me.

He'd called me 'Benjamin' – for the second time that day. It was a warning sign, I felt it.

"Very intense, sir," I nodded, "I did his routine with him today, and it almost killed me!"

He nodded back and sipped his water. Then Mr. Poore laughed. Canyon just smiled at me. I could feel him put his hand on my leg under the table, and my dick got hard at once. I was starting to worry about it. Why did I do that when he did that?

"Canyon, go and fetch the wine," Mr. Poore then told him.

"Red, sir?" He asked.

Mr. Poore nodded.

Canyon came back with a bottle and a corkscrew, and opened it like a pro. He poured a glass, and Mr. Poore examined it and sniffed it. He gave it a sip. "Excellent," he declared, as Canyon poured another glass – then two more, but only half full.

I just stared at it when he put it in front of me.

We were being served booze?

Now THAT was illegal!

"Benny's never had wine before," Mom pointed out, as she sipped hers. I guess she liked it?

"Drink up, boys," Mr. Poore said, "And don't you dare spill any on those clothes, Canyon!"

"No, sir!" Canyon nodded, and he sat back down and swallowed half of his in one drink!

I tasted mine, and it was gross! It was just 3; GROSS! I thought I'd choke. Canyon kicked my shin, though, and I got the idea. I sucked half of it down, coughed, and got dizzy all at once. Everyone else laughed.

We ate some more. The meal was great, but the wine 3; it took me the rest of dinner to finish it. Canyon finished his fast, and he was staring at the bottle with a longing look on his face. He was only allowed ½ a glass, though. Mom sure seemed to like it, and she and Mr. Poore polished off another whole bottle! She was giggly and stupid by the time we got to dessert. Chilled fruit with whipped topping, homemade, Mr. Poore said.

I was so stuffed, and so dizzy, I didn't know if I could eat any more. I managed it, because I was afraid of being punished for it. I kept thinking about Canyon's red butt that day, and I just knew a spanking was coming.

When we were finally done, it was getting close to 9.

"Canyon, tell our GUESTS goodnight," Mr. Poore glanced at me and winked. "It's your bedtime, and you've already cleaned up, so another bath isn't needed. I'll be in shortly to tuck you in."

Canyon kinda bowed to my mom like a little show-off, kissed her hand again, and told her how nice it was that she'd come. Then he hugged me. I hugged him back. Then he kissed me on the cheek and told me he loved me!

Mom just stared, her jaw dropped. I felt like falling through the floor. Mr. Poore just smiled slightly at me.

Canyon scampered off to his room, and I realized that I hadn't seen it yet. That was another item for the weird-list: like when I was at Scott's, we mostly hung out in his room, or vice versa. I made a note to myself to get to see that room.

I looked back at mom, but Mr. Poore was offering her the last of the wine, distracting her. I thought, 'good, maybe she won't remember him kissing me!'

Mom offered to help clean up, but Mr. Poore wouldn't hear of it. He then showed us out, walking us to the gate and unlocking it. "When did that get there?" Mom asked.

"It was there when we moved in?" Mr. Poore told her, and THAT was a bald lie! I just stared at him. "Benny can bring the clothes back on Monday morning when we take you to the airport, Lois," He went on, "I'm sure you have things to do with him this weekend before you leave?"

I looked at mom. I had a feeling if she didn't say something, I was going to be expected at 8 again, and that my two weeks would start two days early.

"Yes, we've got so much to," she giggled again. The wine had gone to her head. Mr. Poore looked disappointed as he looked at me. "I like to put everything in order before I go on a long trip, get the house ready to close up, shut off the utilities and all that. Are you sure it won't be a bother to take me to the airport?"

"Canyon hasn't had a field trip in a long time, Lois," Mr. Poore assured her. "I'm sure he'll love it." He was still looking at me, though. "Lois, there is the matter of the legal documents, especially in the area of punishment."

My heart skipped a beat.

"While Benny was almost the perfect child today," He patted my shoulder, as we went through the gate. "He did make a few mistakes. Nothing large, and his worst one was punished by how short his hair is. We still have issues to resolve, however," He glanced at me.

That was sorta another lie, too.

"What did he do?" Mom growled, giving me a not-so-hard cuff to the head. "And what was that about kissing that boy?"

"Oh, just small things, Lois, really. Nothing broken. And Canyon is a little – affectionate, I'm sure you saw? Why, in just two days, he's come to think Benny like a brother! He's also a bit 3; developmentally behind, shall we say?"

Mom bought it, thank God!

"Good, for a minute I thought Ben was gay!" She snorted.

'Ben' again 3; not 'Benny.'

"But since I'm to be his legal guardian for two weeks," Mr. Poore gave her a look, and she didn't catch it. But I did. "I think I must inform you, that I feel that Benny could do with a proper spanking. Some of the things he says he does? How long has it been?"

My stomach flipped. I thought I was gonna be sick. I KNEW that was coming! He'd smoothed over the kiss-thing, but now he was on about getting me spanked!

"'A sample for later,'" he'd said, after the haircut.

"Too long, I suppose?" Mom glared at me, not even bothering to ask ME what I'd done! I started to say something, but didn't. Mr. Poore was right there, you know. "I admit, he does run wild. And some of his friends 3;" she sighed.

"A firm hand is required, Lois," Mr. Poore told her. "Mainly, it's his manners, or lack of them. He did well at dinner, but he's a quick study and has been learning all day from Canyon. Are you sure you wouldn't like a weekend for yourself, just you? We could take him two days early?"

I just about threw up! If I had to go then, there, then I wouldn't have the chance for two weeks to tell Scott anything, or try to solve this big mystery!

"Oh, no! I can't ask you to do that," Mom replied, and I know I sighed in relief. "I feel bad enough about you taking him, as it is! It's so generous! No," She sighed again, and I could tell, she was drunk. "He can spend tomorrow and Sunday contemplating being grounded," She hiccoughed, "while he helps get the house ready to close up!"

"Good idea," Mr. Poore replied, but he sounded disappointed. "Goodnight, then! I'll see you Monday at 8:30 to leave for the airport?"

"Yes, thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. Poore," she replied, and slapped me across the butt. Hard. For her. It stung, and besides, I was getting sore all over again.

"WHAT did you DO to upset him so much?" She demanded of me, as we walked towards the house.

The gate closed behind us with a CLICK! that sounded like a gunshot in the dark.

Chapter Seven

So much for dinner. Hang in there, it gets better. Remember how I was dreading having Scott see me?

Mom didn't get loaded that much, but when she did, she was a real bitch. I wondered if Mr. Poore knew that, since he knew everything else? She sent me straight to bed, it wasn't even 10 yet, and smacked my sore ass all the way up the stairs.

"Why I ever 3; raise a boy alone 3; damn men 3; cut their balls off 3; up and leave, what they do 3; sign him over for good!" She was talking to herself as she slammed her bedroom door. "Damn air conditioner!" I heard her yell. Then it got quiet.

That was another thing – her stupid 'anti-man' rants when she got drunk. I was just glad she didn't do it that much. Maybe once a month, but that was enough. The last time she slapped me so hard that it knocked a tooth loose. The good thing was, she passed out quick. I gave her ½ hour, tops, then she'd be snoring.

What do you expect out of someone who doesn't even feed you half the time, and was gone all day? Normally, mom's rants didn't bother me. Then again, she might really like Canyon if she only knew?! But when she said, "Sign him over for good," that really hurt.

I cried, and I thought it was stupid. Who cared, anyway? Hell, she only noticed me when I fucked up.

One good thing about Mr. Poore, I thought: he had food, and a lot of it. And a lot of it was stuffed into ME right then. Being full, warm, sore, all I wanted to do was lay down, but I wasn't gonna let HER know that. I hung up the black monkey suit so it wouldn't get damaged, and get me punished, and laid down naked on my bed. I didn't even think about it – I just did it. It was hot, and it felt good.

Heck, I didn't give myself ½ hour, either. I was dizzy and yawning, and still tasting that wine in my mouth.

I guess I didn't go to sleep right off. I just laid there, all hot, sore, and more confused about what was going on. So far, all I knew was my necklace was going to give me a tanline, on purpose. I had no clue why, when you laid out naked so you DIDN'T get lines? And how in the HELL did Canyon survive every day? I hurt so bad that I felt worse than if it was the flu. And I was looking at two weeks of it. I just stared at the ceiling in the dim light. There were street lights on all night, so it was never really dark if your windows pointed the right way. Mine did. Good thing. I hated the dark.

Scott made fun of that, too, when he found out. I spent the night there once when I was like 6, and when he turned off the lights, I freaked. He never let me live it down, either. Scared of the dark, small dick, shortest kid, and now he had my new haircut to make fun of.

I touched my head.

"Why'd I let him do it?" I asked myself. "Not like I could stop him," I said back, remembering the smack to my ass that was 'just a sample'.

I shivered again. I had more punishment coming, I knew. The haircut was just because he told Mom I'd get one, and shorter since I tried to run.

Canyon's butt had looked burned. Worse than my sunburn, which was healed.

Was he going to do that to me, if legally, he COULD?

Damn if my dick wasn't getting hard again!

I played with it for a while, but the blanket under me rubbing my sore butt was annoying. I gave up and rolled over on my side, and my stomach looked huge. "Least he cooks food," I was saying to myself, and I must have fell asleep wishing he'd come and tucked me in.

(Just to let you know, I know why I thought that now. I didn't back then, though.)

Next thing I knew, I was waking up at like 2:30 with pains again.

I could hear Mom, snoring, passed out. I shut her door and ran to the bathroom, where I had another one of those gigantic dumps. All I could think was it was a shock to my system from the diet change. It took forever to get clean, and when I did, I was thirsty. I went and got a pop, sucked it down, and realized I was wide awake again.

Don't you hate that?

I enjoyed the pop, though, after all that water he'd made us suck down all day. I guess Canyon wasn't even allowed Tabb, with no sugar in it. I was still sore, so I got an aspirin.

I sat up for about an hour, with just the streetlights and Mrs. Smith's cat. I had another pop. Apparently, I was grounded for two days. And so was Scott!

On impulse, I went and grabbed a pair of shorts and biked it down to Scott's. Not a good idea, either. One aspirin wasn't going to do it. There was a dim light coming from his window, seeing as how the jerk had his own 15" TV in his room – Christmas from Grandma. Hell, I didn't have a Grandma. All I had was Mom.

'You got 3; him 3; ' I found myself thinking, when I tapped on Scott's window three times. It was the signal, you know. But why was I thinking about 3; my new neighbors?

"The fuck you doin' out at 3:30?" Scott asked me.

"The fuck YOU doin' up at 3:30?" I replied.

Scott laughed. "Dude, there is a righteous porno on cable! God, I wish I had a VCR!"

I didn't have the heart to tell him that the porno I'd just seen probably blew (haha!) his out of the water. I bet Scott had never seen two college boys do it!

Anyway, he gave me a hand up and I went through the window.

"So, has Mr. Rich got that missing black kid chained up in his basement?" Scott asked me.

"Funny, dickhead," I playfully shoved him.

"So, you had dinner? Did you meet the sick kid?" He asked eagerly.

I gave him a quick rundown on Canyon, but left out the major details of my day with him. "I can tell ya one thing, buddy, that poor kid's therapy sessions will kill ya! I still hurt!"

"So he's about like Evan, then, six in the head?" Scott asked, "But he's smart?"

I nodded. "He's learning Spanish, too."

"He sounds weird," Scott dismissed it, more interested in the porno. I had admit, it wasn't a bad one. I didn't get real hard, though, which I didn't understand. Scott accused me of having defective nuts. I punched him in his. He punched me back, and I double over.

CHRIST, it hurt! And he really didn't hit me that hard!

That's when he saw it.

"The FUCK happened to your hair???"

"It was a haircut, or an ass-blistering," I told him, my face hot.

"I'd have taken the beating!" Scott gasped. "Dude, you look like GI Joe!"

"It's cooler," I said.

"I'll sweat, thanks," Scott shook his shaggy head, and went back to the movie.

OK, so he didn't overreact?

When I was pretty much over the nut shot, and he was over my hair, I saw that he had his hand on the front of his shorts, and he was hard. OK, his dick wasn't huge, not by a long shot. But it was at least twice as big as mine. It had to be 4" [10 cm] hard. He saw me looking.

"Dude, you REALLY need to see a doctor," he told me. "You're gonna be 13 this fall, and you don't even have one hair? Can you even jerk off?"

I decided to say it.

"I 3; I got off once, this week, but it was dry." I confessed.

Scott looked shocked.

"You mean you don't shoot juice yet?" He asked, and I finally had his attention.

I just shook my head. "It felt real good though."

"Well, DUH?!" He laughed. "That's why you keep doing it!"

"It's better with lotion, or something, you don't get red," I advised him.

"Never thought of that, Ben!" He grinned, "You might be onto something! How about sunscreen?" And he just happened to have a bottle.

"Dude, I don't wanna watch you jack off!" I said, wrinkling my nose.

"Ben, it's a porno, I'm hard, we're guys, we've swum naked, so what?" He justified it. "It's not like I wanna fuck you in the ass or something!" He grinned again. "You just don't think you can do it, do you?"

"Can if I want!" I argued.

But could I?

Scott slid his briefs off. His dick was hard, all right, and throbbing as he squirted the SPF on it. It looked like cum. I felt mine getting hard then, and did the same. I'd been naked enough lately already, and it didn't bother me a bit.

He had sparse black hair, and you could still see his skin through it. It was kinda like seeing an-almost-bald guy's head. But he was getting some grown in, and I wasn't. "I just measured it, and it's right at 4" [10 cm]!" He said proudly.

"Must shrink in cold pool water," I joked, as I looked at it and got even harder. Full size, 2" [5 cm], and ready for once!

So we watched the TV and jacked off. Scott got off first, surprise surprise, and when he did, he made this stupid face and groaned and shot 3; and hit ME with it!

"Watch where you point that thing, asshole!" I told him. "Ewww! Gimme a Kleenix! Gross!"

By then, MY mood was gone. I was 'standing down'. "Thanks for ruining it for me, dickhead," I told him.

"We don't have all night, Tiny," He smirked at me.

"Up yours," I said back.

"Yeah, but I'm not gay," He told me, and sounded just like Mom had: 'Maybe he's gay?' He sounded grossed out by it.

But I just realized something – I got hardest, stayed hard, and had got off once – with a boy doing it.

