The Second Chronicles of Kovzland
Book 1: Return of the Kovz King
Book 1: The Return of the Kovz King
Book 2: The Guardians of Kovzland
Book 3: The Quest for Eric
Book 4: On His Majesty's Mission
Book 5: The Prince of Kovzland
Chapter One
As a rule, it's logical to assume that an eleven year old boy
waking up alone on a cold town street is likely to be both afraid
and uncomfortable. If you add to that the fact that I had no
memory of how I got there or how I happened to be dressed in
rags, it's easy to see that I was more than a little bit trou-
bled.
It wasn't just how I had gotten to be on the street so early
in the morning that I had forgotten, but everything. I lay there
in the gutter in some alley, the blackened walls of two tall
buildings rising to either side of me, and tried to figure out
what I could remember. I knew how to speak, that seemed clear,
and how to think. Passed that I couldn't remember anything. For
a long while I thought that I had just been born, but if that
were the case then I would hardly be able to speak, would I?
Still, I had no memory of parents, no memories of a home, no
memories of how I even got in the run down alley I found myself
in. There was a leather knapsack beside me and I couldn't remem-
ber what was in it or if it even belonged to me, couldn't remem-
ber my name or if I had one, couldn't remember what I looked
like.
Feeling hungry, I tore into the bundle but I found nothing to
eat. The only things in it were a handful of white, silk towels
and a golden lamp that I couldn't open. I tried to look down its
spout, but I saw only blackness. A pleasant smell came from it,
but nothing came out when I shook it up and down. I sighed hope-
lessly and returned the items to the pack. I wondered if I'd
stolen them: they didn't look like the kinds of things a boy in
my condition could afford to own. At any rate, I couldn't eat
them and that was what was on my mind at the moment.
It wasn't even dawn yet, though the fact that the sky was
getting lighter made it clear that dawn would not be far off.
Through the tops of the buildings I could see that the day would
be clear (and hopefully sunny and warm for my small bones seemed
frozen stiff). Tentatively, I reached out my arms and immediate-
ly felt the cold morning air rush in a dozen rips and tears in my
shirt, if shirt you called it. It would be more accurate to call
it a cape for it had obviously once belonged to a much larger
person and hung on my skinny body very loosely. It stank of the
garbage from the alley but I was certainly warmer than I would
have been if my skin was bared to the chill morning air. I could
tell that my upper body was in fairly decent shape: my skinny
arms weren't scratched in the slightest and moving them ached
only because I had grown so chill overnight in the alley.
Sighing, I put my hands down on the cobblestone street I was
sitting on and pushed myself to my feet. I was wearing a pair of
ragged pants, again awkwardly tailored from a much larger pair.
They were so ragged that they ended mid-way down my calves and I
could see the pale skin of my legs before they disappeared into a
pair of well-worn leather boots. If they were my size then I was
a boy with very big feet. I could tell by wiggling my toes that
there was a lot of empty space in the boots and that there were
holes in the bottoms of them. Again, however, they were better
than being bare and I didn't lament their condition very much.
My legs, though equally sore from the cold, seemed to work just
fine and I seemed to be in good condition. I was dressed in rags
and there was a gnawing hunger in my tummy, but I was otherwise
just fine.
I looked around me, silently taking in the condition of the
alley. There were some huddled forms of other people in rags
lying curled up in the corners. Perhaps they were dead. They
didn't move. I was instinctively afraid of them and made certain
that I remained very quiet. Otherwise, there were many trash
cans, crates and empty pallets. Garbage was strewn everywhere,
mostly scattered papers but there was also rotting food, smelling
unhappily like my clothes. One end of the alley ended in a high
wooden fence, aged and weathered a hopeless gray. The other
apparently opened on a street. I tried to improve my appearance
by adjusting the rags about my body, then picked up my bundle and
headed for the open end.
There was a street there, cobblestones like the alley, lined
with two and three story buildings all of which looked totally
uninviting and closed. There were a few piles of horse dung in
the road and I thought about the tall, sleek horses that must
have left them. I loved horses even though I had no memory of
actually seeing one. I did know what they looked like, however,
enough to recognize their droppings in the street.
I didn't feel surprised by anything I saw. Rather than
having any expectations, I simply logged the sights away. There
were very few people around and those who were all pushed carts
or carried crates toward the west. I hitched my pack up on my
back and stepped farther out of the alley, trying to see where
they were going. A carriage driven by two horses was coming from
the other way and I turned and watched as it went past. The
brown animals leading it didn't look very happy. I wanted to go
up and pet them, but I knew the man would be angry with me. He
already looked upset and in a hurry. Grown-ups always looked
like that, I knew. I rose on my tip toes trying to see where
everybody was going, though standing on my toes gave me no better
view.
The street seemed to open up a few blocks to the west and I
felt certain that there must be a public square there or someth-
ing. If there was a square, it would have food and I would have
to go down there if I was to find anything to eat. I looked down
at my clothing again and was surprised to discover that there was
a small gold medallion lying against my pale white little chest,
hanging from a thin, gold necklace. I held it up to my eyes and
looked at it closely. The medallion was about an inch around
with an engraving of two naked boys standing on a hilltop and
gazing at a sunrise. They were facing away, the taller, older
boy's arm draped across the smaller boy's thin shoulders. The
engraving was very intricate, down to the smooth, round contours
of their bottoms and the crack separating their young cheeks. I
could even see their shoulder blades rippling against their skin.
It seemed like an odd engraving for a boy to have on a neck-
lace, but I liked it and it seemed important to me. I turned it
over and on the back it had "Kelvin Protect Us" inscribed on the
smooth plate of gold. Maybe Kelvin was my name. Maybe it held
some clue about who my parents were and I could find out who I
was through it? At any rate, I didn't want to lose it, and I
tucked it into my shirt and buttoned the rags up as far as they
would go. A good portion of my little chest was still bare
through the top button, but the necklace was hidden and I trusted
that no thieves would see it and take it from me.
A second startling discovery hit me when I found that I was
also wearing a gold ring. It too had engravings on it, but I
couldn't read them and shrugged. I was pretty sure I knew how to
read, but the letters seemed to be foreign and unrecognizable.
Perhaps I might have to sell the ring to get some money for food.
Maybe I'd have to sell the lamp and the silk, too. I didn't
know. I wasn't going to sell the necklace, however. Just the
feel of the dainty chain wrapped around my thin neck felt com-
forting and I suspected that it held some clue to my identity.
However hungry I got, I determined not to sell it. Shrugging my
thoughts away boyishly, I started toward the apparent opening
ahead.
The air was getting warmer as I walked, my joints loosening
and feeling better. I felt oddly happy, though I had no apparent
reason for being so: I was dressed in rags, I was hungry and I
knew no one, including myself. Still, I was young and free and
ready to face whatever came my way. Mostly I was delighted to be
walking along the street and seeing so many new things. The
world was big and glorious and I wanted to see all of it. My
feet, feeling very tender, scraped against the cobblestones
through the holes in my boots, but even that couldn't dull my
boyish excitement.
A few blocks from the alley, the road ended in a huge square
as I'd expected it to. Already a hundred merchants were scurry-
ing about and readying stalls. They carried or dragged crates
and pallets of fresh vegetables and fruits, fish and meats, many
of them accompanied by burden laden boys not much older than me.
These boys looked about as ragged as I did and I wondered if
maybe all boys dressed in rags. The grown ups with them were
dressed a little better, but didn't seem to like the dirty boys.
I saw several boys being slapped and ordered about harshly. They
didn't look as happy as I felt, but they didn't cry and none of
them objected.
I watched the cavalcade of food they carried with a gnawing
hunger in my stomach, but I was also transfixed by all the activ-
ity and by all the buildings that surrounded the square. I
forgot about the food as my eyes scanned the area, taking in a
hundred sites I had no memory of ever seeing before.
The largest building there was obviously a church, huge and
imposing. Though most of the people were hurrying about with
other tasks, there were occasional visitors to it, huddled as
they went up the steps beneath the tall, twin towers. The people
looked small and pathetic beneath the glory of the cathedral and
many of them looked as poor and ragged as I did. There was a
cemetery beside the cathedral, but it didn't interest me much. I
wondered if I might be able to get some food from the priests
inside, and found my skinny legs heading in that direction even
as I continued to scan the unfolding bazaar around me.
"Get away from there, boy!" an angry man suddenly barked at
me. I turned and saw him approaching me with a furious look on
his face, and just had time to realize I was standing near his
stall of fresh vegetables before his huge, meaty palm struck me
across the cheek, sending me reeling back against the cobble-
stones. My cheek burned from where he slapped and I awkwardly
tried to stand up.
"I didn't..." I started to explain, but I stopped when I
realized the man had every intention of giving me a sound spank-
ing. Instead, I whirled around, pushed myself to my feet and
managed to start away at a run. The man kicked me hard in the
butt as I scurried off into the crowd, but I managed to keep my
feet and he stopped following me lest he abandon his stall to all
the other street people lingering near.
Now why did he do that? I wondered, feeling my eyes filling
with tears. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was just trying to
go to the church. I realized that a lot of other people were
looking at me suspiciously, too, and I tried to keep far away
from any of their stalls. The way they looked at me and the way
they treated the boys hauling the masses of food made it pretty
clear that these people didn't like boys very much. Maybe going
to the church wasn't such a good idea.
"Hey, kid," I heard a young voice calling. I looked around,
but didn't see anyone. "Hey, kid?" the voice said louder. I was
still rubbing my red cheek when I finally saw the ragged boy
leaning rather casually against one of the stalls. I thought for
a moment that he must have worked at it to be so nonchalant about
being near it, but he looked even more ragged than I did. He
looked about fourteen or fifteen, very tall and gangly, and very
skinny. Still, he looked very cute and happy, too. His behavior
seemed so different from all the other boys' that I felt very
curious about him. He smiled at me, a warm, friendly smile that
made me feel like I had found a friend so soon after coming to
the big city. Maybe he would take care of me. He tipped his
head toward the entrance to an alley and I found my skinny legs
following curiously and hopefully after him.
The alley was narrower than the one I'd slept in but still
stank of garbage and was littered with ash cans and broken pal-
lets.
"Come on," the older boy smiled, leading me deeper into the
alley.
"Where are we going?" I asked, hitching my knapsack up on my
skinny shoulder.
"Back here," he said. I followed him to where the alley
ended in a wooden fence. It was back in behind some garbage cans
and hidden from view from the outside. The tall, skinny youth
stopped near the fence and turned back to me, leaning against a
garbage can and smiling at me.
"You're new, aren't you?" he asked. His voice was changing
and cracked a little when he spoke. His eyes were sky blue and
friendly as they looked up and down my ragged little body.
I nodded, stopping a few feet from him. "Are you hungry?" he
asked. I nodded again and the boy pulled a shiny red apple from
his pocket, holding it out for me. Delighted to be offered such
a fine gift, I stepped closer to him and took the apple from his
big hand. I held it with both hands and took a huge bite out of
it, watching him as he watched me. He let me take a few bites
before speaking.
"Do you have any friends around here?" he asked.
I was going to say I hoped he was going to be one but thought
it sounded stupid and instead just shook my head and took another
bite.
"Well, then I'll be your friend. Come here," he said. I
felt his long fingers take hold of my skinny little shoulder and
he guided me still closer to him. As I ate, he wrapped one of
his long arms around my thin shoulders and hugged me against him.
He felt warm and I felt a comforting glow inside. "That's a boy,"
he said, smiling down at me and pulling me closer against his
side. "How old are you?" he asked.
I thought I was eleven so that's what I told him. He smiled
at this. He was really cute and I felt lucky to have made such a
fine friend in so little time.
"That's a fun age to be," he said, and I felt a sudden shud-
der of nervousness as his other hand reached out, his fingertips
sliding slowly across my bare chest through the rags. I felt my
heart starting to beat faster and I lowered the apple from my
lips, feeling a little confused and not even swallowing the last
bite. "You're small," he said as I felt his hand rub across my
small, skinny body.
I managed to swallow the bite of apple but stood there
nervous and unmoving as his long fingers slowly reached out and
unbuttoned my shirt. I looked down and saw my pale, little chest
as he unbuttoned the next button and the shirt fell farther open.
"Has anyone ever played with your penis before?" he asked, unbut-
toning the third and last button and leaving the shirt dangling
wide open down the front. I shook my head nervously and wondered
why a boy would play with another boy's penis. My eyes grew wide
with surprise when the older boy's big hand slipped inside my
shirt and slowly rubbed his palm against my little chest. "Your
skin is so soft," he half breathed.
I knew I wasn't the smartest boy in the world, but this was
weird. He rubbed across the little mounds of muscles in my
chest, across my tiny nipples, over my rippling ribs, then down
my sides. "What are you doing?" my childish voice finally asked
nervously.
"I want to show you something," he said, reaching down and
rubbing across my little belly button. His hand felt wonderful
against my bare skin, warm and gentle, but it scared me for some
reason, too. I could feel my skinny belly shivering uncontrol-
lably and I lowered my hands, watching as his fingers rubbed
around my little belly button. "Man, you're soft," he repeated.
I let out a little whimper of surprise when his fingertips
slipped down the front of my pants and felt lower on my belly.
This was strange. I didn't know what my name was, but I knew
this was strange.
When his fingertips finally pressed against my little penis,
the boy smiled broader. "You don't have any hair, do you?" he
asked, pushing his hand lower. 'Any hair?' Of course I did. I
could see the yellow bangs falling into my eyes all the time. I
didn't get a chance to figure out his question though because
he'd worked his hand down far enough that he could take hold of
both my penis and scrotum. It felt really good, but my eyes were
as wide as they could go.
"Yeah," he sighed. "You're going to like this." He pulled
his hand out of my pants and I felt oddly disappointed. It did
feel good. "Let's take your pants off, okay?"
I would be lying if I said the idea didn't appeal to me. I
didn't know what my penis looked like and I was curious to see
it. Besides, having the boy touch it felt good and I was pretty
sure he was planning on touching it a lot more. Still, there was
a rush of boyish fear and shame in me and the thought of waving
my penis around naked did seem pretty embarrassing. In a momen-
tary panic, I quickly broke from the boy's arms and walked quick-
ly toward the opening to the alley.
"Wait!" he called after me, a pleading sound in his cracking
voice. "Don't go. I won't hurt you."
"I have to meet my parents," I lied nervously, still walking
toward the exit but looking back at him with an odd sense of
longing. "I'll come back later."
"When?" he asked.
"Uh, noon," I said, thinking that I was lying but realizing
that I probably would come back to find him. He was a nice boy
and I wasn't likely to find anyone nicer in the square outside.
So what if he wanted to touch my penis? If he was nice to me, it
didn't matter.
"I'll be here..." I heard him say sadly from the back of the
alley.
The square had gotten busier during my brief foray into
forbidden fruits and purchasers were now walking in and out of
the aisles of stalls or passing in shiny new carriages. There
were boys with them, too, but these were dressed in nice clothes,
shirts and knickers, ties, even blazers. They were all squeaky
clean and adorable and I envied them. There wasn't a girl in
sight and I wondered if they hid them or something. Boys rich
and poor seemed to be everywhere and into everything but there
wasn't a woman in sight under the age of twenty or so. Odd.
I felt a brief pang of loneliness and stopped in the middle
of the square. I should go back to that boy, I thought. He was
a little strange to want to play with my penis, but he was cute
and friendly. Better to have a good friend who was a little
weird than no friend at all. What was I doing before I saw him?
I wondered.
The cathedral. It was still there, standing out higher than
anything in town. I had been going there for food. The apple
had helped a little, but I was eleven years old and eleven year
old boys are always hungry. The boy said he would be waiting for
me in the alley at noon. That gave me plenty of time to go to
the cathedral and get something to eat. Who knows, it might not
seem so weird to have my penis played with if I didn't feel so
hungry.
The decision made, I continued on across the square feeling a
lot less lonely. That boy liked me and he was going to be my
friend. Maybe he knew a place for us to sleep and wouldn't play
with my penis in an alley where someone might come in and see us.
For now, I would eat. Later, I would play with my friend.
I didn't know why I expected food at the cathedral, but
apparently I had been in a church before because I was quite
certain that they were supposed to take care of me. For whatever
reason, I strolled across the square with my small bag of belong-
ings flung over my shoulder. Despite my experience with the one
man at the stall, I tried to smile at people going by but most
were too busy to notice me. The ones who did eyed me suspicious-
ly and twice I was scatted away. They didn't seem to like boys
very much, which made one wonder why so many boys were permitted
to run wild around the square.
