William Rush

The Fortunate Ones

Parts II and III

II. The Lost

Chapter 1

Zack wanted to go talk to the neighbor lady, Ms. Perkins. He saw her out in her yard working. When she looked in his direction he waved. His mother had never said anything about waving. She looked at him and smiled, then a look of concern came over her face. She started to walk over to the house, he was happy that he'd finally have someone to talk to, then he remembered he wasn't supposed to answer the door. Zack heard Ms. Perkins knock on the door.

After awhile, when there was no answer, Ms. Perkins said in a loud voice, "Zack dear open the door."

"I'm not supposed to answer the door," he shouted back.

"You can answer the door," Ms. Perkins said, "You know me, don't you?"

"My mother made me promise not to answer the door or call anyone," Zack said.

"I'm sure she wouldn't care if you opened the door for me," Ms. Perkins said.

There was silence, Ms. Perkins tried to look through the window to see where the boy was, but if he was there, he was hiding now.

"Zack," Ms. Perkins said. "Where's your mom and dad?"

"At work," Zack replied.

"It's Saturday Zack," Ms. Perkins said. "Your parents don't work on Saturday."

"They got called in," Zack said, trying to sound convincing.

"Are you sure they're at work," Ms. Perkins said.

"Yes," Zack said.

"Well," Ms. Perkins said. "Why don't you come over to my house and wait for them. I just made some cookies."

"I can't," Zack said. "I'm not supposed to leave the house."

"Hmm," Ms. Perkins said. "Well that's too bad, they're very good cookies."

Zack thought for a second and then said, "You could put them through the doggy door."

"Well now," Ms. Perkins said. "I could do that. I tell you what, why don't you wait by the kitchen door and I'll give you some cookies okay?

"Okay," Zack said. "That'd be cool."

"Good," Ms. Perkins said.

Ms. Perkins had thought that the family had left for a four day weekend. She had seen Zack's mom and dad drive off with some luggage in the back of their BMW. She hadn't seen them return and now here was poor little Zack alone in his home and obviously very frightened. She picked up the phone and called her nephew Steve a deputy with the sheriff's department.

"Steven," she said. "I don't care if you have paperwork to do, get your ass over there and check on that child. His parents have been gone for two days and he's much to young to be alone."

"I can't Aunt Georgina," Steve said. "But I can let the sheriff know and maybe he'll come out."

"Steven Thomas O'Keefe," Ms. Perkins said. "You get your damn ass over to that house and talk to that boy yourself. I called you for a reason and you know that."

"Fine," Steve said. "I'll go over and check on him, but I'm sure everything is fine. If something was wrong someone wou'ld've called."

"I just did, you dumbshit," Ms. Perkins said under her breath.

Zack sat in the back of the car looking at the big green building through the chain link fence. The fence had razor wire surrounding the top and he thought it looked very much like a prison would. Ms. Simms, the nice woman who had brought him here, patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry Zack," She said. "I'm sure your parents will be back. Their car probably just broke down."

Zack looked down at his feet. He wanted to believe they would, but in his gut he felt this knot that said they wouldn't be coming back. He remembered that his Mom and Dad were arguing about Dad's job and something he did there. Something about the books. His father was an accountant, which he knew had to do with keeping track of money, but that's about it.

Ms. Simms pushed a button on a box in front of the gate and soon after the gate opened to let them inside of the parking lot of the building. Zack saw that even the parking lot was fenced in from the rest of the place. That seemed strange to him.

"Come on now," Ms. Simms said, as she got out of the car. "You'll love it here, lots of boys your age to play with."

"I want to go home," Zack said. "My Mom and Dad will be home soon."

"Well I left a note on the door telling them where you were," Ms. Simms said. "If they come home, they'll come looking for you here."

Zack knew that it was pointless to argue, he had been begging for two hours to stay at his home and no one had let him so far. He got out of the car and followed Ms. Simms to the door.

"Well, well," A man sitting behind a desk said, smiling.

"Hello Bob," Ms. Simms said. "This is Zack. Zack this is Mr. Brady."

"Hello Zack," Mr. Brady said.

Zack said nothing, he just kept staring at his shoes.

"You know," Mr. Brady said. "It's polite to say hello when someone greets you Zack."

"Hello," Zack said in a quiet voice.

"There," Mr. Brady said, "That wasn't so hard."

"Zack's going to be staying with you for awhile," Ms. Simms said, "While he waits for his parents to return."

"Well I'm glad to hear that," Mr. Brady said, smiling at the boy. "I'm sure you'll have lots of fun."

"Is the doc in?" Ms. Simms asked.

"No," Mr. Brady said. "He's gone 'til next week, only Roger's back there and I wouldn't trust him with a butter knife."

Ms. Simms laughed, "Bob you're too much."

"Just kidding," Mr. Brady said. "But we will have to wait 'til the Doc comes back before he can have an examination."

"I could take him to Dr. Thomas, it's only a hour away," Ms. Simms said, "We really should make sure he's alright."

Mr. Brady knelt down in front of Zack and put his hands on the boy's shoulders, turning him from side to side.

"He looks healthy to me," Mr. Brady said. "Why don't we just get him settled and we can sort that out later."

"You're right," Ms. Simms said. "Poor guy's been in a house alone for the last two days."

"That's horrible," Mr. Brady said. "Some people should just not have kids."

"My parents are coming back for me," Zack said all of a sudden. "Their car just broke down or something. They'll be back."

"I'm sure they will dear," Ms. Parker said, then looking at Mr. Brady added, "And I'm sure they're very loving parents." "They are," Zack said, visibly upset.

"I'm sorry Zack," Mr. Brady said. "I didn't mean to upset you. I tell you what, lets get you to the cafeteria and I'll have Ms. Terry make you a snack. I'm sure you're hungry."

"Thanks Bob," Ms. Simms said.

"No problem Ms. Simms," Mr. Brady said, "Tell that old man of yours we can't wait 'til he gets back on his feet, this place isn't the same without him."

"Why thank you Bob," Ms. Simms said smiling. "You are so kind to say such a thing, but I know it's probably nice having a break from him. He's such a micro-manager."

Mr. Brady laughed, "That he is."

Ms. Simms waved as the door closed behind her. Mr. Brady put his hand on Zack's shoulder and took a good look at the boy, he had blonde hair, a bit on the dark side, dark brown eyes you could get lost in, and a light boyish tan. All the things he looked for in a boy. He knew right away that he was going to be good friends with this kid.

Chapter 2

"God damn it Carl," Mr. Brady said. "Have you seen that kid? I can't wait 'til Tuesday."

"It's not like the well is dry, Bob," Carl said. "You've got lots of other boys to play with."

"I don't want to play with them," Mr. Brady said. "I want to play with this boy."

"He's got a court hearing next Monday," Carl said. "And the doctor wont be able to check him out 'til Friday."

"The doctor can do what he always does," Mr. Brady said, "Just for once, let me be the one who opens him up."

"Bob," Carl said, pointing at his friend with a pencil. "It's too early. We don't know if he's going to be a long term resident."

"Oh he will," Mr. Brady said. "Did you see the paper? His father embezzled three hundred thousand dollars! That's two years at least, probably more."

"He's got a mother," Carl said.

"Yeah," Mr. Brady said, "And she ran off and left him to die for all she knew. Christ, he was alone for nearly three days. What judge is going to let her have him back. He's going to be here for awhile Carl."

"You're probably right," Carl said. "But neither of us are fortune tellers, so until we know for sure, we're not taking any chances."

"I wont leave any marks," Mr. Brady said.

"That's not what I'm afraid of," Carl said. "We just wont have him long enough to be sure he wont say anything. God, Bob, just keep it in your pants for five days. It's not like he's the only cute kid in this place."

"Fine," Mr. Brady said. "I'll wait 'til Tuesday. Don't let anyone touch that boy! I get first crack, I've never asked before, it's the least you can do."

"Okay, Bob," Carl said. "I can do that for you. You know I'm right."

"I know," Mr. Brady said. "Kid just got under my skin is all."

"Some of them do that," Carl said.

Mr. Brady sat at his desk and imagined Zack naked. He wondered if the kid was circumcised or not. He knew how soft the boy's skin was and the thought of sucking on that kid's little soft dick until it stiffened in his mouth, almost made him shoot right then.

He knew at five o'clock, when he could finally lock the front door, that he'd have to go and release some of his tension. He thought of kids that looked like the new boy, but couldn't think of any. Maybe the new kid Angelo, he was a cutey. Short cut black hair, skinny little face, that light latin tan and dark, almost black eyes. He was tight as hell too, from what Roger had said. He smiled to himself and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk.

When five came around he got on his radio and advised he was taking 10, which was code for grabbing a boy and having some fun. If you were just stretching your legs or going to the bathroom you said, taking 5.

Chapter 3

Since the boys were all older, at least seven, very few would find homes and because a prospective parent had to go through a specific adoption agency that was run by one of Mr. Carlin's friends, most of the boys at the homes would never be placed anywhere else until they turned eighteen. Only those that met a specific profile would be allowed to leave. The ones that Mr. Carlin was sure would not say a word about the place for as long as they lived.