OK, Canyon said he wasn't a really a boy anymore, since he had no balls.

Still 3;

What IF I am gay? I worried.

By then, Scott was yawning. I told him I had to stay with Mr. Poore for two weeks, and that if he didn't hear from me every day, once at least, to call the cops.

"If you're that scared of him, don't go?" Scott suggested, "I mean, what did he do, ass-rape you, or something?"

"No," I sighed, but I remembered that my butt always felt funny those days I'd napped there, like I had to poop, then couldn't. But I was sure going lately! Besides, with that monster dick of his, he'd have split me in half! If that thing had been in me, I shivered, I'd'a been bleeding! "Scott, look," I reminded him of my theory, and how things just didn't add up or look right, "If I don't call 3;"

"OK, OK," He gave in, yawned, and rolled over.

Since he was asleep, I let myself out the window and rode home.

It was about 5AM when I got home and washed his cum off me.

I woke up around noon.

Mom was gone, and a note on the table said, "Sorry if I said anything last night. Mr. Poore got me tipsy! Be back soon, running to the gas, light, phone company! – Mom."

Not 'love, Mom.' Just 'Mom.'

I sighed and got myself a bowl of cereal. I wondered what Canyon was having for lunch. I opened the patio glass door and listened, but I didn't hear anything next door. "Be almost worth a spanking," I muttered, listening to the quiet of my own big, empty home. Hell, I didn't even have a dog or a fish.

"Tubing," I muttered, and I went and got the piece I'd bought. I got Mr. Britannia out, and looked it up. I found it under 'S' for 'surgery'. They put this stuff in mainly to be a drain, to let fluids out, or sometimes to put fluids in. "The hell's he doing, making mummies?" I wondered. Then, on impulse, I went back to 'C'.

"Catheter"

"Holy shit!" I gasped, when I saw the illustration.

It was tube that went up your DICK to drain your piss into a bag!

"Ow, ow, ow!" I said, holding my hardening little dick and clenching my legs.

I didn't realize how long I sat there looking shit up until Mom got back. Hell, it was 3PM!

"You didn't leave the house?" She seemed surprised.

"I'm grounded," I mumbled, sitting there in my room, reading my encyclopedia. She felt my forehead.

"Should I call a priest?" She asked.

"Mom," I sighed, as she looked over my shoulder.

"Catholicism?"

"I was going for 'cats'," I lied.

"What's this?" She then asked, holding up the shorts I'd dropped in the yard last night. "You taking up streaking?"

If only she knew!

"Don't tell me, I don't want to know if you're mowing the grass in the nude," She sighed, and got up.

"Mom?" I asked, not knowing why I did, "When am I gonna hit puberty?"

"Hopefully never!" She smiled at me, and it gave me chills.

Like someone was walking on your grave, the old saying is.

"First hair sprouts, and it all goes to hell," Mom said dramatically. "Too bad boys aren't like puppies. I'm beginning to think men should all be fixed at age 2!"

"Canyon was 9," I let it slip. After all, she was on it again – men men men.

"What?"

"His accident. He lost his nuts," I said. "Please don't tell!" I added.

"And how do YOU know?"

"He 3; he told me, Mr. Poore thought I should know!"

It really wasn't a lie. After all, Canyon invited me over and just showed me.

"Well, he's better off," Mom smiled, and patted my head. "None of those damn hormones, bothering girls, wanting to get in their pants, teenage pregnancies!"

"So it's better to be gay?" I asked, honestly wanting to know. After all, if Mom was on about men and women, what did she think of men and men? "Or Lesbians?"

"WHERE did you hear that?" She gasped.

"Scott," I said fast. When in doubt, blame Scott. After all, he did it to me.

"Homosexuality is NOT better," she flinched. "Although you don't get anyone pregnant, do you?" She laughed. "If you're gay, Benny, just don't tell me, OK?" And with that, she left my room.

I sighed. I sighed a lot back then.

I dropped the book and got out 'H'. There wasn't shit on 'homosexual,' but Lesbians came from somewhere in Greece called 'Lesbos'. That was nice to know.

Being grounded sucked.

Stuck in my room, no TV, couldn't go anywhere, and just that dumb DJ on the radio for company. I dunno what Mom was doing and I didn't care. I laid down on my bed, and drifted off. "Canyon's havin' a nap," I was saying to no one but the walls.

Mom woke me up around 6, which I thought was about right. She'd made a frozen pizza, and sorta burnt it. It was crunchy. It took a lot of water to wash it down, since we were out of pop and I couldn't go to The Shack to get more. It made me think of Canyon again.

What VCR tape was he watching? Spanish Conquistadors again? Aztec sacrifices? Mom had the TV on, so I just sat and watched what she did. I took a bath around 9, tried to jack off, failed, and just went to bed naked.

I slept all night, and woke up Sunday morning – but I wasn't hard. Mom made me mow the grass again, and it didn't need it. Then it was trim, and prune the dumb bush. I was still kinda sore, and mowing made it worse. I just wanted to hack that bush to bits! Then we washed the car. TV dinner for lunch. I hate Salisbury steak to this day. We washed the car around 2, and I could hear Canyon splashing around. I looked up, and saw the van pulling out.

OK, not that weird. Canyon will stay on schedule, I knew. He'd dive and swim until 4, then have his shake and take a nap. I wondered if he had to mow? I was putting the hose up when I got my answer:

"Benny!" Canyon was yelling over through the fence, "Are you out? Father wanted me to give you this letter!" A paper airplane came sailing over the fence:

"Benny, could you mow my lawn? There's a fiver in it for you, as I don't allow Canyon to do that. Sharp objects, you see! – Love, MP."

The gate was unlocked.

I had on dirty, wet red shorts and 'work tennies', holes and all, but Canyon was standing there naked in all his cawh-STRAY-ted glory. He almost tackled me, and kissed me on the mouth. I got hard at once. He laughed.

"Canyon, what's a 'fiver'?" I asked him.

"Five dollars!" He smiled at me, taking my hand. "I'm not allowed to mow, you see. Father is afraid I'll hurt myself, but he says you seem to know how to do it well?"

I rolled my eyes.

He led me into the garage, which I hadn't seen before.

I stopped.

Sitting there, when he hit the lights, was a shining red Ferrari! I damn near pissed my pants!

"Ah, the mower," Canyon said, and he presented me with this manual, rolling-cage-dinosaur of a push-mower. "It's all oiled and ready."

"Then what do you use gas for?" I asked.

"Weed whacker!" He laughed. "Oh, and Father said wear these!" He then held up a pair of heavy, steel-toed boots. They were about my size, too. And new. I smelled a rat. "I have to get wet now," Canyon excused himself, giving me another hug, "Or my necklace will shrink in the sun!" He reminded me.

"MOM! This is gonna take some time," I yelled over the fence. "Old fashioned mower!"

"It's good for you!" She yelled back.

I sighed again.

After one strip down the lawn, I was melting. It was at least 95F [35°C] and humid, and the mower was clumsy. Canyon was just paddling away, waving at me now and then, and looking sad. I motioned him over once and let him push the silly thing for about 10 feet [3 m].

"This bloody well sucks arse!" He declared, pointed at his collar, and got back in the water.

(Yes, I was thinking of it as a collar by then.)

That was when I realized it: If Mr. Poore left, Canyon had to stay wet, in the pool, or he'd choke to death! That was why he called me over – so he wasn't swimming alone. I felt good about that, though.

I was thinking about Scott and how he just ignored his little brother, Evan, and it didn't make sense to me. One inch [2½ cm] wasn't much, but Canyon already seemed like the little brother I didn't have. I got to thinking what if something happened to him? How would I feel? I was pushing away, my legs aching, my back screaming, when I started to cry.

What the HELL?!

What was wrong with me? Boys didn't start crying for no good reason?

Canyon was brining me a quart jar of ice water, but when he saw me, he sat it down. He started in at once, looking me over, "Are you hurt, Benny?" I just hugged him. "It's OK, Benny, honestly," he kept telling me. I sat down and drank my water. I couldn't say why I was crying, just that I stopped all at once. I had to pee, too.

"No peeing until at least 6," Canyon reminded me. I had to laugh. He was so devoted to his routine.

And for good reason.

His butt was pink again, and it wasn't sunburn. It didn't match the rest of him.

"Did you get spanked?" I had to ask.

"Yes, Benny," He smiled at me. "But I needed it. I was bad."

"What did you DO?" I had to ask.

"I 3; I wouldn't be quiet when Father said to 'hush'. I was 3; begging him to go and fetch you, Benny!" He gave me that face again.

I didn't know what to say. My damn dick was throbbing, so much it hurt. I had to pee so bad 3;

Then Canyon was tugging my shorts down. I didn't stop him. He pulled them off over my boots, got the bottle of SPF, and started jacking me off again.

I stayed hard, as his little soft hand worked my two inches [5 cm], and in a couple of minutes, I was in heaven again. It was just like the last time, my hips bucking, me fucking his hand. I was panting, laying there in the grass when he was done. "Holy shit," I groaned. "Why can't I do this alone?"

"I dunno," Canyon shrugged, "But my necklace is tight! You best finish, it's almost 4, you know!" And he went right back to the pool.

I got the yard done, without peeing all over myself, but it hurt. My nuts were sagging and aching too, but the heat did make it look bigger! Those boots were killing my legs, though.

At 4, I was done. Just.

Canyon brought me an iced protein shake, and I sucked it down so fast I got a headache. I sat down and moaned.

"You silly prat!" He laughed, and turned the hose on me!

God, it felt good. I pulled the boots off, he threw me a towel, then went and got a $5 bill for me. (Hey, back then, that was high pay for a small yard!)

"I have to go and nap now. I'd have you come in," he said sadly, "But I know your mum has grounded you. Best go home, mate." He then hugged me again and put the boots up. I checked out the car one more time. It was awesome! Where'd he get the money for it? I was distracted by Canyon giggling.

"Your bollocks are hanging!" He laughed. I looked down. They were, and they ached. But being jacked off was worth it. I told him so.

"You know, Benny," he said over his shoulder on the way in, "I bet if you asked my physician, really nice, he'd cut those off for you! You'll feel ever so much better once they're out!"

"Riiiiiight," I just gaped at him. I grabbed up my shoes and went back to the gate. "See ya!" I called back. He waved from the door, then he was gone. The gate was still unlocked, but it locked behind me!

"BENJAMIN!" Mom yelled at me.

I was standing there holding my shoes, stark naked!

"You went for swim, didn't you?" She accused me.

I nodded. "The grass is cut?" I offered.

"Silly boy! Get inside, before you give Mrs. Smith a coronary!"

I took my $5 and went inside. My 'fiver.' I was dripping when I got to the bathroom to pee, too, almost didn't make it!

When I got up to my room, it was just past 4. I fell over for a nap, the fan blowing on my damp skin and feeling so good.

I had dreams about Canyon jacking me off, and when I woke up around 6:15, I was humping the mattress! Nothing came out, though, and it didn't feel nearly as good. It just made me hurt again.

"If you asked my physician," he'd said 3; HOLY SHIT! Did he really think a doctor would just castrate me if asked?

Without realizing it, even though he was gone, Mr. Poore had me on 'the schedule.' Canyon said it, 'shed-jew-ul.' I thought about that when I went downstairs. I hadn't even peed when I had to; I held it. Hell, Mr. Poore would probably have found that out, too. I was beginning to think the house was bugged, like a spy movie, or he had hidden cameras. But at The Shack? Nahhh 3;

Mom suggested I get a bath, clean clothes, and since the car had AC, we were going out for dinner. Burgers and fries. Joy. That was pretty much it for Sunday night. Some movie I don't remember, in the stuffy house with fans going, and then I went bed.

I got shaken awake the next morning by Mom, and yelled that I was laying there naked! She didn't seem impressed. She made me take ANOTHER bath, and had me put on the best school clothes I had left. A couple donuts, and breakfast was done.

"You look like a big M'n'M," She told me, taking in my neon green shirt and white athletic shorts – with an 'M' on the leg from school. She threw a dishrag at me. "Clean those shoes! Good God, we're late!" She gasped, as she grabbed a bag. "Get that!" She pointed at a suitcase. I did that. It weighed a ton! What was she taking, lead bricks?

Mr. Poore was out front. He honked once.

"Shit," I thought, "Scheduling!"

We dashed out to the van.

I was surprised to see Canyon belted in the back bench seat, wearing a plain white T and white gym shorts with brown sandals.

OK, sandals hadn't caught on yet, but in a few years, they'd be HUGE! Boys still seem to like them, too.

He had a shake, and one for me, too.

"Benny!" He crowed in delight. "You look like a large citrus!" He leaned over. "I asked Father about making you an appointment with my physician this week. He's going to make a house call on Thursday!" Canyon just smiled at me, nodding.

I stared at him.

"Seriously?" I gasped. Was he fucking joking? With Canyon, you could NOT tell!

"Seriously, Benny," Mr. Poore said, as we sped off. I let it go.

At some point in time, Mr. Poore must have been in Indy car driver, but then again, he did own a Ferrari. It was a wild ride; thank God for seat belts! Mom was as green as my shirt when we got there. She was out the door, some teenager grabbed her bags, and she yelled back her thanks.

Then she was gone.

"Bye, mom," I sighed.

I looked at Mr. Poore watching me in the rear view mirror.

"I'm sorry she was late, sir," I offered. "She usually is."

"No offense taken, Benny," he smiled at me. "Rude of her, though? Not even a kiss goodbye, and for two weeks?"

"Yeah, tha's mom," I shook my head.

"Thank you for doing such an excellent job on the yard, too," He told me. "Are you saving your fiver?"

"Yes, sir," I mumbled.

"Always speak up, like you have a pair, even if you don't," Mr. Poore said, and Canyon busted out laughing. He laughed until he was hiccupping. Mr. Poore got to laughing too, and it was contagious.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"About the doctor?" I finally had to ask.

"Oh, he's coming over, yes, but he just doesn't chop off boys' balls at the drop of a ham sandwich, now does he?" Mr. Poore grinned.

"I don't know, sir, does he?" I asked, and I was REALLY asking.

My dick was hard, too, but the loose shorts hid it.

"Benny," he said seriously, as we stopped at a red light, "Do you really want to be castrated? Do you know what it will do to your development as a man? What it will mean in adult life, if you do not seek professional medical care to develop into a man-proper?"

