Date: Tue, 10 Apr 2001 19:28:11
From: Ganymede
Subject: Pandora's Box XV

Pandora's Box XV,    by Ganymede and Christopher.


WARNING:

This story contains a graphic description of sexual acts
between a man and a MINOR boy. We do not condone child abuse,
how- ever boy-love as described in this story is an entirely
different matter. If the subject of man/boy sex offends you, if
this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you
are under the legal age for such material, do not read further!
You have been warned! Read at your own risk!

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A
copy has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment.
Feel free to post it to appropriate newsgroups or send it to your
friends. The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. It
cannot be placed in archives that require payment for access, or
printed and distributed in any form that requires payment.

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FINAL WARNING:

If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal
in your place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't
your thing, then exit now and save yourself from a life of sin!


Pandora's Box XV: Monday Afternoon.


Even though I had only been away for twenty-four hours, I
was looking forward to seeing my mother again. I had so much to
tell her, and even more that I would never tell her. I would tell
her about the Academy Awards. I would even tell her a little bit
about the fancy-dress ball, but no more than that. Everything
else was a secret that only Steven and I could know about.

As the limousine began the long approach down the palm-lined
driveway, I could just make out my mother waiting by the side of
the fountain. Already she was waving furiously and she could not
even see me in the back of the car. I winced, hoping that she
would treat me like she usually did, but expecting the worst. It
had only been a day, and a night too, nothing to get all that
excited about. I knew she would fawn over me, just like she
always did when I was gone for more than an afternoon. I glanced
at Steven and he smiled and shrugged.

"Mothers are all the same, Chrissie," he said cheerfully.

"She always treats me like I'm still her little baby,
Steven," I said heatedly. "She's always calling me Sweetie, and
Honey, and dumb stuff like that."

"That's because in her eyes you're still her little boy. Of
course, now you're my little boy as well. Does it bother you that
I call you Sweetie?"

"No! It's different when you say it," I smirked. We both
knew how it was different. There was no need to elaborate.

She waved frantically, almost hysterically as the limousine
drew up beside her. She was crying. I felt terrible. Keith
hurried to open the door, but she was there first, opening the
door wide and plunging into the refreshing coolness within the
car. She stared at me for a moment, her mouth agape, looking as
if she'd seen a ghost instead of her eleven-year-old son.

"Oh Chrissie! Oh, it's so wonderful to have you home. I was
so worried about you. I hoped you'd phone or something last
night. I couldn't get to sleep, I was so nervous."

"Hi Mom," I said meekly.

I shrivelled up a little bit when I started to get out of
the limousine. Perhaps it was from the hot dry air, but there was
another explanation, less obvious. I shrank before her, no longer
able to assert myself. I stood before her, standing as tall as I
could, trying to appear grown up, even if my head did not come
much beyond her breasts.

"Let me look at you," she gushed. She held me back at arms
length, gazing at me with loving eyes, not realizing the secret
that I was keeping from her. "Oh Chrissie. You're, you're
absolutely adorable."

"Mom," I tried impatiently.

I tried to walk a few paces. Every movement made me wince a
little bit. I was very away of the rawness behind me, the still-
stretched sensation that made every movement uncomfortable. It
felt like I was walking bow-legged. She kept in front of me,
barring my escape.

"I just love your eyebrows, Chrissie. They're so thin, just
perfect for you. And you're wearing eye-shadow too? How sweet!"

"Mom!" I said. "Please? Not in front of everyone." I hated
when she drew attention to my appearance.

"And your clothes? Oh, Steven you shouldn't have," she went
on effusively. "I simply love your shirt. The color is so you,
Chrissie. It's perfect. Oh, and your shorts. They are so sexy. I
had no idea you had such lovely long legs."

I cowered, wondering how much more I would have to take. For
the last half hour I had been looking forward to seeing my mother
again, but suddenly I was not so enthusiastic.

I could sense Steven behind me, standing close enough to
touch if I needed to. Casually, as if it meant nothing at all, he
rested his hand on my shoulder. I was his boy. I had nothing to
be afraid of.

"Chrissie, I simply love your eyebrows," she continued
unabated. "They're just perfect. Now I see them like this, I wish
Bryce had been more daring."

"Mom," I tried again.

She laughed. "I'm sorry Chrissie. I really am. It's just
seeing you like this. When I saw you getting out of the car, I
was so surprised. I couldn't believe it was you. It was like
looking at someone else. It was like my little boy went away for
a day and came back a movie star."

I groaned. In a way, I was someone else. I was not the same
anxious boy of a day ago. I had Steven now. His penis had been
inside my body and he had changed me. I was irrevocably,
irrefutably changed. My appearance had also changed, becoming a
closer reflection of the person who I wanted to be. I smiled
slightly. My mother noticed immediately.

"What's so funny, Sweetie?"

"Nothing," I answered blandly.

"I hope you behaved yourself for Uncle Steven," she said.
"Was he a good boy?" she added turning to Steven who had remained
patiently quiet behind me.

"Chrissie was very good," Steven intoned. "We both had a
wonderful time," he added.

"Well, of course you did," my mother announced. "My little
Chrissie at the Oscars no less. We saw you of course, both of
you, when you arrived. Oh Chrissie, you looked so splendid in
your lovely white tuxedo. You looked just like a little prince.
He did, didn't he Steven?" she added pointedly.

"Kate, he was without a doubt the best looking person
there," he laughed. "Not that I'm at all biased in saying that."

They both laughed. My mother continued to study me,
obviously as fascinated by the change in me as I was. The
butterfly had truly emerged.

"And everything went okay?" she asked hesitantly. "I
mean,... with Chrissie."

"I know what you mean, Kate," Steven said bluntly. "Yes, it
did. It went very well, considering...."

"It's never easy I expect."

Steven's hand tightened noticeably on my shoulder.
"Sometimes it's difficult, Kate," he said ambiguously. "But
sometimes it's so natural that it's very easy."

"Well I'm glad everything went the way it was supposed to,"
my mother said vaguely.