In order to be placed in the home, there had to be no other relatives that were willing to take the lads. That meant that each of the boys there really had no one that cared enough to check on them. They had a specific criteria set up for breaking each child according to their history. The Doctor at the home Zack was at, was actually the one that came up with the program. Although he had been a small town pediatrician for the last twenty years, prior to that he had spent five years as a pediatric psychiatrist researching the effects of long term abuse on boys. He was an intuitive genius when it came to boys.

If he had not come under suspicion for sodomizing a young six year old boy that had just come under his care, he would've still been a research scientist. Of course the was dismissed and it essentially ruined his career. He spent some time after that working on a new specialty, pediatrics, and once he was finished, moved to the southern town. The doctor did quite well for five years, managing to restrict himself to brief touches and occasional unnecessary, but explainable procedures.

Mr. Carlin found the doctor twelve years ago and explained his plan to open a home for special needs, his own in fact. The good doctor at first pleaded ignorance, then shock, then threatened to inform the authorities. In the end he sat there naked in Mr. Carlin's office as a ten year old brown haired angel named Roger Simms stared up at him with the saddest eyes as he sucked on the doctor's dick. It was all the convincing he needed. He cut back the hours at his practice and waited for the home to open.

Mr. Brady had been hired before it opened as well. Mr. Carlin had learned about the man through an acquaintance. Mr. Brady had been selling Mr. Carlin's friend movies of boys doing various acts, but Mr. Brady had been thinking of getting out of the business because of a close call with one of his customers, who was arrested.

Mr. Simms was the one that hired him. He explained why they had selected him and why they needed someone like him to work there. Mr. Simms seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to picking out the pedophiles amongst the many people that applied. His trick was simply to ensure that the few boys they had gotten so far were taking showers when he gave them a tour of the place. If they became uncomfortable and tried to leave too quickly, they were a candidate, although bringing there hidden desires out may take same time. If they tried to prolong the visit or even started to talk to one of the boys, then that man was most likely going to prove to be an excellent addition. If they didn't seem to care and didn't even bother looking at the boys, definitely not a candidate. Otherwise the trick was to read the body language and listen to the inflection of their voice when they were around boys.

Most men who were boy lovers, tended to tense up around children that weren't their own, an almost instinctual fear coming over them. Normally they wold cross their arms or put their hands in their pocket, a defensive posture, as well as a reaction to their desire to touch the boys. They would also change the rate of their speech and their inflection, it was slight, but it was there, most often they would speak faster in a slightly higher pitch. These were their survival mechanisms, the things that ensured they did not get caught. A product of flight or fight. They could not fight the desire, so they did everything they could to ensure it wasn't obvious and since they normally would over compensate, it was easy for Mr. Simms to pick up on it. The average pedophile would go years without seeing a naked child, so thrusting them into a room with five wet naked little boys, at least one sporting a boy boner, was bound to have an effect, which made identifying them all that much easier.

When Mr. Simms noticed which boy or boys had an erection he would make a point of bringing attention to it.

"I hope this doesn't bother you," the counselors would joke, mimicking Mr. Simms. "The boys tend to have erections quite often, so it's important that you are comfortable being around boys in that state."

In most cases this would only increase the pedophiles attempts to hide their arousal.

"Oh no," most would say, "I understand it's quite natural. Boys will be boys."

Then of course many would try to shift their erection so that no one might notice. Mr. Simms actually wasn't looking for those men though, he was looking for the ones who could stand there in the middle of a room full of naked wet boys, look at them, and not get an erection, even though they were aroused. Those were the men that would pass inspections, those were the men that would be able to follow directions and time tables and not end up doing something stupid that threatened the whole project.

Of course if he still had questions about a man, he would invite them over for dinner. At some point the man would be left alone with little Roger, his ten year old adopted son, and he would observe how the man acted on a closed circuit camera. Roger was taught to be just suggestive enough to attract the attention of a true boy lover, without arousing suspicions that he might actually be trying to seduce the men.

It took quite awhile to assemble the right people for the job and even though they were understaffed for the first year, Mr. Simms refused to hire anyone that he couldn't trust to be with his boys. After two years he had one counselor on duty for every ten boys. Right now there were three counselors always working, not including the doc and Mr. Simms' adopted son, Roger. There were also several part timers who volunteered to come and spend time with the boys. Most of them were quite wealthy too, so this was an obvious sign of their generosity.

Now the home was well established and had a reputation for being one of the finest institutions of its type in the state. If there were any issues at all with the institution it was its failure to have enough females on the staff. Something Mr. Simms defended by stating boys were more comfortable around men. Recently he had found two women who did have a fondness for boys, and that was alleviating that suspicion as well.

After the second year another institution was opened across the way from the first. This one was meant for boys fourteen and older and had actually been opened to ensure that the boys that left the first home, didn't go somewhere else and act out or tell what was happening. It was also meant to train the boys to have some self discipline and decorum.

Yes, for over twelve years the institution had nearly a spotless record. Not a single boy had said a word about his experiences at the institution and in fact two boys from the home were now grown up and working as counselors there, something Mr. Simms was quite proud of.

Yes things seemed to be going well, until Mr. Brady screwed up and nearly brought everything crashing down.

Chapter 4

"Hey there Zack," Mr. Brady said.

"Hi," Zack said covering his genitals as he suddenly realized that Mr. Brady had come in.

"Taking a shower?" Mr. Brady asked, an obvious question, but the man was nervous.

"Yeah," Zack said, I don't like to do it around the other boys, they joke around to much.

Mr. Brady was well aware that joking around meant playing grab ass and jerking off.

"Boys will be boys," he said with a smile.

"Umm," Zack said. "I was almost finished."

"Don't let me stop you," Mr. Brady said, licking his lips unconsciously.

"Could you," Zack said, intending to ask the man to leave, but not knowing how.

"Wash your back?" Mr. Brady said. "Of course I can."

Mr. Brady didn't wait for the boy to object as he took the soap from the boys hands as they still covered his genitals, allowing him a quick feel of the boys balls.

"Turn around," He said.

"Mr. Brady," Zack tried to say, as the man grabbed him by the waist and directed him towards the spray of water.

"You know," Mr. Brady said, as he lathered his hand and began to rub the boys back. "Most boys tend to not clean up properly. Do you know what I mean Zack."

"No," Zack said in an uncomfortable voice.

"Well," Mr. Brady said. "They don't clean their bottoms out. Did you clean your bottom out?"

Zack nodded his head and closed his eyes, trying not to feel the hands running over his back and bottom. He felt the man start to move his hand into the crack of his bottom.

"Bend over Zack," Mr. Brady said in a husky voice.

Zack didn't know what to do, so he did what the man wanted, he bent over, even though he was frightened by the turn of events.

"There it is," Mr. Brady said in a cheerful voice as he ran his finger across the boy's butt hole. "Have you cleaned this out buddy."

"Yeah," Zack answered, trying to sound convincing. "I did it first."

"Hmm," Mr. Brady said. "It doesn't look like you did a good job. Lets see if we can get it cleaner okay?"

Zack didn't say anything, then he felt Mr. Brady shake him by the waste.

"Okay, Zack?" Mr. Brady asked again.

Zack nodded, saying nothing.

"Tell me it's okay Zack," Mr. Brady said.

"Okay," Zack said so softly, Mr. Brady almost didn't hear it above the sound of the water.

"Good boy," Mr. Brady said. "Not a lot of boys care about being clean, it shows you take pride in your appearance."

Zack couldn't understand how keeping your butthole clean affected your appearance, no one was supposed to see it.

Mr. Brady soaped up his finger and started to rub it ever so softly against the boy's hole, loving the tight resistance he felt.

"Yes," he said, "You're cleaning up nicely. Bend over a little more, in fact grab your ankles."

Zack did not want to do that, but the man was pulling him down by his arm 'til he was in the position he had mentioned.

"That's better," Mr. Brady said. "Now take a deep breath, this might sting a bit."

The boy hollered and stood straight up as a painful spasm shot from around his hole.

"Back down to your ankles," Mr. Brady shouted, slapping Zack's bottom with his hand.

"It hurts," Zack said. "Take it out."

"No," Mr. Brady said. "You said it was okay to clean you out and we're going to clean you out."

"I don't want to do this anymore," Zack said in a high pitch whiney voice.

"Well that's too bad," Mr. Brady said. "You should have thought of that, before you said it was okay."

Mr. Brady slapped the boy's ass again as he continued to move his finger inside of the boy, actually holding the boy in place with it.

"The sooner you bend over," Mr. Brady said. "The sooner we can finish cleaning you out."

Zack sobbed and bent over. Mr. Brady marveled at the boys pale bottom, he obviously wore a speedo at the beach, which was fine with Mr. Brady.

"You're not very clean in here," Mr. Brady said, "This may take awhile." The boy sobbed again, tears streaming down his face, sure that this was not right, that the man was doing something very wrong to him.

"Just a minute more," Mr Brady said as he rubbed his own stiffened member through his pants.

"Please take it out," Zack said, shifting from foot to foot, trying to relieve himself of the uncomfortable fullness.

The boys begging only turned Mr. Brady on even more and he began to rub his prick even faster, then with a cry he felt himself come in his underwear, as he did, he began to ram his finger in and out of Zack, causing the small boy to cry out in pain.

Finally, his orgasm over, Mr. Brady removed his finger. There was no shit or blood at all, which the man was suddenly very thankful for. Realizing he lost control, he suddenly stood, very nervous.