The sun had risen quite a bit and the air was warming nicely.
I realized that my ragged shirt was still unbuttoned and my
little chest was almost bare, the necklace twinkling in the
sunlight. Nervously, I buttoned it back up, looking around for
anyone who might have seen the necklace and want to take it from
me. The boy in the alley didn't seem at all interested in steal-
ing my things; he just wanted to touch my body for some reason.
I knew that other people wouldn't be as kind or gentle as he was.
I finally reached the cathedral steps and walked up them
toward the huge wooden doors. One of these was open and I peered
nervously inside. The room was fantastically huge, more than a
hundred rows of pews leading from the entry to the ornate, impos-
ing altar. I stepped slowly through the doors, my booted feet
scarcely making a sound against the hard stone floor. A few
dozen people were spread around in the pews, leaning forward in
prayer. Slowly, I moved forward.
A hand grabbed my skinny arm and restrained me and I turned
to find a man in his late twenties leaning toward me. "What do
you want, child?" he asked, his blue eyes looking at me sus-
piciously. He was wearing black robes and a cross hung around
his neck. Without knowing why, I knew he was a priest.
"I'm hungry," I said in a soft, quiet voice. My voice was
high pitched, unlike the deeper voice of the man who towered over
me.
"Where are your parents?" he asked me.
I shrugged.
"Are you an orphan?"
I shrugged again. I didn't know if I had parents or not.
Perhaps I was an orphan. How was I to know?
"Who have you there, Father Donovan?" another man, older than
the first, asked coming forward.
"Another orphan apparently, Bishop," the man said, his blue
eyes not leaving my face. The suspicion was flowing quickly out
of them and he was soon looking into my eyes with a soothing
gentleness. Perhaps I could still get something to eat.
Some of the people in the back few rows overheard us and
turned to look at me standing with the two men. The older man
motioned for the priest to follow him and I was soon being gently
but firmly pulled toward a door in the side of the entry. Feel-
ing suddenly afraid, I tried to pull my arm from his big hand.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"You're hungry, aren't you?" the priest asked. "We're going
to take you someplace to eat."
I was somewhat more cooperative after that, though I didn't
like not being able to get away. I didn't resist, however, and I
let them lead me through the door and down a long, dimly lit
corridor.
"He'd make a great altar boy," the priest said, still holding
my arm with one hand while the other one started lightly rubbing
my tiny shoulder through a tear in my shirt.
The Bishop sniffed. "Yes. Perhaps."
After considerably more twists and turns, down and up stairs,
and through several long corridors, the Bishop finally opened a
door and I was led into a plush, beautiful office. There was
thick, soft carpet on the floor and a mahogany desk sitting in
front of huge windows that looked out over the green grass of the
cemetery. Father Donovan closed the door behind us and stood
caressing my shoulders gently as the Bishop went to a cabinet and
poured a red liquid from a crystal bottle. He sipped at it with
a strange sort of excitement as he looked at me and I felt even
more uncomfortable. I could feel the priests fingers rubbing
across my collar bones and over my shoulder through the tear in
one side of my shirt. The other shoulder, he just held and
massaged through the fabric. It felt okay, but I was feeling
really nervous now.
"Take his boots off," the Bishop commanded.
Father Donovan sat me down in an armchair, my feet not touch-
ing the floor. He knelt in front of me as he pulled my ragged
boots off and bared my small, dirty feet. They were much smaller
than the boots had been, and there was dirt in between my toes.
"What does he have in the bag?" the Bishop asked. The priest
took the bag from me and poked through it, showing the Bishop all
of my odd assortment of goods. "Were you going to sell those
things, child?" he asked me.
I shrugged again. I didn't know what I was going to do.
"Did you steal them?" he asked.
I shook my head, my blue eyes growing wide with fear that
they would think I had even though I didn't remember doing it. I
felt oddly certain that I would get a severe beating if I were
caught stealing; the reaction of the man at the stalls when I
hadn't even looked at his old vegetables was enough to terrify
me. The Bishop smiled at me, a knowing smile that showed he
didn't believe me. I felt the priest's hand tenderly stroking
the blond bangs from my eyes.
"Once he's cleaned up, he'll make a real good altar boy," he
said again.
"If those things belong to him," the Bishop said with a
gesture toward my knapsack, "then he'll be worth a lot more as a
slave boy up at Tarsec Village."
"He's too young for that," the priest said, sounding a little
emphatic.
"Perhaps, but he's a Kovz Boy if I'm not mistaken. Tarsec
men will pay a great deal to get one of them for their sons,
particularly one as pretty as this one. I got a note today
saying that Master Thorne would be coming into town tomorrow."
"What for?"
"It seems one of his boys needs a slave boy to play with.
He's supposed to marry next year."
The priest said nothing, just stood gazing at the Bishop with
an almost pleading look in his pale eyes.
"Take his clothes off," the Bishop commanded suddenly, sit-
ting behind the desk and watching intently.
I didn't much care for being stripped naked by the men and
struggled as Father Donovan pulled me to my feet. "No you
don't," he said, his strong hands quickly overpowering me and
making me stand still as he undid the few buttons to my shirt and
easily pulled it over my skinny shoulders. The boy in the alley
had been much more gentle and I immediately wished I hadn't left
him. I felt the ends of my rags peeled over my thin shoulders
and slipped down my arms and my pale, little chest was fully
exposed. I stood there in my ragged pants, my small, skinny
chest bare. The glistening, gold medallion stood brightly bet-
ween the small mound of my muscles, looking even brighter against
my almost white skin. When I felt the priest's hands reaching
for my pants, I reflexively pushed them away and started to break
for the door, willing to leave everything I had behind including
my shirt and boots.
"Okay," Father Donovan said, his big hands instantly grabbing
hold of my skinny shoulders and jerking me back into the room.
He turned me to face the Bishop and I felt his fingers grabbing
for the lace that held my pants up. I felt really confused now
and frightened, could feel my face burning with shame as my eyes
welled with tears. The priest just kept untying my pants, howev-
er, and, when the lace slid apart, he separated the ends with no
regard for my fear or sadness.
I heard him pant suddenly as he unveiled my naked little
penis, slowly pulling my pants down my skinny legs and holding
them as I obediently stepped out of them. I stood there naked,
the men's eyes on my naked body. They looked at me for a long
time, the Bishop smiling as his eyes gazed across my pale chest
and naked little boyhood and Father Donovan gazing at it with an
intense aching in his face.
"He's circumcised," the priest pointed out.
"Yes. I've heard that all Kovz Boys are circumcised."
"They circumcise boys in the Southland too. He probably
escaped from one of the slavers."
The Bishop shrugged. "We could probably pass him off as a
Kovz Boy one way or another. See how soft his skin is?" The
priest nodded.
"He's still too young to be the playmate of a Tarsec boy.
They like big penises. His is almost tiny." It embarrassed me to
have them talk about me like this and I felt a little defensive
when they mentioned my boyhood. I looked down at it. It was
very pale, like the rest of my body and I blushed knowing that it
was tiny. My little testicles were round and my boyhood lay on
top of a small, hairless scrotum, innocently oblivious to the
eyes looking at it. The skin all around it was smooth and white,
only the little purple head showing any color between my skinny
thighs.
"It may be little," the Bishop said, "but Thorne won't care
so long as he's a Kovz Boy and wants to play with his son a lot.
See if he gets an erection," he ordered Father Donovan.
The priest began panting and I jumped when I felt his big
hand grabbing the hairless little organ between my legs. I
stared in astonished fear and embarrassment as his fingers ca-
ressed my little boyhood, petting the small purple head, fondling
the little balls in my smooth scrotum. The way he did it, the
gentle and attentive way he stroked the head with his thumb,
evoked a strange sensation in my stomach, even stranger than the
one the boy in the alley had evoked. The priest seemed to know
what to do to a boy's penis.
"Do you like that?" the Bishop asked, smiling as I stood in
fear, panting despite myself, allowing Father Donovan to caress
my most private body part. I started to cry softly, feeling so
abused by the men and feeling embarrassed to feel how nice the
man's fingers felt, but the priest just kept fondling me, strok-
ing my penis until it felt even stranger.
"Here it comes," the priest panted and I could feel my little
boyhood stiffening in his fingers. I stared at it in confusion.
It felt so odd and the feeling of its stiffness between my legs
was very confusing. It was soon sticking straight out from
between my skinny thighs, pulsing up and down, the purple head
shining brightly against the pale, two inch shaft. This was very
strange and frightening. To my knowledge, boys' penises didn't
do things like this. The man was doing something very strange to
it.
"Oh yes," the Bishop smiled larger. "He's old enough to
sell, Father."
"Yes," the priest panted absently in agreement, his fingers
holding my erection and slowly rubbing up and down on it.
"That will be enough, Father Donovan," the Bishop said firm-
ly, causing the younger man to release my stiff penis and blush
in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," he said. "He's so pretty."
The Bishop nodded. "Look at him though. He's a virgin.
They pay extra for boys who don't know yet."
"Bishop... must we sell him?"
"If he's a Kovz Boy, he's worth a hundred other boys to
Tarsec, two hundred to someone like Thorne" the Bishop said. "I
understand his kid is worth a small fortune already. Having his
own Kovz Boy would make him the most sought after boy the village
has ever had. Thorne will like that. The child needs a bath
though. Put him down with the others and tell the nuns to take
care of him. We'll want him looking real pretty when Thorne
arrives."
"Do you think that's wise, Your Holiness?" Father Donovan
asked. "Most of those boys come from the streets. You know what
they'll do to a boy like this."
"Should I trust him with you instead, Father Donovan? Or
with the nuns? Lord, between you and the nuns down there, there
isn't a child left in the orphanage who hasn't dipped his cock in
one hole or another."
"Respectfully, Your Holiness," Father Donovan replied softly,
"we all enjoy our evenings with one of the boys..."
The Bishop looked momentarily angered by this, but then
forced himself to relax and nodded. "Fine," he said at length.
"That's why he's safer down there. See that the more excited
boys are removed tonight. Let all the nuns have their choice and
all the priests, too. Oh, and Frank: pick one out for me."
"Yes, Bishop," the priest said sadly. He handed me my ragged
pants and I eagerly scurried into them, tying the fly closed and
feeling much better. I could feel my erection still throbbing in
the baggy pants and felt more confused by this than I was embar-
rassed by my nudity.
"Father Donovan: just take him down there and turn him over
to the nuns. Make sure they know that he's not one of the ones
who can be picked. I want you back up here within five minutes."
"Yes, Bishop," he said, again with deep regret. "Come along,
child," he said, his hand rubbing across my thin, naked shoulder
blades and leading me back out the door. He had my shirt and bag
in his other hand, but he didn't give them to me.
Again we went through the maze of the cathedral, the priest
continuing to feel my back all the while. "Where are we going?"
my squeaky voice asked.
"The orphanage," he said. "You'll like it: there are a lot
of boys there."
"I don't want to go to the orphanage," I whined.
"You'll like it. They'll give you some food to eat and a
place to sleep."
I felt like crying. All I could think about was the cute boy
in the alley and how he would be waiting for me at noon. I
almost told Father Donovan about him but thought better of it:
they might go and force him into the orphanage, too. I had made
a dreadful mistake. There was no sense making him pay for it
with me, even if it would have been nice to have a friend.
Finally, Father Donovan opened a door that led into a large
kitchen. There were several women there, all dressed in black and
white robes and all busy at one form of work or another. "Here's
another one," he said.
One of the women turned and sighed. "Lord, where do they
come from." She put aside a towel and came over to us, peering
down at me with distaste. Her fingers were suddenly poking
through my hair and examining my scalp. "At least this one
doesn't have lice."
"Will you see to his needs? The Bishop wants him ready for
sale by tomorrow morning."
The nun nodded in exasperation. "Of course, of course," she
complained. "Are those his clothes?"
"Yes, but they're ruined."
"Well, they'll have to do. We have too many boys to clothe
them all and I won't have a bunch of naked boys running around."
"He's cute..." one of the younger women said, coming over to
me and rubbing my shoulders the way Father Donovan had. I
blushed and smiled up at her, despite my fear and nervousness.
"...and his skin's softer than mine."
"The Bishop says he's to be left alone tonight," the priest
said, sounding sad. "He said we could take our pick from the
others, but no one is to touch this one."
"He wants him for himself," one of the other women accused in
a hushed and embarrassed voice. Despite her soft voice, she
sounded angry.
Father Donovan shook his head. "He's being sold to Thorne
tomorrow. The Bishop doesn't want him to be ruined."
The woman next to me ran her hand down my chest to my little
belly button making me shiver. "I wouldn't ruin him," she
smiled, slowly rubbing my shivering belly.
"I think the Bishop is serious, sister," the priest said,
sounding more than a little angry. The woman slid her hand up to
my shoulders and looked peevish.
Father Donovan gave her my shirt and bag and, with a last
longing look at me, left me there with the woman.
"Well, pretty one," she said, tousling my hair, "I guess that
means I get to be with Timmy again tonight."
She said nothing more to me and I soon felt her hands untying
my pants. She was much less tender about this than the priest had
been and stripped me naked, pursing her lips with suppressed
adoration when she saw my hairless little penis. "Praise God, He
that gives me cause to rejoice..." I was relieved that the stiff-
ness had left my penis, but was still embarrassed to be naked in
front of so many women.
"He's pretty," one of them smiled at me.
"Look at that adorable little penis," another said.
"He must be a slave boy," said a third.
"That'll be enough out of you," the oldest of the nuns com-
manded. "Get back to work."
They did as they were told but continued to smile at me when
they could. Their curiosity made me embarrassed, but I could feel
their affection for me and that felt nice, so nice that I could
feel myself exposing my little boyhood to them as much as possi-
ble. They seemed to like looking at it and I started to realize
that it was something special, something that could earn their
affection. The eldest woman gave my clothes to one of the girls
to wash and told me to stand in the corner until they were ready.
I stood obediently and blushed at the girls as they looked at me.
There was a small cabinet in the corner and I leaned back on it,
blushing and smiling as I spread my skinny little legs and
watched the delighted, adoring smiles on the girls' faces. My
penis definitely seemed to get most of their attention and I
sensed it quickly. My skinny, white, little chest and delicate
necklace didn't attract them much at all.
It took a while for my clothes to be washed and dried in
front of the fire and I just stood there naked and blushing
without speaking. After almost a half hour of this, the woman
brought me some food and I managed to eat it without being overly
rude in my hunger.
"He's filthy, Reverend Mother," one of the girls said, smil-
ing down at my little boyhood. "May we give him a bath?"
"He can shower with the other boys tonight," the woman re-
plied gruffly. "Why are you all making such fools of yourselves
over a little boy?"
"He's pretty, Reverend Mother. Look at the way he blushes."
I was blushing, too, my face feeling hot. At the same time,
I was smiling up at them from beneath my long black eyelashes and
blond bangs.
"Oh, nonsense," she replied, but did turn and gaze down at me
with a slight smile on her lips. "You all heard what the Bishop
said. There'll be pleasure enough for all of you tonight, but I
won't have this boy touched."
"Oh, Reverend Mother..." one of the women whined for all of
them.
"Oh, fiddle sticks. If you want a little boy, go pick one
out. Lord knows we have enough of them. For my part..." she
added with a secret smile to the others, "I think I'll have
Jeremy this evening..." She said this with a smug smile and a
twirl across the room that made the nuns giggle. She looked old
to me, perhaps in her fifties, while the rest of the women looked
to be in their late teens or early twenties.
"He's so big," one of them grinned.
"I want David," another said.
Soon, they were all calling out the names of boys and I was,
at least for the moment, forgotten. I didn't know what they were
talking about but wished that one of them said they wanted me
again. I liked feeling wanted.
When my clothes were finally cleaned, the Reverend Mother
gave them to me and I scurried into them. The washing had done
them little good for, though they were now clean and smelled a
little like perfume, they were even more ragged. When I moved my
arms, my entire chest would become visible through two or three
strands of cloth. Still, the cut-off pants did conceal my little
penis and I was grateful for that even if the girls didn't smile
at me quite so often. I said nothing as the older woman led me
out a door into a huge dining room. Worn wooden tables ran in
rows around the room and she led me around them to a door at the
opposite end. We went through this one and down yet another long
corridor. This led through still another door.