She was still admiring me as she talked, her eyes flitting
over my face and clothes as if I was a different person, as if I
was someone who she barely recognized.

"It was a such a wonderful opportunity for him," she added.

I wondered whether she was referring to the Academy Awards
ceremony, or to the trip in general, or to something else.
Surely, she couldn't be referring to the things that Steven and I
had done in private? Steven glanced down at me when I turned to
look up at him. He smiled reassuringly, giving nothing away. It
was nothing short of a conspiracy.

"Yes, it was Kate, for both of us actually."

"I'm glad," my mother said. "I was very worried." She smiled
at me. "My little boy is growing up so fast."

"Mom!" I whined.

Steven gave me a gentle push to get me moving again. Walking
was uncomfortable. I could feel the tenderness inside my bottom
increasing as I walked. Earlier it had been a dull ache, but now
it was becoming sore. It felt like I was bruised, from flesh that
had been subjected to too much stress. I kept trying to pull my
butt cheeks in as I followed my mother into the house.



Mrs. Beaton beamed as soon as she saw me and opened her
arms, expecting a hug.

"My favorite boy is home again," she said with such
enthusiasm that there was no doubt that she was being very
honest.

I hugged her, pressing my face into her full soft breasts, I
had a strange sense that I was beginning to think of her not only
as a grandmother, but as someone who I could trust and talk to.
Indeed, Mrs. Beaton was more like a friend than almost any other
adult in my life, Steven excepted. She made no secret that she
would spoil me whenever she had the chance.

Steven gave my shoulder another firm squeeze. I liked him
doing that, letting me know that he was close to me, reminding me
that we were shared a special secret now.

"Mrs. Beaton, I need to chat with Chrissie's mother in
private for a while. I wonder if you'd be so good as to take him
to his new room and get him settled in," he said.

Steven gazed down at me and nodded slightly. Again, I looked
up into his reassuring eyes. I could trust Steven. I smiled
nervously, not at all sure what he was talking about, about why
he needed to talk with my mother in private, about a new room.

"Chrissie, if it's okay with you, Mrs. Beaton moved your
things into the bedroom next door to your mom's?" Steven
explained.

"Uh? I don't know. There's no need to," I answered glumly.
"There's lots of room."

When I got down to it, my mother was all that I had in the
world. She was the one bulwark in my life that gave me something
to hang on to, the one person who I could count on to always be
there for me, to love me no matter what I did or what I was.
While I wanted Steven to be the same way, something in the back
of my mind said that he could never take her place. It would be
different if he was my father. In the space of a single day, we
had become very close, but I could never be certain that he would
always love me, not after we returned to Cambridge.

"Well, a growing boy does need some privacy," my mother
suggested gently.

In the car, I had been so happy. Everything had been
perfect. Now this! I glanced at my mother. She smiled slightly. I
didn't need any more privacy. I wanted her to say that there was
no need for me to move into another room. As much as she
tormented me, it was never intentional. What she did, she did
only because she loved me and wanted the best for me.

"There's plenty of room and everything," I repeated weakly.

"Don't be silly, Chrissie. Besides, you'll be that much
closer to Steven, Sweetie," she added.

I shook my head. The last thing I wanted at that moment was
to be further away from her. I could feel my face getting redder
as her words sank into my confused mind. 'Closer to Steven'. What
did she mean? Why did she say it like that? Was she telling me in
her own interminable way that she knew what I had done with
Steven?

"Mom!" I whined. "You and me against the world, remember?"

"Of course I remember, Honey. If you had your own room you
wouldn't feel like I was prying into your life all the time. I
really think you'd be happier in a room of your own. "

"Prying?" I asked. "I, I, I.... I don't understand. I know I
won't be happier in a room by myself. I like being with you."

"Chrissie," Steven said gently. "You'll be right next door
to both of us. Why don't you go with Mrs. Beaton and just have a
look at the room and see if you like it. No one is going to make
you stay there if you don't like it."

I breathed out and shrugged. Even Steven was telling me what
to do now.

"Okay, I guess," I muttered.

He gave my shoulder another affectionate squeeze and I
followed Mrs. Beaton across the foyer and down the loggia that
led past the outdoor pond. The lotus flowers were even prettier
than I remembered. There was a long-legged crane dipping its beak
through the green water. Everything around me was beautiful, but
I was miserable. We went past the door to my mother's bedroom.
The next room was where Steven's mother had been staying. Mrs.
Beaton opened the door and stood back to let me pass. The room
before me was not an old woman's bedroom.

I stood there with wide-open eyes, in stunned amazement. The
bedroom was the perfect room for an eleven-year-old boy. There
was no immediate theme, not like the over-decorated arrangements
you see in House and Garden or Modern Living magazines, at least
not with 'cars', 'baseball', or 'extreme sports'. It was all
about expressing the interests and character of a pre-teen boy.

The predominant color was blue, not boring sky blue but
mysterious midnight blue, with brilliant neon blue highlights
that stood out in contrast. The curtains, also dark blue, were
drawn across the windows to give maximum impact. Unlike my
cramped bedroom in Cambridge which had a single overhead
fluorescent light, this room had track lighting with halogen
lamps in small white high-tech fittings. Each light, and there at
least two dozen of them, focused on paintings and artifacts that
had been cleverly positioned for maximum impact.

There was a signed photograph of Michael Jordan shooting a
hoop that was the size of a wall-poster. Beside it, was a picture
of an America's Cup yacht with its spinnaker almost bursting out
of the frame. On the table there was a chess game with silver and
gold pieces. Beside that was the photograph of my mother that was
usually next to my bed in Cambridge. My eyes paused there,
wondering how Steven had gotten hold of it. Then, continuing
around the room, walking past the queen-sized bed with a night-
sky-patterned cover on it, towards the floor-to-ceiling curtained
windows. There was another poster-sized picture, this one of
Bruce Lee executing an incredible jumping high-kick. It was one
of those posters that you see in movie theaters advertising
coming attractions. This one looked old and was more than likely
an original. The next poster was of the boys from the Three
Ninjas movie. I had a feeling then, that all of what I was seeing
had been done especially for me. Mrs. Beaton had probably worked
non-stop to get it ready.