"You can't tell anyone I showed you this," Mr. Brady said grabbing the boy by the arms, even now looking at the boy's small shriveled uncircumcised penis, rather than his face.

The boy just sobbed and looked at the man, frightened and unsure what he should do.

Mr. Brady let the boy go and the boy took a step back away from him, tears streaming from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, buddy," Mr. Brady said. "I didn't know it hurt. Come on you forgive me don't you?"

The boy just stood there, his hands covering his penis and balls, trying very hard not to run out of the room naked.

"I forgive you," he said between sobs.

"This is our little secret right," Mr. Brady said, trying to touch the boy as he stepped back away from him.

The boy nodded, still looking at the man with fear in his eyes.

"Promise me you wont tell," Mr. Brady said, holding out his pinky, "Pinky swear?"

Zack stood there for a moment watching the man for any sign that he might grab him, then wanting so much for the man to leave so he could just get his clothes on and get out of that place, he reached out and wrapped his pinky around the man's.

"Good boy," Mr. Brady said. "I knew you were a good boy."

The boy sobbed as the man stood up, looked at the boy one last time and left the shower room.

Mr. Brady kept thinking he had fucked up. He shouldn't have done it. If anyone found out he would be fried. His heart fell in his chest, then he noticed the cum running down his leg, dampening his slacks.

He went to the counselors locker room and grabbed a fresh change of clothes, something that he always had. He looked at himself in the mirror to see if he looked guilty, then smacked himself hard on his forehead with his palm.

"Stupid!" Mr. Brady said. "Stupid!"

He sat down on a bench trying to figure out what he would do. He could feel himself start to sweat. Glen walked in and nodded to him.

"What's up Bob?" Glen asked.

"Just cleaning up, spilled something on my pants," Mr. Brady said.

"Ah," Glen said, smiling. "Well hopefully it was something sticky."

"God," Mr. Brady said, watching the man as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Is that all you think about, sex?"

Mr. Brady left before Glen could answer. He walked back to his desk, passing Carl, sitting in Mr. Simms office. Carl nodded to him and he nodded back, hoping he looked normal.

He sat at his desk, realizing he had two more hours before his shift ended. He felt sick. He hadn't felt like this for awhile. It wasn't like it was the first boy he had done things too, but it was the gravity of the situation. He was supposed to wait and didn't, now everything was hinged on little Zack not breaking the silence. He was certain the boy would be too ashamed to say anything, so instead of telling Carl, so that he could try and minimize the situation, he kept silent.

Bob ended up very sorry for that.

Chapter 5

"He's already been placed?" The judge asked.

"Yes,sir," Ms. Simms said. "At the boy's home."

"Ah," the judge said. "Yes I see it right here. How do you like the boy's home Zack?"

Zack wasn't paying attention, all he could think of was Mr. Brady and his hands, how he had promised not to tell, yet he was so afraid he would do it again if he went back.

"Zack, answer the judge," Ms. Simms said, certain the boy would give the same answer all the other boys did.

"I hate it, Mr. Brady 3;," Zack sobbed suddenly unable to continue.

"What about Mr. Brady Zack?" The judge asked, suddenly very concerned.

"He put his finger in my butt," Zack said, looking down at the floor. "Please don't make me go back. Please."

"Zack," the judge said, shocked to hear such allegations.

"What you're saying is very serious," the judge said. "Are you positive he put his finger in your bottom?"

"He said he was cleaning it out," Zack said, sobbing again, tears streaming down his face.

"Christ," the judge said under his breath, not caring for where this was going.

"I think it would be best if we asked Mr. Brady about these allegations," Ms. Simms said.

"I understand Mr. Brady's rights completely Ms. Simms," the judge said. "And since you are a social worker and not a lawyer, I'll ask that you not give me legal advice."

"I'm sorry sir," Ms. Brady said.

"I understand that your husband runs the facility that Mr. Brady works at," the judge said. "I honestly don't feel that you'll be able to handle this child without prejudice. I'm going to recommend that his case be handled by Mr. Fenton and that the district attorney look into this matter. Until then the boy will remain in the custody of the court."

"But your honor," Ms. Simms said, shocked.

"I believe the boy, Ms. Simms," the judge said. "Look at him, does he look like he's lying?"

"It's just I know Mr. Brady," she started again.

"That's all Ms. Simms," the judge said. "Not another word in front of this child. I'd suggest that you leave this courtroom and have the decency to remove yourself from this case, rather than require me to order you to do so."

"Yes, sir," Ms. Simms said, putting her files in her briefcase, suddenly realizing the ramifications this may have on her husband's job.

She looked at the boy, shaking, still sobbing, and in that moment she believed him, if only for a second, then it was gone, the subconscious desire for her husband's security taking precedence.

As she left the courtroom she tried to think of everything she possibly could to prove Mr. Brady's innocence, without actually calling attention to the fact that she was involving herself.

Zack sat in a chair, sobbing as a bailiff led him to an antechamber, to wait for Mr. Fenton to pick him up.

Chapter 6

Mr. Simms stood up and started to pace, then grabbed his side.

"Are you alright Jim," Bob Brady asked.

"Don't fucking ask me that," Mr. Simms said. "None of us are alright. You've brought the fucking hand of God down on us and what for, a piece of ass that you could've gotten from half a dozen of the other boys here."

"I'm sorry," Mr. Brady said. "I wasn't thinking."

"No," Mr. Simms shouted. "You weren't."

Mr. Brady shifted in his seat, watching Mr. Simms pace back and forth.

"I'm going to have to call him," Mr. Simms said.

"No," Mr. Brady said. "We can handle this."

"Bob!" Mr. Simms screamed. "The district attorney is filing charges against you now. Endangering a minor, sodomy, do you want to me to go on?"

"We can beat this," Mr. Brady said. "It's my word against his."

"It's your word against every other boy in this home or that's lived in this home," Mr. Simms said. "Do you believe for a moment that not one of them will say anything?"

"How about Shaun?" Mr. Simms said, as he walked over to the window and placed his hands on the glass. "You fucked him every day for a week because he didn't want to give you a blowjob?"

Mr. Simms turned and looked at Mr. Brady and in a low voice asked, "You think if someone asks him if Mr. Brady has done something to him, he's not going to jump at the chance to bury you?"

"I can talk to Shaun," Mr. Brady said . "It's not just him Bob, half the fucking kids in this home hate you, and I mean hate." Mr. Simms said, pounding his desk again. "If you died tomorrow they'd probably throw a fucking party. So I think you can understand the predicament you've put us all in."

"I'm sorry," Mr. Brady said.

"Sorry," Mr. Simms said. "Sorry? You risk all of our freedom because of one stupid little twit and you say sorry?"

"I'm sorry," Mr. Brady said.

"Don't you fucking say that again," Mr. Simms said. "You have no right to apologize. I trusted you Bob, you were one of the first. How the fuck could you do this? You of all people? You trained them on the time table! Fuck!"

"I don't know what happened," Mr. Brady said.

"You know what happened," Mr. Simms said. "You of all people know you should've walked out as soon as you saw him."

"I screwed up," Mr. Brady said, suddenly losing it, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Fuck," Mr. Simms said. "Stop crying Bob."

"I'm sorry," Mr. Brady said. "Really I am." "I know Bob," Mr. Simms said. "I know."

"What am I going to do?" Mr. Brady said. "Nothing," Mr. Simms said. "I'll get you a lawyer. The lawyer will be the only one to talk about this. You don't say a word."

"You really think they'll arrest me?" Mr. Brady said.

"I'm surprised the sheriff hasn't already been here," Mr. Simms said.

"Thank you Jim," Mr. Brady said.

"I'm not doing this for you Bob," Mr. Simms said. "I'm doing this for the thirty eight people you screwed over. I hope he was worth it."

Mr. Brady handed over his walkie talkie and pass and drove home.

Mr. Simms paced back and forth in his office, then reluctantly picked up the phone. He dialed a number slowly and methodically, a man answered the phone.

"Yes," the man said in a refined voice.

"We have a situation," Mr. Simms said.

"I'll be there first thing in the morning," the voice said.

"Tomorrow morning may be too late," Mr. Simms said.

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then the man replied, "Pick me up from the airstrip south of the home, I'll be there in three hours."

"I'll be there," Mr. Simms said.

"And Jim," the voice said.

"Yes, Mr. Carlin," Mr. Simms said.

"This had better be important," the man said.

Chapter 7

"You look fine boy," Glen said, as he stroked the boy's soft little circumcised dick.

The boy looked at him with his blues eyes on the verge of tears and Mr. Parker smiled.

"Look," Mr. Parker said. "You're getting excited Ronny."

"I didn't mean to," Ronny said, trying to hold back a sob.

"But you did," Glen said. "I told you you weren't allowed to get excited 'til I said you could, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir," Ronny said, tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

"What do you think we should do Ronny?" Glen said, looking at the slight pale skinned ten year old boy.

"I don't know," Ronny said, then suddenly screamed as Mr. Parker grabbed his balls and squeezed.

"You don't know boy?" Glen asked in a calm voice.

"Punish me sir," Ronny screamed, trying to pry his balls from the man's grips.

"Good," Glen said. "We're in agreement then."

"Glen you there?" Said a voice through the walkie talkie.