We passed through it into a huge, dusty room filled with
half-clothed boys who seemed to be tired and hungry. The door
opened onto a walkway that seemed to run all the way around the
room. From there, it looked like the entire place was bigger
than the rest of the cathedral combined. It was tremendously
large, disappearing into the darkness and the dust. There were a
few yellow lights hanging from the ceiling, but most of the light
came from windows high on the walls where I could see people's
legs walking by, showing that we were, for the most part, under-
ground. The boys were about thirty feet below us on the floor.
The only way down appeared to be a single ladder.
One side of the room was piled high with raw grain. There
was a large chute leading upward, apparently where the grain
would be dumped when brought in by farmers. Some boys would go
to this pile, fill up a wheel barrow then take the load up a
steep ramp to the top of a huge grinding machine. The machine
was boy-driven and a dozen boys were kept walking along a round
gear, turning the grinder. The cracked grain emerged from a
chute in the bottom, was loaded onto more wheel barrows by other
boys, and was then led to a giant sifting machine, also powered
by a dozen boys. That was as much as I could see of the opera-
tion, but I could tell there was more happening on the other side
of the machines. From the grinding machine, clouds of grain dust
were spewing forth and coating the young boys bare chests, abdo-
mens and legs.
The woman led me up to a boy in his mid-teens. He was a
tall, blond haired boy and he looked down at me as we approached.
He was wearing blue jeans and a shirt that was half-unbuttoned
showing most of his skinny chest.
"Jeremy, this is a new boy," she said to him, and I stared in
embarrassment as her fingers reached into the boy's shirt and
petted his hairless, boyishly muscular chest.
"Okay," the boy's young voice said, his blue eyes looking up
and down my body and making me feel uncomfortable. He didn't
seem at all troubled by the woman touching him. "What's his
name?"
"Lord, I don't know. I can't remember the names of the boys
who've been here for years. Just take care of him. See that he
gets a cot and a shower tonight. The Bishop is planning to sell
him tomorrow so make sure he doesn't get hurt."
"Okay. He's awfully small," the boy added, looking down at
me with a look of disappointment on his face. "We won't get much
work out of him but we'll take care of him."
"That's a good boy," the Reverend Mother said, her fingers
trailing farther down the skinny boy's shirt until his long
abdomen was bared and her fingers stroked across his little belly
button. "You'll be with me tonight," she said, her fingertips
petting all over the smooth skin of his hairless young belly.
"Yes, mam'n," Jeremy replied respectfully. I could see a
large bulge in his blue jeans, but I didn't connect it with any
of the woman's behavior.
I swallowed my surprise when the Reverend Mother's other hand
reached down and squeezed the boy's big bulge, a wicked smile on
her face. Jeremy swallowed, too, and seemed to rise up on his
toes a little, his brown eyes staring into the Reverend Mother's
with fear and uncertainty.
"Take a shower before you come and don't dawdle to play with
any of the boys on your way."
Jeremy nodded and the Reverend Mother smiled contentedly.
She turned and left me standing with the teenager.
As soon as she was gone, Jeremy sighed and shook his head.
"What's your name?" he asked looking down at me again.
I looked up at him for a long moment in uncertainty. Knowing
he'd think I was stupid if I said I didn't know, my childish
voice softly replied "Kelvin." I doubted I could protect anyone
as the medallion implied, but I liked the name and it felt com-
fortable to use it. I hoped no one was going to get mad at me
for it.
"You're pretty, Kelvin," he said, his hand brushing the hair
from my eyes as I blushed. "I'm surprised the old bat didn't
keep you for herself. The boys are going to like you. How old
are you?"
"Eleven," my childish voice said uncertainly.
"Well, my name's Jeremy. I'm sixteen and I'm the supervisor.
If you do what you're told, you won't get a spanking. Take your
shirt off."
The threat of a spanking was enough to make me cooperative.
I couldn't remember ever having been spanked but I didn't like
the idea of it. I quickly peeled off the ragged shirt. "It's
too hot for these down here," Jeremy said, grabbing it from me
and throwing it into a garbage bin nearby. His eyes gazed down
my skinny body until I felt my face grow bright red. For a
minute I thought he was going to make me take my pants off like
everyone else had done, but he didn't, just stared at the little
bulge between my legs. "God, you're pretty," he said again.
"What's this?" he asked, his fingers touching my little chest as
he looked closely at the medallion.
I didn't answer and the boy didn't push the issue. After a
few seconds, he let it go and it dangled on my chest again.
"Sandy!" he called over the walkway.
A young boy looked up at him. He had a wheelbarrow that he
had just emptied into the grinder and was heading back for more.
"New boy."
Sandy looked at me for a long while and I saw him swallow.
"Well, come up and get him. You're in charge of him."
The boy swallowed again and I watched as he came over and
pulled himself up the ladder. He was only wearing a pair of
ragged shorts and I could see small muscles ripple along his
shoulders, could see the hardness of his chest beneath his small
nipples.
Soon, he was standing beside us looking down at me until I
blushed still more. He was a cute boy of about thirteen. He had
sandy blond hair and blue eyes. His chest, though small, was
very pretty and his skin looked soft. There was a big bulge in
his shorts and I was embarrassed to realize I was staring at it.
Like all the rest of the boys in the room, his skin was coated
with grain dust that caked on with his boyish sweat.
"Put him to work on loading," Bruce instructed him. "After
dinner, get him a bunk and make sure he takes a shower."
"Is he..." the young boy said, bashfully talking from beneath
his long bangs.
"Well, what?" Jeremy asked impatiently.
"Is he mine tonight?" the younger boy asked.
Jeremy laughed. "The sisters are having a boy fest tonight.
You know they're not going to leave you behind, much less the
little kid."
Sandy blushed and looked down sadly.
"Don't be such a whiner, Sandy," Jeremy scolded him, turning
to look at his clipboard. "Shit, you have enough fun all the
time anyway."
Sandy's cute face looked briefly angry, as if ready to argue
with the older boy, but he caught himself and fell silent.
"You can't have every boy you want, especially when all the
sisters are out to get you. Show this kid what to do and tell
the other boys to leave him alone. He's going to be sold tomor-
row and our ass is grass if anyone touches him."
"Okay," Sandy said, his tenor voice cracking. He looked down
at me, still through his long bangs. He looked like a sweet boy
and I felt a strange desire to hug him and comfort him. Even
more, I wished that we would hug and comfort me. I distantly
wondered what he and Jeremy were talking about. I was a boy
though and boys are used to people talking about things they
don't understand.
"Come on," Sandy's young voice finally cracked.
He led me down the ladder and into the mass of young boys
hard at work. They ranged in age from about eight or nine to
fourteen or fifteen. Jeremy looked like the eldest one. They
were all looking at me as Sandy led me to the wheelbarrows, their
slender young bodies caked with sweat and grain dust like Sandy's
was. I could feel the older ones nudging each other, heard them
whisper back and forth to each other, heard a few giggles through
the sound of the grinding machines.
Soon, I was hard at work hauling the grain from the pile to
the grinder. I wasn't strong enough to get it up the ramp, so
Sandy helped me. He didn't introduce me to any of the other boys
but I could feel them continue watching me. Some of the boys,
particularly the older ones, had strong, muscular looking chests,
but every one of them, muscular of not, looked skinny and un-
derfed. When any of them moved, their ribs rippled against their
skin and I found myself entranced by them.
None of the boys had shirts, but they all wore something
between their legs. None of the youngest boys wore more than
underpants and most of these were almost as torn and ragged as my
pants were, so ragged that I could frequently see their round,
hairless little testicles slip through the legs and dangle out as
they worked. Their underpants, like the rags any of the boys
wore, were dust covered and filthy.
The boys didn't even talk to each other as they worked and it
was very boring. After several hours, I felt like my skinny arms
were going to fall off and felt like I had been in the sweatshop
for days. Dust from the grain seemed to cake inside my nose and
I had trouble breathing. In my sadness, I thought again of the
young boy I had met in the alley that afternoon, and wondered how
much happier I might have been had I only stayed and let him play
with my penis like he wanted to. Now, I was working like a slave
and was soon to be sold off like a slave. I didn't make very
good choices as a boy.
I found the other boys a great source of fascination. Though
they were all filthy from the dust, their young bodies were
extremely fascinating to me and I found myself gazing at them,
not sure why I found them so attractive. They worked hard, their
bodies, however small, constantly struggling against the weight
of their loads or steadily walking over the huge gears and driv-
ing the grinder. Through brief interchanges with Sandy, I
learned that if we didn't work hard enough, we would be beaten
or, worse, we wouldn't get dinner that night. Jeremy, he said,
was a nice boy, but he wouldn't hesitate to single out the ones
who were slacking. These were the ones who got the beatings.
The cathedral bought the grain from local farmers who would
deposit it in the chute. Several times that day, I saw a bright
light opening at the top of the shoot and a huge load of grain
came pouring in. Every time I thought we were almost finished
hauling it for the day, another of these big loads poured down.
They became the hated demons in my life. I kind of thought it
would be fun being one of the boys walking on the grinders. They
were as half clothed as we were, but there were many of them and
all they had to do was walk around and around on the gears. I
thought that I could do that. I stopped from volunteering,
however, when I saw how rough and calloused their feet were. If
I were to walk on one of those grinders for a day, my feet would
have been cut up and bleeding something awful. It was more fun
to work with Sandy, though, as for that, the boy talked so little
and seemed so unhappy that it wasn't a lot of fun anyway.
"What's wrong?" I asked him, at one point during the day.
He shrugged his bare shoulders and kept working. "I have to
sleep with one of those witches again tonight," he said in his
soft, cracking voice.
That didn't seem so bad to me, knowing that he was referring
to the nuns. "They're nice," I said uncertainly.
Sandy sniffed. "I'd rather play with myself... or with you,"
he answered.
Sleep? Play? I didn't see how they matched up and didn't
say any more.
Finally, Jeremy rang a bell near the door and all the boys
let out a sigh of relief. The boys on the grinder stopped walk-
ing and all the wheelbarrows, shovels and tools were dropped
immediately where they were. The young workers all crowded
toward the ladder and Sandy led me to it. Soon I was standing in
a mass of half naked boys, all of them dust covered, the older
ones glistening with sweat through the dust. I could smell a
strange, pleasant scent from these boys that made me feel strange
inside. As their long, skinny arms reached up to grab the ladder
near me, the scent became stronger and I smiled a little as I
sniffed it.
All of them, older or younger, were dirty. As we waited our
turn at the ladder, I felt their bodies rubbing against mine and
felt more than one pair of hands rubbing my bare chest or back
openly and without embarrassment. They were all talking now and
there was a din of boyish voices, most as squeaky and high
pitched as mine, some cracking tenors and baritones, all of them
sounding exhausted but relieved and eager for dinner. I didn't
pay much attention to them. I was too confused by all the hands
that kept touching me, all the small boy chests that rubbed
against my back. I heard some boys saying how pretty I was, felt
their eyes watching me with uncomfortable fascination. If I
hadn't felt so small and helpless, it might have been nice.
As I started up the ladder, boy hands grabbed my butt and
almost made me fall. When I turned to find out what they were
doing they told me to hurry. Some giggled. When I started up
again, their hands returned, rubbing my small bottom and bare
legs. Unable to protest, I just struggled to get up the ladder,
my skinny, exhausted arms barely able to hold on. I was relieved
to get to the top, but the press of boys continued, my half naked
body nudged between them as we walked like cattle through a long
hall, my body rubbed against their's, fondled by their curious
hands. Sandy didn't protect me from any of this but he wasn't
one of the boys groping me either. He walked close to me, close
enough that the other boys' bare chests frequently pushed my body
against his. He didn't complain or look at me with anger, just
allowed the other boys to keep rubbing their bodies against me.
The press of half naked boys led me up the hall and into a
large bunk room off through a side door. Here, all the boys
crowded in, taking their appropriate bunk. The wooden beds lined
both walls two high with a narrow aisle between them. Sandy took
me to a lower bunk on one side and told me to stay there until he
came to get me for dinner. After that, he left for his own bunk
about halfway down the room. I stood there feeling small,
frightened and alone. I looked around nervously at the skinny,
dirty, half-naked bodies collapsing on the bunks all around me,
but was too confused to do anything for a long time.
A young boy was lying on the bunk above mine and I looked at
him helplessly, his cute face smiling at me. He was as dirty as
any of the other boys, his bare legs and small chest looking
smooth and soft beneath the layer of grime. His ragged shorts
were so tattered that I could see his small penis when I looked
up the leg hole. It lay on his thigh as dirty as the rest of
him. I don't know why I was so fascinated by his boyhood, but I
discovered that I was staring at it. It looked strange, because
I couldn't see his penis head. I thought this was just because
his penis itself was hard to see in the darkness beneath his
shorts and with all the dirt.
"Hi," his high pitched voice said to me. He was lying with
his head pillowed on his arm and I could see the smooth skin on
his small, brown armpit.
"Hi," I swallowed shyly, blushing and looking away from his
little penis.
"My name's Matthew," he said. "What's yours?"
"I'm Kelvin," I replied. There was a moment of silence and I
found my eyes slowly returning to his shorts, felt them gazing
nervously down to look at his hairless penis. He lifted one of
his legs, pulling the shorts wider apart and leaving his penis
fully exposed to the light, laying small and innocent against his
skinny thigh. I looked up at his cute face and he grinned back
at me, knowing what I'd been looking at. I was so embarrassed
that I crawled onto the bunk beneath him. There was no mattress.
The bed was nothing but a piece of plywood. The blankets were
made from burlap and were filthy, smelling of boy urine. I
looked up and could see urine stains on the plywood above me:
apparently Matthew wet the bed.
After a few minutes, Sandy came back and told me to follow
him to dinner, which I did. Boys, still filthy and half-dressed,
crowded against the door and I quickly felt their bodies pressing
against mine, quickly feeling like I was in a cattle train again,
unable to do anything but follow along with the rest of them. I
thought they looked so cute and their skinny young bodies did
fascinate me, but I felt so helpless at the same time, unable to
turn or walk away or do anything on my own. Their chests and
bellies pushed against me, flowing in a sea of filthy boy flesh
down a hall. I could smell them again, faintly beneath the
generous smell of grain and through the dust almost clogging my
nostrils. It was such a strange smell, and I almost had to fight
against a desire to get closer to it. Somehow, the smell of
their pubescent perspiration made me feel like I was home.
The river of boys carried me down the hall and through a door
into the dining room the Reverend Mother had brought me through.
We ate a thin stew dished out by the nuns. For the most part,
the women seemed bored and unhappy. When a cute kid went by,
however, they seemed to brighten. They gave more food and bread
to these boys than to the others, making the skinny, dirty, half
naked kids blush uncomfortably.
The boys all seemed too tired to talk very much when we sat
down at the long wooden tables, but they did anyway. Mostly they
were talking about the nuns and how this one or that one was
going to take this boy or that boy that night. I noticed very
early on that the boys who had a lot of food were the ones most
mentioned as being a nun's for the night. I didn't understand,
but didn't say anything.
I was horribly embarrassed when Jeremy made me stand up and
introduced me to the assembled boys as dinner ended. Some of
them clapped. Several threw pieces of bread at me and laughed.
Sandy, who sat beside me throughout dinner, spoke very little.
He seemed very shy and didn't talk to any of the boys around us
either.
"The boy who did the least work today..." Jeremy began, and a
hush fell instantly over the dining room, "is Kelvin." There was
a rash of laughter and I felt more bread being hurled at me from
all over the room. I don't know why, but a rush of terror filled
me. My eyes brimmed with tears, feeling like I had failed and
knowing instinctively that I was going to get a spanking. I
thought I had worked so hard and I was so desperately tired.
"No," the Reverend Mother whispered loudly to Jeremy, twirl-
ing the boy around and forcing him to look at her. "Not him!"
"But it's always the new boy..." Jeremy said, looking half
his age and very confused.
"Not him!" the Reverend Mother repeated emphatically.
"Uh," Jeremy said, looking uncomfortable. "Uh, the boy who
did the least work was... Oliver."