I stopped in front of a model sailing ship. I had seen a
model just like it in the Boston Tea part Museum, only it smaller
and not nearly as intricate in its details. This model had to be
worth a small fortune. Mrs. Beaton stood a few feet away,
watching me as I glanced at the long rows of books above the
desk.

"Wow!" I murmured.

"Do you like it?"

"Like it?" I grinned. "Man, would I love to live here or
what."

"Should I take that as saying I don't have to move your
things back to your mother's room?" she smiled knowingly.

I pretended to think about it. She winked at me, happy to
play a supporting role in my game.

"Let me show you the dressing room."

I followed her obediently. The dressing room was different
to the one in my mother's room. This one had floor to ceiling
mirrors. I had an amusing thought about how much better I would
be able to see my body when I danced naked. It would be a lot
easier than straining my neck to peer into the peeling mirror in
our bathroom in Cambridge. There was a long ling of drawers, and
being the curious creature that eleven-year-old boys are supposed
to be, I opened the nearest one. I was half-expecting to find it
empty, or perhaps my clothes. Instead, I recognized nothing.
There were at least a half-a-dozen pairs of shorts. One or two
were knee-length, but the rest were like the shorts I had on.
They would be tight on my butt and they would come only an inch
down my thigh. I wanted to try some on, but there was no way that
I was going to undress in front of Mrs. Beaton. The drawer below
it contained tee-shirts, expensive colorful, high-fashion tee-
shirts like Bryce wore. They would have bankrupted my mother for
months.

"Mr. Kaufman took the liberty of having your mother pick up
a few more clothes for you yesterday afternoon, Christopher,"
Mrs. Beaton explained casually.

"Wow!" I murmured. "They're for me then?"

"Of course they're for you, Dear," she chuckled.

"But,...." I giggled. "You mean all of these are really for
me?"

She nodded. "I put your underpants in this drawer, I think,"
she said gesturing to the next one. "Your socks and other stuff
are in here. There are warmer clothes in the bottom drawers
because you won't need them until you go away."

She stepped back a few feet and opened one of the four
louvered doors that concealed the closets. There were also
clothes inside the closets. Some were clothes that we had brought
from Boston, like my black leather pants, but the rest I had not
seen before. There was no way that even a tenth of the clothes
would fit in my suitcase when we went home.

"Now, Christopher," she said slowly to get my attention.

I turned back, noticing her serious expression. "Uh huh?"

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way."

"Take what the wrong way?" I asked nervously.

"What I'm going to say, Christopher." She hesitated,
choosing her words carefully. "You're Mr. Kaufman's boy now. I
knew it was going to happen the moment I laid eyes on you."

I shrugged. I had an uncomfortable feeling, the sense that
there was bad news coming. I shifted my feet nervously.

"The point is that we both know what it means." She paused
again, this time watching my reaction. I stared at the floor. "I
just want you to know that there's nothing to be ashamed about
for a boy to have a close relationship with a man. There's
nothing bad or wrong about it either. It's okay just as long as
they keep it a secret."

I looked guiltily down at my feet, trying to decide if what
I was hearing was the same thing that she was saying. Steven had
said that she was very understanding, that she was discreet. I
swallowed and licked my very dry lips. Cautiously, I looked up
again. She smiled at me and nodded reassuringly.

"Don't be ashamed, Christopher. I've worked for Mr. Kaufman
for too long not to know what he's like, and what he likes.
You're a very special boy, and not only because you're so good
looking. You're a very lucky boy as well."

I swallowed again, wanting to say something, but realizing
that I didn't know what to say. So I nodded like I understood
what she was talking about.

"This door," she began with a vague gesture to an all-white
door beside her, "leads into Mr. Kaufman's dressing room." She
tilted her head, watching my reaction. "As you can see,
Christopher, it doesn't have a lock on it."

"Why not?" I asked awkwardly.

"Do you really not know or are you just being mischievous,
Christopher?" Mrs. Beaton smiled. "I would have thought the
reason quite obvious, especially to a smart boy like you."

I shrugged nonchalantly, grateful for her compliment even if
it was not true. She winked meaningfully and walked back into the
bedroom. I stared at the door, imagining what was behind it. Not
Steven, at least not then, because he was in the living room
talking to my mother. However, at night, he would be in there. I
only had to open the door to be with him. I smiled shyly. She was
telling me that whenever I wanted to I could go into his suite. I
was smart enough to figure out for myself what happened then!

"Well?" she asked. "What shall I tell Mr. Kaufman?"

I grinned. "To put a lock on the door," I suggested cheekily
without really understanding why I said it except that I realized
she would think it was funny.

Mrs. Beaton laughed. "Christopher, I am beginning to realize
how much I will miss you when you aren't here." She patted me on
the shoulder. "It would be a delight if you'd call me Alicia."

I smiled. "Sure,... Alicia."

At that instant, a muffled wet sound gurgled out from behind
me. Immediately, I clamped my buttocks tightly together, pulling
up on the inner muscles to close my anus, trying desperately to
hold back whatever was trying to escape. There was an unpleasant
slimy feeling between my cheeks. I looked away shame-faced,
knowing that she had heard. It was impossible for her not to have
heard or seen the look of dismay on my face.

She was quiet for a few seconds. "It's okay, Christopher,"
she said softly. "Sometimes it happens when you least expect it.
There's nothing to be ashamed about. I do understand about these
things."

I hunched my shoulders, still squeezing, feeling another
cramp building inside my weakened bowels. I was going to cry. I
could feel the tears forming behind my eyes, and the more I
blinked, the wetter they became.

"For heaven's sake, Christopher. Do you think you're the
first boy with that problem?"

I didn't know what to say or do. Sullenly, I shook my head.
I stared at the floor, barely aware that she was still touching
my shoulder, rubbing gently with her fingers. Then, just as
before, without any warning at all, there was another gurgling
sound. I grimaced, squeezing my anus as tightly as possible.

"Gross," I said angrily as I felt a dribble run down the
inside of my thigh.