Glen sighed, as he put the walkie talkie to his mouth and answered, "This is Glen."

"We've got a situation," Mr. Simms said.

"I'll be right there," Glen said, looking the boy in the eyes, seeing the relief wash over his frightened face. "Now you my little cocksucker, will wait here until I come back, no matter how long it takes me to come back. If I find you gone, the beating you got last week, will be nothing compared to what I'll have in store for you, got it?"

"Yes sir," the little boy said, sobbing again.

Glen stood up and placed his belt back through the loops of his pants. He knew something was wrong, but not what. Mr. Simms didn't like him, he was worried one of the boys he played with got hurt. When he got to Mr. Simms door, he waited for a second and then knocked.

"Come in Glen," Mr. Simms said.

Glen stepped in and saw a distinguished dark haired man with grey temples, sitting in a chair by the window. A tall man in a suit with dark sunglasses stood by the man. Mr. Simms was rifling through files, looking for something.

"I'm sorry," Glen said. "I thought 3;"

"It's alright," Mr. Simms said. "Glen, Mr. Carlin."

"Hello Glen," Mr. Carlin said, relishing the look of fear that crossed Glen's face. "We have need of your special talents."

Glen drove to the small shop in the city. If you hadn't known it was there, you would've missed it. It was run by two brothers who catered to the needs of very special clients. They specialized in bondage and S&M gear. Glen pointed out the objects he needed and asked the man if he had any smaller sizes. The man looked at him for a second, with a look a disdain, then went to the back and returned with just what Glen was looking for.

"Yes," Glen said, smiling at the man. "This will work nicely."

When Glen returned he headed to confinement, sure enough, little Ronny was standing there, his hands clasped behind his neck, glancing every once in awhile at the two way mirror. Glen knew Ronny was wondering if he was there, if could finally move. He had been gone for four hours and he was certain that the boy hadn't taken a step from where he had left him. Other boys might hear him say, 'don't move' and think he was telling them to stay in the room, Ronny had experienced that mistake before and obviously did not want to relive that experience, even though, regrettably he would most likely suffer much worse today.

"We'll practice on Ronny," Glen said to Mr. Carlin. "I've played with him enough that he knows what's going to happen. We can gauge his reaction and get a good idea of at least the minimum effect our treatment will have on the Dillon boy."

"I do hope you're as good as they say you are," Mr. Carlin said, taking off his hat and sitting it on the table. "Jim, I may want a boy for this. A blond one, like the one in the room."

"Yes, sir," Mr. Simms said. "I'll get one for you right now."

Glen left the viewing room, and entered the interview room. He looked at Ronny deciding what mistake the boy had made. He saw the boy's erection and immediately smiled.

"Hello Ronny," Glen said, as he looked up at a light in the corner to find it was still red. "Did you miss me?"

"Please don't hurt me," Ronny begged, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Ronny," Glen said, kneeling in front of the boy's erection. "I thought we talked about this?"

Glen grabbed the boys balls and twisted them suddenly, causing the boy to scream in pain and bring his hands down to try to pull the man away.

"Now, now," Glen said, in an angry voice. "Get your fucking hands back in position or I'll tear your nuts right off."

The boy had to fight to put his hands back, but once he did, the man let go of his balls, causing the boy to almost fall back.

"Good boy," Glen said, walking around the boy. "I've got some good news for you."

Ronny visibly trembled, fully aware that there was no good news.

"Someone very important is here," Glen said. "And he wants to see me discipline you."

"I've been good," Ronny said, sobbing, "Please Glen."

"Don't call me Glen," Glen screamed, as he started to spank the boy's bottom with his hand.

The boy danced around crying out each time the man hit him, trying to avoid the beating, but he was held in place by the man, until the man stopped.

"You'll be happy to know," Glen said, stepping away from the boy, "that if you are a good boy today, that I'm going to give you a Gameboy."

The boy sobbed even harder, it was not the first time he had been given a gift by Glen, and he knew that no matter how much he wanted a Gameboy, it would never be worth the time he had to spend with the man.

"Now if you're a bad boy Ronny, what do you think will happen," Glen asked.

Ronny was silent for a moment, Glen raised his hand as if to smack the boy.

"You'll start all over," the little blonde boy sobbed.

"No, silly,' Glen said. "I'm going to cut off your balls."

"Oh no," Ronny said, begging the man. "Please don't cut off my balls. Please!"

"If you're a good boy I wont have to," Glen said. "Now assume the position for punishment, you know the one."

Ronny bent over and grabbed his ankles, shaking almost uncontrollably.

"Which shall we start with Ronny?" Glen asked. "The strap, the switch, or the paddle?"

Ronny let out a lound whining sound and started to sob again.

"Quit that boy," Glen said. "You'll just make it worse if you don't choose one."

"The paddle, sir," Ronny said, then began to cry again.

"I think ten is fair to start with," Glen said, staring at the boy's bottom, the only sign of punishment, two faint weals from last weeks session.

"Please sir," the boy said. "I have to go the pee, can I go pee first, please."

"No," Glen said. "You should've thought of that before."

The boy continued to sob, not understanding why this was happening to him, unable to grasp that it was his beauty that drew the loathsome man to him, like a cockroach to a bread crumb.

Glen looked at the boy's bottom and brought the paddle down squarely across the left cheek of the boy's bottom with an impossibly loud smack. The boy cried out.

"Please sir, please," Ronny begged. "I'll be good, I'll do whatever you want! Please!"

"Ronny," the man said in a calm voice. "You're already a good boy and right now you're doing exactly what I want you to do."

Ronny sobbed, realizing there was no way out. Glen waited to hit the boy again until he had stopped trembling, then with all the strength he could muster he brought the paddle down across the boy's other cheek.

Mr. Carlton sighed, as a different young blonde haired boy squirmed as he crouched over the man's thick six inch [15 cm] cock, trying to accept the tremendous girth. They watched as Glen continued to hit Ronny. The boy was sick to his stomach, but Mr. Carlton had a thin smile on his lips. It was hard to find men like Glen. There was no doubt in his mind the man was a sociopath.

He knew Glen's file well, the man had been taken away from his mother at the age on nine. His mother was a prostitute that doted on his younger brother, but hated Glen because of his father. She would torture the boy nearly every night. Her favorite act was to burn the area around his anus with a cigarette, She would laugh as she heard him scream when he could hold it back no longer and finally went to the bathroom. She would've continued to torture him, but he collapsed at school from a high fever due to the burns becoming infected. The doctor who treated him saw the signs of horrific abuse and that was the last time he would ever see his mother.

Glen showed signs of sadism at an early age. When he was twelve he was removed from one home for crushing one of the younger boy's testicles. When asked why he did it, he had replied that 'he was seeing how hard he could squeeze them before they popped.'

He spent time in a juvenile facility after that and that didn't help things. He was at the bottom of the food chain there and ended up being someone's bitch for two years before he stabbed the other boy in the eye with a pencil while he was in the Center's school.

He was held in one facility after another for the next six years, finally being released at the age of twenty-one, despite a psychiatrist's recommendation that he would be a threat to others. He had not acted out violently for over a year. He had found God and attended every Sunday service. At that time they didn't know what they did now about offenders, so they let him out, sure that he had been reformed.

Two years later he was hired by Mr. Simms to perform special duties his other counselors were not willing to do. Mr. Simms knew quite well the value of fear. Love was good, but fear was better. Fear brought obedience and order, but most importantly fear brought silence. If that fear was at the hands of a sadistic monster, it was that much better. Anyone could hit a child with a belt, Glen, however, had turned punishments into an art form.

There were certain things Glen refused to do, for instance he would not burn a child, in fact the one time he saw another counselor do this to one of the boys, he attacked the man and nearly tore his ear off, nor would he intentionally cause serious or long term damage. There was no skill in that, Glen believed the true skill lay in pushing a boy to their absolute limit. Because he had limits Glen believed that he was a moral and upstanding man, even though he took great pleasure in hearing a young boy's cries. The fact he had found a job doing the thing he loved most, was to him, a sign that God wanted him there.

Even though he always got erections when he was punishing a boy, he hadn't actually had sex with one until he came to the center. Yes, he had struck their genitals and poked the switch's up their bottom, but that was just to humiliate them and cause them more distress. It was during one session, after he had finished with a little dark haired boy named Ryan, that he witnessed Mr. Brady descend on the boy. As Mr. Brady shoved his dick in the boy's ass, the boy screamed even louder than when he received his thrashing. The pain seemed to be immense and the boy screamed each time Mr. Brady thrust his dick in. Mr Brady's cock was only seven inches [18 cm] long, Glen's was an inch [2½ cm] longer and just as thick. Glen immediately wondered how loud the boy would scream if he fucked him. After Mr. Brady was done, he found out.

Now sex was as much a part of his sessions as was the punishment itself. He never called it torture, for that was an uncouth word, he referred to it as punishment, for in his demented mind, that's what it was. Mr. Carlton knew this better than Glen did. He had pointed Mr. Simms to Glen. Glen was perfect for the home, in fact each of his homes, of which there were four, had a Glen. Glen was such a fine catch because he was young, smart and able to suppress his monstrous urges when the need arose.