There was a united sigh of relief and several of the bolder
boys jeered and threw bread across the room. I looked around and
saw two of the smaller boys nudging and pushing another boy their
age. He turned around, his adorable young face filled with fear
and terror. He was only about eight or nine with curly blond
hair and a childish body hidden by a ragged grey shirt and ragged
grey pants that ended at his knees. The boys next to him pushed
him to his feet and he stood up with tears in his eyes.
He looked at me and I felt a great pain in my chest, as if
knowing that he was going to be punished for something I had
done. His small hands were fearfully knotted in the lower tails
of his shirt and he stood there like a frightened dear, eager to
run away but too frightened to know where to run. He looked
small and pathetic, his baby blue eyes already brimming with
tears beneath his mop of yellow hair. Giving up, he started
walking slowly toward Jeremy, his tears spilling out his eyes and
running down his smooth cheeks as he started to sob helplessly.
This just egged the other boys on still more and they pelted him
with bread and laughed at him.
When he reached the steps up to the landing that held Jeremy
and the Reverend Mother, he stopped and stood pleading up at
them. "Please, sir," he begged. "I worked hard."
Jeremy looked like he was ready to cry for the small boy, but
he didn't. Just stood there looking down at him in sorrow.
"Get up here," the Reverend Mother ordered, stepping down to
grab the poor boy's skinny wrist and jerking him up onto the
platform.
"Please," the boy pleaded desperately, tears spilling down
his face but too frightened to fight back.
Jeremy stood off to the side and watched as the Reverend
Mother unbuttoned the little boy's shirt. He just stood there
and bawled and I felt like crying for him too. Many of the boys
watched with as much sadness as I felt. An equal number were
laughing and jeering at him for being such a cry baby. The woman
jerked the ragged shirt over his shoulders and pulled them down
his arms with little tenderness or affection. He was a very cute
boy, with a small, soft chest and little nipples. He looked
better fed than most of the boys, probably because he hadn't been
in the orphanage very long.
He started crying harder as the Reverend Mother untied his
pants and roughly jerked them down his smooth, slender thighs.
The boy's hairless penis fell out onto the round ball of his
scrotum, looking as innocent and childish as mine did. Like
Matthew's in the dorm, his penis head was invisible, nothing but
pale, white skin running all the way from his hairless belly to
the end of his smooth shaft. He didn't fight at all as she held
his pants at the floor and his young feet stepped out of them.
His hands did move between his legs and they held to his penis so
that we couldn't see it anymore. All the while, he cried help-
lessly.
"Bend over the table," the Reverend Mother ordered the
frightened boy.
"No, please," his soprano voice begged pathetically.
"Please. I'll be good. I'll work harder."
The woman just twirled him around and carelessly shoved him
toward the table. The hairless little boy obediently leaned over
on it, his back to us, his round bottom sticking out at the rest
of us. "Please..." he cried until I thought my heart would
burst. "I'll be good..."
I felt my eyes filling with tears and watched as the Reverend
Mother pulled a long, skinny stick from her sleeve. It looked
like something she was used to pulling out. "I'll be good,
Reverend Mother..." the poor, naked boy cried.
The crack when she struck the little boy's bare buttocks made
me cringe and the tears spilled out of my eyes. He screamed from
the stinging pain and his childish, high pitched voice echoed
throughout the dining room as he begged for mercy. "Please," his
young voice cried. "I'll be good. Please!"
The Reverend Mother responded by striking him across the
buttocks again and I could see thin welts appearing where he had
been hit. The cute little boy just kept begging and promising to
be good but the woman showed him no mercy at all. Her whip
struck over his thighs and skinny, purple welts grew quickly on
the child's pale, baby soft skin. The poor, wailing boy could do
nothing but grab hold of the table and hold to it for dear life
as the whip descended against his sensitive flesh over and over
again.
Little Oliver received ten lashings, the normal punishment
for the least productive boy of the day. By the time it had
ended, he was a sobbing mass of helplessness, his small hands
leaving the table helplessly trying to soothe the stinging of the
lash, rubbing over his small butt and thin thighs in front of all
of us, weeping without embarrassment: his pain had swallowed up
all the embarrassment the poor boy could muster. As he slipped
to the ground, I could see that his hairless penis had grown. It
was bigger than mine anyway and rolled around on his soft testi-
cles as he tried to comfort himself. He was so pretty that I was
outraged by what she had done to him, even more horror-stricken
to know that the beating had been meant for me. Still, I was
just a little boy myself and could do nothing but sit there and
cry with him.
"Don't cry," Sandy whispered to me, and I realized the cute
boy looked as emotionless as a robot. "They'll tease you for
it." I looked into his pretty eyes through the mop of his blond
bangs and realized that he was as hurt as I was, he was just
trying to hide it. Longing to emulate him, I sucked down my sobs
and soon was under control. I swallowed my tears and watched as
the pretty, naked boy on the platform searched weakly for his
pants. The jeering boys soon started to ignore him and started
talking to each other more than watching him. I watched however.
I watched as he sat there and wiggled his rags up his legs,
watched until his hairless young boyhood was out of sight.
I couldn't eat anymore and let Sandy have the rest of my
stew. He took it stoically, but thanked me for it. "Someone
always gets it," he said. "Just be glad she wouldn't let him
pick you this time."
When dinner was over, the cute young boy led me back to the
dormitory en masse with the rest of the boys. These continued to
whisper about me and some still reached out and touched me,
giggling or whispering to the other boys. It was all very
strange. I continued to wish I hadn't come to the orphanage at
all. Surely the boy in the alley would have been nicer to a
half-starved, ragged boy.
"It's time for showers," Sandy said to me. "You can leave
your clothes here."
He stood there and I realized he was expecting me to strip
again. Blushing in embarrassment, I untied my ragged pants and
slid them down. As I stepped out of them, Matthew came running
around the bunk still wearing just his tattered shorts.
"Are you taking a shower?" his high pitched voice asked,
giggling happily.
"Yeah," Sandy answered softly when I remained silent.
"Me too," the young boy replied, smiling as he peeled the
soft, torn shorts down his smooth thighs. He was a very cute boy
with brown hair and big brown eyes beneath long black eyelashes.
I glanced briefly at his naked body and saw his bare penis dan-
gling between his legs. It was bigger than mine, but the boy was
still hairless. I could feel my heart suddenly beating faster
and my eyes were infatuated with his boyhood. It looked so
smooth and pretty beneath the dirt, his skin a pale, soft pink
color that seemed to capture my attention and make me feel funny
inside. The strangest thing about his penis was that it had skin
all the way along its three inch length. He didn't have a purple
penis head like mine did. I looked down at mine and again at
his. He seemed to be doing the same thing, smiling as he gazed
at my smooth little cock. His was just like little Oliver's had
been and I knew that I was different. I didn't like the feeling
at all.
"Come on," Sandy said finally. He seemed to be looking at my
penis, too, and seemed real uncomfortable, his breathing heavy.
I swallowed nervously as I walked around Matthew who stood naked
and grinning happily.
The older boy led me to his bunk where he stopped. As he
started undressing, I looked around the dim, filthy room. All
the other boys were stripping out of their rags, several of them
stark naked and already heading toward the bathroom door. I felt
more and more confused every time I saw one of them. Their
penises looked so pretty and I found myself staring at them with
a strange fascination. Many of the boys were about my age and
were hairless. Their penises were small and pink. Many more of
the boys had soft, downy fuzz around their penises and others had
a small bush of curly black hair. Their penises seemed to get
bigger the more hair they had and I stared at them wondering why.
The one thing that was the same about all the boys was that they
all had foreskins. None of them had the small purple head that I
had.
The last boy I saw was little Oliver. He wasn't getting
undressed, however. Instead, he was curled up on his hard buck,
still wearing just his ragged pants, his head buried in his
burlap blanket as he sobbed softly. I felt like going over and
sitting with him, but he had gotten his beating in my place and I
doubted even a boy as sweet as he was would forgive me very
easily.
I turned as Sandy finished stripping and he walked past me as
my mouth fell open. His was the biggest penis of all, though I
saw it only as he passed. It swung between his smooth, hairless
thighs a full six inches, bigger than any of the other boys. He
also had pubic hair: a small bush in a little circle just around
the place where his penis joined his smooth belly. I swallowed
again and my naked body followed him and the other boys toward
the bathroom.
I could hear the spray of water and heard the high pitched
squeals of boys as we neared the door. Warm, moist air struck my
little chest as Sandy and I went through it. The room looked as
dirty as the rest of the orphanage, the walls dark and dinghy.
It was nothing but one large room, the shower heads lined against
one wall with nothing separating the boys from each other. Their
naked bodies stood crowded against that wall, one or two boys
under the shower while the others stood in long lines watching
and giggling, their small, uncircumcised penises lying on their
testicles.
Sandy stopped at the end of one of the lines and I ran into
his naked body, so intent was I on watching the other naked boys.
"Sorry," I said, blushing bright red. He scarcely looked at me,
turning back to the front and waiting his turn. I felt a hand
touch my shoulder and I turned to find Matthew standing there
grinning and blushing happily. I automatically looked down
between his legs and looked at his hairless penis again and all
along his slender, soft body.
"Why's your penis like that?" he asked, making no effort to
conceal his own or the fact that he was looking at mine.
I shrugged, looking down at his penis again. It just lay
there on his smooth, hairless testicles and looked pretty. I
felt a queazy sense of jealousy as I gazed at it, jealous that
his looked like the other boys' and jealous that it was at least
an inch bigger than mine. He giggled when I kept looking at it.
I thought he was a terribly cute boy.
"Come here," Sandy's voice cracked as the other naked boys
abandoned the shower head and his turn arrived. He pulled me
toward the shower and his big hands held my skinny body under the
spray for a moment then pulled me out. "Wash the dirt off," he
instructed, handing me a bar of soap. I looked down at his penis
as I took the soap. It looked even bigger than it had in the
bunk room and it was sticking halfway out from his legs. The
balls in his scrotum looked equally large and, despite his pubic
hair, his sack was still smooth and hairless. I looked up at him
and he blushed and turned away. As he turned, his eyes glanced
across the large shower. I followed his eyes and realized with
still more confusion that many of the boys in the shower now had
hard penises that stuck straight out between their legs, slanting
upward toward the ceiling and moving slightly up and down. Even
some of the little, hairless boys' penises were stiff, just like
mine had been when Father Donovan was rubbing it. This was very
confusing.
"Don't look," Sandy said, when he saw me staring at the erect
little boys. "Just clean up."
I did as he said and started rubbing soap all over my skinny
body. It felt nice against my skin and I could feel the dirt and
the immature sweat of my day's labors being washed away. When I
was finished, I turned back to Sandy and was astonished to see
that his penis was now as hard as the hardest of the other boys,
sticking out seven and a half inches and pulsing slowly up and
down. It was thick, too, maybe thicker than my small hand could
have wrapped around. His erection was very straight and pointed
upward as it throbbed, entrancing me with its rhythmic movements
and the pubescent beauty of his little bush of pubic hair. His
pale foreskin had slid back over his shiny purple penis head and
I was astonished by the sight of it, looking so big and extremely
hard. I looked up at his cute face and saw that he was looking
at my naked little penis and panting softly. Matthew stood
behind him grinning.
"He likes you," the little boy giggled at Sandy. Sandy
blushed and took my place under the shower, me turning as I
stepped away, blue eyes gazing at Sandy's big, pulsing penis.
"Come here," Matthew said to me. I turned and the boy stood
a few feet from me. Obediently, I walked up to the naked boy,
swallowing as I looked into his happily smiling face. I jumped
when his hand grabbed my penis and started feeling it. "It looks
funny," he said as his fingers probed along its hairless two
inches. I felt it getting stiff again and soon the boy was
holding my little erection. He just giggled.
I looked back at Sandy, feeling frightened and confused,
embarrassed to think that he had seen what Matthew was doing to
me. He had: he was standing under the shower spray, his blue
eyes staring at my stiff little penis in Matthew's small fingers.
What was even odder was that he was holding his own gifted cock
in his hand and was rubbing slowly up and down on it in the slime
of the soap. He blushed when he saw me watching him, but didn't
stop the slow steady rubbing on his penis. Matthew was still
fondling my erection, but I just watched the older boy masturbat-
ing. His fist squeezed his penis and pulled a layer of flesh up
over his bright, shiny purple penis head, then pulled the flesh
back again letting the hard shiny thing poke out. Now I could
see that he had one at least, but it was so big and so hard that
my confusion was little removed.
He started moaning as I stood there and several other naked
boys turned and watched him, pointing and giggling. Many of the
boys also giggled at Matthew who was now fondling both my erec-
tion and his own. I was very confused and nervous. When Sandy
started to moan, his cute face twisted in a strange face and I
could bear no more. In fear, I quickly broke away from Matthew,
feeling his awkward fingers tug briefly on my escaping erection,
and walked quickly out of the shower, naked boys gazing and
giggling after me.
I walked down the center aisle in shame, trying to conceal my
stiff little erection in my small hands. Oliver was still lying
on his bunk with his face buried in his burlap blanket, but he
had stopped sobbing and was either asleep or close to it.
Soon, I was back in my bunk and I quickly pulled my ragged
pants back on. There were other naked boys in the dorm, walking
around boldly displaying their penises, joking and laughing with
the others. I went straight to the exit door planning to escape,
but it was locked. I was trapped with all the other boys.
Feeling very afraid, I went back to my bunk and crawled under the
burlap blankets, trying to hide myself.
Boys slowly began to fill up the dorm as they finished their
showers and prepared for bed. I just stayed huddled under my
blankets and hoped none of them tried to talk to me. This seemed
to be working for a long time until Matthew came back.
"Hey, Kelvin," his high pitched voice giggled. "You want to
play a game?" I didn't know what he was talking about and didn't
say anything or even dare move. My bare shoulders were turned to
him and I didn't roll over to see if the little boy was still
naked or not. After a moment, he sighed and I felt the bed shake
as he jumped up onto the top bunk.
At about the same time, Father Donovan and the Reverend
Mother stepped into the room. The boys, many of them still
naked, all listened attentively as a list of names was read off
by the Reverend Mother. As their names were called, the boys
would giggle or groan. Most were older boys. A few were as
young or even younger than I was. They jumped out of their beds
and walked excitedly, sullenly, or obediently toward the adults
near the door. I noticed that the younger ones put pants on.
The older ones walked with their fuzz or hair covered penises
boldly displayed. I heard Sandy and Jeremy's names called and
saw both of them walking reluctantly toward the front, both of
them wearing ragged pants. The Reverend Mother called Jeremy's
name last and the way she said it made him sound particularly
special.
When Father Donovan stepped forward, he called out two boys'
names. First was little Oliver and I felt silently glad that the
little boy was going to get special attention that night, prob-
ably from Father Donovan. The other boy was a young pubescent
kid who strolled up the center aisle with a stiff, five inch
penis and a tiny bush of little pubic hairs like he was the king
or something. He must have been meant for the Bishop. Oliver
was crying and rubbing tears from his eyes as he went, looking
dreadfully small and helpless. When he reached the priest, the
man tenderly wrapped his arms around him and I could hear him
whispering to the boy that he would get him some healing potion
and make him feel good as new.
"No one is to touch the new boy!" he announced loudly before
leaving with his prepubescent plaything. "Anyone who does will
get thirty lashes!" He said this with strict toughness, but when
he was finished he looked at me with an aching, weak look in his
eyes that belied that strength. He sighed, held tighter to
Oliver's thin shoulders, then turned. He left followed by the
Reverend Mother and a host of forty-five boys bound for the beds
of the nuns and priests.
About five minutes later, the lights were turned out. A few
late boys scurried to their beds in the dark, then everything
fell quiet. I felt like crying, but didn't as I felt myself
slowly falling into sleep.
"Matthew," a voice said in my dreams. "Drop your blankets
down."
"Father said no," I heard Matthew's childish voice say.
"Drop them or we'll beat you up," the older voice ordered
firmly.
"Can I do it, too?" the child replied from above me.
"After us."
I awoke in terror suddenly, feeling another body crawling
onto my bunk. I looked around. Everything was totally dark. All
I could see was a pie shaped opening in what appeared to be
blankets dropped down around my bed. I could see the dark sil-
houettes of naked boys there, could actually see stiff, slender
things sticking straight out from beneath the dark shadows of
their bellies and legs, nervous young voices and hushed giggles
coming through to me.
A much bigger, older boy was inside the room formed by my
blankets but I could see no more of him than a dark silhouette.