"It's only to be expected, Dear," Mrs. Beaton explained.
"That last one sounded quite wet, I'm afraid."

I wanted her to leave, but she stood there considering me
with such an expression of motherly concern for me that it made
me feel very uncomfortable.

"I can't help it," I said miserably.

"Of course you can't, Dear." She sighed. "Mr. Kaufman really
should be more helpful afterwards. I'm not sure he understands
what it's like. I don't expect your mother has any idea what it's
like for you either. It does take a while to get used to."

I wiped away a tear that trickled from my eye. It was sore
where his penis had been, and now this. I was red with shame.

"Now Christopher. I don't want to intrude, but I do know
what it's like and what's more, I know what to do about it."

"Huh?" I murmured.

"Come with me, Dear," she said.

She gave me an encouraging push with her hand and guided me
into the bathroom. It was very similar to the one I had been
sharing with my mother except that the ceiling and walls had been
painted dark-blue and little gold and silver stars were dotted
above an horizon line below which it was possible to imagine the
desert landscape. At night it would be very romantic to sit in
the huge bubble-filled bath tub. The other difference was that
this bathroom opened onto a small sun filled courtyard. Through
the window I could see that it was directly adjacent to another
bathroom, which could only be Steven's. Mrs. Beaton walked over
to the vanity and opened the middle drawer. There were a number
of tubes of ointment and various other products that I did not
recognize.

>From the back of the drawer, she lifted out two pink-colored
boxes, both of which I recognized because they were in our
bathroom cabinet at Cambridge. The boxes contained things that my
mother referred to as 'women's hygiene stuff'. They were
certainly not boxes that looked like they belonged in a boy's
bathroom.

"I don't want you to be embarassed, Christopher," she said
firmly. "However, as you might expect, I've had some experience
with young boys and their personal problems."

I nodded slightly, watching her open the smallest box that
was labelled 'Playtex Slimfits'. She extracted a pink tube out of
a white paper. It was about the size of a small finger. There was
a short string hanging from the end. I shuffled my feet. I was
nervous, but I was also curious.

"This is a tampon, Christopher," she explained. "I expect
you've seen one before. Your mother probably uses them." I
nodded. "They work fine for boys too," she added with a wink.

"I, I, I, Um,....." My face felt red hot.

Mrs. Beaton chuckled. "Now I've embarassed you again,
haven't I?"

I nodded slightly. "What,... I mean,... like how,....
where,... you know?...."

"It goes in your bottom, Christopher. All you do is put a
little Vaseline on the plastic part and push it in there. Once
it's in far enough then you push here," she said as she moved the
applicator. "It'll go right up inside you and no one will ever
know you're wearing it."

I blushed, yet I continued to listen despite my crimson
face.

"It will keep you nice and dry back there, Dear. If you have
to pull it out for any reason you just tug on the little string,
but you can probably just leave it in there until you have to go
to the bathroom. It'll come out by itself then. With one of these
in there, you can be quite active, Christopher, and you won't
have any problems. You can even sun bake nude and no one will be
able to see it if you put the string between your cheeks."

She talked so candidly that it was almost unbelievable, yet
I could not stop listening. My ears burned. My face kept getting
redder and redder, yet something inside me told me that I needed
to know what she was talking about. Awkwardly, I pointed to the
other box, larger than the first and labelled, 'Stayfree Ultra-
Thin'.

Mrs. Beaton nodded. "Now these don't go inside you. These go
on the seat of your underpants. They're very good for night time.
They provide a lot of protection and you don't have worry about
putting them in or taking them out."

She took one package out of the box, removed the plastic
covering and showed me the adhesive under the tabs. It was a
white pad about an 1/8 of an inch thick.

"It's very easy to use. It sticks right on by itself. It's
very absorbent, so anything that drains down afterwards won't
make a mess on your clothes. And of course, it's so thin that no
one will be able to see it unless you're just wearing
underpants."

I nodded again. She handed it to me and I examined it
absently as I turned it over. It did not seem as if it could
possibly soak up the amount of wetness that had suddenly formed
between my cheeks. However, at that moment anything would be
better than nothing at all. I smiled weakly.

"Now, you don't need to worry about using them up. I'll keep
an eye on this drawer to make sure you have what you need,
Christopher."

I nodded awkwardly. She smiled reassuringly.

"If you don't need me any longer, Christopher, I should get
back to work. You should have everything you need, but if you
don't, just let me know and I'll take care of it."

With that, she bustled out. I breathed out in relief. I had
never been so embarassed, yet I was also very glad that she had
taken the time to talk with me. The wetness behind me seemed to
be spreading outward. I waddled over to the toilet, unfastening
the buttons and zipper on my shorts as I went. I lowered my
shorts carefully. Fortunately, there was no wetness on them, at
least none that I could see. Gingerly, I peeled my briefs down
before I eased down onto the toilet seat. There was a large wet
spot in the rear. I fingered it, rubbing into the slimy yellow
fluid that had yet to seep into the cloth. Again I breathed out
in relief. For a while I had been very worried that I was
bleeding, but there was nothing that was red-colored. It had to
be Steven's semen, of course. That was the only thing that I
could think off.

Using some toilet paper, I wiped off what I could. Then,
subduing a giggle, I tore off the plastic film that covered the
adhesive and applied the pad to the area where I thought my butt
crack would be against. I used some more toilet paper to wipe
between my cheeks, dabbing carefully at the tender area around my
anus before I stood up again. Feeling somewhat better, I pulled
my briefs and shorts back up.

I walked slowly into the bedroom, concentrating on trying to
appear natural, trying not to keep clenching my buttocks even
though the added pressure seemed to relieve my discomfort at
least for as long as I squeezed down and tightened the muscle
inside. This was the price I had to pay? I could accept that if
it did not get worse. I did not want to bleed again. My body had
been subjected to a lot of stress and it would take some getting
used to.

I took one last look around the room that was mine for the
next day and a half. I had no idea why Mrs. Beaton had gone to so
much trouble for such a short period of time. I smiled happily,
and went to find Steven so that I could thank him.