Glen was handling the cane at that moment, Glen called it a switch, but to most people in the know, it was a cane. Glen was judging it's weight so that he could use it to its full potential. He stared at the boy, leaning against the wall. He was soaked in urine, from when he had pissed himself while being paddled, He had never taken his hands off his ankles, for fear he would lose his balls, so he ended up pissing on his stomach, and it had ended running down over his face and hair. Glen smiled, to him the smell of urine was like the smell of roses to a blushing bride.

Mr. Carlton was smiling too, the little boy on his lap had finally given up the fight and taken the whole length of his cock up his ass. The boy was quite tight and warm and he was feeling close to an orgasm.

"Bishop," Mr. Carlton said, which was the name of the boy impaled on his cock. "Would you like to play with Mr. Parker next?"

"No," Bishop said, whimpering as his ass adjusted to the cock inside of him. It wasn't that long, but it had gone in quick and he had only been fucked a few times before.

"You wouldn't," Mr. Carlton asked, as if he was surprised. "Don't you like Mr. Parker."

Bishop was wise enough to know that was a loaded question, so even as he continued to whimper from the discomfort, he replied, "I want to play with you. I like you inside me."

"You are quite the bright lad," Mr. Carlton said, as he stroked the boy's naked stomach.

Ronny was screaming again. Glen had already left a long line of welts down the boy's bottom and now he working on the boy's back and thighs, which caused the boy to suffer even more.

Mr. Carlton, deeming himself merciful pressed the button on the speaker to the room, and said, "Fine show Glen, but do finish up now. We still have to plan things out."

Glen, out of breath, just smiled at the two way mirror and then brought the switch down over and over along the boy's legs until the boy collapsed on the floor wailing and begging. Glen looked down at the squirming child admiring his handiwork. the boy's ass was almost beat red and already showing signs of bruising, the line of welts from the switch were almost perfectly one inch [2½ cm] apart, all the way from the top of the boy's knees to the small of his back. He thought that was brilliant craftsmanship.

Glen finally kicked the boy once in the stomach and then hung the cane on the wall. He took some rubbing alcohol and a rag from the counter and soaked the rag with the alcohol, hissing as it he felt the alcohol touch a small scab on his hand.

"Well that's going to sting," he said as he walked towards the boy.

You may think that Glen hated Ronny, but that was actually the furthest from the truth. He liked Ronny a great deal, maybe more than any other counselor in the center. In fact it was this great affection for the boy that caused him to single the boy out. Glen could not understand why he would feel this way and the mere feeling of love was so uncomfortable for the man that he dealt with it the only way he knew how, to thrash the child, then brutally fuck him.

The only reason he didn't fuck the boy that day, was because Mr. Carlton was watching and he didn't want to offend the man, otherwise, the boy would've endured at least another half hour of abuse.

Ronny, was left in the room, which was never a good sign, because it often meant that there was more to come. Luckily for him, there was too much for Glen to do that day, so after Mr. Carlton came in little Bishop's ass, Ronny was sent to the infirmary and Bishop to his room. While Ronny lay on the examining table, sobbing, looking at the Gameboy that had been given to him, Glen joined Mr. Carlton and Mr. Simms for dinner at a very expensive restaurant, to discuss what the future held for little Zack Dillon.

Chapter 8

Mr. Carlton did not believe for a second that he was doing anything wrong. He believed discipline and sex should be as much a part of a young boy's life as soccer or cricket. He had been raised by wealthy parents, his mother American and his father English. He still remembered his days at his old boarding school with fondness. If Ronny thought he was the only boy beaten so severely, he was sorely mistaken. Mr. Carlton did not even try to count the times his headmaster had beaten him, or sodomized him for that matter. Now there was no more corporal punishment in the British Empire and very few schools in the states continued to use it. It was such a hot topic for debate, but he chose not to, there was no need for one in his mind.

As far as Zack Dillon went, he had his own ideas about how to handle the boy, however the first problem was getting the boy back, and from his report on the boy's new caseworker, he was quite sure he knew just how to do that. The judge, well, the judge could not be persuaded. He knew the man, he had strict principles, something that Mr. Carlton admired, but was sure would be the only thorn in their side.

"So it's settled then," Mr. Carlton said, interrupting the conversation that Glen and Mr. Simms were having. "Glen do what you must to prepare for the boy's arrival and I'll set about making sure the boy arrives."

"If you don't mind me asking," Glen said. "How do you intend to get the boy back?"

"I have my ways," Mr. Carlton said. "You may excel at punishing the body, dear boy, but I have spent a lifetime learning how to punish the mind. Mr. Fenton will send the boy back and I suspect that you can expect him no later than tomorrow."

"No offense," Mr. Simms said, "But Mr. Fenton doesn't like to spend, well, time with boys."

"That will have nothing to do with his motivations," Mr. Carlton said. "Let's just say that the man has desires that have led him astray."

As Mr. Fenton looked at the pictures in the envelope, all the blood in his face seemed to have left him. He pushed his glasses up and looked at the man in the suit. He was a muscular man with thick hands. The man took quite a lot of care in his pronunciation.

"I wont beat around the bush," the man said. "You can keep these pictures, there are copies. If you would like those copies to be kept private, then I would suggest you find a way to have the boy back at the home by tomorrow."

"It's not that easy," Mr. Fenton said. "The boys given a statement, I can't just make that go away."

"There's no need," the man said. "We both know boys tend to exaggerate, maybe Mr. Brady was just helping him with his shower and the boy misinterpreted his actions. Of course it would be awkward for the boy, to be alone in a shower with a counselor, never having been bathed by a man. Of course that's just a suggestions. You can decide how you want to handle this, just handle it tomorrow."

"If I do this you'll give me the pictures?" Mr. Fenton asked.

"No," the man said, "But I'll place them somewhere safe and as long as you do what you've been asked and never mention any of this to anyone, they'll remain there."

"Tomorrow isn't a lot of time," Mr. Fenton said. "I'm not sure if I can get another hearing with the Judge by then."

"That's not necessary," the man said. "The judge said nothing about you returning the boy to the home for a visit."

"But," Mr. Fenton said.

"But nothing," the man interrupted. "I will guarantee you, that if you return this boy to the home, this matter and all of the other pressing concerns you might have, will be no more."

"What will happen to the boy?" Mr. Fenton asked, suddenly feeling the weight of his conscious.

"Nothing that he doesn't deserve," the man said, then seeing the look of worry on Mr. Fenton's face added, "and most certainly no harm. We just want a chance to persuade the boy that he might've been mistaken is all."

"You're not going to hurt him?" Mr. Fenton asked.

"Of course not," the man said. "What kind of monsters do you think we are?"

Zack Dillon looked at the door of the green building and trembled. Mr. Fenton saw the fear in the boys eyes and in his heart knew that the boy had not lied about anything, Mr. Fenton also knew that if anyone found out what he had done, that his life, as he knew it would be over, that was the motivation that forced him to literally drag the boy from the car into the home.

The first person the boy saw was Mr. Brady and he looked very angry.

"No! No!" Zack said, grabbing Mr. Fenton. "Please don't make me stay. Please!"

Mr. Fenton's would never be able to describe the feelings in his heart as he pushed the boy towards Mr. Brady and turned around and left, listening to the boy begging him and then the man's laughter.

"You should be here tonight," Mr. Brady said, holding the boy's arm as he sobbed. "That's not a request. Seven o'clock. No need to tell anyone about it."

Mr. Fenton closed his eyes for a second, then nodded, never looking at the man or the boy as he walked away.

Chapter 9

"I'm sorry," Zack said sobbing. "Please don't hurt me."

"Zack," the man said, slapping the boy on the bottom. "None of your begging will save you from the punishment that is due."

"Please! Please!" Zack continued.

"This boy just does not listen," Mr. Carlton said.

Zack thought the man was talking to himself, but in fact he was talking to the audience behind the 2-way mirror. Several counselors and Zack's caseworker, Mr. Fenton.

"Alright then," Mr. Carlton said. "Since I can see I will be unable to convince you to obey even the slightest command by merely talking to you, I think it is time for you to be punished."

"No! No!" the boy screamed as he broke free from Mr. Fenton and ran to the door, only to be pushed back in to the room as several men entered.

"Now, now," Mr. Fenton said to the sobbing boy. "That is just going to add more punishment."

As the men held the boy still, a bench was brought in to the room, the boy was quickly placed face down and his hands held above his head as the men tied his legs around the bottom of the bench.

"I'm afraid this will hurt," Mr. Fenton said. "But no more than you've hurt Mr. Brady's reputation or the reputation of this school."

Mr. Brady moved to the end of the bench and sat down so he could hold the boy's arms. He shivered when Glen entered the room. He had asked to be the one to punish the boy, not because he wanted vengeance, so much as to save him from Glen.

Glen grabbed a long heavy paddle from the wall and swung it in the air. Looking at the boy.

"Please don't hurt me," Zack begged again.

Glen knelt in front of the boy, naked, his eight inch [20 cm] penis erect. He waited for the boy to look at him and when the boy saw that man was naked he started to scream, no words, just scream.

Glen laughed and then said, "If you don't quiet down now, I'll have to punish you for carrying on as well."

The boy continued to cry and struggle to get free. Glen brought the paddle high up in the air and then crashing down onto the boy's bottom. Zack screamed louder now than he had before, his eyes were wide open and he shook from the intensity of the blow.

