Date: Fri, 02 Nov 2007 13:30:40 -0400 (EDT)
From: Herb Cat <herb_cat@lycos.com>
Subject: Boy Power House

Copyright 2007 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story
without the author's permission.

Please note: this story depicts oral and anal sex between male adults and
male minors. If this offends you or is illegal to publish in your
jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further.

All the characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional.
Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead,
is entirely coincidental.

As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments
about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank
you.

---------------------------------------------------------

Part I

Several readers have written to me to say that my stories tend to be
idyllic, in particular "Rip" and "Ten-Year Olds at Camp." Well, I warn
you, this story will also paint at least one small portion of the world
in idealistic strokes. You see, I think young boys deserve to have an
environment where it is safe to explore intimate relations with men. But
I can only create such a place in fiction.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 1

DATE: The Sixth Day
PLACE: Eden

And God created little boys. And God gave the little boys cocks and
assholes that they might find pleasure together in His garden. And it was
good.

And God used a bone to create little girls. And God gave the little girls
cunts that they might breed more little boys for His garden. And it too
was good.

DATE: Saturday, September 1, 2001
PLACE: Patterson, New York

Victor loves the weekends when he doesn't need to travel into the city.
After breakfast on Saturday with the boy who stayed the night, he sends
the little street whore back to the train, slips out of his bathrobe, and
settles in for a day of whacking and watching his new kiddie porn films.

Mid afternoon, he will shut off the player, lock up his stash of DVDs and
wait for his little black boy to arrive. Yes, he sure does love getting
his cock up in that sweet chocolate twelve-year old each week. He figures
he'll be good for about a year. By then Victor will be craving fresh
meat, hopefully young, definitely virgin, which makes the preteens so
appealing.

Tomorrow he'll have to drive him back to the city. It would be suspicious
for a lone black kid to be standing on the train platform in this
neighborhood on Sunday morning. But the traffic isn't bad, and he can get
back home in plenty of time for more whacking and viewing. Shit, Victor
thinks, I've got the best possible life going here, and there's sure as
hell no reason I can't keep it up 'til I'm an old man. The 46-year old
smiles at his unintended double entendre and whacks more furiously.

"Ah, now this one is a beauty," he says out loud, as a new DVD starts
playing. "Such a pretty little ten-year old," although Victor has other
DVDs of the lad at nine. "Such a sweet face, sweet mouth, and even
sweeter ass. Look how he sucks now, like a genuine whore. Haha, I love
this part where he gets his cum facial. Obviously he loves it too; listen
to him giggling. Now he lifts his skinny legs up by his ears. He doesn't
even wait for direction like he used to. He wants his winsome little hole
penetrated again. Look at him smile as the first greasy finger enters. He
knows soon he's going to be bucking in orgasmic delight. Listen to him
cooing as he gets his hole rimmed by that talented tongue. Ahh, now he's
getting close. See the little toes curling. See the arms starting to
flail? Yes, yes, he can't wait to have that big old cock inside again.
Oh, oh, yeah, oh, shit, he's so beautiful!" Victor jerks wildly. He wants
to time his ejaculation to coincide with the one on ! the screen.
"Ahhhhhhh." He wipes his hand across his cummy chest, takes a deep breath
and continues his commentary to himself, "Ooh, the lovely popping sound
as the spent cock leaves its burrow, having used it for its God-given
purpose. There now, look at this close-up of the little asshole. He's
trying to close it; he's trying to hold all that lovely manjuice inside,
but in vain. The hole is too stretched right now, and the cum too
abundant; it dribbles out and down his skinny thighs. Here you go, fella,
here's some for you to lick off the nice man's finger. Yeah, that tastes
so good! Better than ice cream."