He was still talking with my mother, and Doctor Lehr had
joined them in a discussion that came to an abrupt halt as soon
as I walked over to them.

"Well, Chrissie?" Steven asked as he patted the seat next to
him to indicate where I should sit down.

"It's cool, Steven!" I grinned. "I mean really cool!" I
added with emphasis.

I sat down beside him. Automatically, his arm dropped over
my shoulders and his fingers began to rub my arm. I shifted
closer so that the side of my body was against him. He squeezed,
making me tremble. I basked in his comfortable warmth. Sitting
there so close to him removed any doubts that I had while I was
in my new bedroom. I loved him. He could do whatever he wanted to
me, even if it made my butt ache the way it currently did. Even
if he made it bleed again, I would let him. I wanted him to do it
again so much that I could not stop thinking about it. I grinned
and pressed against him.

"No reservations about your new bedroom then, Chrissie?" he
prompted.

I shook my head. "It's really, really cool! I like it."

"Good," Steven laughed.

He glanced across the table at my mother and she nodded
slightly. It was almost as if she was giving him permission to
say something to me. Then they both looked at Doctor Lehr, but
neither of them said nothing for a long while. They were waiting
for him to speak.

"Now, now," Doctor Lehr laughed. "Don't go and scare the
boy. He's nervous enough as it is."

"What's up?" I asked meekly.

"Nothing's wrong, Chrissie," my mother interjected. "We were
just talking about you, that's all Sweetie."

"Chrissie, there's nothing to worry about," Steven said
gently. He hesitated, glanced at Doctor Lehr. "I'd like it if Ted
could make sure you're okay."

"Huh?" I asked uncertainly.

"It will just take a few minutes, and it would take a load
off my mind, Chrissie."

"I don't understand," I said nervously.

"That's quite okay," Doctor Lehr said reassuringly. "There's
absolutely nothing for you to be worried about. Do you remember
what I said when we first met?"

"Um,... about you being a confidant?" I asked. "You're sort
of like a priest, except you won't make me atone for my sins," I
added guiltily averting my eyes from both Steven and my mother.

"Yes. You can tell me things that you can't tell another
living soul, and more than likely I'll be able to do something to
help you."

I nodded, not quite sure what he was getting at, yet
intuitively realizing that it had something to do with my having
sex with Steven.I shifted uncomfortably.

"Chrissie, I really think you should," my mother said as she
nodded encouragingly. "It won't take very long."

"Should what?" I asked uncertainly.

"You should let him,.... um,... examine you. I'm sure it'll
just take a few minutes."

"What will take a few minutes?"

"Sweetie, Doctor Lehr needs to check just to make sure
everything is okay."

"Huh? I, I, I, Everything is okay. There's no need to check
anything,...."

"Chrissie, it's important."

"Mom!" I whined.

"He'll take a quick look at you back there, that's all. It
won't hurt."

"Mom!" I said indignantly.

"Steven thinks he should check you too, don't you Steven?"

Steven nodded. I glared at him angrily. He had told my
mother. He had told her we had sex. That was why we were having
this conversation in the first place.

"Mom, I don't want to!" I seethed.

"Now, Chrissie. Don't get upset. We're just worried about
you, that's all."

I sighed loudly and stood up. There was no point in
resisting, not against her and Steven. The sooner I got it over
with the better. The instant I moved, there was another cramp in
my bowels. I did not want to sit down again, but neither did I
want to stand. Doctor Lehr stood up, picked up a brown leather
briefcase, and with a gesture that said to follow him, he led the
way towards the loggia. I followed him back to my room. He closed
the door behind me and walked across the to curtain-covered
windows. He pulled on the cord and effortlessly drew the curtains
to the side so that afternoon sun light spilled into the room. He
walked back to the bed and waited for me to come over. I stayed
where I was, a few feet from the door.

"Christopher, I promise I won't make you atone for your
sins," he chuckled. "But I can sure as hell make you feel better
about them afterwards."

"Huh?"

"I want you to trust me, Christopher."

I shrugged and gave him a noncommittal look.

"Steven trusts me as much as any person can trust someone
else. I've been your uncle's close friend for nearly twenty
years," Doctor Lehr continued.

"So?"

"Steven and I share a common interest in our love for boys.
That means I understand how you feel right now."

"Huh?" I said nervously.

"Your butt's sore, isn't it?"

"Huh? I don't understand what you're talking about, Doctor
Lehr," I replied nervously.

"You can call me Ted, if you'd like, Christopher. I want you
to be comfortable talking with me."

I shrugged again, not yielding. "Okay,... Ted."

Doctor Lehr smiled. "I know Steven fucked you last night,
twice in fact, and again this morning. He said you liked it. He
also said there was some blood."

I felt my face getting hot, very hot. I shifted feet, shrank
back against the wall, tried not to hear what he was saying.

"Don't be scared, Christopher. I'm not going to tell
anyone."

"I'm not scared!" I retorted bitterly.

"That's good. Christopher, when a boy starts having sex with
a man, his body is subjected to a lot of stress. Sometimes a boy
can get badly hurt inside, especially when the man isn't careful.
Even when everything goes as it should, there can still be a lot
of pain afterwards."

I pursed my lips to prevent myself from saying something
that I should not. I could never tell another living soul about
what Steven and I had done together, not a priest, not a
confidant, no one!

"It's important that I make sure that you're okay,
Christopher," Doctor Lehr said gently.

"I'm okay!" I said loudly. "I'm okay, all right?"

He smiled and tapped his hand on the bed. "Come over here,
Christopher. I'm not going to hurt you."

I approached cautiously. I stopped when I was an arm's
length away.

"You know I'm a doctor, don't you Christopher?"

I nodded, just enough to show agreement with something that
was patently obvious to me.

"There are very few doctors like me, I expect. If another
doctor had even an inkling of what you did last night, he'd call
the police." Doctor Lehr paused to let his words sink in. "I
won't tell anyone, Christopher. However, I can help make you feel
better."

"How?" I murmured.

"It depends. First I need to see what the problem is."