"No, sir, just that you can't make babies, or get hard, or 'do it' with a girl, I read it," I told him.

"There's more to it than, that, son," He said, and I shivered again. That shiver. Someone was walking over 3;

He said 'son'.

Legally, I was his son for two weeks.

He had the legal right to get me professional medical care.

I felt sick.

Canyon took my hand. He couldn't reach me for the seal belt, to kiss me, but I knew he wanted to. He just squeezed my hand and smiled. I leaned up a bit to look out, but Canyon didn't.

"Sir," I wanted to change the subject, "Where are we going? This isn't scheduled?" I had to ask.

"Oh, smashing, Benny!" Mr. Poore smiled in the mirror at me, "No, it's not! But Canyon hasn't had a field trip in months, not since we moved in. He's never been to this mall before, and they have AC. Which reminds me, when we get home, we MUST double check your house!"

"Father, might we go to the music store, please?" Canyon asked. "I do so want the new album by 'Ahh-zee-ahh,' he pronounced it, "Or perhaps 'Yes'?"

"One or the other, son," Mr. Poor smiled. "And Benny, there's a lesson in this field trip for you, too, son!"

He said 'son' again.

When we parked, Mr. Poore came back and undid our seat belts. Then, to my surprise, he got behind Canyon's seat and I saw him unlock a box on the back of it. Canyon leaned forward, and his necklace came off. It had been locked to a heavy strap through the seat, to hold him in! I could see the tanline. Very stark in contrast.

Then he told me to hold still.

He pulled out a pair of 'cat-claw scissors', and carefully cut off my woven necklace in one snip. It fell in my lap, and I just looked at it.

I could see my tanline in the mirror. Patterned. Like Asian letters. I wondered what they said?

"Lesson #1," Mr. Poore said, as he ushered us out.

And even though I was fully clothed, as I touched my neck and my closely-cropped hair, I felt naked.

Chapter Eight

So we were going to the mall. I could see why he thought of it as a 'field trip' for Canyon, who hardly ever left the house. I usually only made it there a few times a year, mainly for back-to-school crap. The locals that hung out there, especially in the summertime, we called 'mall-rats'. With my AC being out, I could see why they did it!

Canyon really didn't look comfortable in clothes at all, and he stuck out like a busted thumb in his white suit. He kinda looked like a starter for a church soccer game, except for his sandals. Me, I blended in with any other kids there like a chameleon.

Except for my hair.

Canyon and me were the only ones with close-cropped haircuts, and we got some looks from other boys. The few men we passed – they must have worked nights to be out – seemed to like it. One old man who was about 150 years old, even shook Mr. Poore's hand and gave us both a quarter before he hobbled off griping about 'hippies and the younger generation.' I guess his eyes were too bad to see Canyon's earrings.

"Perhaps I should tell him he's 20 years out of date?" Mr. Poore laughed.

Canyon was studying the vending machines in the hallway, and his father nodded when he looked at him. There was like mental telepathy between them, I thought. Canyon waited, and got a quarter pack of no-sugar gum at the store on the west side of the first hall. He shared it with me.

"Boys, sit here a moment," Mr. Poore then told us, pointing to a bench. "I should make a call. Five minutes at the most!" Then he headed for the payphone, after mooching my quarter!

(No cell phones back then, or card-reading phones, remember?)

We were sitting there when a gang of about ten boys came up to us. They were about our age, and all dressed about like me. Long-haired-Mall-rats. One look at their tennis shoes told me they were too poor to have central air at home. That was why they were there.

"Are you a boy or a short-haired girl?" One of them laughed at Canyon. They all joined in.

"Joinin' the army?" Another one asked me.

"Did'ja steal mommy's earrings?" Another laughed at Canyon.

I was getting ready to run, looking for Mr. Poore, but Canyon just sat there with that blank look on his face.

"I never had a mother," he replied, just chewing his gum.

"I'm not surprised!" The first boy laughed again.

"So are you a BOY or a GIRL?" The second repeated.

"No," Canyon told him.

"Guys, he's 3; he's been sick 3;" I tried to butt in, since they were ignoring me.

"No shit?" The first, the leader(?) snorted. "And what are you?"

"My brother," Canyon told him in a voice deeper than I'd heard him use. He got up. The first boy shoved him down; they laughed again.

"Can- 3;"

"Stay OUT of it, B.," he snapped at me. He got back up and cracked his knuckles.

It happened so damn fast I didn't even see it. One second, Canyon was staring down this boy a head taller than him, and the next thing I knew, the kid was down on the floor holding his face and crying. For just a flash, I saw Canyon leave the floor.

"OOO BWOKE BY 'OSE!" He wailed.

His gang backed off fast.

I saw that one of Canyon's sandals was gone.

I guess he kicked him in the face?

One of the smaller boys ran and got the sandal, gave it back to Canyon, and they scattered.

About then, a mall cop showed up.

"What's all this?" He demanded. Then he looked at Canyon and smiled.

"He was picking on us, Joe," Canyon told him.

Joe looked at me, bent down, touched my tanline with one finger, rubbed the side of my head, and then smiled. "Where's your daddy?" Joe asked.

"Phone, sir," Canyon told him.

I perked up at once. Canyon and Joe knew each other. And Joe knew something about the tanlines on our necks?

"You there," He jerked the hurt kid to his feet by the shirt collar. The kid looked at Canyon, wide-eyed, and shook loose and ran!

"YOU, Canyon, are a trouble-maker!" Joe laughed at him. Then he hugged him! For someone who didn't get out much, Canyon seemed known? But by a mall-cop?

"Who's your friend?" Joe asked.

"This is my new brother, Benny, sir," Canyon smiled. "He's staying with us now!" Canyon just smiled.

"I 3; see!" Joe said slowly, appraising me. "He's new, you say?"

"Brand new!" Canyon smiled bigger, if he could have?

Just then, Mr. Poore came back. Joe explained it to him. Canyon had sat back down and bowed his head.

"I'd reward him, if he was MY boy," Joe grinned, but I didn't see a wedding ring on his hand. Or a tan mark from it if he'd took it off. "Wish MY boy could learn to fight!"

"Joe," Mr. Poore said in a warning tone, "You know I don't like it when Canyon fights."

I was just blown away. What the hell else did I not know about my new friend?

"Sir, they started it, they were making fun of him!" I spoke up, waving my hand about halfway up.

"Is this true?" Mr. Poore asked.

"Yes," Some lady cut in, "I was coming out of the shop there, and I saw it! Picking on the poor little thing!" She kinda whined.

Poor little thing? Canyon? Hell he'd just kicked a big kid in the face!

"Not a mark on him," Joe pointed out.

"Canyon," Mr. Poore said, softer.

Canyon finally looked at him.

"How many were there?"

"I dunno, 10 er 12?"

Mr. Poore's jaw dropped.

"Reward him, Martin," Joe said.

And I finally knew Mr. Poore's first name! 'Martin'!

Mr. Poore and Joe shook hands. Mr. Poore sighed. "Boy, you never cease to amaze me!" He told Canyon, who finally smiled. Mr. Poore held out his hand. Canyon got up hugged him instead. I got up, and waited. Joe nodded at me, grinned, and left. I swore he was checking me out!

"Sir?" I asked, still half-scared of him and what I was looking at with two weeks, "How did that man know Canyon, and why'd he look at my tanline on my neck?"

"Lesson #1," Mr. Poore smiled at me.

I thought about it. If they were friends, sure he knew Canyon, then. But 3; then I knew it! The tanline! It was a sign to Mr. Poore's friends! People who knew him! People like him 3;

'Like him?'

What was I thinking? I was thinking about the missing Ronnie T. who might 'Tyrone' again. THAT'S what I was thinking. God, were they setting it up to grab ME next? And with mom being out of town for two weeks? It was all about how Joe looked at me. How he touched me 3;

I shivered again. Hell, I was ALREADY grabbed 3;

"Well, my boy, it looks like you can have both albums now," Mr. Poore conceded, and steered us towards the record store. (OK, 8-tracks were on the way out, cassettes were coming up, and the CD hadn't come out yet.)

The Muzaak system was playing a song, and I got chills: "Oh, we all have a face, that we hide away forever, and we take them out and show ourselves when everyone has gone. Some are satin, some are steel, some are silk and some of leather 3;"

I thought of Canyon dressed in white satin.

Once in the record store, Canyon seemed to cut loose. For him, I mean – he acted like a normal kid. He took off at once – as soon as his dad released his hand and slapped his butt, that is. It was another signal. He went right to the rock section and started flipping through albums, smiling like it was his birthday.

"Do you like music, Benny?" Mr. Poore asked me, as I just followed Canyon. I didn't have any money of my own on me. I'd left the $5 at home, and he'd took my quarter for the phone call.

"Yes, sir, but I don't have very many records," I told him. "Mom says that's what the radio is for."

"Then how can you listen to what you wish, when you wish?"

I shrugged. "Call in a request?" I offered.

Mr. Poore was not impressed. "Your mother does not reward, nor positively reinforce good behaviour," he said in a mad voice. "I shall remedy that at once. You will pick out twelve of your favorite records, or cassettes if you prefer. Consider it 12 years of missed Christmases. Canyon," he added, "Is this acceptable?"

"I didn't know, Father!" Canyon said, just as mad. "She doesn't get you special things, or do special things, when you do good?"

I shook my head, and my face was hot again.

It was true, though. Mom didn't buy me shit. Christmas was clothes, candy, maybe a model kit. Mostly it was things like those dumb encyclopedias. I had to beg for a bike when I outgrew my 20" [50 cm]. I learned a long time ago not to ask for shit in a store. "I'M NOT MADE OUT OF MONEY!" She'd yell at me.

"You don't listen to disco, do you?" Canyon fretted.

"Uhm, no?"

"Good!"

"Amen!" Mr. Poore added.

So Canyon got his promised two, and I got nine albums, three tapes. three of them weren't on vinyl, they were out. I wasn't sure about tapes. They looked junky to me, tiny little print, tiny little artwork. Canyon's 'Azia' record was so cool with that dragon coming up out of the ocean on the cover. I'd move to the 'D's' while Mr. Poore and Canyon were down at the 'Y' end of the racks.

I was picking my stuff out when a Japanese-something-kid came up to me and said, "Hi!"

He was about 11, maybe, 10? A bit shorter than Canyon. He had a haircut like ours, and his ears were pierced, too, with gold loops – one in each. I glanced down at Canyon.

Then I looked at the kid and saw the white tanline on his bronze neck.

"Hi, I'm Kim!" He said and held out his hand.

I shook it, slow. He saw I was staring.

"Are you Canyon's new playmate?" He asked.

There was that word again.

I dropped my DD album on the floor. He picked it up.

"I 3; I'm Benny," I told him. Kim? I knew that name! Kim was an Asian name, yeah! "Are you Tryone's friend?" I asked him.

Kim just froze.

I was right. Kim, Tyrone, and Leon.

Leon the realtor, maybe?

Kim then touched my tanline, and I looked at his. He jerked a finger at me, and whispered in my ear. "How do you know about Tyrone?"

"I heard Mr. Poore on the phone. I spent two days at Canyon's already!" I told him. "I'm there for two weeks."

Kim seemed to like that answer, but he looked confused. "Did you work out?"

I looked him over, and he looked just like Canyon – built. Smaller, thin, but built all the same. "Oh, yeah! Canyon almost killed me!" And it wasn't a lie!

Kim smiled. "Don't talk about Tyrone, he's a secret," Kim nodded, very serious. "And you're the new boy, staying two weeks, you said?"

"Yeah?"

"You like that?" Kim asked, "You're not scared?"

"Some?" I played along.

"You seen the doctor yet?"

"No?" I shook my head, and he touched my ear.

"Oh, OK!" He said, smiling with bright white teeth.

"Are you Japanese?" I asked.

"Half," Kim nodded. "Half Filipino. I guess I'm rare?"

"Huh?"

"I dunno either," he shrugged. Then he looked at his watch. "I have to go, Daddy's ready!" He pointed to a man near the exit. He waved. We both waved. Then the man (who was white) pointed. Kim nodded and his eyes got wide, then he ran down to the end of the rack and greeted Mr. Poore and Canyon. The boys hugged, and Mr. Poore gave Kim a shake, then kissed the shaved side of his head. Kim slapped me on the shoulder on the way out.

"See ya!" He called back.

When we checked out, I asked Canyon, "Is there anyone you DON'T know?"

"Lots of people!" Canyon giggled. "Do you like Kim?"

Mr. Poore, ever watching us, I saw.

"He was nice," I nodded.

"He's more than that!" Mr. Poore said in far-off voice, looking out the door.

I decided to keep my mouth shut about Tyrone. After all, I thought – I hoped – Mr. Poore didn't know I'd spied on him that night he was out having a drink with Mrs. Smith's cat.

Did he?

He knew you were at The Shack, I remembered.

From there, we went to the bookstore. Canyon loved books, and by the time we got out, Mr. Poore had shot another $50 on his Gold Card. I was just about to say something, I couldn't understand it, but I guess he saw the look on my face.

"Benny, my money is NOT your concern," he told me with a grin, "As I introduced myself, I am named 'Poore', but I am anything 'but'! I could buy this mall and run it, if I chose to."

I thought of the Ferrari.

"Yes, sir!" I nodded at him, and I was all business, too, like he was.

He laughed and slapped me on the butt, hard! I flinched.

"Let's go have lunch at the buffet," He suggested. "I'm famished. Shopping is hard work!"

Canyon just held his hand and smiled the whole time.

At the buffet, I copied what Canyon was putting on his plate. His watch said it was past 12, and lunch was late, by his schedule. But then again, we were on a field trip. 'Field trip?' I wondered. We didn't meet up with anyone else in the mall that they knew, but I did spot one more short haircut like ours – a boy with a tanline around his neck. He was white, older, taller, and he didn't speak to or look at us as we passed him. He was checking his watch, and he looked like he was hurrying. I didn't think Mr. Poore saw him.

I ended up choking down stuff like green beans, baby cabbages he called 'sprouts', a baked sweet potato, and any kind of meat I wanted. Canyon was tearing up a rare steak with his bare hands like a vampire or something! And of course, water. Lots of water. When we were done eating, I had to pee so bad that I got brave and asked.

Mr. Poore thought about it, like he was teasing me, and finally took us to the restroom.