The recording ends and Victor puts in another DVD, another boy, another
delicious fuck. What better way to spend your weekend. Victor regrets
that on Monday, Labor Day, he has to fly to California. But business is
business. And in only ten days he'll be back home to enjoy his films, and
his boys.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 2

DATE: Saturday, August 20, 2005
PLACE: McDonalds, Brewster, New York

It's warm, so Greg and Mike decide to sit at one of the outdoor tables.
"OK, Nelson," Greg says with assurance, "you can get me a Big Mac Value
Meal, with a coke, and Supersize it." Nelson nods and turns to Mike for
his order.

"The same, no, make mine a Quarter Pounder, no a Big'n'Tasty."

"Shit, Mike, you go through this every week. Make up your mind already.
You're keeping Nelson waiting." But of course, Nelson is patience
personified. He is willing to wait all day if need be to learn how he can
please the two eleven-year olds. The hairdresser wasn't so long-suffering
earlier when Mike kept changing his mind about his haircut.

"OK, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, no, no cheese, yes, cheese. Yep,
that's my final answer. Oh, and supersize mine too." Nelson is still
waiting. "Oh, yeah, my drink, I'll have a coke too, no, a lemonade, no, a
milkshake, a chocolate milkshake. Yep, that's what I want today." Nelson
trots inside to get the boys' orders, smiling broadly. In all his 45
years, he's never been happier.

"Fuck, you do that on purpose, don't you, Mike."

"Do what?" But Mike's alligator smile tells Greg he's right, and he
punches Mike's arm. "Hey, watch it. That's my pitching arm." The two boys
sit and wait, soaking in the sunshine and laughing about the campfire the
other night when Hump told all those jokes. "Too bad, Hump had to go back
to college. I miss him and Jack." The boys barely notice the family of
six occupying another outdoor table. When Nelson comes back with the
tray, though, he definitely takes note of the group, a man, woman, one
girl, and three boys, two of whom don't look happy. Boys should never be
unhappy, he thinks to himself. Why shouldn't every boy be able to laugh
like Greg and Mike here? He smiles as he watches his two angels joking
with each other, their hair freshly cut and styled, now ready to dig into
their supersize meals.

He sets the sandwich, fries, and drink in front of each of his charges,
along with napkins, several little cups of ketchup, and the salt packs he
knows Mike will want. Then he sits, with no lunch himself, but plenty to
feast his eyes on. He watches Greg munching his burger while making a
Junga stack from his fries, then carefully remove one and dunk it in the
ketchup, open his mouth, paint a red circle on his tongue, purse his lips
about the potato rod and swoop it in with a giggle. Meanwhile Mike is
salting his fries, his burger, and pretending to salt his shake as well
with a mischievous little snicker. Trying to laugh and drink
simultaneously, Mike soon has milkshake bubbling out of his nostrils.

"Nelson, my napkin blew away." Nelson retrieves it, discards it, and gets
a replacement from inside.

"Nelson, I drank all my soda." Nelson again goes inside for a refill.
Throughout the meal, he watches them, amazed at all the sugar, grease and
sodium they can consume and still maintain those perfect boy bodies. But
then he knows how much exercise they've been getting this summer,
swimming, running, playing ball with all the other boys, the ten he now
thinks of as his boys. He breathes a silent prayer to whatever powers had
brought him to this place in his life where he could buy them lunch and
haircuts, and drive them, and pick up after them, and ...

Their pleasant lunch is interrupted by sudden noise from the other table.
The three turn to see the man hitting one of the boys there and yelling
at him, "You filthy thief. Stealing from us again. You and your Goddamn
brother here." He smacks both lads. One looks about the same age as Mike
and Greg; the other a few years younger. Both are scrawny. The other two
children are around six or seven and overweight. "C'mon kids we're going
home. These two can walk." The man, woman, girl and little boy stand up,
taking the rest of their drinks and burgers and pile into the car, the
two children laughing in the back seat. As the car exits the parking lot,
Greg, Mike and Nelson all stand up and head for the two sad waifs. The
younger one is so short, they don't realize he isn't sitting down. The
two are sharing a small burger, one from the 99 cent menu, and
whimpering.