I shook my head sullenly. There was no way that he was going
to examine my butt. Not if I had any say in it.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of either," he added softly.
"I've seen thousands of anuses over the years, butt-holes to you.
Some of them have been in pretty bad shape. I've even seen some
that are younger than yours."

I smiled. It was hard not to like him. He had a nice bedside
manner. I stepped closer. He looked at me and nodded
reassuringly.

"Take off your shorts, Christopher and let me look at
yours."

"No!" I said adamantly. "No way!"

"You have to trust someone. Besides Steven, that is. I know
you trust him because you would not have done what you did with
him otherwise. I think you also realize that Steven trusts me.
That's why I'm here with you. You'll need to talk to someone
sooner or later. Steven would much prefer that someone was me. I
understand exactly how you feel right now."

I resented his intrusion into my privacy. How he could he
possibly know how I felt at that moment? I pursed my lips,
resisting his seemingly friendly overture.

"There's one other thing, Christopher," he suggested.

"What's that?" I demanded.

"There's no one else who knows how to make you feel better.
If you show me,..."

"I can't!"

"Yes, you can. I'm here because Steven wants to make sure
you aren't hurt. He loves you, Christopher."

I sighed. He was nodding, encouraging, breaking down my
inhibitions. My butt was sore. It itched. It ached. I kept trying
to tighten it. And there were cramps, coming infrequently but
they were always uncomfortable and oozing wetness. I kicked off
my sneakers. Awkwardly, I fumbled with the buttons and zipper
until I could push my shorts down. I did not push my briefs down.

"That's okay. You can leave your underpants on for the time
being. Now I want you to lie down on your back," Doctor Lehr
instructed patiently.

"My back? It's not my front that's hurting."

He chuckled. "Yes, I know. However, I want you to start out
lying on your back, Christopher."

I lay down with my legs draped over the side of the bed. My
shorts slid down my legs until they dropped from my feet. I
tensed as Doctor Lehr's eyes moved down my legs, to my sock-
covered feet and then back up again. There was a hint of a smile
on his face, but otherwise he was very professional. He nodded
reassuringly.

"Now lift your legs up to your chest. Yes, like that. As
high as you can. Try to get your knees past your shoulders."

"Hey!" I screeched as he reached under my buttocks and
yanked my briefs down.

There had been no warning that he was doing to do such a
thing, but I should have expected it. I was startled and I glared
at him angrily, not at all certain of what I should do. His gaze
was focused between my legs.

"That's better. See, there's absolutely nothing to be
worried about, is there, Christopher? You have a nice body by the
way," he chuckled before I had a chance to cover myself.

Doctor Lehr lifted up my protective hand and placed it
behind my head. I scowled at him sulkily. He smiled
appreciatively, not touching but studying at my private parts.
After a moment, he nodded.

"The good news as far as Steven is concerned is it'll be a
few more years before you start puberty."

Puberty was when boys started to turn into men. "How can you
tell?" I asked curiously.

"Your testicles are still quite small, Christopher," he
answered as if I was supposed to understand. When I did not
react, he added, "They'll get larger when you get closer to
starting puberty."

"Why?"

"Because they need to be bigger in order to function
properly," he replied expertly. "An increase in size is always
the first sign." He paused. "Has Steven talked with you about
being circumcised?"

"Huh?" I mumbled. I followed his eyes down to my penis.
"Yeah, he mentioned it yesterday," I added, hoping that his
examination was nearly finished.

"That's good. It's a pity really, because there is a
difference in how it feels. However, it can't be helped. Now,
let's look behind you."

He inclined his head, gazing directly under me, right at my
crack. He tugged at the back of my briefs.

"I see Mrs. Beaton has had her little talk with you?"

"Huh?"

Doctor Lehr touched the pad that was adhered to the seat of
my briefs.

"Were you leaking?"

"Yeah, I guess. Some of his stuff was dribbling out," I
admitted ruefully.

"It does tend to do that unfortunately," Doctor Lehr
laughed. "It's actually a very good idea, especially the pads.
Although you probably should only use a tampon if you're doing
something active like swimming, or sun baking in the nude."

"Why?" I asked. I was becoming increasingly comfortable
talking with him.

"It needs to be kept moist inside you and a tampon would
tend to dry the rectum out."

He nodded thoughtfully, pressed his fingers into my cheeks
to spread them further apart, looked closely, and then
straightened up.

"All things considered, you're in pretty good shape,
Christopher."

"Huh?"

"Did you bleed every time?" he asked candidly.

I shrugged. Increasingly, I could see no reason why I should
not tell him what he wanted to know. He was right. I had to trust
someone, and Doctor Lehr was my 'someone'. Intuitively, I
appreciated that I could confide in him and have no fear of the
consequences.

"I guess. I don't know. I know I did the first time. The
last time, I might have, but he wiped it up before I could see,"
I added nervously.

"You're a lucky boy, Christopher. It could have been much
worse. You aren't very big, especially to start off with a man
like Steven,.... Did it hurt a lot?"

"A bit I guess. It wasn't that bad," I added quickly,
thinking that my answer would reflect badly on Steven.

Doctor Lehr nodded again. "Well, it must have hurt some,
Christopher. You're getting some bad bruising there already."

"Huh?" I asked anxiously.

"It's okay. Don't worry. Some bruising is quite normal.
Here, do you want to look for yourself?" he asked.

He reached over to the night stand next to the bed, opened
the drawer, and took out a hand mirror. He winked at me,
expressing amusement at what he was about to do with it. He
positioned it between my thighs and angled so that if I lifted my
head up and looked down, I could view underneath me.

"Can you see okay?"

"Uh huh," I answered.

"See this?"

Doctor Lehr pointed with his finger to a dark blotchy area
that was centered on the crimson dimple of my anus. It had a
circular shape, large and purple-hued.

I nodded timidly. No wonder I felt sore there. "Yeah. I
see."

"This is about the same diameter as Steven's penis,
Christopher. It shows how wide you were stretched."

"Oh!" I said worriedly.

"Can you see this little pale line here?" he added, pointing
his finger very close to my opening.

"I think so."