We didn't hit any clothing stores, but that didn't surprise me. I wondered where Canyon's white outfit had come from anyway. We did go to the sports store, though, where Mr. Poore bought a few sets of ankle weights and more fillers. I wondered what those were for? He also bought some small dumbbells. I had to carry all that!

Our last stop was a shoe store. He bought me sandals like Canyon's, and my beat-up sneakers that had lived all school year went in the trash with my socks. I didn't say a word. HE could answer to Mom about that.

When we got back to the van, he belted Canyon in and put his collar back on him, padlock and all. Then he secured it to the strap through the seat. The van didn't have a side glass, and I knew Canyon couldn't really see out. I only could through the windshield, if I sat up. I put my seatbelt on, and picked up my cut necklace.

I touched my neck.

I remembered Kim doing that to me, and I got hard right off.

Was it some kind of clue he was giving me, about the tanline? About the necklaces 3; collars?

Why did mentioning Tyrone upset him, if they were 'playmates'? He got to go to the mall with his dad, who wasn't Japanese or Filipino, and Tyrone didn't?

Another question.

More mystery.

"So, Benny, tell me what you learned on this excursion?" Mr. Poore asked, glancing at me in the mirror.

I just straight out said it: "Good behaviour is rewarded. Screw up, and you get punished. A swat on the butt don't always mean you were bad. And some boys, like Canyon and me, have tanlines on their necks, and you all know each other, them and their dads."

"You get a gold star!" Mr. Poore laughed.

Canyon glanced up from one of his books and smiled.

"And for that, we're going to reward you later!" Mr. Poore added.

Canyon reached over to hold my hand, but he was smiling. He still looked sad at the same time, though?

The rest of the ride was pretty quiet, and Canyon didn't seem bothered at all that his dad had destroyed the present he'd made me.

When we got home, Mr. Poore hit his door opener and pulled the van into the garage next to the Ferrari. I realized then that just because if the van was gone, it didn't mean that he was. The door went shut.

That was it.

I was trapped for two weeks.

We carried the stuff in, and Canyon organized it at once. Records were on the shelf in the living room, neatly of course, and books on the very full bookshelf. It was like a library along the east wall. Canyon put one book on his nap palette. His watch beeped 4, and he was yawning. I had to pee again, but I didn't dare ask.

It was naptime.

Back to the routine.

We had our shakes, which made me cringe. I hadn't eaten much, though, so I wasn't too full. But I had to pee!

"Undress," Mr. Poore told us, and we stripped off. Clothes went into two bags, one for each of us, and Mr. Poore took them down the hall and up the stairs. I heard a door open, the lock.

We laid down, and I was out like a light.

The alarm woke us up at 6, and my neck itched. I felt like I had to shit, but I figured I wouldn't. Canyon stretched when he got up, hugged me tight, and gasped. Then he smiled again and kissed me on the mouth, hard! I didn't know I was going to do it, but I did – I kissed him back, and I felt his tongue on my lips! I pulled back, looked at him, and he looked like he'd just met Santa Claus or something!

Then Mr. Poore was there.

I held up my hand, pleading on my face.

"What is 6PM, Benny?"

"Free time, sir?" I asked. He nodded, and I ran to pee! I didn't have to poop, either; felt like it, my butt felt funny, but no go.

When I washed my hands, I looked up in the mirror.

My necklace was back, repaired, but it was different: There was a tiny brass padlock on the front now, connected to two woven-in steel rings. I spun it around, and it was really snug. On the back was a ring that was flat on one side, like a 'D'.

Just like Canyon's.

"Benny's my brother!" He'd said.

"Brothers," I whispered, and it came to me – a brotherhood of some kind? Necklaces that locked, left tanlines for ID to others out in public, and all us boys with the same haircuts. Home-schooled, nudist boys 3; with no balls? I had to wonder.

"The doctor's coming on Thursday," he'd said.

Kim asked if I'd saw the doctor yet.

Did Kim have balls?

Did that other boy?

I shivered again.

And what was with that kiss? Kissing me with tongue?! Boys DIDN'T DO that!

"Gay boys with no balls?" I whispered. "Is that it?"

Now I had the collar to keep me there, in addition to being locked in, fenced in, and kept naked.

We had free time.

It was still sunny out, and wouldn't be dark until after 8. Mr. Poore said our reward for being so good at the mall was that we could swim if we wanted to, and that he had a special treat for us. He opened the freezer, and took out a bucket of ice cream. "Home made, and not with sugar," he told us, "Honey!"

Canyon was just drooling, I could tell.

"Benny, how do you like your necklace?" Mr. Poore then asked, his huge dick standing there with that ring in it, like it was making fun of me. I got hard at once. They both laughed. I touched the collar.

Yes, it was a collar, I decided.

Like a dog's.

"I 3; I 3; you fixed it, sir?" I asked.

"I broke it, I fixed it," Mr. Poore explained. "Canyon made it, and it would have just destroyed him to see you not wearing it."

"I love it!" I lied, and Canyon hugged me again. He was near to tears, I thought.

"He thought it was ruined, didn't you, boy?" Mr. Poore asked.

Canyon nodded. "Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir" he added. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

"You made a small error," Mr. Poore told him, and it sounded bad to me. Canyon flinched and held my hand.

"But for now, swim, have fun, whatever. It is your two hours, boys." Then he turned around and headed for the door that led to his office, whatever that was.

We went out to swim, and Canyon seemed happy again.

"He's going to spank you, isn't he?" I asked, as we got wet.

"Yes, but I deserve it," Canyon shrugged. "He always takes care of everything. He never messes up."

"Canyon," I asked him, "What about when he's gone? No one lives forever, I mean?"

"That's why he's training me," Canyon replied, very serious, as he jumped back in.

We swam for about an hour, then Canyon wanted to listen to his new album. We went in, and he played it. The system sounded great! It was the heat of the moment 3; showed in your eyes 3;

"You're gonna be sore tomorrow, Benny," he warned me, "Exercise, you know!"

For a minute, I thought he meant a spanking!

But then I remembered I had made 'errors'.

I had one coming.

And my dick got hard.

Canyon just laughed.

I figured he jack me off in the bath that night. I wanted to try it, but I wasn't sure if 'free time' included that, even though he'd done me that first time and sort of jacked himself off in front of the TV.

We had grilled pork chops and asparagus for dinner. It was gross, but I ate it. He also had us drink red wine again. I choked it down, then hit the water. Then it was time for ice cream, and Canyon was literally bouncing in his seat as it was served to him. It was a 'reward', Mr. Poore called it. It was homemade, and it was great!

We cleaned up, and by then, it was bath time.

Before we went in, though, Mr. Poore asked me, "Benny, when do you usually have, erm, your usual movement?"

"Sir?"

"A bowel movement?" He clarified.

I blushed red, I know.

"Uhhh, usually, I mean, lately, since you started feeding me, at like three in the morning, sir?" I answered.

Why did that matter?

–Scheduling–

I wondered when Canyon took a dump, since it wasn't on the list?

"That just won't do," He told me. "I understand that the diet has shocked your system, but we're going to have to reset your colon," he told me.

I gulped.

Reset it – HOW?

"Sir?"

Canyon was shaking his head.

"Father, he doesn't know," Canyon supplied.

"What is WRONG with that woman?" Mr. Poore snorted, as he stopped doing dishes. I guess Canyon wasn't allowed? "What does she do if you get clogged up?"

"A laxative pill, sir?"

"Oh, bollocks," Canyon sighed, "Those things don't do shit!"

Mr. Poore gave him a look, then burst out laughing.

Puns are funny, I guess?

I wasn't laughing though.

What was he going to DO to me?

"Sir, I 3; I'm sorry, I don't have to go now?" I said.

"Yes, you will," Mr. Poore replied. "Canyon, take him down to the basement. We can't have him soil his bed at 3AM, and there's NO getting up!"

"Sir? What if I have to pee at night?"

He nodded at Canyon.

"How do babies do it?" Canyon asked.

I froze again.

"D-diapers?" I croaked out.

Canyon nodded.

"Don't pee the bed, Benny, or it's a diaper for the next day and night. Trust me, working out in a diaper sucks! You get a rash!"

Mr. Poore laughed.

I thought of that clear ring I'd seen between Canyon's buttocks again.

So we went down to the basement. Canyon turned the first set of lights on, so I couldn't see the end of it. I was sure that barber chair was still there, though. We went into the bathroom near the stairs, and I almost freaked.

It was huge!

There was a big, sunken tub and three toilets, and three urinals. There were three shower heads on the wall, and halfway up the chrome pipes, there was another valve. A white hose was connected at the valve, so you could turn it and have hose or shower, or both? The hoses were coiled up like firehoses, and on the end of each one was a thing like a plumb line end. There was also a garden hose on a coil on the wall, and other faucets, too, with huge sinks. Little benches along the wall on wheels, like the one I'd laid on before, made it kinda creepy. I could clearly see the restraints.

Plumb line? OK, Scott's dad made us learn that. Hardware man, remember? A plumb line was shaped like a cone, rounded on one end, and you hung it up to see if a wall was straight. I guess it looked like a big acorn? All three were red, but one of them was big.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Benny, you ever had a'enema?" Canyon asked.

I remembered the encyclopedia. I'd seen 'enema' while looking for 'eunuch', but there wasn't a sketch. 'An infusion of liquid into the rectum,' it has said. I hadn't looked up 'infusion,' but I knew what a rectum was. 'Liquid 3; into the rectum' could mean only 1 thing, though!

"That 3; that thing 3;"

"Nozzle?" Canyon cut in, nodding.

"That 3; nozzle 3; goes in your butt?" I gasped, "Then you turn the water on?"

"Yep! Washes the poop right outta your arse!"

"Oh shit," I groaned, trembling.

"You sure do!" Canyon laughed.

"You 3; you 3; get them a lot?" I asked, terrified.

"Every day," Canyon nodded again. "I've never pooped on my own. I don't ever have to go, because Father makes sure I go when he wants me to! I'm clean inside and out, all the time!"

"Oh 3; my 3; gosh," I breathed. "D-does 3; does it hurt?" I asked, as I sat down on the edge of the tub. The cold porcelain felt good, as I was sweating despite being naked in the cool room.

"The plug might hurt the first time, but if you push out, and don't fight it, it's not bad. You'll get a small one, smaller than mine, so it won't be bad," Canyon assured me. He sat down and put his arm around me.

It was too much.

Marked boys, tanlines, nudists, Canyon kissing me, his weird-ass schedule, and the threat of a spanking, or diapers? And now THIS? A hose up my butt? How much water was he going to pump into me?

I started crying.

"It's OK, Benny," he told me. "You get used to it. And you never have an accident!"

I shook my head.

"C'mon," he said, taking my hand and trying to pull me up. "If I can do it, you can! Besides, it feels good!"

"HUH?!"

"You're empty, clean, and you always know," Canyon nodded happily. "For me, it's easy! I can give myself one, any time I want! Watch!"

I just sat and stared as he went and pulled a little padded bench out from near the wall. It was the same bench I'd laid on when I'd had my 'good rub' for a sunburn and tension. He locked the wheels.

Canyon turned on the water, pulled the bulb off one of the hoses, and let it run. He shivered. "Cold!" He gasped, as he turned up the hot water. He grabbed a small thermometer out of the soap dish. "102 [38.9°C], just where I like it!" He declared.

"What 3; what about the nozzle?" I asked.

"Already got one in," Canyon told me, and I knew what the butt-cheek ring was: it was to pull out the nozzle that was ALREADY up Canyon's butt! The nozzle that he obviously KEPT up his butt, 24/7! I'd seen the ring days ago!

I didn't know what to say, what to do. I was frozen. I guess I wanted to see it, since my dick was pounding again, hard.

He got a little bottle with a wide tip from the soapdish, reached around to his butt, and seemed to wiggle it.

"You learn how to fit it on yourself," he told me, then he squeezed the bottle. "Soda, salt and soap," He told me.

'Soap, up your butt?' I wondered. 'Does THAT hurt?' Canyon discarded the bottle.

Canyon then reached around and attached the hose to his nozzle, moving the ring over with one hand, then laid down on the bench on his back and sighed. I saw that he was laying not flat; his head was lower than his feet.

I saw there was a gauge in the white hose, and he was watching it. "When it hits 1.5, I stop," Canyon told me. "Too much, and it hurts. Too much, and you could die."

I just watched as his belly got bigger and bigger. He looked like a balloon – and he was. He was a human water balloon! I could imagine him popping!

"Stop!" I cried.

"He knows what he's doing, Benny," Mr. Poore said, as he came in, his dick hard. He'd said a boy's dick just GOT hard, like you couldn't control it, though? But what if he got hard 3; because he liked little boys?

I shivered again. I was so scared I thought I was gonna puke.

What if they had grabbed that Ronnie T. kid, Tyrone? What if he was hid IN THE HOUSE somewhere? Was that why Kim said not to talk about him?

'Two weeks,' I told myself, 'two weeks, and I can call the cops!'

Then it hit me – SCOTT!

Scott knew!

I had to call Scott tomorrow! Wait, I said I'd call today? It was almost 9. His mom would be pissed.

"Done!" Canyon called, and Mr. Poore shut off the water. He massaged Canyon's belly, up the left, over, down the right. He looked at the clock I hadn't seen.

"He'll hold that for five minutes, then release," Mr. Poore told me. "While he is voiding, you'll be getting filled. Then we repeat the process. In your case, though, Benny, since you've never had one and your mother has neglected to properly care for you, or feed you well, you may have to have more than two."

"But 3; but bed?" I asked.

"Canyon is usually in bed at 10, this takes an hour or so," Mr. Poore said.

I nodded dumbly.

"Once you're both clean, inside and out, and in bed, I'll have mine, then turn in. Canyon is not allowed to watch me." Mr. Poore told me.

Then he grabbed my hand.

I didn't fight. I couldn't. I was numb.

He just laid me down on the other bench he'd got out. He got a tube of KYJelly from the soap trap, and told me to relax.

"I don't want to have to strap you down," He told me, "But I will. Is that clear, boy?"

"Y-yes sir," I cried.

Then his finger went inside me!

I yelped, but it felt 3; familiar? It felt good too, whatever his finger was touching.

"That is your prostate gland, Benny," he told me, "A source of great pleasure, as you'll come to know. Now, take a breath,"

I did that.

Then he pushed the nozzle in.

I yelled and tried to get up. "Take it out! Take it out, please! It hurts!"