"I see that's got your intention," Glen said.

"Please! Please don't hit me," the boy cried out, tears now running down his cheeks.

"Quit crying you fucking cunt," Glen screamed at the boy. "You're going to be punished whether you like it or not."

"Oh no! Please mister," Zack said. "I'll be good."

"It doesn't matter whether or not you'll be good," Glen said. "You're being punished for what you've done."

"No!" Zack screamed as he saw the man raise the paddle again.

As the paddle hit the boy's bottom a loud smack could be heard throughout the confinement area, then the boy's scream.

"It's very important that you make a lot of noise Zack," Glen said, "Other boys are listening and we want them to know what will happen if they tattle like you have."

The boy was trembling now, Mr. Brady had trouble holding his arms still. Already he was losing the stomach for this. Sobs racked Zack's body, as he continued to beg for the man to stop.

Glen brought the paddle down again, continuing to hit the boy's bottom. Spanking him over and over, listening as the boy's screams increased in intensity, and just as quickly as he'd started, he stopped.

"Now, now," he said. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

The boy sobbed, his whole body trembling. He could not believe how badly his bottom hurt. He looked over his shoulder and saw that his left cheek was dark red in color.

"Now what have we learned Zack," Glen said.

"I wont tell," Zack said, sobbing.

"Not that you fucking retard," Glen said. "We've learned that paddles hurt."

He brought the paddle above his head and with all his might brought it down with a sickening smack on the boy's already bruised bottom. The boy screamed and managed to pull one arm away from Mr. Brady as he twisted and squirmed on the table trying to ease the pain in his ass. Glen grabbed the boy's wrist.

"Fuck Bob," Glen said, pulling the boy's arm back up to where Mr. Brady could hold it. "Can't you even hold on to a little boy?"

Mr. Brady took hold of the boy, to him it felt like they'd been doing this for a half hour, but really it had only been five minutes. Glen knew that hitting the boy's bottom anymore with the paddle would risk doing permanent damage later on, he did not want to scar the boy's bottom, just beat it. So he placed the paddle on the wall and grabbed the long heavy switch that hung beside it.

"Alright now," Glen said, to the sobbing boy. "Quit your sniveling. We're done with the paddling."

"Please don't hit me anymore," Zack begged.

The boy had calmed down, believing that the punishment was over, then he turned to see Glen standing there holding the long cane and he started to scream again.

"Jesus someone get something to put in the boy's mouth," Glen shouted, "He's hurting my fucking ears."

One of the counselor stepped forward and gave Glen a roll of tape.

"What are you, fucking retarded?" Glen asked throwing it back at the man. "The cabinet, grab one of the gags in there."

The man gave Glen a dirty look then walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a small pink gag and threw it at Glen.

"That's better," Glen said, as he bent down. "Open wide."

The boy clenched his mouth shut.

"If I have to force your mouth open," Glen said. "I'm not putting this in it, I'll put a little ring in there. It'll be big enough to let everyman in here put their penises in your mouth. Do you want that instead?"

The boy sobbed and opened his mouth.

"Good boy," Glen said as he brought the straps behind the boy's head and fastened it in place.

He looked at the audience of counselors and boys, most were obviously uncomfortable. Glen wondered to himself if they would have been as uncomfortable if he'd been pushing his dick up the boy's ass. He was certain they would've been turned on by the boy's screams then.

He turned back to the boy, believing in his heart that everything he was doing was for the good of the institution and the boy. Glen believed that the institution was the best place for any boy to be. He believed, as he watched the young boy tremble, that punishment was the only way to ensure that a child was obedient. In the case of this boy, he had a special contempt, because he had broken the rule of silence.

In all the years of Glen's life he had never told on anyone. He kept silent and refused to squeal. The fact that this boy suffered very little, at least in Glen's eyes, and told on someone, was a sign of weakness and cowardice. He believed each stroke of the cane was a cleansing for the boy, a chance to to rebuild the boy's spirit and make him stronger.

Even as he brought the cane down across the boy's back he thought of this, he saw the boy squirm, saw his mouth wide open, but he did not hear the boy, instead his mind was filled with unbridled fury as he hit the boy over and over along his back, causing a line of angry red welts to form. A few times the welts overlapped and drops of blood formed.

This did not stop Glen, he knew the boy might bleed, but bleeding rarely left scars, nor did it put the boy in any danger, instead it increased the intensity of the boy's experience. He brought the switch down with almost unerring accuracy, avoiding the boy's bottom, knowing that it might split the already tender skin, after the work he'd done with paddle, instead he struck the boy's legs and back.

"This sides done," Glen finally said, resting for a second. "Turn him over."

The boy screamed and struggled, even more so when his legs were untied. As the men turned him over and he fully realized what was going to happen, the pain of having his thrashed backside come into contact with the hard wooden bench caused th boy to arch his back off the ground, but the men pulled him taught, admiring the boy's penis, standing at attention.

The men believed the boy was turned on, not know that the stimulation of rubbing his penis over and over while squirming under the assault of the paddle and switch were the cause, not a love for pain itself. Glen knew this, but he also knew how to use the boy's erection against him.

"Well," Glen said. "Looks like we have a pain slut here."

The boy sobbed, begging in a muffled and unintelligible voice as he squirmed under the gaze of the onlookers.

"Your mouth says no," Glen said, then as he smacked the boy's penis lightly with cane, he added, "But your body says yes."

Zack sobbed again, tears stained his cheeks.

The boy was laying on the ground now, not even trying to move. His body was a mass of stripes and bruises from the severe beating Glen had wrought on the boy. An occasional sob and hiss could be heard as the small child tried to find a way to lay down without his body aching.

"Let him rest," Glen said. "Then we'll move on to the next part."

Mr. Carlton smiled as he stood over the boy. He, like the counselors, was completely naked. The boy did not even bother to struggle, he just made a high pitch whining sound when he saw all of the naked men looking at him.

"Mr. Pepper," Mr. Carlton said. "Please proceed."

A heavy strip of metal with weight on each end was brought out. The center was padded to allow the boy to kneel. Mr. Carlton had it made especially for the boy. He watched as Mr. Pepper and another man laid it on the floor.

"It's a shame the doctor's not here," Mr. Carlton said. "He would be the best person to do this."

The man took out a length of fishing line and two fishing hooks. He tied the line to one of the hooks then walked towards Zack.

"Rests over kid," the man said, kneeling down and grabbing the boy by his hair.

Mr. Pepper dragged the boy so he was close to the metal strip. The boy had still not noticed the fishing hooks. The man looked down at the boy's stiff penis and smiled. With a deft hand took a hold of the boy's arms and brought them behind his back.

"Mr. Brady, please hold the boy's arms," the man said. "Mr. Parker, please hold his feet."

The boy struggled, not sure what was going on but knowing it wasn't good.

The man waited until the boy was held securely and then brought the hook down to the boy's penis. With one hand he grabbed the boy's foreskin and pulled it past the head of the boy's penis, then with an extra effort he held his fingers behind the end of the boy's skin, keeping it pressed together.

"This will hurt," he said, to the gagged shrieking boy, now realizing exactly what was going to happen.

The hook passed through the top of the boy's foreskin, causing him to howl and pull against the men as he tried to get free. Without waiting Mr. Pepper thread a long piece of fishing line through the eyelet attached to the weighted strip. Once that was done, the man picked up the next hook, he held it in front of the boy's terrified eyes, then ran the hook through the bottom part of the boy's foreskin, causing the boy jerk involuntarily as he let out another earsplitting shriek.

"Fuck he's loud," one of the counselors said as he saw the man pull another piece of fishing line through the second hook and then pull the line through the eyelet as well.

"Just two more to go," Mr. Pepper said, as he removed a long thin needle from the briefcase as he watched the boy try to speak through his gag, obviously begging the man not to do, what he was going to.

The man grabbed one of the boy's tiny nipples and pulled it away from the boy's body, then with one quick motion he pushed the needle through the boy's nipple, causing him to scream louder than any time before. After Mr. Pepper removed the needle he pulled out a small solid gold hoop and passed it through the boy's nipple.

He did the same to the boy's other nipple, causing the boy to scream and thrash about again. Once everything was in place the man grabbed the boy and dragged him over the weighted strip of metal. He tied the boy's wrists to two more eyelets but left the boy's legs free. After that he laid down next to the boy and tied the ends of the lines to the rings now held firmly by the boy's nipples, in this way, if the boy moved, even the slightest, it would apply pressure to the his nipples and foreskin, causing excruciating pain, the fact the boy had his back slightly arched while he was being tied down made it even worse, because now he couldn't straighten his back without causing unbearable pain to his penis.

"There we are," Mr Pepper said, smiling at his handiwork.

"Mr. Brady, you do the honors," Mr. Carlton said in a calm voice.

"No," Mr. Brady said. "I mean, no thank you. It's my fault this all happened."

"Mr. Brady," Mr. Carlton said. "Never say that again. You were not the one who tattled. You were not the one that nearly ruined this institution, this simpering brat was. The least the brat can do is let you fuck his ass."

Mr. Brady didn't say anything, he just looked at the little blond haired boy sobbing uncontrollably on the floor.

"Bob," Mr. Simms said. "You wanted to be the first. Fuck him."