"That's where the blood came from. It's an anal fissure,
meaning that the tissue was torn when his penis went into you."

"Oh!" I closed my eyes. "Will I always bleed?" I asked
fearfully.

"No! Not all. Not if Steven is very careful, and I'm sure he
will be from now on." He smiled reassuringly. "You have to be
careful too, Christopher. No more rough stuff."

"Huh?"

"Steven called me from the car while you were asleep. He
told me what happened this morning. It's good that you like
having sex, but you need to be very careful for a while. It takes
time for your body to adjust to having a man's penis inside it."

"Oh!" I licked my lips, finding them very dry. "Will the
bruises go away?"

"Let's put it this way, there'll always be some bruising,
but it won't always be as noticeable. Eventually there'll just be
dark ring around your anus."

Doctor Lehr lifted up his briefcase and placed it on the bed
next to him. He snapped the catches and opened the top. He pulled
a latex glove onto his right hand.

"Now Christopher, here's the not-so-nice part," he began.

He removed the cap from a tube of ointment and squeezed out
a long bead of white cream onto his latex-sheathed forefinger.

"I'm going to insert my finger inside you," he explained
patiently. "I'm doing it for two reasons. First I want to put
this ointment inside you. It'll help to take away the soreness,
but I also want to check that there's no damage inside you. I
really don't expect to find any, but it's best to make sure. By
the way, one of the problems you will experience sooner or later
is constipation, Christopher. It's caused by fecal impaction."

"What's that?" I asked nervously.

Doctor Lehr smeared the cream over his forefinger. "Do you
know what feces is?"

I giggled. "Yeah, of course I know."

"Okay. Well, if there's a stool inside your rectum when you
have sex, it's pushed back up inside you. His penis compacts it
into a hard lump. That's the impaction part. If the lump is too
large you can't pass it through your anus."

"Oh!" I said worriedly. "That's bad?"

"It can be, but don't worry. There are a couple of things
you can do about it so it doesn't become a problem."

"You mean like an enema?" I asked.

"Yes! An enema works best if it's done before you have sex,
but you don't want to rely on that because you can get to depend
on it. Eating a lot of fruit also helps," Doctor Lehr added.
"Most importantly, you need to keep track of your bowel movements
and let me know if you stop going for more than a couple of days
at a time."

I nodded my head. There was no point in telling him that I
would be going home in a day and a half. He used his left hand to
part my cheeks and it was not long before I felt that now
familiar sensation of a fingertip being pressed into my anus. It
was cool and instantly relieving. I sighed and tried not to tense
up. Doctor Lehr's finger progressed slowly, rotating gently,
almost wriggling through my anus.

"Does it hurt?" he asked. It felt like his finger was about
halfway inside me.

"No, it's okay," I mumbled self-consciously.

"You've tightened up nicely," he acknowledged. "You have
good muscle tone."

I smiled weakly. His finger pushed deeper. I groaned when it
passed through the muscular band and into the looseness beyond.
It was impossible not to think of Steven's penis doing the same
thing.

"Steven really filled you up, didn't he?" Doctor Lehr
chuckled.

"Huh?"

"There's a lot of semen inside you. Steven always was a bit
of a fountain. No wonder you were dribbling."

"Fountain?" I asked.

"He produces a lot of semen," Doctor Lehr explained. "It
won't hurt you, but it does make for a messy butt afterwards. How
does it feel, Christopher?"

"Um, okay," I ventured.

"I'm going to feel around inside your rectum. I want you to
tell me if it hurts," he instructed.

I was aware of his finger pressing upwards. It had to be all
the way inside me. It felt large, but not anywhere as huge as
Steven's penis. With his penis inside me, I could barely breath.
It was like Doctor Lehr was gently massaging my insides from the
inside. I closed my eyes, pretending it was Steven's finger and
silently concentrating on the nice feelings that began to flow
through me.

Suddenly I gasped as his finger began to rub into that
special spot inside me. I shuddered, pushing my feet down,
clamping them into my buttocks, lifting my back off the bed. I
shook my head, not angry but frightened at the intensity of the
surge that spread through my body. Doctor Lehr smiled.

"No!" I complained, shaking my head.

"I'm surprised you don't like that?" he teased.

I shook my head again. I tried to tighten my muscle, tried
to bring my buttocks together, tried to squeeze his finger out,
even as I wanted him to keep on rubbing that special spot. Doctor
Lehr's finger did keep rubbing, ignoring my frantic efforts to
dislodge his finger, then wanting to keep it there. It felt like
he was reaching into my spine and touching every nerve ending. I
bucked and groaned, pulling away and then pushing back. Finally
he laughed. He pulled his finger out and gave me a playful slap
on the rump.

"You'll want to fuck non-stop in just a few more weeks," he
chuckled. "I hope Steven knows how lucky he is to have you."

"Huh?" I murmured.

Doctor Lehr winked. "You're very sensitive there compared to
most boys, Christopher."

"Huh?" I breathed deeply, slowly regaining my composure. A
tremor ran through me. I felt light-headed, alive. I had to know
what had happened. "Doctor Lehr?"

"You can call me Ted, if you want," he said fondly.

"Why does it feel like that, Ted?" I asked.

He studied me, lifting my legs up and gently pulling my
briefs back up to cover my buttocks and genitals. He gave me a
knowing look.

"That wasn't so bad, then. How did it feel, Christopher?"

"It's like,... It's like I was going to pee, only worse.
It's like something is ready to explode inside me. With
Steven,...."

"Yes," he prompted.

"I felt like I was going crazy, Ted. It felt so good that it
hurt."

He nodded wisely. "The place where I was rubbing with my
finger is your prostate, Christopher. It's a little gland where
your semen is made, not at your age of course, but later on. It's
in front of your bladder, so,..."

"So that's why I feel like I have to pee all the time," I
giggled.

He nodded. He took my hand and pulled me to my feet.

"There'll probably come a time when you'll lose control of
your bladder and pee on him," he laughed, looking down at me.
"That's as good a reason as any to go to the bathroom before you
get into bed. Let's get you back to your mom and Steven before
they start worrying about you."