Mr. Poore pushed me back down and told me to relax. Then he strapped me down. The nozzle was driving me crazy, burning, touching my prostate (he said) and my dick was throbbing. Then he pulled those hose off of it and connected it to one that was running. He shot something into the nozzle, the little bottle like Canyon had had, and I felt it going into me. Then he put the hose on and increased the flow.

"Can't have air in there," He told me, and I could feel the hot water filling me up. It wasn't long before a cramp hit me, and I looked like a balloon.

Canyon flushed, then came over to hold my hand. He kissed me again. "It's OK," he kept telling me, but it wasn't! I was hot and sweating now, and the cramps hurt!

"Twelve years of build-up," Mr. Poore said, when he shut the water off and began rubbing my belly. God, I was huge!

"As you get bigger, you can hold more," he told me. "I know boys who can go to 3."

I just laid there, freaking out, and whimpered while Canyon held my hand.

Then he was touching me.

I opened my eyes.

He was going to jack me off, right in front of his dad!

WHAT THE FUCK?

Mr. Poore nodded at him.

"To take your mind off of it," he said with a grin. "You focus on the pleasure more than the discomfort. Don't you, Canyon?"

"Oh, yes sir!" Canyon smiled.

So to get to it, I got off. I didn't squirt, not like Scott, but it felt so damn good. That nozzle up my butt made it different, too, and it was better. I was almost yelling when the feeling passed.

Then the nozzle got pulled out and I was let loose to 'void.'

I almost didn't make it.

I won't talk about that. It was bad. They laughed at me, and I wound up getting filled up three more times. I thought I was going to die, I was so weak and hot. I went to sleep in the middle of the fourth time, even.

I don't remember being put to bed. All I remember was being told I wasn't perfectly clean yet, but that I exhausted and couldn't do any more.

The last thing I remembered that night was being given a bath, sort of, and dried off and carried back upstairs. Mr. Poore had me, and was holding me really tight. Then he kissed me and told me goodnight 3;

3; and that he loved me.

That was something new for me.

Chapter Nine

It was bad then, and I was scared out of my mind, but the thing that stuck with me was being held and carried to bed and told that I was loved. I slept like a rock that night, from 10 to 8. It was 10 hours. I never woke up once. But that was only the start of it all. What was to come was just 3; well, read it, OK?

I woke up Tuesday morning with a stinging slap to my butt! I jolted awake and tried to roll over, but I couldn't move! I couldn't see, and all I could hear was DD playing. Something was on my head, and I started struggling. Then I was being touched 3; all over. Someone kissed my lips. I relaxed. Then the music quit. I felt something being pulled off my face, and when I could see, Mr. Poore was standing there putting a black blindfold and a set of headphones on the floor next to my bed.

I yelled, didn't know where I was, or why I couldn't move. He was just looking at me like he felt sorry for me. I saw I was strapped down by the wrists and ankles, on my stomach, on a twin bed with a black sheet and a thin black pillow. There was a strap across my lower back, too, holding me down. I was hard as a rock.

"Good morning, Benny," Mr. Poore said, and starting unstrapping me. "I was afraid you might wake up and wander, or worse yet, try to leave. I know last night was traumatic," he said, stopping to tickle my feet, "And I know you're afraid of the dark. That's why I got you up first."

HOW DID HE KNOW THAT?

I had to laugh and struggle. I was ticklish! Then I was loose. I curled up against the wall, but Mr. Poore grabbed me and hugged me, telling me it was OK. Then he touched my hard little dick. I gasped as he rubbed my back and pushed my head down on his shoulder. "It'll be OK, Benny. In a few days, you'll adapt, and everything will be fine, son." He picked me up onto his hip, like a toddler. God, he was strong!

But he'd touched me 3; there. Wasn't that child molesting?

I looked over his shoulder. I didn't struggle, because I liked being held. I liked him rubbing my back. I liked him kissing me, and wondered if my real dad would've ever done it. I started crying. Shit! I felt stupid. But when I saw Canyon 3;

He was strapped down to his bed, too, on the other side of the room. The beds were on the floor, so you couldn't get under them. There was no furniture or decorations.

I looked around. The carpet was thick and black, and the window was covered over by painted drywall. The whole room was black, even the ceiling. There was one light overhead, a really bright white light bulb, and a red one by it that was off. Canyon was strapped down, like I said, on his belly. He was covered by a thin black sheet, too, and he was sound asleep. He was blindfolded, and he had headphones on. But when Mr. Poore pulled the blanket off, I could see that Canyon's right hand had some kind of little wired switch fixed to his restraint.

"That's his panic button," Mr. Poore explained, as he put me down. "To summon me in case of emergency. Sometimes he has bad dreams and I have to come and comfort him."

"Oh?"

Then Mr. Poore put me down, and he slapped his hand across Canyon's butt, hard! It made the skin pink. Canyon yelped and flinched, struggling in his restraints.

WHAT THE HELL? Did he sleep like this every night?

Who strapped their kid to a bed?

And did we got woke up that every day?

That had to be child abuse!

Then Mr. Poore took off Canyon's blindfold and headset. He unstrapped him, and gave him time to wake up some. It didn't take long.

"FATHER!" Canyon yelled, jumping on him and kissing him hard on the mouth. He held him for a while, touching him, Canyon touching him back 3;

I thought I was jealous. I wanted to be held again, watching them. It didn't make sense.

"Go wash up for breakfast," Mr. Poore told us, and shooed us out of Canyon's all-black bedroom. When he shut the light off, I could see it went pitch black. The door locked when it closed.

There was nothing else in the room either, not like mine or Scott's. Canyon didn't 'live' in his room; he only slept in it.

Nothing more.

Canyon showed me the simple morning routine: pee, fix our hair, and he asked if I had to have a movement. He insisted I try. I farted, but nothing happened.

"Father wasn't happy with you not being 100% clean last night, but you'd had all you could take, mate," Canyon told me.

"D-do you 3; you keep that nozzle in you ALL the time?" I had to ask.

"Oh, yes! Feels good, too, once you're used to it. When it's out, I feel empty, and might have an accident, you know. You'll get one tonight, I'm sure. I can't imagine you working out, first day clean, with a plug in you. Might be too much to take. Just don't have an accident, Benny," he warned me.

"How long have you had to 3; have that in you? Since the doctor the other day?" I had to ask.

Canyon laughed. "Long as I can remember! 'Course, it was a lot smaller when I was smaller. I get a bigger one when I outgrow it!"

Huh?

I didn't say a thing. I just nodded and followed him down to breakfast.

Meat, eggs, milk, and toast. And water. And a lot of food. I was so stuffed when I was done, I just sat there and ate it all and didn't say a thing. My big plan to get out and call the cops was sounding better and better! No way was he putting a nozzle up my butt 24/7!

I just hoped Scott remembered, the dork. If I didn't call him, and I didn't think Mr. Poore would allow it 3;

Mr. Poor then began doing the dishes and explaining. "Canyon has never had to learn to control his bowels, only his bladder," he said, "I control almost every aspect of his life, you see, Benny. My father controlled mine, as Canyon will control his son's someday."

I had to hold up my hand, afraid to talk.

He nodded at me.

"How can Canyon have a son, sir?" I asked, my voice shaky.

"He'll adopt," Mr. Poore shrugged. "He knew he's be sterile when he agreed to being castrated three years ago."

I gasped. I looked at Canyon. "You lied to me? You said it was a bike crash?"

"If I had told you the truth, you'd have run and called the Bobbies, wouldn't you now, Benny?" He said, looking like he'd cry. "I couldn't just say, 'Oh yes, Father suggested I get my bollocks taken right out, so I just went along with it!' I thought about it for a whole year, you know!"

"Why?!"

"Because I can be a boy longer," He said, after Mr. Poore nodded at him and grinned. "I can decide when and if I want to be a man. I can get shots for it later in life, you see? So long as I keep my cock, the shots will make it grow like Father's. I'll get a deeper voice, a beard, body hair," he made a face, "And be able to fuck or wank! I just can't make babies, is all. Lots of boys need adopting, boys no one wants. I might have a few, when I'm ready!"

I just stared at him.

IF I keep my cock? He'd said. What the HELL was that?

Was Canyon adopted, then? Mr. Poore's balls weren't that big – but his dick was!

I didn't say a thing – but I was thinking it.

Tuesday was a blur.

The workout was as bad as before. I was so aching by study time that Mr. Poore offered me aspirin and had to rub me down with that burning muscle pain gel stuff they sell.

I got stuffed with meat, cheese and vegetables – and water – again for lunch. I peed like a racehorse, and at 12:30 I was begging and crying for him not to make me do the next workout.

"This is a major error, Benny," Mr. Poore warned me. "We will correct this later."

And I had to do the workout. Canyon begged me to, and he looked worried. I don't know how I did it.

At 1, we went out in the sun. Mr. Poore rubbed us down, and it was more Spanish lessons. I was so glad to lay down, too. I didn't want to swim at 2, but I had to. I didn't do it right, though, and he yelled at me like a swim coach might. By 3, it was clouding up and rained some, but we stayed out in it.

When I got the shake at 4, and got to lay down, I was gone.

A slap to the butt woke me up at 6.

But I was in trouble.

Big trouble.

I'd wet my mat.

Mr. Poore didn't get excited, but he looked disappointed. I tried to apologize. He made me take the cover off, put it in the washer downstairs, then take a fast shower. I knew what was coming when he gave me a white diaper. I shook my head, and that was that.

"Canyon, fetch the paddle," He said. "It's high time your big brother was punished!"

I dropped the diaper and froze.

He led me back to the barber chair, and pushed me down in it, face down. He started strapping me in, but rubbing my back at the same time and telling me I'd feel better when it was over. He told me I needed it, and that I'd even like it – some.

I was already crying, and Canyon told me I was just making it worse.

I tried to stop.

I couldn't.

I was so sore and humiliated already, I just wanted to die.

Canyon gave him the leather-wrapped paddle, and in the mirror on the floor, I could see them. It was made so the boy being held down could see behind him. It was a floppy paddle, not hard. It bent.

"Benny, you must learn to accept punishment like a man. You must learn to control your bladder, lest it be controlled FOR you. You must learn not to struggle, argue, or ask questions. 'I' know what is best for you – YOU do not. You MUST learn to trust me. Is that CLEAR?"

"Yes, sir," I choked out.

Canyon bent down and held my hand, his face close to my ear. "I'll be right here, brother," He assured me. "I won't let him hurt you too bad!"

How could HE stop him?!

The first swat stung like hell. I bit my lip. Canyon put his other hand on my aching back. The next swat hurt. God, it hurt! I screamed. My butt was on fire already, and I didn't know when it would end. Canyon kissed my ear and told me he loved me. The next swat hit, and I pulled on the straps for all I could. I screamed again. Canyon told me it was OK, and rubbed my neck.

That felt good. I was so sore 3;

The next swat came a little later.

Each time he hit me, I was told what I'd done wrong: "Struggling! Questioning! Resisting! Flagging in effort! Begging to not work out! Working out poorly! Bad example for your little brother! Pissing yourself!"

And each time he hit me, at irregular spacing, Canyon touched me or kissed me, reassuring me over and over it was OK and that he was right there, and that he loved me – his big brother.

I don't know how many times he hit me.

I never knew when the next one was coming.

When he was done, my voice was gone.

Mr. Poore unstrapped me, and picked me up. I was limp as a ragdoll, and he just held me. He started touching me all over, careful of my red and burning butt. I thought of Canyon in that chair, being spanked, and I got so hard. I know he felt it pressing on him. I was humiliated – more.

Then he was kissing me: on my ears, lips, neck, even my chest and belly. All the time hugging me and telling how brave I was and how well I'd done for a first-time 'thrashing'. He told me he was so proud of me, and I saw he had tears in his eyes.

Suddenly I felt Canyon's hand on my hard dick.

He was jacking me off again with some lotion.

I didn't know what to do!

Hell, I was too weak to do anything.

I just let him do it, while his father held me.

The spasms hit me pretty fast, and it was heaven. I forgot the pain for a few seconds, and I must have passed out when it was over.

Canyon shook me awake at 8; it was time for dinner.

They'd let me sleep through free time.

I got up from my clean mat, and stood. I almost cried when I saw that I was wearing that white diaper, like a baby, but I didn't. I bit my lip again and nodded. My butt was hurting, but it felt cool, too. He must have put some kind of gel on it, like for sunburn.

"I will understand if you wish to eat standing," Mr. Poore told me, as I was served a tiny little chicken with vegetables. He called it a game hen. We had white wine, and then water, of course. I did stand up to eat, feeling like an idiot.

Then it was down to the basement.

I walked down there like a zombie, and Mr. Poore removed my diaper while Canyon started his own enema session. I just let him do it to me. I didn't want spanked again. God, no! I'd do anything to avoid it.

Mr. Poore told me how proud he was as he started filling me up.

I had to have four go's at it until I was clean.

"Poor boy never had a mother," He complained.

Canyon was already done with his bath when I got in. He scrubbed me down, gently, and toweled me off when we were through. I picked up my diaper and put it back on without being told. He didn't put a plug in me.

My reward was hugs and kisses, and the promise of a new present later.

Then it was time for bed.

I managed to walk to Canyon's upstairs room this time. Mr. Poore unlocked the door, and I entered the black room. He turned the lights on, and I remember the red one flashed fast at me.

"Sir, I'm really tired," I whined. "Can I please go to bed now?"

Me and Canyon hugged and kissed goodnight.

That much I remember. I remember Mr. Poore strapping Canyon in, putting his phones and blindfold on him, the giving his butt a slap and covering him up.

I don't remember being put to bed.

All I remember was the flashing red light.

Flashing so fast.

I had to look at it.

At least I wasn't blind in the black room.

I was so scared of the dark, and I was sure he knew it. I could hear my music in the headphones, and I was just limp all over.

But when I woke up the next morning, shaken awake by the slap to my butt again, I howled in pain.

Then I was being held and kissed, told what a good boy I was, and I was clinging to that big man like I was scared of being alone. I wasn't though, Canyon was right there in the room with me. But in bed, we'd never be able to talk to, see or hear each other.

Or touch.

I felt funny, though, like I had to shit, bad. But I knew I didn't; I'd been washed out the night before.

I felt at my butt.

My dick was hard and throbbing again, my diaper was soaking wet, and there was a plug-nozzle in my butt.

The workout was hell.