"Nelson, two more value meals quick." Nelson doesn't wait for Greg to
give the details. He runs inside. He knows what to order. "What's the
matter kids? Your Dad get on your case about something?"

"He ain't our Dad!!" the older one protests. "Our Dad was nice. Both our
parents was nice." Hearing mention of their parents, the younger boy
bursts into tears. "They got killed in a car accident and now we gotta
live with foster parents and they hate us and we hate them."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 3

DATE: Monday, March 4, 1991
PLACE: Wantagh, Long Island, New York

It's a day of celebration in the Benningham home. It's little Walsh's
first birthday. Well, not really. Since he was born on February 29, he
won't have an official birthday for three more years. His parents decided
to celebrate today so Walsh's uncle can be there. Proud father Michael is
capturing the festivity with his new video camera. His wife has prepared
a delicious leg of lamb. And his brother Arnold has brought the cake he
baked.

Arnold, 25, rents a flat over in Oceanside and spends long hours at his
restaurant. But he loves cooking and is happy to be embarking on a career
that utilizes his passion. Michael, three years older, is also excited,
now that his contracting business is getting off the ground, and they can
afford to buy this home in which to raise their son. The two brothers
have always been close and Arnold is glad the restaurant closes on
Mondays so he can be included in Walsh's big day. He bounces his nephew
on his knee, and sings the spider song. He hides behind the couch and
when the toddler finds him, he jumps out and they both laugh
hysterically. He lays on the floor and tickles the boy's feet and nuzzles
his little outie. It would be wonderful to have a son of his own some
day, but the prospects of that happening are slim. He has finally
admitted to himself, if not to his brother, that he is gay.

After dinner, Michael describes some of the projects he has coming up.
One is a large office complex. "You know, Arnold, there's a dining room
in the blueprint. I could ask around and see if they need a chef."

PLACE: Patterson, NY

Meanwhile, an hour and a half north, another couple is also celebrating.
Victor and Henry are having a huge housewarming for all their friends,
well, Henry's friends anyway. Victor invited business associates. They've
been living together two years. At 5'1, Henry is the perennial child,
like Mickey Rooney and Michael J. Fox. But what captivated Victor was his
boyish demeanor. Although in his late 20s when they met, Henry had the
innocent charm and excitement for life of a twelve-year old. As an
interior decorator, he translates those qualities into bold designs and
his contagious personality is able to convince clients that his designs
were just what they want.

Victor, five years older, is a venture capitalist with more money than he
knows what to do with. He seems to have a crystal ball for identifying
those projects that have potential from those that are bottomless money
pits. He got out of S&Ls before the shit hit the fan. Because of his
connections, he is able to steer a lot of projects Henry's way.

Henry escorts their guests through the giant house, explaining his plans
for each of the eight bedrooms, the fixtures he wants to install in all
the baths, the decor he has in mind for the living room, the formal
dining room, the office, the pool room. He can't wait to start spending
Victor's money.

Mrs. Bagshaw, the housekeeper Victor hired, is in the kitchen helping the
caterer find things. At 46, she thinks it will be exciting working full
time for this lovely young gay couple.

"Whew, that was quite a gala," Victor later tells his partner as they
undress for bed.

"Thank you, Darling, for this house. I'm going to do all I can to make it
a wonderful home for my honey." He wraps his arms around Victor's waist
and bends his head up for a kiss.

"Did you get a look at a couple of those busboys? Shit, did they have
tight asses or what?"

"Victor, I thought mine was the only ass you needed."

"A guy can still look, can't he?" He kissed Henry, and took him to bed.
But, even as his lover was blowing his throbbing cock, he kept thinking
of the college kids, teenagers, in their tight black uniforms bouncing
around collecting used dishes.

PLACE: St. Thomas School, Bronx

"Hi, Teach." Maxwell looks up from his desk and sees the father, who will
turn 18 next week, beaming with his infant son in his arm.