We walked back to the living room. My mother was still
there. She had been joined by my Aunt Sue and Joel's mother. I
watched Doctor Lehr leave, until he was outside and getting into
his Jaguar. He was my confidant now as well as Steven's. I ambled
over to my mother to find out where Steven had disappeared to.



"So Kate, you live in Cambridge, and poor Chris doesn't take
Saturday classes at Harvard?" Aunt Sue asked.

She used that saccharin voice of hers that said she really
wasn't interested in anything you had to say, but she was being
polite.

"I don't know that they have any," my mother answered
vaguely.

"Oh, I expect they have programs for gifted children. With
all those brilliant faculty around, they'd have to have lots of
programs like that. You just need to find the right one for
Christopher," Aunt Sue said argumentatively. "Speak of the little
devil, here he is."

I gave her a sour look and leaned back against the armrest
of the couch, waiting for my turn to speak so that I could ask
where Steven was.

"How was your trip, Christopher?" Aunt Sue asked. She
emphasized 'trip' as if it had a special meaning that only the
two of us understood.

"It was fun," I offered. I did not plan to elaborate.

"Fun? The boy goes to the Oscars, and a fancy dress party
afterwards and all he can say is he had 'fun'," Aunt Sue taunted.

"It was cool!" I added. "I had a good time. Mom?" I asked.

"Just a minute, Sweetie. Can't you see we're talking?"

"Mom, I just wanted to ask where Steven is," I said.

"Oh, that's so sweet," Aunt Sue smirked. "He wants to be
with Steven."

"Oh Sue, do be quiet. Chrissie just be patient for a minute.
Steven said he'll be right back. Why don't you just sit down and
wait?"

"My Joel's very gifted," Mrs. Meier interjected. "He's
always been a straight A student. I'm sure he'll take after his
father and go into banking or investments, or something like
that."

"Have you given any thought to colleges for him?" Aunt Sue
asked sweetly. "It's never too early to start planning. I expect
there are some good colleges in New York."

"Oh there are, but not for banking. Other than Harvard
there's only Wharton," Mrs. Meier said primly. "Wharton's very
good of course, but I'd much rather Joel was in Cambridge. For
the connections he'll make."

"I'm sure that's important," Aunt Sue agreed vacuously.
"It's too soon to tell, but I'm very hopeful that my David is
going to be a doctor. His school has a special program for junior
high students to do volunteer work at the hospital. He'll start
that next year. Thirteen is very young to be doing that sort of
thing but medical schools are looking for more than just grades
nowadays."

"Oh, I'm certain that a bright boy like David will have no
trouble getting into medical school," Mrs. Meier said pointedly.
"And what about Christopher, Kate? He's going to be more than
just a pretty face isn't he?"

My mother shrugged. I prayed that she did not describe a
future career for me in the salon.

"Christopher's so concerned with his appearance, I'm sure
he'll take after you, Kate," Aunt Sue said. She smiled, unable to
conceal her insincerity. "There are probably worse ways to make a
living, of course, not that he'll have to worry about that now."

"I really don't know what Chrissie wants to do with
himself," my mother said. "It's so hard to tell with him."

"Maybe you should get him into some film making classes. He
has such an artistic eye." Aunt Sue glanced at me. It was
difficult to tell if she was being serious. "Maybe he'll be able
to take advantage of being around Steven?"

Again my mother shrugged. She fiddled with a lock of her
hair. She only did that when she was nervous.

"Oh, Chrissie's not artistic like that. He just likes to
look at paintings. He has such a good memory for who did them.
I'm sure he knows all the paintings in the Boston Art Gallery."

"Perhaps he'll be an art dealer," Mrs. Meier suggested
boldly. "One of my good friends' husband is a dealer. There's
quite a good living in selling other people's paintings, I
believe."

"Chrissie's very creative when he writes. Some of his
stories are very nice," my mother added with a tinge of
embarrassment. "You wrote a nice story for school, didn't you
Sweetie? It was about a boy. Actually, I forget what it was
about, but it did win a prize."

"That's a good start. A sign of a budding literary genius
perhaps?" Aunt Sue laughed. "I mean wasn't that how Steven
started, winning that prize with one of his home-movies? Who
would have thought?"

I sensed Steven come up behind me. He was standing so close
to me that I could feel his warmth. He rested his hands on my
shoulders. I was his boy again. I grinned and resisted the
tempatation to turn around and look at him.

"Yes indeed, that is how I started." Steven laughed as he
rubbed my back gently. "I had a two-hundred dollar 8 mm camera
and lots of ideas. However, we all have to start somewhere. If
you ask me, I think Chrissie is destined for success."

"Doing what exactly?" Aunt Sue challenged, barely able to
control her mirth. "He gets straight Cs according to Kate. Isn't
that right? His highest grade this year was a C+?"

My mother smiled weakly and deliberately looked away from
me. "He's not interested in school work. It isn't that he isn't
bright. He's been having some problems," she added.

"One can only imagine what they are," Aunt Sue remarked.
"I'm sure he'll find himself eventually. It must be difficult for
him not having a father around. Perhaps Steven can help?"

"Perhaps I can," Steven said. He squeezed my shoulders
affectionately. "This is one very special boy," he added boldly.
One hand moved to my neck and his thumb massaged up and down.

"I'm quite sure he is," Aunt Sue laughed. "We were talking
about careers however," she added sarcastically.

"So was I," Steven said dryly. "Chrissie's going to write
screenplays."

"Go on!" Aunt Sue sneered. "Screenplays? Christopher?"

"Yes. He has the talent and the ideas to be great at it,"
Steven explained. "All he needs are the life experiences to draw
on, and speaking of life experiences." He paused, still stroking
the nape of my neck. "I promised Chrissie that I'd take him for a
drive in the mountains, but I was just thinking that he might
have more fun if all the boys went along."

"All of them?" Mrs. Meier asked. "Joel too?"

"Of course, if he wants to come," Steven answered. "I've
asked Keith to bring the Jeep around. I have to go put on some
shorts. We'll leave in ten minutes," he added.