That plug kept rubbing me, at my prostate, he said, and my dick stayed hard almost all day. I'd been given a new diaper too, with the agreement that if it was dry by the end of the day, I wouldn't have to wear one until the next accident.

That damn plug was making me crazy, though.

Every time I moved a tiny bit, it touched something. I couldn't think about anything else, and I just wanted it out! But I couldn't get it out. I pushed, tried, but it wouldn't budge. All it did was rub. I wasn't sure if it was painful or not, just that it made me feel full and so damn 3; horny.

I think I'm gay, I started telling myself, by the time it was time to go and swim. But it was raining out. Hard.

We stayed inside, and Mr. Poore put down mats. Canyon had wrestling training to work on in case of rain, and we did that. It drove me crazy, that plug rubbing at me all the time. I was embarrassed that Canyon pinned me all the time, and I spent the two hours mostly on the mat. Every time he pinned me, though, he kissed me and told me I'd get the hang of it soon.

By 4, I was kissing him back.

I couldn't help it.

Something about me just screamed to be touched, and liked it.

We listened to our new albums at free time. I was dry at 7:30, when it was about time for dinner. At least I understood Canyon's naps now, and looked forward to them.

"We're having a guest for dinner," Mr. Poore then informed us, and I almost died. WHO could it be?

"Joe is coming over with his boy, Jeffie," Mr. Poore told us.

Canyon just danced on the spot, clapping and giggling. "Yes, Jeffie! Jeffie's a good kid, Benny! You'll like him! He's our age, too! He just is 12. You should have seen his birthday party!"

"Oh," I mumbled. "Is there anything we can do to get ready?" I asked, just standing there in my dry diaper and feeling so stupid.

Joe the mall cop and his boy were about to see me like that.

I could not have been more humiliated.

'Mall cop?' I thought, 'Hang on! Scott! I hadn't called Scott! He'd be calling the cops 3; unless Joe was the cop coming?'

(Back then, the mall-cop was a real cop, and he was paid to work the mall on days off, and the station got a stipend from the mall, too.)

"Set the table for five, son," Mr. Poore told me.

"Yes sir."

Mr. Poore had music playing, something classical. I thought it might be Beethoven. At 8, the doorbell rang.

Mr. Poore nodded, and Canyon bolted.

I could hear him squealing, "JOE! JEFFIE! Lemme take those!"

Taking their clothes, I was sure.

OK, to say I was surprised to meet Jeffie would be like calling the grass green. I think I'd have shit myself if not for the plug in my butt:

Jeffie was white, and he was bald as an egg. He had a round head, and gold ball earrings in each ear. He had a leather collar around his neck, with cutouts in it here and there like Japanese or Chinese characters, and of course a padlock. They were both naked (of course), but what got my attention was Jeffie's crotch.

Why did I look there next? I dunno. Maybe I WAS gay?

Jeffie was castrated too – no balls, no sac.

But unlike Canyon, he didn't have that little acorn of a dick-head.

He just had a little bump. When he saw us all, that little bump rose up into a very short dick, not an inch [2½ cm] long, and I knew what it was – Jeffie didn't just have a circumcision: Jeffie had no head on his dick – just the shaft.

He wasn't as built as Canyon, either, but he was close. He sure wasn't 'soft' like me. He smiled at us all, and Mr. Poore swung him around and hugged and kissed him, just like Joe did Canyon.

I felt left out and stupid.

They were both giggling and laughing.

Not me.

But for as confused and scared and embarrassed as I was, I had to wonder how those two boys were so happy. I'd had two days full of stuff I NEVER even dreamed of, even been molested, I thought, but they lived like that, and they were so happy?

Me, I mostly hung out with friends or sat in my room or wandered around 3;

No one hugged and kissed me, or held me, or told me they loved me like that.

I just kinda put my head down and looked at my bare feet and how they mashed the carpet with two little footprints. I even had small feet. I was still in boys' size shoes.

"STAND UP, BOY!" Joe's voice then snapped me out of it. "YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!"

I jerked upright right then.

OK, you can best describe Joe as 'average Joe'. He was in shape, but that was it. He wasn't like a god or anything. I just stared at him. He was hard, too, and just like Jeffie, he didn't have a head on the end of his long dick. Not so huge as Mr. Poore's, but close, if I thought about it WITH a head. Like father, like son?

No one said a thing.

"Daddy, why's that boy crying?" Jeffie asked.

"I don't know, but it's a crime, son," Joe informed me, "Turn around, hands on your head, spread 'em!" He told me playfully.

The next thing I knew, Joe had me in handcuffs and put me on the floor. He kissed me on the mouth. Then he started tickling me!

"So how are my little two troublemakers tonight?" He asked. "Confess?"

I was laughing, crying, trying to squirm away.

But he didn't stop. I begged him to.

"Not until you confess," he told me.

All I could do was gasp and scream with what was left of my voice. I can't take tickling, OK?!

He tickled me until I peed in my diaper.

Then he checked it!

"That's a boy!" He congratulated me, like he was proud of me?

Then he picked me up and squeezed me until I couldn't breath!

"I 3; I want a l-lawyer?" I offered.

"By gosh, Martin! He knows how to play!" Joe just laughed.

"That's our boy," Mr. Poore agreed, smiling and nodding, and I knew I'd done good. It was so confusing, knowing what to do and what not to do. But by then, I wasn't sure what to do but go with it.

Then Jeffie came over hugged me and introduced himself. He jerked a finger at me, since I was taller. I leaned down and he kissed me on the cheek. "I piss myself all the time," he whispered. "I can't do tickling either!"

"Benny," Joe introduced him, "This is MY boy, Jeffie. He's just hit 12. I found him sleeping in a dumpster at the mall when he was 5 or 6, and just sort of kept him."

"Pleased to meet you both, sir. I'd shake hands, but?" I grinned.

"Wait 'til he gets the leg irons out," Jeffie smiled at me. Then he looked at Joe. At his 'daddy'.

"He's teasing," Joe assured me, and let me go.

But was he?

I was so confused. And wet. I looked at Mr. Poore, glanced at my diaper, then back at him. He nodded and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Closet," he told me, "Go and get a clean one, trash the old one, and get right back, but don't put it on. Let Joe have a look at you."

I felt my face get hot.

I was standing there in a soaked diaper, plug in my butt, almost 13 years old, and hard as a brick and confused as hell. He wanted Joe and Jeffie to see me naked!

My humiliation couldn't be any worse.

What would he think of me?

But why did I care?

What if he doesn't like it that I have balls? WHAT AM I THINKING?

I did as I was told.

I stood there, straight and still, while he looked me over.

"I see you warmed up his butt," Joe pointed out. "Soft, isn't he? How old are you, Benny?"

"Almost 13, sir."

"Really? I'd have guessed 11," Joe replied, putting his hand on my red butt. I flinched.

"Owww," I moaned.

Of course, he gave me a slap.

It hurt and burned like hell.

"Thanks, Joe, sir," I mumbled. I saw Canyon shake his head and sigh.

"You still got a set, use 'em, boy!" Joe told me, and smacked my butt again.

YEOW! I held it in.

"THANK YOU SIR!"

"Better," Joe said, then he kissed me hard on the mouth.

"Dinner is getting cold," Mr. Poore then told us. "Canyon, Benny, you two serve. Jeffie, you come sit by Uncle Martin so he can see how well your little headless horseman is healed up?"

Jeffie laughed, and I was allowed to put my clean diaper on.

When everyone was seated and served but for me, I was allowed to stand. I was so thankful! I ate standing up, and was made to have an extra glass of water with dessert. We had wine, too, strong white stuff that made me dizzy. Jeffie liked it though and begged for another glass. And he got it.

OK, small kid-size glass, but still!

"Spoiled brat," Joe patted his bald head.

"You see, Benny," Mr. Poore was telling me, "Removing the glans penis, or the head, makes the shaft more sensitive. Erections are harder, when permitted, and later in life, if Jeffie decides to keep his headless shaft, he can have shots and become a man. The shaft will get longer, and he'll be able to fuck longer and have more intense orgasms. Of course," he looked at Canyon, "That is up to Jeffie. What do you think?"

"I 3; I don't get it, sir?" I said.

"You will, in time," he told me, and that was that.

Me and Canyon cleared the table while everyone sat and talked. I stood and listened. Jeffie was a real chatterbox when let loose, and he was telling us all about being wrapped up like a mummy and trying to get loose. I was just listening to him. He liked being tied up? Then again, so did Scott's brother, Evan, when Scott noticed that he was alive. All the while, Mr. Poore was examining what was left of his boyhood.

"I used to be a physician's assistant, did you know, Benny?" He asked me.

"No sir? I thought you did massages?"

They all laughed. I felt dumb again. But he was so good at it.

"It's healed smashingly well," Mr. Poore commented. "And no complications from being catheterized for five weeks?"

Jeffie blushed. Joe nodded. "Had to use diapers for a week or so, kept pissing himself," He laughed. "So damn funny! And the looks on his face when he'd check it out! I think he liked that tube up there!"

"Did not!" Jeffie protested, squirming in Mr. Poore's lap, then settling down and sighing. Mr. Poore hugged him. Then he sort of slapped his thigh.

"Sir!" Jeffie added.

Canyon's watched beeped.

It was 9.

"Bath!" He said.

'Enema', I thought and shivered.

"Daddy, can we stay?" Jeffie begged, "Pleeeeease?"

"Do you want to spend the night, Jeffie?" Mr. Poore asked, kissing his bald head.

"Can he, Father, can he?" Canyon started begging.

I just didn't know what to say. I was still confused about why cutting off the head of your dick would make sex better later in life. No one in the porno had his 'glans' chopped off?

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Martin," Joe said, as Mr. Poore pointed us three to the basement door.

"Oh?"

"Remember I said yesterday, that I wished Jeffie could fight like Canyon?" Joe asked. Mr. Poore nodded at him.

"You know I don't like it when Canyon fights," He said in a cold voice.

"But he can PROTECT himself," Joe said back, "Jeffie needs to learn that. What if we're separated? What if he's bullied, like those boys yesterday?"

"You want me to teach Jeffie to fight?" Mr. Poore asked.

Joe nodded. "I can pay you."

Mr. Poore laughed. "I think Jeffie can pay for it himself!"

I didn't know what he meant. Jeffie couldn't have money. I was 12, and my life savings was about $18. Which reminded me 3;

"Sir?" I asked, "Did you check my house yesterday?"

"Yes, I did, thank you, Benny," Mr. Poore nodded at me.

I decided to risk it.

"Sir, I told Scott I'd call him, to check up?" I said.

"Yes, I know," Joe cut in, winking at me.

My heart sank. SHIT! I'd been right.

And Joe knew. God, what did Scott tell him? The WHOLE story?

'If he did, I'm dead,' I thought.

"Now, are you going to behave yourself tonight?" Mr. Poore asked, and he looked at Joe. Joe laughed.

"Yes, sir!" I nodded fast.

And I was. No way did I want another spanking. Besides, I'd survived it already. I knew what was coming.

To say it fast, Jeffie loved it. He got strapped down and washed out, and he seemed to like struggling in his straps.

I took mine, being brave. No way was I going to be embarrassed any more. I was clean on the third rinse. Canyon did his own, as usual, but Joe rubbed his tummy when he was filling, and Canyon got hard – all of his inch-maybe.

Then we all got a bath.

To my surprise, when we were patted dry, Mr. Poore had me lay down on a bench again and told me how good I'd done that night. He put my plug back in, and I started to get even harder.

Then he jacked me off. Right in front of EVERYONE!

I couldn't feel any dumber. My face was burning worse than my butt.

Him and Joe were both hard, and I saw that Canyon and Jeffie were like 3; making out! I mean, MAKING OUT, trying to jack each other's tiny little dicks for all they could. When I had a dry orgasm, Joe was amazed.

"I never seen an intact boy do that," He breathed.

Mr. Poore and him didn't do anything, though. I wondered if they were gay, or what? I had yet to see any women, but didn't he make a fuss over my mom?

"I think we can let the boys stay up late, Joe," Mr. Poore decided, "While we talk about Jeffie's training?"

"Sir?" I held up my hand, and he nodded at me. I knew that sign.

"May I please be put to bed, sir?" I asked. After all, I was so tired and I just wanted to be alone. I didn't care how weird it was. Right then, alone in the dark, where no one could see me, sounded good.

"I think the baby's tired and cranky," Joe laughed, and everyone hugged and kissed me goodnight. I didn't know what to do. It felt good.

"Canyon, put your brother to bed while Joe and I talk to Jeffie," Mr. Poore ordered him. "I will have words with Benny tomorrow."

My heart skipped so bad it hurt. Was it a heart attack?

I followed Canyon up to our room, which was unlocked. No one had told me to put on a diaper, and I peed before going in.

Canyon strapped me down, put my blindfold on, and covered me.

"You're scared of the dark, aren't you?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Don't you like Jeffie?" He sounded hurt.

"I like him, but 3; but I'm so tired, Canyon," I tried not to whine. "I'm not like you. Can I please just go to sleep?"

I bet he smiled.

He kissed me, with his tongue again, and I returned it. I could feel my dick stirring, but it was tired too. Then he put my headphones on.

It was dark and quiet. I couldn't move.

A minute later, and his Azia album was playing in my ears.

I felt the blindfold come off. The red light was flashing, so fast, I had to stare at it. It wasn't dark, and I was so glad. "I love you, Canyon, thanks!" I sighed, just staring at the light flashing faster and faster and faster. If Canyon said it back, I couldn't hear him. Just the music.

The next think I knew, I was having my butt slapped again the next morning.

But not so hard.

My bed was clean, too.

My day started with pain, and being told how much I was loved.

But 'the talk' was still coming 3;

Chapter Ten

OK, by now, you're thinking I really got a thrashing, since I hadn't called Scott and he'd called the cops, right? Since Joe the mall cop showed up for dinner, right? Wrong! Scott didn't take me seriously, as usual. The dickhead. I don't know why I ever hung out with him. All he ever did was run me down, or mooch, when he had it better than I did. Asshole had a little brother I never had, ignored him, and they had a pool. Scott had his own TV 3; OK, enough of that. Oh, and the dilrod hung me out to dry over that broken window, remember? OK, OK 3; anyway, I could have been halfway to Arabia or somewhere in a box, and he wouldn't have known until my face was on a milk carton! You'll see what happened, and why I DIDN'T get thrashed for what I thought that I knew that Joe knew and now Mr. Poore knew. Follow me?