Mr. Brady knew that it wasn't a request, he unbuckled his pants and pulled them down,releasing his soft cock from his pants. He had no doubts that this was going to cause pain to the boy and the revulsion he felt in the pit of his stomach prevented his dick from getting hard.

"Come now," Mr. Carlton said, tapping a young red haired boy that looked to be about seven or eight, his own cheeks stained from tears, having had to watch the entire scene play out before him. "Go suck the man, get him hard or this will be you next."

The boy whimpered as he hurried over and knelt before Mr. Brady, taking his cock in his mouth and sucking it expertly. It hardened despite Mr. Brady's silent protests. The boy continued to suck the man 'til Mr. Carlton called him back.

"That's enough," Mr. Carlton said. "Come and stand by me. I may need those cute little lips before the afternoons over."

Mr. Brady knelt behind the boy, coating his cock with lubricant, looking at the small boy in front of him. He pushed his finger towards the boy's ass.

"No," Mr. Carlton said. "He's had enough fingers up his ass, now it's time to show him how lucky he was it was just a finger."

Mr. Brady shivered as he placed the tip of his penis against the little boy's pink hole and pushed forward, fighting the resistance of the boy's tiny hole. He watched as the boy began to wail and shake in surprise, lurching forward 'til he felt the excruciating pain in his foreskin and nipples, then trying desperately to relieve the pressure. The man knowing the boy could stay still on his own held the boy by his hips, continuing to push his cock into the boy 'til the head passed through the stretched anal ring.

The boy howled and begged. His eyes were wide open as he tried hard to breath through the pain. Mr. Brady continued his slow descent into the boy, certain that it would be more humane to finish with him quickly than to prolong the experience, so despite the resistance he felt in the boy's ass, he did not stop pushing into the boy's bottom until he was all the way in.

The boy thought he was dieing, he could not believe anything could be that painful. If he had not been held still by Mr. Brady, he might have pulled the hooks in his foreskin completely free. Instead there was just a constant painful tug on Dillon's tormented foreskin.

Mr. Brady pulled his cock almost all the way out of the boy before pushing it slowly back in. As the audience watched and little Zack tremble, He started to slowly fuck the boy, listening to the boy's cries and whimpers, realizing that now, his cock was taking over. He started to thrust even harder, Grunting as he entered the boy, causing the boy to continue to cry out from behind his gag, trying to stop the brutal experience.

Mr. Brady surprised himself, he barely fucked the boy for five minutes before the boy's warm ass caused him to come. He groaned, pulling the boy back on his dick, causing the boy's nipples to be pulled away from his body. He grunted as he filled up the lads bowels.

"Poor form," Mr. Carlton said. "You don't come inside a lad, if he's going to be gang banged. Oh well. Glen you may go next."

The boy sobbed as he felt the tip of Glen's penis at the entrance to his dilated hole.

Chapter 10

"As you all know," Mr. Simms began. "One of the boys in this home spread a viscous rumor about Mr. Brady. I understand that sometimes the counselors may force you to do things that you do not want to do, but that in no excuses his actions. I want each and every one of you to know how serious this is, not only for you, but for your roommates and the other counselors here. That is why I am taking a serious stance on this issue."

Mr. Simms walked down to stand in front of the covered form.

"The punishment for such an infraction will be worse than anything you have ever felt before." Mr. Simms said in a loud angry voice. "And the punishment will not end. No, you will be reminded every day for as long as you stay here that you have betrayed us, that you are not one of us, that you are not a boy, but a traitor."

"I know you may think that if you tell, that you will not return to the home," Mr. Simms said, smiling. "That you'll be in the safe arms of the caring state, but I want you to know that that is the furthest from the truth. We can and will bring you back. You will suffer your punishment."

With that he pulled the cover off of the form and each and every boy in the room saw Zack Dillon, naked, trickles of blood running down his chest, his body literally covered from head to toe in stripes. Those that were at the front of the room could see a thick stream of cum running down the boy's thighs, but the most terrifying sight of all were the rings in the boy's nipples connected by gold chains to the hooks that had been attached to the boy's foreskin. More than one boy let out a sob. No one spoke, the only sound that could be heard was the soft moaning of poor Dillon. "You thought he was gone?" Mr. Simms shouted. "You thought he would not be punished? Everyone who betrays this institution will be punished. Do you understand me?"

There was silence.

"Do you understand me?" Mr. Simms yelled even louder, causing some of the boys to jump.

"Yes, sir!" The boys shouted in unison.

"Good," Mr. Simms said, looking at Zack Dillon. "Get this piece of shit out of here. She's yours Bob. Do whatever you want to her. Just make sure she can stand in front of the judge Friday."

"What do you mean Jim?" Mr. Brady asked.

"She's yours," Mr. Simms said. "Just remember, she's not a boy, she's a bitch and you dress her like a bitch."

Mr. Simms bent over 'til his face was inches from the barely conscious boy, and said in a cruel voice, "You'll be wearing a dress from now on, unless you absolutely have to wear boy's clothes. You got that little missy?"

The boy didn't answer, so Mr. Simms wrapped his hands around the gold chains and pulled, yanking the boy's nipples and foreskin away from his body.

"Yes! Yes!" The little blonde haired boy screamed.

In the end Zack Dillon admitted to lying about Mr. Brady because he wanted to leave the home and be with his parents. The judge turned the case back over to Ms. Simms and closed the case. The judge also granted custody of the boy to the home.

Zack Dillon's parents were found two years later in Brazil. They had bought a house and started a new life. When they found out there boy was living happily in a home, where he was able to play with other children, they made no attempt to gain custody of him. Instead they stayed in Brazil, fighting extradition as they lived in their tropical dream home.

Little Zack was named Betty by the counselors and lived at the institution until he turned eighteen. They ceased making him wear a dress when he turned fourteen and left for the teenager's home, but everybody knew Zack by then. After that there were other boys that were considered traitors. None of the others actually told on anyone, rather they had brought suspicion on the house, which was enough. A group of them can still be seen on the Yard, standing in dresses. They are called by there girl names.

Zack later on went to college where he met his lover, another boy from the institution, little Ronny. They still live together in Greenwich Village. Neither of them talk much about the home, but occasionally Zack will dress as a little girl and beg Ronny to fuck him.

Glen Parker died several years later in a hit and run accident while he was riding his bicycle home. The police were never able to identify his assailant.

The End

III. Pax

Introduction

After I finished writing The Fortunate Ones, I was depressed and I mean seriously depressed. The ending was very sad for me. I wanted the characters to have a happy ending, but I knew in my heart that it wasn't going to be possible. When I wrote TFO: The Lost, I went to an extreme dark place I had never seen before and I ended up being so depressed that I did not leave my home for several days. I am still upset about the story. Ronny and Zack seem to have resonated with me on a level I've never known before and their suffering has caused me to suffer as well. If nothing else I have reached an extreme in writing I did not think possible for me.

I am not willing to push myself to this extreme any more and from this moment on I will be going back to my old style of stories and leaving this one to rest. When something like that happens, it's time to get out, so with this last story in this series, I am getting out, not out of writing completely, but out of this dark world I came to live in for a short while. I apologize to those who were looking forward to more, but I really think this is for the best.

With that said, let us begin at the end.

Chapter 1

"Don't do this Anton," Ms. Simms begged. "You can get out now. I wont say a word. Please."

"Shut up bitch," Anton screamed. "You knew! You fucking knew and didn't do shit!"

"I didn't know," Ms. Simms said. "Really! Don't you think I'd have done something if I knew."

"Drive you dumb bitch," Anton said. "Don't fuckin' talk, just drive!"

He could see the lights in the distance now, most of the home was dark, it was past bedtime now.

Mr. Brady had cried to, begged him not too, at least Mr. Parker gave him the finger before he died. It had been five years now, but he could still see Glen, laying on the side of the road, a thick branch sticking out of his side, blood pooling down below him, his mountain bike crumpled beside him. Anton had stood over Glen as he coughed, the blood had splattered on his shoe. Glen had looked up and saw him.

"You," Glen said. "I thought it would be you."

He wanted so much to shoot Glen but he didn't, instead he had hit him as hard as he could over and over, 'til Glen stopped moving. There was blood all over his pants and shirt. Anton walked away, not looking back. He got into the car he had stolen and drove to Sleepy's garage, by the time Sleepy was done, their was nothing left of the car. Half the parts were out of the state already. Anton thought that would be enough, that he could finally sleep, but it wasn't.

"You'll go to prison for life," Ms. Simms said, as he held the gun in the small of her back, forcing her towards the door. "You don't want to do this."

"Shut the fuck up bitch," Anton said. "If they don't open the door you're brains are gonna be all over the glass. You understand?"

Ms. Simms sobbed, "Please Anton, don't kill me."

"I thought you wanted to bring me back here," Anton said, whispering in her ear.

When the door opened, a man not much older than Anton stood there. He had light brown hair, brown eyes, and a scar above his left eyebrow. Anton knew right away that it was Todd Cooper. He had been at the home when Anton was there.

"Ms. Simms," Todd said, not sure what was happening, "You're here late."

"I've come to get one of the boys," Ms. Simms said, sobbing. "Have you met 3;"

"Anton," Anton said. "We've met, haven't we Todd."