His big hands grabbed for my blankets and pulled them off my
small body then quickly went to my mouth and clamped across it
just as I was about to scream. He was a much bigger boy than me,
perhaps bigger than Jeremy. I felt his strong, sinewy arms and
hands grabbing hold of my little chest, felt him crawl under me,
lifting my smaller body on top of him until my thin shoulder
blades were rubbing across his soft, muscular chest.
"He's dressed!" the boy hissed softly, causing the other boys
to giggle. I screamed against his hand as I felt his other hand
grabbing for my ragged pants. I tried desperately to stop him,
but he was much stronger than I was. He couldn't find the rope
that held them shut and I heard my pants rip as the boy tore the
fly open. Immediately I felt his big, warm hand rub down my
belly, reaching inside to fondle my little penis. He moaned
softly and I could feel a big hardness pressing against my butt
through my pants. It felt huge and rock-hard. "You fucking
little boy," he moaned in my ear as he fondled my hairless penis.
I cried out uselessly as he effortlessly rolled me over
again, this time pressing my face and chest against the plywood
bed. He still held my mouth shut as his other hand began grab-
bing at my pants and pulling them down. He felt so strong and I
felt so helpless. He didn't bother trying to take them off, just
jerked on them hard, the ragged cloth ripping easily in his
strong fist. I felt a breeze of cold air blow across my little
bottom and I cried in confusion against the hand covering my
mouth.
"Shit!" he hissed under his breath. His big hand jerked
harder on my pants and they finally tore in half. I could feel
him pull all of the cloth out from under me, throwing them aside,
his hand immediately returning to my body, rubbing across my
back, down my spine, across my small round butt.
I cried again as his slender, young body laid forward on me,
trying to cry louder when I felt his big, hard, hairy penis
rubbing against the crack of my butt. "Gees, you're little," he
breathed as he rubbed his penis there. With his free hand, he
pulled one of the small cheeks of my butt apart and I tried to
scream in terror as I felt his big penis head shoving at my
little butt hole. It was too little to admit him at first, and he
shoved harder and harder, grunting with his effort. The rhythmic
pressure of his big penis head against my little butt hole was
persistent, and I was terrified when I felt my tiny sphincter
being forced open, felt the head of his huge penis slipping
slowly inside me.
The hand not clamped across my mouth now took hold of my hip,
pulling hard on it, pulling it toward the older boy, and I felt
his penis head forcing its way down into my little butt hole.
"Shit!" the boy hissed painfully as he shoved his penis up me. I
cried against his hand, horrified by pain and fear, feeling the
big cock shoving up inside my immature body. "Fuck, he's
little!"
His baby soft chest was panting frantically as his young
pubic hair finally pressed against my bottom. He lay down on top
of me, moaning and crying. I could feel his hand caressing my
body as he lay there with his big penis shoved all the way inside
of me, my little body feeling like a baseball bat was shoved
inside it. I lay there crying against his hand and felt him very
gently humping against me. His penis was so big that it scarcely
moved in the tightness of my body, but the older boy just slowly
moved his hips back and forth and I cried with every thrust
however slight. Soon, I could feel his body growing harder, felt
him rubbing more quickly against me.
"Shit!" he hissed again. It was a whisper, but it was ex-
tremely intense, filled with desperation. His hips bucked
frantically against me. Despite the pain in my butt, I could feel
a warm, slimy liquid squirting out of his penis. This didn't
take the pain away, but it didn't hurt as bad. When the boy
stopped bucking, his tall, slender body collapsed on top of me,
heaving for air. For a long moment he lay there, his big penis
still shoved inside my little butt. I lay there crying and
helpless beneath his one hundred and forty five pound body.
After a half minute, I felt him pulling the huge thing out of me,
slimy now with the liquid. He pulled it all the way out and lay
down on top of me again, his big, slimy penis lying against the
crack of my butt, big hand rubbing up and down on my ribs. He
was gasping desperately.
I was still crying, but was so hurt and violated I wasn't
very loud and he let my mouth go. "Hurry up, John," a younger
boy's voice said. The boy on top of me slowly moved back and I
was relieved that he was leaving me alone. The crack between my
buttocks felt cold as air blew against the wetness. My terror
jumped up again when I heard another boy crawling under the
blankets. I rolled over and tried to back away.
"No, please," I begged, starting to cry louder. The dark
form of the bigger boy just came after me. I backed against the
wall, curling into a fetal position and begging the older boy not
to hurt me. I could feel the first boy's sperm oozing from my
butt as the new boy's big hands grabbed my wrists and jerked me
toward him on the plywood. He wrestled me around like a rag
doll, finally rolling me onto his chest like the first boy had
done. He was skinnier than the first boy and not quite as
strong, but he was more than strong enough to overpower a little
boy like me. I lay there crying and felt his hands rubbing all
over my skinny chest and belly as he moaned and giggled delight-
edly. I could feel his penis pressed between the cheeks of my
butt, becoming slimy as it rubbed in the first boy's sperm. His
penis was only about six inches long and the excited boy was
poking it at my little butt desperately. Finally, I felt one of
his hands reaching down for it as the other arm held my skinny
body on top of him. He guided his penis toward my little butt
hole and I felt it pressing against the tiny orifice. My butt,
loosened and slimy from the first boy, yielded its innocence with
less of a fight and I soon felt the throbbing organ between the
other boy's legs sliding up inside me. He moaned as he shoved it
all the way in, his young bush of pubic hair pressed against my
buttocks. I felt his big hands holding me tightly around my
skinny ribs as he started gently humping his penis in and out of
me.
I lay there crying and helpless, impaled by the big penis in
my butt. I was too scared and too confused to cry very loudly
and he didn't bother covering my mouth. The happy kid beneath me
reached down and fondled my naked, hairless little penis, moaning
as he rubbed it. I didn't get an erection but that didn't seem
to bother him. He just got off on fondling little boys. I felt
his passion peaking and soon his slender, rock hard body was
jerking frantically beneath me. More sperm squirt inside my butt
as the boy ejaculated, moaning happily and loudly, overcoming my
pathetic cries.
He rolled me off him and pulled his slimy penis out. I
prayed that he would be the last, but as soon as he was gone yet
another boy entered. He was about the same size as the second
boy but his penis was smaller. "Please don't," I begged softly
and pathetically as his big hands rolled me over on my stomach
again and his slender, hard body mounted me. He felt so soft and
smooth, his chest boyishly muscular and warm against my shoulder
blades. If that had been all he'd done, I would have been quite
content to stop crying, but his big hand reached between his legs
and I felt a third penis head poking between my cheeks, searching
for my butt hole. "Yeah," he moaned when he found the slimy
entrance. "No!" my childish voice cried pathetically, the older
boy shoving his hips forward and driving his five inch cock down
into me. He really rammed it inside in a hurry and I could feel
his sparse pubic hair rubbing outside my butt. Like the first
boy, he drove it all the way in and very deep, then started
moving his hips slowly and rhythmically up and down. With all
the sperm inside, his penis slid easily in and out. My butt
hurt, but had lost the tightness it had when the first boy had
done it. Now, it didn't even try to deny the boys inside. This
boy panted and grunted with his pleasure, his voice sounding as
high pitched and prepubescent as mine did. I liked the feel of
his chest on my shoulders, but my bottom felt like it was bleed-
ing and I kept crying, helpless to defend my little orifice. I
knew that he was finishing as his smooth, slender body bucked
frantically on top of me and his penis ejaculated his young seed.
I lay there pathetic and helpless, too astonished to even be
afraid as the third boy was replaced by yet another. Soon, I was
so exhausted and my butt hurt so bad that I just lay there whim-
pering as the boys had their way with my little butt. One boy's
penis replaced another, the boys rubbing their penises inside me
until they had orgasms, squirting out their sperm in the in-
nocence of my prepubescent butt. Fortunately none of the cocks
were as big as the first boy's had been and the pain got less as
the penises got smaller.
Eight boys had stuck their cocks up my butt and ejaculated
before little Matthew was finally permitted to fuck me by the
older boys. I felt his soft, hairless body crawl in and didn't
move as he excitedly mounted me, his small, hairless penis poking
for my butt hole just like all the others. He had to use his
hand to guide it to the hole and my butt, stretched wide by the
bigger boys, easily admitted his three and a half inch erection.
He stuck it in and out of me more than the other boys had and I
could feel his slender stiffness sliding in and out easily in the
older boys' sperm. I lay silent and unmoving and was surprised
to discover that his slender young boyhood felt good inside me.
It was small enough that it didn't hurt at all, just felt hard
sliding inside my body. He moaned at first but as he got closer
to climax he started to giggle happily, his high pitched voice
sounding pretty as he shoved his excited penis up me like a
german shepherd. His small chest and belly felt nice against my
back and I could feel them straining as he pumped his little hips
up and down, his smooth, hairless pubic mound pressing against my
buttocks. I was ashamed to discover that it was fun. I wished
the older boys weren't watching and laughing so much because I
would have laid there quite happily if it weren't for my feeling
that I was being abused and made fun of.
Matthew's little body started straining even more desperately
and he was making crying sounds like it hurt him or something.
He was trying so hard to fuck me as fast as possible that it
probably did hurt. All the while his small butt moved up and
down and his stiff, skinny penis slid in and out my slimy butt
hole. It felt so nice that for a long moment I stopped crying
and just enjoyed the feel of his rhythmic movements, the pretty
sound of his excited, prepubescent giggles of excitement. I
could feel his elbows holding tighter to my skinny chest as the
poor boy's body contorted frantically with orgasm. He couldn't
pump his hips anymore, so tightly did his little muscles stiffen.
Finally, his baby soft, slender body started to jerk like the
older boys' had and I felt his little boner sticking deeper into
me in short, frantic little thrusts. I don't know if he squirt
any sperm in my butt or not. It was so filled with semen by the
older boys I would never have felt any thin juice that Matthew
might have had. Besides, in my innocence, I didn't even know
what their pubescent fluids were. The boy jerked several times
in orgasm and he was finished.
He crawled off me right away, giggling and pulling his stiff
erection out. "That felt good," he giggled as the older boys
slapped his bare back outside the bunk. I watched the silhouette
of his beautiful, naked body before the blanket fell back into
place leaving me alone and whimpering in my little hovel. I
heard Matthew being lifted up onto the bunk above me and soon the
blankets were lifted up. I could hear distant boys giggling as
they returned to their own bunks with limp, satisfied young
cocks, but there was no one around mine.
I didn't understand what they had done to me nor did I know
what the slimy stuff was they'd shot all over my butt and up
inside it. I could still feel the slimy liquid seeping out my
violated little body as I lay there too sore to move, crying in
the dark of the orphanage. A long time later, I fell asleep
still crying.
* * * *
"Who did this to him?!" a woman's voice screeched.
I woke up, the pain still in my butt which felt plastered
shut with dried sperm from the young boys. I looked around
bleary eyed. The Reverend Mother stood there, the look on her
face filled with fury. She held the swagger stick she'd used to
beat Oliver with the night before in one hand as she glared
around at all the half-naked boys huddled around looking down at
me. The groups of boys retreated when she turned on them, but
then crept forward a little bit when she turned away, their
smooth faces looking down at me as I started to sob on the ply-
wood, remembering the night before.
"Who?!" she yelled at Matthew on the bunk above me.
"I don't know," I heard his high-pitched voice half cry
fearfully.
"You were sleeping above him!" she spat back. "Don't you lie
to me, boy!" I watched her hand reach for the little boy and she
jerked him clear off the bed. He had been wrapped in his blan-
ket, but it fell free as he fell to the floor and the frightened
eleven year old boy lay there naked. I could see dried semen
covering his pubic area but didn't connect it with his behavior
the night before.
The angry woman half lifted him off the ground by one slender
arm, the boy's ribs poking through his body, his skinny arm
looking like it would break off. She brought the stick down
across his smooth, pale thigh with a loud whack and the boy
screamed out in terror as a blue welt appeared where he'd been
hit. She held him aloft by the same skinny arm and continued to
strike across his thighs and buttocks, raising welts on the
crying boy. His small, uncircumcised penis dangled between his
hairless legs as he struggled and cried, uselessly begging her to
stop spanking him, his hands pathetically trying to rub the pain
from her whacks, trying to hide his smooth, sensitive skin.
I started to cry with him. He was the only one of the boys I
knew was guilty from the night before, but he was so small and
cute and his penis hadn't hurt me. I felt bad because I had
liked the feel of his hairless erection rubbing in my butt and
now he was being spanked, the older boys all standing around
watching and doing nothing to help him or even showing any emo-
tion of guilt or sadness.
When she had vented her rage on the small, naked child, she
dropped him on the hard wood floor and he lay in a crumbled heap,
sobbing as he rubbed his welts. His body looked so pretty and
soft, his skin so pale and smooth and hairless. I couldn't
believe she had hurt him. My eyes were bleary with tears as I
gazed at that the small, smooth, hairless penis dangling on his
testicles as he writhed on the floor massaging his welts. Why
was it so pretty to me?
She started to reach for me and I huddled back away from her
screaming, small hands pressing forward as if to keep her away,
terrified that she was going to beat me next. "Stop it, child!"
she commanded. "I'm not going to hit you!" I was so afraid of
her that I actually stopped screaming and sat whimpering, my
naked body cowering in fear, the pain of my bottom momentarily
forgotten.
She stood back up, not daring to scare me further and looked
relieved when Father Donovan appeared. The man didn't ask any
questions as he came to me, sat on the bed and quickly enfolded
my skinny, naked body in his arms. His voice soothed me and I
cried against his robes. I could feel his hands stroking my
blond hair and down my thin shoulders.
"Beating them isn't the answer, sister," he said, still
comforting me.
"Why must they pick on the little ones?" she yelled hopeless-
ly. "Why do you have to do it to the little ones?!" she suddenly
lashed out, making the skinny, half-naked boys cower back for a
moment. They still didn't look the least bit emotional, looking
from her to me to the crying, naked child on the floor.
"Come along now," he said to me. His arms wrapped tighter
around my skinny back as they lifted my naked body against his
chest. I felt one of his hands slip down across my buttocks and
holding me there. He didn't look at any of the other boys as he
carried me toward the door, his mouth cooing to me, kissing my
bangs and face as I sobbed in his arms. He carried me all the
way to the kitchen where the circle of young nuns immediately
huddled about to comfort me.
"Thorne's upstairs," the priest said to them, making their
eyes fill with shock. "See if you can make him presentable while
the Bishop and I stall him." He gazed into my eyes and gently
stroked my blond hair and thin neck lovingly. "Get him something
a Tarsec boy would like." With that, he sighed and turned away
from me, departing out the door and leaving the orphanage.
As I sat there looking sadly after him, the young women
immediately replaced him, their cool hands starting to rub across
my bare skinny chest and assuring me that everything was alright.
Even when my fear was abated, I kept crying, instinctively know-
ing that it was my sobbing that kept their tender attention to
me, their soft caresses, their comforting hugs. I had no doubt:
I liked being cared for. Three of them set about filling a huge
tub with hot water while the other three comforted me. I was
given cookies and a glass of milk and I struggled to swallow,
slowly deciding that cookies were even better than hugs and
allowing myself to stop crying so I could eat them.
When the tub was almost full, the Reverend Mother returned
with six young boys in tow. None of them looked old enough to
have been the boys who raped me. They were all dressed in nice
clothes (not expensive but nicer than they usually wore) and they
were all clean. None of them looked as young as I was but they
all looked close.
"Master Thorne's here," one of the nuns told her.
"I know," she replied. "They can stall him with these child-
ren while we get him prettied up. Is that bath ready?"
"Yes, Mother," a nun replied from the side of it.
"Good. You girls do what you can with him. Use some potion
if you have to. I'll be back in a moment." With that, she scur-
ried the young boys ahead of her and out the door.
The nuns led me to the kettle and lifted me over the edge so
I could get in it. Their soft hands held to my underarms and
helped lower me down, me ready to screech from the heat of the
water. It was soothing, however, and I started to feel better as
soon as the hot water touched my bottom. They seemed to get
happier as they started to clean me, their hands taking turns
rubbing soap all over me, cleaning behind my ears, my hair, down
across my bottom. They even had one woman hold me up while I
lifted each skinny leg to be washed clean by their loving hands.
As one of the nun's hands rubbed across my chest, she looked
at my necklace and smiled down at it sitting on my soft skin.