Waking up in a house where 'a dad' was home was nice. Having another boy there, Canyon, was better. I was used to waking up by myself, scavenging breakfast – when I ate it – alone. Now I was waking up, even with a painful slap to my bare butt, and then being tickled, hugged, kissed, and told how much I was loved by the both of them.

I was so scared Thursday morning that I held onto Mr. Poore and cried.

I knew that he knew. I had slipped up in front of Joe.

Joe the mall cop.

Guess who's coming to dinner?

To fuckin' late 3;

And I had to go and mention Scott. The fucker wasn't even there, and he'd got my ass in deep shittin' trouble! I was gonna get thrashed, but good. I could see and feel the welts already. That's why I broke down.

I had a plan in place to get Mr. Poore arrested, and was probably going to happen that very day.

Me, I'd go back home. Mr. Poore would go to jail. But what about Canyon? What would happen to him? What if he was sent off? What if I never saw him again? What if they people who got him were mean to him?

WHAT had I done?

"Benny, boy, whatever is WRONG with you this morning?" Mr. Poore asked, and he sounded worried. But was he? I couldn't tell. "Are you hurting? Should I call the doctor? He'll be here today, later, you know?"

Holy shit 3; it was Thursday already!

Canyon was still asleep, and it was past 8. That only made it worse – I was messing up the schedule. I curled up in a ball and grabbed my shins, rocking and whining while Mr. Poore let his own son loose. Canyon saw me and flipped.

"Call the doctor, Father!" He was ordering him, and that got me out of it for a minute. Canyon telling HIM what to do? "Something's wrong! He's pale! He might be bleeding inside. You guys didn't fu- 3;" Canyon stopped. "No, it's not that," he diagnosed me at once. What was he, an MD in training, too? Then he was giving his dad a glare. "WHAT did you DO to him?"

Mr. Poore really looked shocked.

But instead of getting serious or mad, he just talked back.

"Son, we didn't do ANYTHING to him, nothing that we haven't done already! He hasn't deviated from the routine. He's still got the same plug, he's not complained, or anything. What did YOU do to him when YOU put him to bed?" Mr. Poore turned on him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Father," He snapped at him, "Benny's afraid of the dark, so I left the red light on. I played him my Azia record, not that awful crap you listen to!" Canyon said back. I thought, 'man, his ass is gone! He'll have to get a new one when Mr. Poore's done with it!'

"Logically, then," Mr. Poore said, and he was calm, "There IS something wrong, but neither you nor I caused it. Very good, Canyon, defending him like that. You deserve a reward!"

"Later," Canyon shook his head, looking at me. He came and hugged me, and kissed me. "Benny, what IS it? Tell me, please?"

"I 3; I did a bad thing," I said, rocking and shaking my head. "I 3; I had to call Scott 3; I didn't call Scott. We're in so much trouble!" I was near nuts again, I was so scared. "The cops are gonna come, and they'll arrest him, and take you away!" I told Canyon. "I 3; I was s-scared to come, so I told Scott 3;"

Then Mr. Poore laughed.

He laughed at me!

Canyon just sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Dammit, Father!" He swore, and it was the first time I'd seen THAT! "Tha's jus' goin' too bloody far!" His British accent came back with a passion.

Mr. Poore got a hold of himself. Then he got a hold of us, one in each arm.

"Oh, boys! It's just too good! It's too perfect! Benny thought we were going to kidnap him, or something, and he told Scott that he had to check in! He told Scott to call the cops, if Benny didn't call HIM, and then Joe showed up for dinner!"

Canyon's face was just 3; froze in shock.

"Not funny, Father," he shook his head.

"No, Canyon, don't," I said, "Don't argue. He didn't 3;"

But Canyon held up his hand at me and just stared at his dad.

"But Joe said," I tried to say, then Mr. Poore stopped me.

"Joe didn't say shit," he told me, "You asked about Scott. Then Joe said they had a call. They get LOTS of calls, Benny! Scott's mom called that day you were five minutes late getting back from The Shack! Scott didn't call the cops! You just THOUGHT he did, because we invited Joe over and he HAPPENS to BE a cop!"

I felt so stupid.

The relief was so big it hurt. I couldn't breathe. Shit, they DIDN'T know!

But they did.

I realized he just said they did.

He KNEW I had told Scott I'd call him. Just like he knew about The Shack. Just like he knew everything else!

I WAS in trouble.

I'd just been tricked into confessing.

"Sir, I made a BIG mistake," I sighed, trying so hard not to cry again. I couldn't do it.

"Actually, no, you didn't, Benny," Mr. Poore explained.

Huh?

"That boy from Leavitstown disappearing in April has people on edge. Of course, with his drug dealing parents, any number of drug lords could have snatched him for payment or revenge. Parents are worried, some are even staying home from work now. You only knew us for a few days, and suddenly we were going to take you in for two weeks? You didn't know US, Benny! To you, WE were strangers! YOU had a fallback plan to insure your own safety, and that was brilliant!"

"B-but Mom?" I asked.

"'Mom'," Mr. Poore snorted, "What kind of mom raises a boy like she does?"

Well, he had a point, you know? Still, she was my mom, though. I mean, my MOM?

"D-did she know you somewhere before?" I reasoned.

"Very good, Benny," Mr. Poore patted my back. "Of course, given how silly and self-centered she is, always was, it wouldn't have surprised me if she'd dumped you on total strangers for two weeks."

I didn't dare mention the AC and Aunt Mabel and her acid-rat-dog. That would be taking it too far.

"You knew Mom?"

Canyon was just sitting there, taking it all in and squeezing my hand hard. He looked blown away.

"We went to University together, when she was in England," Mr. Poore said.

"She never told me that, only just she went to college and had to lay out her senior year because she got sick. But she graduated."

"Yes, and has a very good career because of it," Mr. Poore agreed. "Education is power, my boys," he told us. "And I have a yearbook to prove it, if you'd like to see it?" He added.

"C-can I see it sometime, sir?" I asked. After all, I'd never even a prom picture of mom, or anything like that. Or my dad.

"You mostly certainly may," Mr. Poore told me. "Later today, even? Education," he reminded me.

"Then Canyon's gonna go far," I nodded. "Me, I'll be a garbage man."

"Oh, I don't think so," Canyon said, and he was sly. What did he mean?

"I should call Scott, though," I said, "I said I would."

"Benny, you did? Right at nap time, don't you remember?" Canyon asked me.

I didn't.

I never called Scott.

Hell, I'd never seen a phone in that house!

"We'll prove it," Mr. Poore said, "I record all calls. Canyon was there. You were just very tired and traumatized from being spanked, is all. You'll see. Now, I hate to tell you, but the doctor will take blood, so you can't eat. He'll be here near 9, friend of mine. They don't make house calls, you know, but Dr. Kent is a VERY good friend of mine."

"Does he have a boy?" I asked without thinking.

"Why, yes, how observant of you!" Mr. Poore congratulated me. "Garbage collector, indeed? Rubbish!" He joked. I managed to laugh.

Still, I was hungry but couldn't eat. I wasn't allowed to go pee, either. He'd want that, too, for me to pee in a cup. Just like he'd done Canyon. Problem was, I need a gallon milk carton!

"S-sir, I can't wait 45 minutes," I admitted it. "I'll wet myself! Please don't put me in a diaper again, sir!"

"Very good, Benny," Mr. Poore said. "I knew it would be hard, so we're ready for that. Trust me?"

I nodded.

Anything to not be wearing a diaper when Dr. Kent came.

Mr. Poore pulled this thing out of the drawer in the night stand. I was a metal ring, very small, with a 'U' thing welded to it like an arm. The part of the 'U' came down and through the ring, and it had a big ball on the end of it. There was a tube of sanitary lube, too.

"This is what I call a cum-stopper," he told me. "Little invention by one of my mates. The ring goes around the head of your cock, behind it, and the arm with the ball 3;"

I nodded. He nodded.

"Goes up inside my dick, and plugs it, so I can't pee?" I asked.

"Another gold star!" Mr. Poore gave me a shake. "It might sting a bit, but you won't be able to pee, and you won't be punished. OK?"

"OK."

And so he lubed it and put it on. Then he started pressing the ball into my pee-hole. 'Urethra' he called it. It was tight, and when it started to slide in, it got stuck. He pressed, I groaned, and then it went in with what feels like a POP!

The ring was tight on my dick, and I got hard right then!

"Relax," Canyon told me. "You can't pee now."

Sure enough, I couldn't! I let go, but the stopper held it in. It was like I had to go, was holding it in, but was letting go at the same time. It was really weird, and felt 3; weird. Weird, but good?

"You two are in rare form this morning!" Mr. Poore said, and he was happy. "Canyon, I am so impressed how you defended your brother! And at such risk to your own self! What if you'd been wrong?"

"Then I'd be hating life, I'm sure, Father!" Canyon smiled, "But I was right!"

More hugs and kisses and high praise. We were off to a good start.

Since I couldn't eat, no one did. That made me feel better, but guilty.

Then Mr. Poore went to the phone recorder machine, and played back my call. I sounded groggy, sleepy:

"Hey, Scott! Yeah, it's cool! What? No, I'm havin' a great time! We went to the mall, and I got some records! Yeah, Canyon's OK, you should see him. Huh? I'll ask him, OK?" I was yawning on the tape. "Mr. Poore, Scott wants to know if he can come over sometime and meet you and Canyon? I told him that I thought Canyon had been sick, and well, Scott feels bad about how he doesn't go out much. He wants to meet him." – "That's a novel idea, Benny!" Mr. Poore was saying on the tape, and I got chills. Shivers. "Invite him over Saturday, if he thinks he's tough enough!" I heard myself doing that, and Scott agreeing!

Holy shit! Scott was coming over?

"-OK, see ya! I gotta lay down. That workout was murder. What? You'll find out, asswipe! Yeah, Saturday 3; bye!"

CLICK!

"I musta been really wiped out, sir," I admitted, "I don't remember that!"

For the life of me, I had NO memory of making that call.

Then again, I had NO memory of coming home with a collar around my neck, or a tube on my dick. (Which hadn't been talked about anymore, neither!) What the hell was it? Stress? Just tired? I was 12 – and my mind was going?

I could tell they saw it.

"It's OK, Benny, hell, Father's been looking for the keys to the Ferrari since we moved in, and still hasn't found them!"

"You little shit!" Mr. Poore gasped, and then he had Canyon in a headlock and was tickling him. Canyon was screaming. "Think you're funny, do you? Do YOU?" He demanded.

"YES!" Canyon yelled. "FUNNY! STOP!"

"Stop?"

"Stop, please?"

"Please?"

"Stop, please, sir!" Canyon got it right.

He was pink in the face, sweating and panting when his dad let him go. But they were laughing. "You were TRYING to make me pee, so I'd have to wear a diaper!" Canyon accused him.

Holy shit, what was Canyon saying?! No 'sir'? And talking back?

But Mr. Poore just laughed. "It's been a while since you had to wear a diaper!" He told his son.

I didn't know what to think. Maybe laughing fits were an excuse to the routine? Or was I getting that wrong, too?

Then I realized Jeffie was missing. I guessed he'd gone home late, but didn't think to ask.

But Scott was coming on Saturday.

How would he react? Would we wear the mall clothes again that Mr. Poore had hidden? What? Or would Scott have to get naked? Would he tell? I suddenly wasn't hungry. If he told on us 3;

Canyon's watched beeped.

It was 9.

The doorbell rang.

Dr. Kent was there.

He looked like a plain old doctor. He even had one of those silly round mirror things for his head in his black bag. He wasn't as tall as Mr. Poore, but I couldn't tell much else with him dressed and having a white doctor coat on. About all I can tell you is he had brown hair and glasses. He was kinda like 3; Joe 3; an average guy. You know?

"So this the Benny I hear so much about?" He greeted me, and shook my hand. I nodded at him and told I was pleased to meet him, sir. He liked that. Then he wanted to get started.

We went down to the basement, and Canyon fetched a gurney from the far, dim end of the room. Was there anything else weirder in that basement?! WHY did he have a hospital gurney? Mr. Poore put me up on it, and I laid back. I was expecting to get strapped down, but he didn't. I found out why.

Dr. Kent did all the usual stuff. Looked in mouth, in my ears, took my pulse, BP, all that crap. Nothing weird. He patted and poked me all over, and other than just being a little sore, like I always was, he didn't find anything. He had me sitting up and squeezing my neck when he asked Mr. Poore if I had a plug in me!

Huh?

"Plugged boys are always easier to work with," Dr. Kent nodded. "Easier access for checking things out back there! Would you remove it, please?"

Canyon fetched a small plastic bucket, like kids have at the beach. Mr. Poore told me to grab the ring and pull it out nice and slow. I did that. It didn't wanna come. He told me to push out, like I had to poop. When I had to do that, it started coming out, but man, it felt weird doing it! My cock got hard when the wide part was almost out of me. Then it slid out with a funny noise, and I put it in the pail. Canyon took it to the bathroom, and I heard water running.

I was told to get on my knees, so that the doctor could check out 'my backside." I did that. The next thing I knew, he was working his finger up in there and touching something! I sucked in air, hard. My dick was throbbing, and I had to pee so bad!

"Bit underdeveloped, all over," Dr. Kent observed. "Prostate seems fine," he said, and he got a second finger in me. Then he squeezed. I flinched and yelped! I'd never felt THAT before! I thought I was gonna explode.

"Does he ejaculate, wet?" Dr. Kent asked.

"No," Mr. Poore said, "Not yet."

"I should have all his medical records," Dr. Kent asked.

"I 3; I don't know where they are, sir. The last time I saw a doctor was when I got shots for school!"

"WHAT?!"

"I don't get sick, much, sir," I said.

"That woman," Mr. Poore snorted. "What about a dentist?"

"Once a year, maybe, sir?"

"Ohhhhh," he groaned.

Then the doctor pulled his fingers out. I slumped some. He then started checking out my balls. "Small," he said, "Very small for an almost 13 year old. Penis is undersized."

Canyon snickered. His dad smacked his butt.

"You have NO room to talk, little man," Dr. Kent told him. "Oh, and you have a healthy boy, there, Martin. Tests are all in, I have the papers if you'd like to read them and burn them? Canyon's deficient in testosterone, though? Any erectile problems, boy?" He smiled at him.

"Ha, ha!" Canyon shook his head. "Sir!"