Todd's eyes went wide and he tried to run, but he wasn't even able to turn around before a bullet ripped through his chest and sent him crashing to the ground. Ms. Simms started to scream and he smacked her, trying to get her to shut up.

"How many counselors are here?" Anton shouted, but she was still too hysterical to say anything.

He knew she wasn't going to be able to help so he pointed the gun at her head and pulled the trigger. She fell immediately to the ground, just a few feet from Todd.

Anton stepped over her body and unclipped the passcard from Todd's belt. Anton wanted so much to spit on the man, but didn't. He walked to the door, knowing full well that someone had heard the sound. The guard at the shack near the west entrance would be here soon. He was the only one on the property with a gun. It would take the police at least fifteen minutes to arrive from town, so he had to act quickly.

He swiped the card through the electronic lock and the door clicked open. He saw the camera above his head. He looked into the camera, then kept walking.

The first one to enter the hallways was Doc. He looked the same, only his hair was grey.

"What's the meaning of this," he shouted, before the first bullet missed, whizzing past his head. The second bullet hit him below his temple and came out on the other side of his head, he dropped to his knees and then another shot hit him in the stomach. The doctor was laying on the ground not moving.

Anton looked in the infirmary and saw a naked little blond haired boy who couldn't be no more than ten hiding behind the exam table.

"Calvin, get a robe on and go outside," he said. "Now!"

The boy jumped up, his name wasn't Calvin, he did not know why this man had called him that. The boy hesitated for only a second, then he grabbed a robe and not even bothering to put it on, ran past Anton. Anton could see semen running from the boy's ass. Anton looked down at the doctor and shot him once more.

Anton saw the fire alarm and pulled the lever. The loud sound of the alarm screamed through the hallway. Anton knew the boy's would be leaving through the side doors, but he wasn't here for the boys. He saw Carl first. He was directing some of the kids out the south door. Anton walked down the hallway, holding the gun behind him as the man did his job.

Carl did not even know what was happening, he just felt this searing pain in the side of his neck, then heard a pop, and the next thing he knew he was lying still, gasping for breath.

Anton grabbed a boy by the arm and asked, "How many counselors are on duty?"

The small Hispanic boy screamed as he tried to pull away from the man, fear in his eyes as he saw the gun in Anton's hand and the spots of blood on the man's shirt and pants. Anton let him go and walked towards Carl and shot him three more times.

Anton then turned around and walked down the hallway to the next door, he saw James and smiled, he took aim but there too many boys around him. When James saw Anton walking slowly towards him, a pistol in the man's hands, his face went pale white and he ran. Anton ran after him.

Anton watched James push his way past the boys and run through the door outside. Anton got to the doorway and looked for James, he wasn't running towards the boys gathered on the basketball court, instead he was running towards the teens home. Anton didn't bother to run after him, instead he took aim, like he had been taught and slowly pulled the trigger, he kept shooting 'til the man fell down. He didn't stop 'til he had run out of bullets.

He checked his watch and it had already been four minutes. He heard the loud pop of a gunshot and looked up to see a guard running towards him shooting. Anton calmly ejected the empty magazine as he pulled another one from his front pocket. The guard was at least fifty yards away and obviously a lousy aim. He had shot at him five times without hitting. Then Anton aimed at the man and started returning fire. The first shot hit the guard in the chest, he just staggered and kept running towards him.

"Bulletproof," Anton said out loud, then aimed for the man's leg, the second shot hit the guard in the thigh. He cried out.

"I'm shot!" The guard screamed into his walkie talkie, looking down at where the bullet had entered his thigh, it was just long enough for Anton to duck back inside the building. Anton believed he had gotten everyone inside of the home that would be there, so he did not bother to look behind him, he just watched the door, waiting for the guard to come through, then he felt a bullet rip through his left side and he was thrown nearly around in a full circle before he saw Mr. Simms.

Mr. Simms walked towards him, slowly and steadily, still taking aim at the black man lying on the floor, when the black man fired back, Mr. Simms felt like someone had punched him in the shoulder. The pain was so bad he was literally seeing red.

The black man shot Mr. Simms twice more before he stopped moving. Mr. Simms tried to lift his arm to shoot back, but he couldn't. Mr. Simms felt very cold as the black man stepped on his hand, keeping him from being able to move.

"You're wifes dead," Anton said, his voice trembling. "She's at the front door. Zack says hi."

The last thing Mr. Simms felt was the bullet rip through his skull. Anton looked down at the man and saw he was not breathing. He walked towards the door to look out once more, just as the guard looked inside. Anton hit him in the head with butt of his pistol, knocking the man backward. Instinctively, the guard raised his hands in defense, and before he could aim his gun again, Anton shot him through his cheek. The guard fell down backwards, dropping his gun on the ground. Anton kicked the revolver away from the man and kneeled down to check his pulse. The guard wasn't breathing and had no pulse to speak of.

He looked up and saw the kids, huddled at the fence, not sure what to do. All the little boys who had spent their time in this hell, looking, not knowing what was going on, but fearing more than anything else that someone had come to get them for telling.

"Go to the front gate," Anton shouted. "I'm not gonna to hurt you. Go to the front gate."

Anton went back inside and walked down the hallway. He went to his old room and sat on his bed. For a minute he saw Ronny peaking over the side of his bunk laughing at something Charlie had said, then he saw Glen come in and the fear in Ronny's eyes. In the distance he heard the sirens of a police car.

"Faster than I thought," he said, as he tossed the gun towards the door and laid down.

Mr. Carlton had just returned from a dinner engagement with an old family friend when the police stopped his car as it entered his driveway. He did not say anything except that he wanted to speak to his attorney.

In court Zack Dillon sat on the stand and pointed to Mr. Carlton as he held a picture of himself as a boy, explaining exactly what had happened on that day so long ago. It took the jury five minutes to come back with a verdict of guilty. Mr. Carlton was sentenced to life in prison.

It took three days before the media was able to confirm the rumors. Mr. Fenton was arrested two days after that trying to catch a flight to Venezuela.

Roger Simms was found dead, he had hung himself in his closet with a belt. He had left a letter begging everyone for forgiveness. It stated clearly everything that happened to him and what he had done. He said he was not willing to go to jail, he knew what would happen to him there.

Chapter 2

Ms. Simms looked at him, fear in her eyes, not wanting to hear the boy, not wanting to hear this again.

Fourteen years ago she had entered her living room one night after arriving home late from work to hear her son, Roger, screaming.

She had walked down the hallway to his door, she could hear the sound of the springs on Roger's bed as she neared the boy's room. She did not open the door, instead she listened and heard her husband Jim.

"Say it," Jim was saying, then she heard a loud smack.

Roger sobbed in the back ground, "Please don't Jim."

"Don't call me Jim," her husband said in loud voice, hitting the boy again. "Fucking say it!"

"F 3;f 3;f 3;fuck me daddy," little Roger said, still crying.

Ms. Simms nearly threw up. She had to grab the wall to keep standing. She needed so much to throw open the door and save her son, but instead she just stood there, unable to move. The door opened and she saw her husband standing there, his erection visibly tenting his boxers.

"Honey," Mr. Simms said. "What are you doing home?"

"I got out early," she said, shaking.

"Well that's great," Mr. Simms said, reaching out to hug her only to have her take a step back.

He looked at her for a moment and the said, "Why don't you go and get some wine for us and we can watch some television. I'm almost done here."

"What are you doing Jim," Ms. Simms asked.

"I'm just reading Roger a story before bed," Jim said. "I don't spend enough time with him."

"I heard 3;," Ms. Simms started to say and then stopped.

"What honey?" Mr. Simms asked.

Ms. Simms looked at her husband, not willing to believe that anything could be wrong, "Nothing. Nothing at all. I'll get the wine dear."

"I'm glad you're home early," Jim said.

"Me too," Ms. Simms said.

"Listen to me you ungrateful little brat," Ms. Simms said, smacking her son across the cheek. "I never want to hear you say anything like that again. Your father loves you! What could make you lie like that?"

"I'm not lieing Ms. Simms," Anton said.

"Shut up!" Ms. Simms screamed, slapping the boy. "You say anything like this ever again and I'll have you back in that home, then you can tell Mr. Simms what you just told me."

She slapped the boy again, and screamed, "Do you understand?"

Anton looked at the woman, tears in his eyes and just nodded.

For fifteen years Anton woke up each night, waiting for someone to come in his room and take him down the hallway. For fifteen years he worried every time he took a shower that a counselor would come into the bathroom and fuck him. For fifteen years he jumped every time someone touched him on the shoulder. Now Anton could feel the darkness surround him, as blood seeped from his wound.

When he looked up he saw little Ronny standing beside his bed.

"Did you get them Anton?" Ronny asked, kneeling beside the little black boy.

"Yeah I got 'em," Anton said, coughing.

"I knew you would," Ronny said.

Anton closed his eyes and held Ronny's hand. Finally he could get some sleep.

To those a bit upset about the ending, I apologize, but I couldn't leave it the way it was. Perhaps the ending is a bit much, but I felt it was justified, not only the degree of violence, but what some might consider a contrived ending. Again, I will continue to write stories, but I have found the limit of what I can write and still maintain my emotional composure, the degree of pain and suffering found in TFO: The Lost is well beyond that. Feel free to flame me if you want, but for me this is the best way to end this series.

The End