She didn't touch it except when it ran against her fingers as
they reached beneath it to rub my boy chest. By the time they
reached my penis, I was feeling so much better that I giggled
when they fondled it, rubbing it with the slimy soap and smiling
with me, delighted by my happy face. They looked a little more
disturbed when I got an erection, but when they saw the confused,
frightened look on my face they smiled delightedly and assured me
that it was normal for little boys and not to be embarrassed.
That said, they kept washing me all over, including my erection.
In fact, my penis was probably the cleanest part of me because
they kept washing it for a long time. I loved it despite my
embarrassment. It gave me a strange pleasure that was a little
unsettling but very nice at the same time.
The hot water soothed my butt a great deal. I was very
disturbed when they stuck a tube up inside it, but all they did
was flush hot water inside me, washing out all of the boys' sperm
and making it feel clean again. By the time the Reverend Mother
entered, I was a happy boy, giggling at their jokes and affec-
tion, my naked body shining clean and pink. I became more quiet
when she came in as did the nuns, but we still smiled at each
other.
"Very good," she nodded at my skinny, naked body standing in
the kettle. "Dry him off," she commanded.
The nuns helped me out of the kettle and I stood near the
fire as they rubbed me down with towels. One of them even
brought out a comb and fixed my hair. Their tenderness kept me
excited and when the Reverend Mother called for me to come over
to the table, my penis was still turgid and throbbing. She paid
little attention to it. I was surprised by her strength as she
lifted me onto the table and set me down on top of a thick,
cotton cloth. "Roll over child," she instructed. Feeling
strange with all of the women watching my naked, excited body, I
did as I was told, laying on my tummy and holding my self up on
my elbows. My legs were hanging over the end of the table and
the Reverend Mother spread them wide and stepped up between them.
I blushed fantastically when I felt her fingers rubbing some cool
cream across my small buttocks and jerked when one of her fingers
slowly poked up inside my butt and rhythmically spread it all
over inside me. Her finger was more slender than the older boys
cocks and felt almost as nice as Matthew's small erection had.
Wherever her fingers spread the cool cream, the pain vanished
and, by the time she was finished, I felt like I had never been
raped at all.
I felt her finger slide out of my butt with a little regret.
"Lay over now," she said and I sat down on the table. "Lay
back." She pressed gently down on my little chest and I lay there
blushing, my penis still throbbing, my skinny legs hanging over
the edge of the table. She dipped her fingers into a glass jar
and pulled out more cream. I started gasping in wonder and
surprise as her loving fingers spread the cream between my legs,
all over my little erection and little testicles. The nuns
smiled at me, blushing themselves as they saw my excited penis
being caressed like it was and even more by the frightened and
confused excitement in my childish face.
"He really likes that, Reverend Mother," one of the young
women said, smiling at the astonished look of wonder in my blue
eyes.
The Reverend Mother smiled, too, her fingers rubbing the
cool, slimy cream around the hairless base of my penis, over my
thick, childish scrotum, up my skinny, two inch shaft and ever so
gently across my rock hard, purple little penis head. This felt
so strange against my sensitive skin that I panted fearfully,
feeling like my stiff erection didn't belong to me anymore but
had become a strange other person. It felt so good that it
scared me.
She worked the cream well into my skin and I started making
little crying noises, my penis feeling so good I thought someth-
ing really weird was going to happen to it at any second.
"Oh, he's going to have an orgasm," one of the girls giggled
adoringly and they all huddled closer to watch my naked little
body starting to squirm uncontrollably.
"Not if I can help it," the Reverend Mother said. I felt sad
when her tender fingers left my penis, leaving my erection throb-
bing and glowing a bright red from excitement. My sensitive
little glans looked like a purple mirror, reflecting the light of
the kitchen. "He's got to be a virgin for that Tarsec boy."
"Oh, Reverend Mother," the women whined. "One time wouldn't
hurt. Besides, look at him: he needs it..."
She did look down at my throbbing erection and up into the
confused, hopeful look in my blue eyes, and I thought she looked
a little disappointed, too. Instead of rubbing on my penis some
more, however, she just pushed the blond hair back from my fore-
head and gently stroked my cheek. "Well," she smiled, "we'll
pick up another little boy today and we can all play with him."
"Street boys have all done it before," one of the nuns
sighed. "They won't be as cute as he is."
The Reverend Mother chose to ignore her. "Well, that should
make him as good as new," she said, still gazing at my naked
body. "Lift his legs, sisters." I looked about in confusion as
two of the young women lifted my legs and spread them apart, me
lying there with my stiff penis poking straight out at my face,
my little butt before the older woman's eyes. She just sighed as
she looked at my hairless little testicles, then reached down and
lifted the white cotton fabric up between my legs. The nuns
lowered them and the Reverend Mother pulled the cloth up tightly
between my legs. She produced two safety pins with little bun-
nies on them from her habit and used them to fasten the diaper's
corners together. She apparently had a lot of experience with
this for the diaper fit very snugly, feeling a little tight
against my testicles and penis. It was very thick, the fabric so
soft that it felt nice against my erection which wasn't at all
visible through its thickness.
"Jump down now, child," she said, and I did so, the confine-
ment of the diaper making my erection ache a little when I moved
my legs. I stood there with my waist wrapped tightly in the
diaper, my skinny chest bare. My hair was drying quickly in the
heat of the kitchen and the blond strands were soon falling down
in my eyes again.
"He's so adorable, Reverend Mother," one of the nuns said,
smiling at me in love and trying to pet my blond bangs back.
"Can't we keep him just as an altar boy."
"Not if the Bishop has his way," the older woman shrugged.
She actually smiled at my confused eyes and stroked my hair.
"You are a sweet child," she sighed. "Do we have a nice shirt
for him to wear?"
"Yes, here, Mother." One of the nuns handed her a t-shirt and
she rolled it up, lifting the arm holes for me. I blushed as I
stuck my skinny arms in them and she pulled the shirt down over
my skinny body. It was a white shirt and I felt embarrassed when
I saw that it had little blue bunnies and little yellow ducks on
it: it was a baby's shirt. Soon I was standing in it and my
thick diaper. Another nun silently brought over a pair of bunny
slippers complete with floppy ears and I sat on the table again
as the older woman tenderly slipped them on my dainty feet. To
complete the baby picture, a frilly bonnet was tied under chin,
my yellow hair still falling down over my forehead. I might have
been eleven years old, but the nuns had dressed me like an inf-
ant. My thin, hairless legs and arms did little to argue against
the impression. The only thing that kept me from feeling like a
baby was the frantic pulsing of my hairless little erection. It
felt like it was angry with me, like it wanted me to do something
to it. The feeling just confused me, however, and I wasn't about
to experiment with it in front of the nuns.
"Here," a young nun in her teens finally giggled, producing a
pacifier. My pale cheeks flushed in embarrassment as I felt the
rubber nipple pressed between my thin lips. I just sat their
shyly, however, and tightened my lips around it. It did feel
nice and, before I knew it, I felt my small chin moving up and
down as I sucked on it.
"Oh," one of the nuns smiled at me, clapping her hands to-
gether. "He's so adorable."
"Well," the Reverend Mother sighed, again stroking my yellow
hair and gazing into my blue eyes with adoration as I rhythmical-
ly sucked on the pacifier, "I suppose we could hope Thorne does-
n't want him..."
"Not likely," one of the nuns sighed glumly. "They like
pretty boys."
They all said goodbye to me, looking sad but trying to smile.
I just blushed as the Reverend Mother led me out the kitchen and
back through the corridors that led away from the orphanage. I
was glad that I didn't have to return there and have the other
boys see me dressed as I was. I might have been young and might
have had little memory, but I knew eleven year old boys shouldn't
be seen like this. The diaper was so tight that it chafed
against my smooth thighs and I felt extremely silly in the baby
slippers and bonnet I was wearing. I kept sucking rather com-
fortingly on the pacifier, however, and thought how nice it felt.
I wondered if there were any way that I could yet escape. I
was unlikely to get far dressed like a baby, but I doubted I was
going to get many chances once I was sold. I saw several poten-
tial routes of escape and even thought I could identify a way out
of the cathedral but the woman was holding my thin shoulders
tightly and I knew she was much stronger than I was. If only I
could go back to the alley and relive the past twenty-four hours,
I thought. My whole life would be different. I walked glumly
along, my little chin rising and falling as I sucked on the
rubber nipple. Soon, we found ourselves back at the door to the
Bishop's office. She knocked and gently pushed the door open,
leading me in by the hand.
The Bishop was standing near his desk. He shot me a nervous
look then smiled with satisfaction. I felt ashamed and blushed,
sucking faster on the pacifier to relieve my embarrassment. Such
a sight I must have made with my bare skinny legs framed against
the bright white diaper and happy bunny shoes, my eleven year old
face and yellow hair framed by the frilly baby bonnet and the
pacifier stuck between my lips. I would have taken the pacifier
out, but sucking on it was the only part of the experience I was
enjoying.
The six boys she had brought earlier stood in a line against
the wall near the fireplace. All of them had their pants pulled
down around their ankles and a man was walking along the line
examining each of their penises. He did this with his hands,
stroking the boys and looking closely at their small, uncircum-
cised boyhoods. All of the boys were bigger than me but only two
of them had peach fuzz, the other four were just hairless little
boys. The two with peach fuzz had small erections that throbbed
intently between their pale young legs. All six of them looked
frightfully embarrassed but not half as much as I did. They at
least had regular clothes on. I was dressed like an infant.
We stood there a moment in silence, the Bishop saying nothing
to introduce us. The strange man, suddenly realizing that
someone had entered, turned slowly. His eyes looked at the
Reverend Mother with impatience, then slowly moved down and
looked at me. His eyes softened, looked momentarily confused.
They didn't leave me as he let go of the hairless little penis he
had been fondling and slowly stood up. I blushed brighter and
felt my chin sucking faster on the pacifier with embarrassment.
He was a tall, handsome man of about thirty and just the way
he dressed told me that he was a man with a lot of money. He was
in riding boots and had a swagger stick like the Reverend Moth-
er's. I had a frightening image of that stick being used to
spank my smooth, skinny thighs and felt very much afraid of him.
"And who is this child?" he asked. His eyes seemed to be
stripping me and I felt naked despite my clothing.
"Ah, that's our new altar boy," the Bishop said, beaming as
he crossed over to us and put a tender hand between my shoulder
blades. "He's the first Kovz Boy we've ever had here. I'm sure
he'll make a fine addition to the service. Kelvin, say hello to
Master Thorne."
I couldn't speak with the pacifier in my mouth and was too
frightened of him to remove it. The Reverend Mother took hold of
it and tugged it out of my lips leaving a long trail of slimy
saliva connecting them for a moment. "Hello, sir," my childish
voice whimpered, wishing I could suck on the pacifier some more.
I could feel my little body backing up closer to the Reverend
Mother, half hoping the man wouldn't like me and I could stay in
the orphanage.
Thorne didn't reply, nor did his eyes leave me. He came
closer, looking over my face and small body. "How much?" was all
he said.
"We couldn't part with him, Master Thorne," the Bishop
sighed. "Surely you can see how special a boy he is."
Thorne nodded absently. "May I see him?" he asked.
The Bishop shrugged. "I don't see why not, but you under-
stand that he's not for sale?"
Thorne didn't reply. He came over to me, towering above my
five foot, eight inch frame. He must have been six foot, two. I
felt his big hands taking hold of my head, poking through my
hair. He turned my face up toward him and pulled my lips apart
to examine my teeth. I just stood there blushing.
He leaned over and his hand took hold of the hem of my t-
shirt, lifting it up and baring my small belly and ribs. He
pursed his lips and pulled the t-shirt higher revealing my little
chest and tiny pink nipples. His other hand reached out and
rubbed my body, causing me to shiver, only my embarrassment
keeping me from giggling at the ticklish feel of his caresses.
Worst of all was when his fingers petted the baby soft skin
around my little belly button, the pale skin quivering uncontrol-
lably. I stayed quiet, however.
He bent his knees and knelt close to me as his hand took hold
of one of the safety pins. I was shocked to have my boyhood
bared once again, but I felt the Reverend Mother's hands holding
my shoulders to restrain the nervous wiggling of my body, making
me stand still and let the man unveil my hairless little penis.
I hadn't been aware that I still had an erection, but my penis
was throbbing its boyish two inches and glowing red with pres-
sure, the little head still shining like a purple mirror. Thorne
actually gasped as he touched it, his fingers feeling all around
the hairless base and small testicles. He even pulled on the
loose skin along the shaft, trying unsuccessfully to get it to
cover my immature purple glans. It felt so good that I awkwardly
let out a little cry of pleasure, my skinny legs feeling weak.
Thorne smiled up at my childish pleasure. "Did you train him
to do that?" he asked.
"As you can see," the Bishop shrugged, "the child is very
sensitive."
"Hmmm," Thorne said. He took another look at my erection
then stood up. As he walked back to the line of other boys, the
Reverend Mother leaned over and refitted my diaper, pulling it
tight and refastening it. She pulled my t-shirt back over my
hairless belly, too, and I felt very grateful when I felt the
pacifier, slimy now from my earlier saliva, slip between my thin
lips. I started sucking on it immediately, watching the man
nervously.
"How much do you want for him, Bishop?" he asked.
"As I said, sir, the child is not for sale."
"Fifty pounds of gold," Thorne said immediately. disregarding
the Bishops denials. After a moment, he turned to look for the
Bishop's response.
"I'm sure I couldn't let him go for two hundred, sir," the
Bishop shrugged helplessly. "Kovz Boys are extremely rare and
you can see how special this one is. Surely you understand my
position."
"Yes, I'm sure I do," Thorne said with a wry, almost angry
smile. "But you surely don't expect me to pay more for him than
I would pay for a hundred boys. My son could get in a lot with a
hundred boys."
"A hundred would not be a Kovz Boy. Since you have been a
good customer in the past and since you do have pull with the
Tarsec Army, I might be persuaded to go as low as 150 pounds."
Thorne thought about it, looking at me again. "He's only a
little boy. He's probably too young for my son."
"One hundred and twenty-five," the Bishop shrugged, "for his
growing years."
"And if he doesn't grow? Some of them are little boys forev-
er."
"If he doesn't grow, you'll rent him out to your neighbors'
sons for a hundred years," the Bishop smiled knowingly. "And if
he does grow, you needn't be concerned about your investment:
he's a pretty boy, sir. They'll pay as much for him as they will
for your boy, one day, with a guarantee that they'll have nothing
but male offspring. As to his age now, I think his erections are
proof enough of his willingness to please."
"Then he's been used. I want a virgin for my boy. Eric's a
pretty special kid, too."
"If you can look in this child's eyes and tell me he's been
used, sir, I'll make the price 100, but I assure you he has never
been touched."
Thorne looked at me. I didn't know what they were talking
about and just stood there in blank confusion. He sighed and
looked away. "You hadn't told me you had a Kovz Boy for sale,"
he said.
"He's new. An orphan."
"Then how do I know he's not a Boylover?" Thorne said turning
on him. "The legends say there was a boylover named Kelvin..."
"Your Dairean legends aren't my concern, sir. We all know
about Kovz Boys because, unlike Boylovers, they've been around,
albeit rare, since the beginning of time. Boylovers are, to our
religion, nothing but creations used by your Old Ones to scare
your boys into obedience. We're not concerned with them."
"You speak blasphemy!" Thorne said, eyes wide.
"Blasphemy to Daireans only," the Bishop replied without the
slightest fear. "I'm a Bishop of the Order of Analeeya, not a
Dairean priest. If you want your son to have his own Kovz Boy to
play with, here he is. If not, the other boys are there for your
inspection."
"I know about Analeeyan priests," Thorne spat. "I'd be
surprised if any boy your priests or nuns look at is a virgin for
more than thirty minutes!"
"At least we don't breed our boys like animals as soon as
they start ejaculating and then send them into battle as soon as
they've spawned a dozen offspring," the Bishop countered, his
smile dripping with venom.
Thorne looked like he was going to fight harder, but didn't.
He looked at the other boys, all still with their pants pulled
down, all as confused as I was by the discussion. "A hundred
twenty-five," he leered shaking his head. "It costs me that much
to raise a boy to manhood."
"You don't have to spoil the child, sir," the Bishop said.
"I do the way Eric coddles the little things," he said almost
under his breath. He looked back at me and sighed. "Do you have
his toys?" he asked, his voice still tinged with anger.