He went on checking out my balls, rolling them around, squeezing them. "Pardon me, sir?" I asked.

"Very mannerly," Dr. Kent said, "Yes, boy?"

"I have a question?"

"I thought you might?"

"Was it hard, taking Canyon's balls out, sir?" I asked him, "Did it take long?"

He stared at me.

"It's OK, sir, I told him," Canyon held up his hand.

"I see!" The doctor smiled at me, rolling my balls around. "Do you like the way Canyon looks, Benny?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Why?"

I could see Canyon and Mr. Poore watching me.

"Well, he told me it was an accident at first, so I wouldn't freak out on him," I told the doctor, "Then he told me the truth – he wanted them cut off. He said he thought about it for a year, though? Would I have to wait a year, too?"

"Canyon was very precocious, Benny," Mr. Poore put in. "Be sure of what you're asking."

"Yeah, since once you throw the old stones in the pond, it's not like you can go dive and get them back!" Canyon looked me, real serious.

I couldn't believe I was asking him that – if he'd take long to cut a boy's balls off! But there I was, him examining mine, and all I could think about was 'what if I didn't have any'? What if I was like Canyon?'

I was getting hard.

"Do you get hard when you think about being castrated, Benny?" The doctor asked, and I had to nod. Hell, anymore, Canyon made me hard, whether I could see his lack of balls or not!

"I will only castrate a boy if I am absolutely certain that he understands the consequences," Dr. Kent told me, shaking a gloved finger at my nose. I went cross-eyed watching it. "I don't want to hear you ask again, until Mr. Poore tells me that you've had a long talk about this, understood?"

"YES, SIR!"

"Good. A boy should only be castrated, or otherwise modified, if and only IF he truly wants to be and understands that the changes to his body are for life. I can't just sew them back on, like your little brother said!" Then he closed that subject, I could tell.

I started thinking about it.

I was daydreaming about not having balls, looking like Canyon, when he stopped playing with my nuts.

"Say, what's this?" Dr. Kent then said, and I gasped. Had he found a lump? What if it was cancer? Then he pulled on the cum-piss-stopper. "I see! Got him plugged up front, too, and waiting? Hand me a bottle? Thanks." Then he pulled on it.

My dick stretched out, far, flat and thin. It looked silly.

He squeezed it all over, and I was trying to be hard. That was weird.

Then he put the bottle under it and pulled the thing out all at once!

"OWWW!"

And I peed. God, did I pee. I think it was a gallon! It felt so good to let it out, finally!

"OK, let's see if he's retaining," Dr. Kent suggested, when I'd got the last drop out. The got in his bag, and rubbed his gloved hand in something that smelled like alcohol. He picked up a package of some kind, ripped it open, and pulled out a long tube. I cringed. I knew what it was.

"This is a Robinson catheter, Benny," He told me. "It goes up inside our penis, into the bladder, then comes right back out." He put some brown stuff on it, then on the end of my dick. Some lube, and then he started sliding it into me.

I felt like I had to pee. Like I WAS peeing. That tube was disappearing up inside of me, and then it stopped. I was panting like mad. "Now relax, and try to pee," Dr. Kent told me. I did that. It felt so funny inside me.

He pushed it on up in, and I could feel it passing something. I thought I was gonna get off!

"Nothing, no retention," Dr. Kent said, as he let go of it. The tube slid back out on its own. I was gasping. Canyon looked like he had the willies or something, shivering, and closing his eyes. I guess he didn't like catheters?

He changed gloves, then said it was time to draw blood. Mr. Poore helped him set up the stuff, and he pulled out a needle was that 6 foot [1.80 m] long!

OK, not THAT long, but it was huge!

He tied the cord around my arm, like I'd seen on the TV show, and then went to stick me. I passed out.

When I woke up, I was sneezing and my face was burning.

Smelling salts!

"That's that, don't like needles, eh?" Dr. Kent asked.

"No, no, no, sir!" I shook my head fast. God, was I in trouble?

"Give him something sweet," Dr. Kent suggested, "I sucked a lot of blood out of him. He'll be pretty weak for a day or so, you know. And go easy on him?"

He then gave my dick and balls a going over again, and told me to turn around so he could check me out 'back there' again.

He put his fingers in again, found my prostate, and started rubbing it – hard!

"ARHHH!"

"Feel good?"

"I 3; I 3; I think so, yes, sir?"

Canyon snickered again. I didn't hear a smack.

I was rock hard again, and my dick was pulsing. It felt like something burning in me wanted out, like when Canyon jerked me off (he called it a 'wank'), but it was different. No one was touching my dick, and it was more 3; intense?

Then he had a hold of it, good. I thought he was gonna stretch my butt out and tear it, but he didn't. I was tensed up on his fingers, then I know I screamed and bucked.

I wanted it to stop, but I didn't? I didn't know what to think – did it hurt, or not? Did I like it? I thought I'd blow up!

I know I screamed again.

And that was it.

Smelling salts again.

"Dry," Dr. Kent said, pulling off his gloves. I was all sweaty and shaking, and Canyon was holding my hand.

"Wasn't that just smashing, Benny?" He asked, all smiles.

"I g-guess you could call it that?" I panted.

"He was really getting into it, there, Martin," Dr. Kent told him, "I'd say you have a dedicated bottom-boy on your hands here!"

I had NO clue what that meant.

Canyon rolled his eyes.

"He's just jealous," Mr. Poore told me. "Now, Benny, go and wash your plug, and bring it back so Dr. Kent can replace it. You're good and loose, and we don't want any accidents."

"Yes, sir," I said, and he helped me down. When I got back, the plug went right back in – a lot easier this time, too.

"He'll need a bigger one shortly," Dr. Kent said, and I just stared at him. "As much as he liked that prostate massage, you might consider a more curved, or even a vibrating one?" He suggested.

"Perhaps later," Mr. Poore nodded, and helped me down. My knees gave out, and he caught me.

Then he kissed me and told me how well I'd done for a first exam.

"I'll demand an overnight on these results, Martin," Dr. Kent said, as he packed up to go. "You sure you don't want a good cath'ing, Canyon?" He laughed.

Canyon just shook his head, wide eyes and all, and stepped back.

Hell, it wasn't THAT bad, I thought?

We went upstairs, and it was almost 10. Time for school. But instead, we sat down at the kitchen table and Mr. Poore gave us the rest of the ice cream with honey, and orange juice.

"Canyon's going to be unwound, all day," Mr. Poore sighed, "but fair is fair."

"Sir? I don't want to get him in trouble! I know I have to eat, since he took blood, but 3; ?" I asked, holding up my hand, with spoon in it.

"That's so good of you, Benny!" Dr. Kent told me. "He's a smart one, isn't he?"

I just blushed. Me, smart?

"He is learning and adapting very fast," Mr. Poore agreed. "I've never had a boy, unless you count Canyon, catch on so quickly. Then again, Canyon was raised like this from day one, though."

I stopped eating for a second.

'Raised like this?' What was that?

Had he had Canyon since he was a baby? I mean, I thought he did, he was HIS kid, he said? But when did he start 3; training him? I couldn't see 2-year-old Canyon saying 'sir' and not 'daddy'.

Then Dr. Kent gave me a hug, kissed me, and showed himself out. It was weird being hugged and kissed by a doctor, too. I wondered if he had a boy, too? I figured he did. But where was he?

"Too bad Mickey couldn't come," Canyon shook his head. "He must be busy working?"

"Mickey?" I asked.

"Dr. Kent's boy," Mr. Poore explained, and I was right! He DID have a boy. "He's older, though. 17 now, and deciding on what college to go to. The shots seem to be kicking in, changing his personality, too," Mr. Poore sighed.

"You mean he's gonna grow up now, sir?" I asked.

"He is, they all do," Mr. Poore sighed again.

Then he grabbed Canyon and hugged him tight. I thought he was gonna cry!

"He'll grow up, go to college, move out, move on, make his own fortune!" Mr. Poore was being dramatic? It had been a messed up morning, though. "He'll adopt those boys he talked about, and forget his poor, old, senile father. I'll be lucky if I even SEE my new grandsons!"

I wasn't sure if he was serious or not.

Canyon was hugging him back, though.

"Now, Father, you know I'll put you in the best rest home money can buy!" Canyon assured him, "And I'll adopt lots of boys for you to play with!"

I noticed he left out 'get married.'

After all, would a girl marry Canyon if he didn't have any balls, and couldn't make babies? Did Canyon even like girls? I know I could sure do without Margaret, down the block. Pushy, nosey 3; little tattling bitch!

But what were they doing, trading jokes like that? It didn't make sense.

"Wish I could go to college one day," I sighed, without thinking. Then I jerked my head up, knowing I spoke out of turn.

"You will!" Mr. Poore smiled at me. "With Canyon!"

"No, sir," I sighed, finishing my ice cream and feeling better already, "Mom says I'm too dumb for college."

Mr. Poore froze.

He set Canyon down, and Canyon knew that playtime was over. So did I.

"Canyon, you go start your workout. Benny, you too, but go easy. I don't want you hurting yourself. Dr. Kent some left some muscle relaxers and pain pills for you, so if you need one, you ask! Understand?" I nodded. "We've bee pushing you too hard. If I run over, you make lunch, Canyon. The usual. I need to make some calls. Independent study, too, and no TV!" He ordered us.

"Yes, sir!" We both said, sharp.

Then he stalked off to his office, slammed the door, but I know I heard him muttering about " 3; how dare she 3; stupid woman 3; tell my boy things like that 3; should never have let her keep one 3; unfit 3;"

Mr. Poore wasn't done by lunchtime.

Canyon and me ate, the usual, and a lot of it. The workout made me hurt, and my arm where he took blood was like falling off. Canyon made me take two pills, one of each, and told me he'd take the wrap for me not working out at 12:30. He made me go lay out in the sun instead, rubbed me down, checked my collar, then kissed me. I think I went to sleep, 'cause his watch was beeping 1 when he woke me up.

He told me to roll over, but I was like 3; limp?

"Well, you're in no fit state to swim OR wrestle," he pouted. "What kind of drugs did he leave for you?"

"I dunno, bubby," I slurred.

"Christ," Canyon snorted.

Next thing I knew, he was putting a life jacket on me an hour later and shoving me into the shallow end of the pool!

"Jus' float, then, what?" He told me.

So I did that. I paddled around a little, then he had to pull me out when it was naptime. I got my shake down, then fell over on the mat in front of the TV.

"Stoned," I heard Canyon muttering.

When I woke up at 6, I felt a lot better. Nothing hurt, and I wasn't so limp anymore. It was our free time, but I wanted to move around. For some reason, laying around for another two hours didn't sound good. I asked Canyon if he wanted to wrestle. Of course he did, and beat me at every go!

Mr. Poore showed up for dinner, but he was carrying our mall clothes.

"Dress, we're going out to the Golden Fork for buffet," he ordered us. "I don't feel like cooking. Sorry I ran late, boys."

Then he held up a keyring.

"WHY were these in one of my shoes?" Mr. Poore asked, and I saw the black and yellow fancy key with the Ferrari emblem on it!

"I dunno, sir?" Canyon shrugged. "I honestly don't! Perhaps the movers?"

"Hmpfff!"

And that was that.

But we were going to ride in a Ferrari!

I was so hoping Scott would be out and see me, and he was! He just stood in the yard, leaning on the mower, and stared as Mr. Poore honked. Then he laid rubber! Tire smoke smells, you know?

I flipped Scott off on the way by and smiled at him.

"Sir?" I offered, noticing my clothes had been washed, "I'm sorry I messed up your day," I apologized.

"Being sick is excusable, Benny," he told me, "Or having the doctor over. Same thing."

"I 3; I thought I made you mad, sir. I'm sorry, is all," I told him, and I meant it. The day was just all fucked up, and I'd done it.

"YOU didn't do it, Benjamin," he told me – Benjamin? – "Your MOTHER did it!"

All through dinner, I kept wondering what he'd meant by things like "unfit 3; should never let her have kept one 3; tell my boy things 3;" Did he really like me that much, that he called me 'his boy' when he was talking to himself?

I was so bugged about it that I didn't even notice a bunch of kids and guys chatting up Mr. Poore about the car.

"Let's be bad," Canyon told me, when his dad was busy. We sneaked a big cookie each off the dessert buffet and ate them in the bathroom!

The ride home was – wild.

Mr. Poore got pulled over, but the cop didn't do anything to him. I guess he knew him, too! I figured 172 mph [277 km/h] in a 55 [90] would get us all arrested, but it didn't?

We were late getting home, late getting a bath and a enema, but Mr. Poore sure was in a better mood.

He made me take two pills, telling me he wanted me ready to be back to the routine tomorrow, and hugged and kissed me like he hadn't seen me in a year! That made me remember that Mom hadn't called me – not once. It was gonna be Friday, and she hadn't called.

"Probably having a good time," I mumbled to myself, but he heard me.

"I have no doubt," Mr. Poore agreed.

Then he strapped us in for the night.

It was the end of a weird, but good, day. I was tired, but a good-tired. "It's nice being tucked in," I yawned.

"Benny, you know I love you like the son I chose," he told me, and I didn't know what he meant. But it sounded nice.

"I 3; I just don't wanna make you mad at me, sir," I told him, and I meant it. He kissed me. "Are you gonna put the plug back in my dick now, sir?"

"I never stay angry at a boy, especially not a new one I've wanted to meet for so long," he nodded at me. "And NO, I want to see if you ever pee the bed!" He laughed.

"I 3; I like it that you're proud of me, Mr. Poore," I told him, and I did.

I didn't remember anyone telling me I'd made them proud before. I liked how it made me feel inside. I wanted him to be prouder.

"Can we have that talk tomorrow, sir, at 6, maybe?" I came right out and asked it.

"As you wish," he smiled down at me, and I was really thinking how helpless I was, strapped down, and him being the only one who could let me loose. It made me shiver again, and he smiled more.

"I can take the blindfold, sir," I told him, "I think!"

He laughed. "I'm so very, VERY proud of you, son," He said, and kissed me – with his tongue. "Facing your worst fears is so brave, my brave boy," He whispered in my ear, kissing it too.

The pills were kicking in, so I think I did it back. I could feel his whiskers scratching my face, and it tickled. I was laughing 3;

The last thing I remembered was him telling me how sorry he was for the last 12 years, and jacking me off while I listened to The Stones.

I see a red door, and I want to paint it black 3;

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