The Bishop motioned to Father Donovan who produced the knap-
sack I'd been found with. "My son deserves the best," Thorne
said sifting through the things. "He's a big boy and he's only
thirteen. I'll pay you one hundred and twenty-five pounds for
the child."
"Very well," the Bishop smiled. "Fifty for the toys."
Throne whirled on him with eyes wide and burning with fury.
When he saw the Bishop's confident, almost arrogant smile, howev-
er, he softened, cursed and turned away. "One hundred fifty,
then," he said, already walking over to me and starting to exam-
ine my teeth and looking down my throat again.
"The child is your's, Master Thorne," the Bishop replied with
a smug smile.
The men didn't speak any further. The Reverend Mother gave
me a hug and wished me well, her eyes glistening ever so slightly
as her fingers stroked my cheeks. After that, she told the other
boys to pull their pants on and led them away. I never saw her
again.
Thorne's valet entered and produced several large bars of
gold which were given to Father Donovan. The priest just watched
as I was sadly led away by the valet. Thorne stayed behind as
the valet walked me out to the carriage. We appeared on the front
steps of the cathedral and the sun seemed so bright that for a
moment I thought it would blind me. The man paid very little
attention to me. His hands held to my shoulders like vice grips
as he led me to the carriage and put me inside. I instantly
popped into the window to look around. The carriage itself was
very nice, lined with mahogony and gold, the interior carpeted
with satin benches.
The square looked much as it had the previous day, filled
with angry people pretending to be happy as they dealt with their
wealthier customers. There were still street boys around, almost
everywhere, and I thought that I had glimpsed the boy from the
alley for a moment. I was about to shout to him, but he soon
disappeared. I wondered if I could slip out the carriage doors
and make a run for it before the valet could catch me, but decid-
ed against trying. The carriage was nice. Master Thorne seemed
a little stern, but I didn't think he would beat me. Perhaps it
was worth it to stay put for a while and see how things turned
out. I stayed put and didn't make a sound until the man arrived.
"Where are we going?" my childish voice bashfully asked the
man as he took his seat across from me.
He didn't answer. Just stared at me for a long time until I
sat back on the bench and wished he'd stop staring. The horses
started off and the man was still looking at me.
"How old are you, boy?" he asked me.
"Eleven," I replied, unable to look at his burning eyes.
"Are you a Kovz Boy?" he asked.
I didn't know what one was and had to shrug in answer, still
looking away.
"Are you a Boylover?" he continued.
I just swallowed. What was a "Boylover"?
The man sniffed derisively and I looked up to see him leering
at me. I looked away again. Maybe I should have escaped when I
could. "Man, Eric's going to eat you alive, boy," he said final-
ly. He didn't speak to me again.
We spent that day and evening in a hotel near the big square.
My arms and legs were bound. The shammy ropes weren't tight and
didn't hurt, but I wasn't able to get away. Thorne slept in a
large comfortable bed and left me lying in my diaper and t-shirt
on the carpet in a corner. They had taken the bunny slippers
from me and my feet were cold, but I was tired and slept through
the night, still sucking on the pacifier like it was the only
friend I had in the world.
The next morning, they fed me and we got an early start
toward Thorne's village which I learned was located high in the
mountains near a dwarven city. Neither Thorne nor the valet spoke
to me except to ask if I was hungry or if I needed water. They
put me in the carriage with Thorne who sat on one side while I
sat with arms bound on the other. Despite being afraid and tied
up, I enjoyed the ride. Since Thorne ignored me, I was free to
watch out the window at all the farms and hills going by.
On the second day, we began climbing into the mountains and
the lush green lowlands gradually became drier and less populat-
ed. At night, I was left to sleep under the carriage with a
blanket, the entire inside becoming a bed for the man. It was
cold, but I wasn't badly treated and didn't mind except that I
didn't know where I was going. I was only a boy, however, and
didn't know any other way of life. Soon there were no more farms
and no more people. The mountains seemed bare compared to the
lowlands, nothing but sparse trees and brush.
Late on the third day, the wagon pulled to a stop and I
leaned out the window to see what was happening. There were
several short, bearded men, no more than three feet tall, talking
to the valet/carriage driver and checking papers. When they
finished with him, one of them came back to the carriage, hopped
up on the running board and looked in.
"Thorne," the little man nodded curtly, looking me up and
down. He was so funny looking that I giggled which didn't seem
to make him very happy. He glowered at my naked legs and diaper.
"That Eric's boy?" he asked.
Thorne sighed. "Yes, if you must know."
"Kind of young, ain't he?" the dwarf asked.
"He's old enough," Thorne replied. "Our papers are in order,
Sergeant. If you will please let us go, I won't feel it necessary
to contact your superior officer."
The dwarf glared at him angrily, but jumped off the running
board and motioned for the driver to pass through the gate. I
leaned out the window and grinned at the small people. They were
delightfully funny looking and I wished I could stay and play
with them, but I wasn't going to ask Master Thorne for permis-
sion. Instead I sat back down and remained silent.
It was dark out and I was dozing before we finally pulled
into the Thorne estate at Tarsec Village. Thorne just sniffed at
me and crawled out of the carriage. "Bring the child," he told
the footman who held the door for him.
"Yes, sir," the man said crisply. Torches ran all along the
cobblestone drive that led to the huge mansion and their light
flooded into the carriage as the footman looked in at me. He
smiled at me and I smiled back. All this did was make him shake
his head and smile bigger. "Kovz magic," I heard him say to
himself. He took me by the arm and pulled me out of the car-
riage.
"Is that him?" another servant asked from the front porch.
"Yeah. He's a cute little guy, isn't he?" the footman said
leading me toward the door.
"Lord, he's just a child."
"Master Thorne paid a hundred and fifty gold for him."
"A hundred fifty?! What is he, a Kovz Boy?"
The footman nodded solemnly and the other man looked im-
pressed. He looked down at me, pulling my chin up to look at my
face. "Pretty, alright. Nothing but the best for Master Eric."
He opened the door and the footman led me into the house.
Outside, it looked huge and impressive with tall white columns
and bright torchlight. Inside it was just as impressive. We
entered into a marble entryway. The stone felt cool beneath my
bare feet as I plodded along beside the footman, staring in awe
at the gold framed paintings, the crystal chandelier, the plush
red carpet. Everything was so clean and shiny that I felt very
dirty and out of place. I was dirty, too. The nights spent
sleeping on the ground had left my diaper and the t-shirt looking
filthy. Adding to my embarrassment, Master Thorne had refused to
stop the first time I'd asked to go to the bathroom and I had,
quite helplessly, wet the diaper. After that, Master Thorne
would ask me if I needed to poop or pee. The only time he'd tell
the driver to stop was if I said I had to poop. Otherwise, he
told me to just go in the diaper. Being boyishly honest with
him, I frequently found myself sitting in the carriage as my
penis tinkled into the thick cotton. By the time we'd reached
the village, the diaper was stained with urine and I knew every-
one around me would be able to smell it.
The footman led me to a room off to the left and knocked on
the double doors. Thorne called for him to bring me in and the
man obeyed.
The room we entered was as ornate as the one we had left, but
it was also furnished with crushed velvet chairs and couches, a
large marble fireplace, and various tables and crystal sculp-
tures. The footman left me standing there with my arms still
bound and closed the door behind him.
There were five people in the room. The first was Master
Thorne himself who stood in his riding clothes in front of the
couch eagerly lighting a pipe as if he hadn't smoked since leav-
ing the village, which, to my knowledge, he hadn't. Sitting on
the couch was a woman who was about ten or fifteen years older
than him and a teenaged girl, both with the same dark hair as the
man and both with beautiful, sculptured faces. Against one wall
was a very cute boy who watched me intently. He was holding a
book in his big hands but he slowly put it aside when I entered.
He was a little older than me, his legs and arms looking long and
awkward, his hands looking too big for his five foot, three inch
body. He looked thin in a pair of slacks and shirt. Another
boy, a couple of years older, stood a few feet from the first.
He was a little more than five and a half feet tall and looked
muscular in his suit. He took a few steps toward me and looked
at me with deep brown eyes. The way he looked at me made me feel
naked and I blushed brightly and looked away. All five were
looking at me and I blushed uncomfortably.
"He's awful little," the older boy said.
"And filthy," the girl added, looking a little disgusted.
"They're all like that, Gary" Thorne replied to the boy,
looking me up and down. I felt silly in my dirty diaper but I
didn't say anything.
"You didn't say you were going to buy a Kovz Boy," the older
woman pointed out. Her voice sounded sweet and pleasant, but
even I could hear the hint of displeasure in her voice.
Thorne sniffed. "What do you think, Eric?" the man asked,
ignoring her.
The younger boy blushed when his name was mentioned and he
stood up. He looked at me beneath long, dark eyelashes, looking
as bashful and nervous as I felt. "Well, speak up, boy," Thorne
said. "I bought him for you."
The boy just looked more nervous and swallowed uncomfortably.
I looked at him remembering that Thorne and the Bishop had said
that Eric was going to be my new owner. This seemed hard to
believe because he only looked about thirteen; that seemed too
young to own a slave to me somehow. He was extremely cute,
however, even cuter than the boy in the alley and cuter than
Sandy, too. His young face looked extremely soft and beardless
and he had a naturally dark complexion like the rest of the
family. He looked so shy and bashful that I found myself liking
him right away and the pale rosy glow in his cheeks was adorable.
He was wearing slacks and a dress shirt that hung loosely against
his thin frame, and his young body looked very awkward. If I had
to be a slave, I thought I'd want to be Eric's slave.
Thorne looked at him in disappointment, shook his head and
looked back at me.
"The dinner will be tomorrow night then?" the woman asked
smiling and lifting her eyebrows, pointedly looking casually
away, her demure voice not lost on the man.
"No. The following night," Thorne said. "I want enough
notice for everyone in town to see what I got for Eric. I tell
you, Elouise, it'll heat the bidding war for him right up through
the roof. By the time we're finished he'll be worth three times
what we got for Gary."
The older boy blushed at this and didn't look very happy
about it, but he didn't say anything.
"He's very little," the woman pointed out.
"I tell you he's old enough. I checked him myself."
"...and filthy," the girl said again, though she seemed to be
smiling at me through her disgust at my dirty body and pee
stained diaper.
"We've been on the road for three days. What did you expect
him to look like?"
"What's his name?" the younger boy finally asked. He looked
down at the floor as he asked this, his high pitched voice so
soft and quiet, I was uncertain if he had actually spoken.
"Well, what do you know, it talks," Thorne said sarcastical-
ly, scowling at the shy boy. "Kelvin," he added as an after-
thought.
"How old is he?" Eric asked.
"Who knows?" Thorne shrugged. "He's an orphan. They all are
you know. He doesn't know about it though, Eric, I promise you
that. You'll have yourself quite a little treasure there."
This made the boy blush even brighter and he didn't say
anything more. The family seemed strange in ages. Master Thorne
looked young himself, in his early thirties at the oldest, while
Mrs. Thorne looked to be in her mid-forties, perhaps older.
When you considered that the girl was in her late teens, Gary was
perhaps fifteen or sixteen, and Eric was thirteen... well, even I
figured Master Thorne must have been fourteen or fifteen when his
daughter was born.
"I think he's pretty," she said, smiling at me suddenly as
she ignored my dirty diaper and made me blush. "Does he have to
be tied up all the time?"
"No. Not always," Thorne replied. "Just until Eric's got
him housebroken. He's very valuable and I don't want anyone to
risk him escaping. These boys don't know what's good for them."
The door opened and a large, middle-aged woman entered. She
had silver hair and warm, friendly eyes. She looked a great deal
like the rest of the family and I thought she must have been a
relative somehow. She strolled in gazing at me with a big smile.
"What an adorable child," she said gazing at me.
"That's the boy I bought for Eric," Thorne said proudly, a
casual glance at his wife on the couch. "Will, you make sure the
announcements get out, Mama?" he asked her. "I want to have the
dinner the night after next."
"Of course," the woman said still smiling at me. Her hand
stroked my hair and down my smooth cheeks. "What a precious
boy," she said, her voice sounding gentle and loving, "even if he
is a bit filthy. Why is this child tied up?" she asked, suddenly
realizing I was bound.
"I paid a hundred and fifty gold for him. I don't want him
getting away."
"A hundred and fifty gold?! John, have you lost your mind?"
the woman exclaimed. This time it was Mrs. Thorne's turn to look
at Thorne. "He's a pretty child, but one hundred and fifty
gold?!"
"He's a Kovz Boy, Mama," Thorne explained. "You women just
don't understand things the way we men do. Why, my father would
have paid twice that if he could have gotten a Kovz Boy for me,
and I would have been grateful, too. Why, we'll be renting him
out while we've got great grandchildren bouncing on our knees.
He'll make us several times what I paid."
"Posh," the woman said with a shrug, obviously as unimpressed
as Mrs. Thorne was. "Well, the damage is done. I can tell Eric
likes him," she smiled looking over at the blushing boy who,
though his head was turned downward, was looking up through his
dark bangs and long eyelashes at me.
"Will you get him cleaned up and put to bed, Mama?" Thorne
asked, sounding a little angry and disappointed that he wasn't
being praised for buying me. "Put him in the room next to Er-
ic's... and make sure the door's locked."
"Why are you locking the door? You bought him for Eric,
didn't you?"
"Yes, but not until the dinner. I want the town there."
Mama shrugged. "Fine. Looking at Eric, I don't think you
could keep him away from this child if the door weren't locked."
The young boy blushed still brighter at this adult teasing,
looking like he wanted to cry in embarrassment. There was a huge
mound between his legs that he was awkwardly trying to hide with
his big hands. "Carolyn, child, you want to help? A boy's
sister is supposed to help with this sort of thing."
The girl blushed slightly, but smiled. "Sure, I'll help,"
she said.
"First we'll get these bindings off," Mama smiled at me as
she turned me back toward the door, Carolyn coming after us.
"Boy!" Master Thorne said stopping us. I turned to him, my
blue eyes gazing at him uncertainly. "I want your promise that
you won't try to escape."
I didn't know why I would try to escape or where I would go
if I did so I said, "I promise."
Thorne looked at me suspiciously for a long moment. "You
like Eric, don't you?" he asked motioning toward the young boy
with his pipe. I looked over at the lanky boy as he blushed and
looked away, still covering the bulge in his slacks with his
hand. I did think he was very cute, but did that I mean I liked
him?
"I don't know," I answered honestly, fearing the man would
get angry with me.
Instead, he just sniffed through his nose and a knowing leer
came to his face. "Well, you will like him. You're going to
like him a lot."
The way he said it made me embarrassed and I looked into his
eyes with all my pathetic innocence.
"Come on, now, honey," Mama said, turning my thin shoulders
away from Thorne and leading me out into the entry way. As soon
as the door closed, she turned to the butler. "Untie the child,"
she ordered, shaking her head in memory of Thorne.
The older man arched in eyebrow, but silently pulled the
knots free from my bindings and I felt them fall aside. My hands
were always untied when I ate or when I had to go poop, so I
hadn't been tied up all the time, but I was still glad to have
them free and I rubbed my skinny arms happily.
"Does he talk?" Carolyn asked as Mama walked us up the
stairs. "Can you talk, sweetheart?" she asked, her gentle hand
rubbing my back.
I blushed up at her and nodded. She laughed; it was a soft
delicate laugh, however, and I wasn't offended. She was like the
nuns at the orphanage and I knew she liked me. "He smells," she
said over the top of my head as if I couldn't hear her. I
blushed brightly, but kept walking as if I hadn't heard her.
"He's just wet his diaper," Mama said, smiling and squeezing
my shoulders as if knowing that I was embarrassed. I was more
than a little worried that they would think I wasn't potty
trained, but didn't say anything.
"I don't think Eric will like it if he wets the bed," the
girl said simply, ignoring my embarrassment.
"Oh, Eric's going to like this boy no matter what he does,"
Mama dismissed her. I wished that they would ask me if I wet the
bed so I could tell them I didn't, but I was too shy to say
anything without them asking me a question.
They led me to a bathroom and I nervously realized that they
were planning to bathe me.
"You take his clothes off and I'll have them bring the
water," the older woman said, walking out of the room and leaving
me alone with the girl.
"Come here, sweetie," she said turning me to her. She looked
down at my nervous face as I slowly walked over to her looking
down at the floor in helplessness. "Are you scared?" she asked.
I shook my head.
"Well, don't be. Nobody's going to hurt you." With that, she
pulled the hem of my shirt up and stripped it from my belly and
chest. "There we are," she said soothingly. "Oh, you have a
necklace," she smiled seeing it lying between my little, pink
nipples. I looked down at it as her slender fingers took hold of
it, seeing how dirty I was between my ribs and how filthy the
diaper was. She looked at the medallion on both sides, but put
it back with a smile. "You should have one of the dwarves put
something on that," she said. "Necklaces are prettier when they
have a picture or inscription on them."
I was about to tell her that it did have an inscription and a
picture, but my belly twitched as I felt her cool fingers reach-
ing for the safety pins that held my diaper shut. She undid
these very daintily and I could see a look of displeasure on her
face, her small nose wrinkled and wanting to turn away from it.
Finally the pins came undone and she pulled it from my slender
hips, holding it away from her as she dropped it off to the side.
I stood there naked and blushing, my hairless little penis limp
on my little testicles. It was dirty, too. Despite how tight
the diaper had been, dust had crept down the top and my smooth
thighs and hairless penis looked almost brown from dirt. I
waited for her to fondle my boyhood like everyone else seemed to
do but she just smiled reassuringly at me. "There, now, that's
not so bad," she said, her hand tenderly holding to my skinny rib
cage and hugging it softly until I blushed and smiled.
Mama came back in followed by a string of girls carrying
buckets of steaming water. The girls started emptying the scald-
ing hot water in the huge tub and Mama turned on a faucet that
ran cold water in with it. "Well, are we ready for our bath?"
she asked.
"You bet," the girl smiled for me. "Uh, Mama, come here a
second."
The woman came over and Carolyn pointed down at my penis
still smiling at my nervous face. "What did they do to him?" she
asked.
"Well, I've never seen a circumcised boy before. I've heard
they do it in the Southland, but not in Tarsec. Are you from the
Southland, child?" she asked me.
I didn't know where I was from, so I shrugged my skinny
shoulders, embarrassed that they were looking at my little penis.
"Well, no matter," Mama said. "I'm sure it still works." She
seemed to think this was a joke, but I just blushed.
"But why is it like that, Mama?" the girl asked, still con-
fused.
"Oh, honey, they just cut off the skin," the older woman
said.
"Didn't it hurt him?"
"I don't know honey," the woman said impatiently. "They
probably did it when he was just a baby."
"But babies feel things, don't they?"
"I don't know," Mama said again, obviously not caring for the
whole thought of boys being circumcised.
"That must have been scary for a little baby," the girl said,
her eyes filled with concern as her hands gently stroked my
little shoulders. After a moment, her concern for me slipped
aside and she turned back to the woman. "What if Eric doesn't
like it, Mama?" she asked.
"Girl, if you saw that boy the way I saw him just now, he's
not going to care what the child looks like down there, just
whether or not it works."
I didn't understand too much of what they were saying other
than that it was about my penis. I stood there blushing as they
took off their shoes and socks, their legs bare below the knee.
When the water was about a foot deep, Mama led me up some steps
on the outside of the tub and down some other steps on the in-
side. Soon the three of us were standing in knee-deep water, all
the servants gone. Both of them took up bars of soap and started
rubbing them across my bare skin as I stood silent and blushing.
"I remember when it was Eric's turn," Carolyn giggled and the
older woman laughed.
"Well, we'll give Kelvin his real bath before the dinner,"
Mama said. "We'll want him to be all ready for Eric."
I stood silently as I felt their slimy hands rubbing all over
my body, up into my hairless armpits, up and down my legs.
Mama's hands were rubbing across my tiny nipples and she looked
at the silver medallion on my small boy chest. She held it in
her slimy fingers as Carolyn had done and looked at it on both
sides. She shrugged and put it back. I thought it looked pretty
against my smooth, white skin and looked down at it as their
hands rubbed my body. I didn't know what else to do so I just
stood there. My body shook when Carolyn's tender hands started
rubbing around my little penis.
"It's okay," she smiled at my childishness. "I'm just going
to clean it." Her slimy hands rubbed all over it, rubbing my
hairless scrotum and all around my belly, scrubbing the dirt from
between my legs. "Oh," she giggled when we both felt my erection
growing. She lowered her hands and she and Mama both grinned as
my little penis quickly stood out at attention from my hairless
pubic mound, the little thing quickly throbbing up and down in
the lather. "Well," she laughed, "it works." They both laughed
and my head hung lower in shame. She started to rub soap on it
again and I was soon crying softly. My penis felt so good and I
was startled by the pleasure that filled it. It felt like it had
when the Reverend Mother had rubbed the cream on it and I found
myself hoping that the girl wasn't going to stop the way she had.
"Oh, be careful, girl," Mama said, suddenly pulling Carolyn's
hand away from my erection. "I think that had better do it for
his boyhood." Both women laughed. "Yes, Master Thorne picked a
fine boy for Eric."
Carolyn started cleaning my thighs still smiling as my stiff
penis continued to throb. "It's awful little though, isn't it?
Eric's is so big, you know."
"God, yes, child," Mama laughed knowingly. "But this boy
will grow. With a boy like Eric around, I wouldn't be surprised
if he's making babies in a week." They laughed again. I was too
confused to even be embarrassed.
"Do boys ever do anything but play with each other, Mama?"
the girl asked.
"Of course not, honey. Not when they're Eric and Kelvin's
age."
"They're kind of like puppies, aren't they? I mean, you
can't really talk to them or anything."
"That's true. But they get around one way or another and
they are pretty."
Carolyn was washing my legs and looked wistful. "I hope I
get a good husband some day."
"Oh, you will, child," Mama smiled. "Master Thorne's got
enough money to buy you the nicest boy in town."
"What if he buys me a hairless little kid?" she asked. "What
if I have to spend all my time making sure he isn't playing with
little boys?"
"Nonsense," Mama sighed. "Master Thorne's going to get you a
big strapping boy, one who's done with childish games."
"I hope so..." Carolyn sighed.
Soon they were rinsing my naked body off, my hairless erec-
tion now poking out clean and pink as the water ran along it.
"Lord, child," Mama shook her head at it. "Even Eric's wasn't
this active." I didn't know what she meant, but I was embarrassed
anyway and blushed crimson.
They washed my hair and rinsed it and I still stood with my
painful little erection. It might have gone away, but I couldn't
take my mind off it. It felt nice when it was hard but it also
made me want to do something and I didn't know what. I was very
confused.
When I was finally clean and all rinsed off, they took me
back out of the tub, stiff little boyhood still sticking straight
out from between my legs as I walked. They dried me with towels
and combed my hair then covered my body with a cool cream that
felt like the magic potion of the orphanage. Unlike the orphan-
age, however, they rubbed it liberally all over my body and it
made my skin feel real soft and made it smell like baby powder.
When Carolyn started putting it on my penis, I immediately gasped
in surprise at how good it felt and my legs almost buckled with
pleasure.
"Do it quickly," Mama said, and the girl's fingers quickly
coated my erection and testicles. The quick motion of her fin-
gers up and down on my penis made me cry again and made the
pleasure between my legs grow quickly greater. I wanted to beg
her to keep doing it, but she finished and quickly stopped touch-
ing me down there.
"I don't think he's going to make it through the night,
Mama," Carolyn smiled at my frantic little boner.
By the time they had finished working the cream into my skin,
my hair was dry and Carolyn mussed it up and grinned at me.
"You're ready for my little brother right now, aren't you, Kel-
vin?" she asked.
I didn't know what she was talking about and just stood there
blushing into her brown eyes. "Daddy really outdid himself,
Mama," she said.
"Honey, with this child I might actually start believing all
those stories about Kovz Boys. Let's see what he has to wear."
She poked around in my bag and pulled out the silk scarves uncer-
tainly. Only the panties seemed recognizable. "Well, I suppose
he can sleep in these. Do you wet the bed, child?" she finally
asked, and I was relieved to finally get to shake my head: I
hadn't so far. She held the panties low to the ground for me and
I stepped into them. She pulled them up my slender, hairless
legs and they covered my erection.
"Mama, maybe he needs a diaper anyway," Carolyn said, tread-
ing gently around accusing me of wetting the bed now that I had
said I didn't.
"Oh, nonsense," Mama said easily. "If he wets, he wets.
Eric did until he was twelve. Hmmm. He doesn't have a night
shirt though," she said, uncertainly feeling through the silk
cloths.
"He's just sleeping," Carolyn giggled at the woman's concern.
"It won't matter. Boys sleep naked most of the time anyway."
They seemed satisfied by this and they led me out of the
bathroom. We walked down the hallway and stopped at a door
halfway up it. We were about to enter when the door to the room
next to it opened and Eric poked his head out. He looked at my
little body standing between them, naked save for the panties
that left a small, skinny bulge between my legs that showed how
little my boyhood was. He was still in his suit but I found
myself enchanted by his pretty face. "Well?" he blushed to
Carolyn.
Carolyn grinned from ear to ear and held her hand up in an a-
ok sign. The pretty boy blushed brighter, but smiled. He looked
at me with his deep brown eyes. They were beautiful eyes, clear
and deep and looking tender and loving as they gazed into mine.
Away from his father he didn't seem quite so shy and I could feel
his eyes gazing over my little chest and down my skinny body, a
faint smile on his slender lips as he saw the slender bulge of my
erection in my panties. "He has a boner already?" the young kid
asked, blushing brighter but smiling.
"Yes, child, he has a boner," Mama admitted, shaking her head
at the boy's excitement. "If it makes you feel any better, he's
had one from the moment we left you and I'm pretty much willing
to bet he'll have one from this day on. Does that make you
happy?"
Eric blushed still brighter, his soft brown cheeks growing
rosy red, but the boy still smiled at her and looked very happy.
"Yes, Mama," his high pitched voice replied, repressing a giggle
that Carolyn shared.
"Well, thank the stars!" Mama exclaimed, throwing up her
hands in mock exasperation. "He's an angel, child," she suddenly
said in a more serious tone to the young boy. "You're daddy did
good for you."
Still blushing brightly, Eric looked at me again. For a
moment, his deep brown eyes locked on my pale blue ones and I
felt my small body eagerly wanting to melt into the adoration I
saw in them. Slowly, however, the young kid's eyes scanned down
my almost naked, skinny body and I felt naked again, as if all he
was thinking about was my penis and me without any clothes on. I
didn't mind this, mind you. The boy in the alley back at the
city had been thinking the same thing and I had so often wished I
had stayed with him over the past four days. If I had to let
Eric play with my penis in order to have a home, I was already
prepared to do that. More than that, I found myself gazing into
his face with a strange feeling of fascination and boyish infat-
uation. He was very cute. I wanted him to be my friend as much
as I'd wanted the boy in the alley to be my friend, even more so.
If that meant letting him play with my penis, I was all ready to
let him do it. I would have done anything to have a friend.
"I'll see you tomorrow," the kid's high-pitched soprano voice
smiled to me finally.
"Bye," I said, awkwardly trying to hide the boyish infatua-
tion I felt for him. Everybody seemed to know something I didn't
but it all pointed to the idea of Eric playing with my penis. I
didn't understand it all, but it sounded okay to me.
Mama opened the door we had been standing in front of with a
smile at Carolyn and gently pressed my back, pushing me into the
room beyond. My eyes hung back as long as they could, soaking in
the warmth and affection from Eric's, but the door frame got in
the way and I reluctantly left the cute boy standing in the
hallway.
"Here you are, child," Mama said, crossing the room and
putting my bag down on the big bed. It was the most amazing room
I could imagine: far nicer than the room at the orphanage.
"Is it all mine?" I asked walking about in awe. There were
even a dozen teddy bears sitting on the bed and I resisted the
desire to dive into them and cuddle with them.
"It is for now," Carolyn smiled. "I think Eric will want to
start sharing a room with you real soon."
This was fine by me. The room was more than big enough for
two of us. It was big enough to house the whole family. Both
women kissed my forehead and excused themselves, wishing me a
good night. There were two doors in the room: the one we'd
entered and another one that must have led to Eric's room. Mama
went to this one and locked it with a key, smiling as she slipped
the key into her apron pocket. "Just in case he gets a little
too eager," she smiled at me as if I knew what she was talking
about. That done, she and Carolyn exited into the hallway and I
heard the lock to my room being turned.
I looked around the room, gazing in boyish wonder. I would
have poked into everything, but I saw my bag sitting on the bed
and I was curious about it again. I hadn't had time to look in
it since I had first woken up and I'd almost forgotten what my
little things looked like. Someone had cleaned it at some point
in my strange travels and it now felt soft, almost new. I pulled
the towels out first, the white silk things billowing easily as I
swung them around. There were eight of them. They were pretty
to look at and felt nice but I couldn't figure out what they were
for. Were they clothes or something?
Suddenly, I knew what they were: they were clothes: magic
clothes. I didn't know where this enlightenment came from, but I
soon felt my hands moving as if by their own accord. Just by
thinking it, the ends of the light fabric seemed to knit them-
selves together without any sign of seams. Soon, I had formed
and unformed a dozen outfits, all perfectly fitted to my small,
skinny body. It only took two, three or four of them to cover
me, depending on how intricate the outfit. This was strange,
too, because I found my fingers and the magic of the silk forming
outfits I couldn't remember ever seeing before, some very fash-
ionable and some so skimpy they made me blush. I was astonished
by this. I couldn't remember ever doing it before and yet I was
obviously very good at it. The only problem was the color. I
liked white, but I also like blue. My eyes widened as I watched
the silk fading from white to blue. I experimented some more,
and discovered I could make them turn any color, even several
colors.
The silk entertained me for more than an hour. The only
disappointment I had with them was that they couldn't make any-
thing as normal and boyish as a cotton t-shirt or a pair of blue
jeans. However I shaped them and whatever color I made them,
they were still just silk. That meant that they tended to drape
against my skin and even around my penis. No matter how they
were fashioned, they made me feel embarrassed.
Finally I set them aside and picked up the lamp. It looked
valuable, but it didn't seem to do anything. I sniffed at the
opening, shook it, polished it, anything and everything I could
think of. Nothing happened. It was just a nice lamp. Again, I
examined the necklace with the two naked boys on it. This too
produced no solutions. I thought about the inscription and
realized that I couldn't possibly be Kelvin: I couldn't protect
myself much less whoever "us" was. And why hadn't Carolyn or
Mama noticed the inscription, anyway? Neither of them seemed to
have been able to see it or the two naked boys looking at the
sunset. Were they blind? They were right there. And whatever
else the necklace was, it certainly looked like gold to me: why
had no one stolen it from me? Even the boys in the orphanage
were completely uninterested in it. Why not? It was very pretty
and I thought it was probably worth a fortune. I just shrugged.
Some mysteries are too big for a boy to solve. Finally I looked
at the ring, but it too just seemed like a normal gold band, save
for the strange lettering around it.
I suddenly felt very sleepy and looked down at the bed. I
pulled the blankets down and the soft fragrance of clean lenin
greeted me. Putting my things aside, my half naked body slid
between the sheets and felt their coolness caress my bare skin.
The pillows were down-filled and I lay on them amazed that I
could ever be so comfortable. This was no bed at an orphanage.
This was the bed of a king. I felt happy and safe as I closed my
eyes and drifted quickly and easily into slumber.
"Is that you, Kelvin?" A man's voice asked in my dreams.
"Yes," another voice answered. It was deep, too, and sounded
mature and full grown. For some strange reason, however, it felt
like it was my voice.
"You're in a dangerous place," the voice said. "I didn't
expect to find you here."
"That's too bad," I replied. "I'm here."
"Are you old enough to do any fighting?"
"No," my adult voice said. "I'm just a puppy."
"This is going to be really dangerous, Kel," the voice said.
"I don't know if I can save all of you."
"All of us?" I asked. "I haven't seen any of the others."
"No, I understand. Don't worry, Kelvin. Everything's going
to be all right."
"Wait, Eric," I replied feeling the presence of the other one
pausing in its retreat from me. "What's going on?"
"I'm sorry, Kel," the man replied. "It's bad enough that
you're here. I can't tell you any more right now."
The voice started to fade and I didn't stop it. "I under-
stand," I said distantly as it departed.
"Be ready to move, Kel..." the voice said softly.