"Pablo, so good to see you!" Maxwell didn't understand why Pablo had not
been hardened by his environment. He was one of the first students to
make an impression when he began teaching at St. Tom's, September 1989.
Maxwell could tell he was starved for love. He didn't hesitate to give
the lad a pat on the back, even a one arm hug around the shoulder, and
Pablo responded. He actually tried to do his assignments. He made a
concerted effort to avoid trouble. Maxwell could see a breakthrough, and
praised his work. By mid-Spring, Maxwell realized he was quite fond of
the seventeen-year old, and had fantasies about meeting him privately,
taking him into his apartment, into his bed, into his arms. He thought he
saw something in Pablo's smile that indicated similar feelings.

But last May Pablo told Maxwell he was dropping out. He'd knocked a girl
up and conscientious Pablo wanted to accept his responsibility. They got
married in City Hall and Pablo scrounged for odd jobs.

"I wanted baby Dean to meet my favorite teach. I know he can't wait to
get in your class." Maxwell decided not to tell Pablo he'd applied to an
exclusive prep school upstate. He studied the infant's black locks, his
wide open eyes, his olive complexion, his winning smile. "He certainly
has your good looks, Pablo! He's a cutie. Watch out, when Dean gets to be
a teenager, the muchachas will be all over him."

"Then I better start teaching him how to put a condom on."

"Well, maybe you can wait a few years for that." Maxwell gave the young
father a manly hug, and then with as much confidence as he could fake,
said, "With you as his Papa, Pablo, I know little Dean is going to grow
up just fine!"

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 4

DATE: Saturday, August 20, 2005
PLACE: McDonalds, Brewster, New York

Mike asks, "Is that all he bought you? One lousy hamburger?" The brothers
nod. "For both of you?"

"Yeah, they get their own kids big meals. All they want." The younger boy
is now talking through sobs. "I was so hungry. I grabbed one of Sissy's
french fries when I thought they wasn't looking."

"And that's when he hit you and called you a thief." Greg shakes his head
in indignation. Nelson comes back with two supersized meals and sets them
in front of the strangers. They dig in as if they hadn't eaten in days.
"I'm Greg, and this here is Mike, we're both 11. And this is Nelson, he's
an old man, hehe."

A slight glint of a smile crosses the older brother's lips. "Yeah, I
kinda guessed that. Thanks for the food, Mister." The younger boy doesn't
stop eating but nods his head in appreciation. "My name's Brian, and my
brother is Jeremy."

Greg and Mike continue eating, not so much from hunger, but to keep their
new friends company. Greg asks, "So how old are you two?"

"I'm almost 13 and Jeremy's 10." Nelson does a double take. He'd have
never guessed they were that old. They look so small. He has a thousand
questions he doesn't ask. He knows that their contemporaries, Greg and
Mike, will elicit much more information from them than he ever could. So
he sits back and listens as the four boys talk and munch, only leaving to
refill a drink cup now and then. In a while, the story emerges. After
their parents' tragic deaths, they were shuffled around by the system
through a string of foster homes until they landed with the McLaughlins.
Chuck, the father, treats them like second class citizens. They are given
minimal meals and one bed in the basement to share.

Mike asks, "Does he beat you a lot?" They nod. Nelson goes back inside
and Brian explains, "We're sick of going from one home to another. You
never know if the next one will be worse, or if they might split us up.
So we made a pact to stick together, put up with all the shit, and
somehow we'll make it through together."

Nelson comes back with four ice cream sundaes. The four boys grab the
cups and start happily licking their spoons. For the first time, Jeremy
and Brian look happy. Jeremy is even giggling as melting ice cream drips
down his fingers. Nelson finally speaks up. "Say, little Jeremy, you
don't need to eat standing up. There's room to sit down."

"Shit, yeah," says Greg, "sit here by me." Jeremy shakes his head.

"My brother'd rather stand." Both brothers' smiles suddenly disappear
again.

"Uh, is your ass sore?" Mike hesitates to ask. Jeremy's eyes water. "Did
Chuck spank you this morning?" He shakes his head no. "Did he whip you?"
Another no.

"Look, he doesn't want to talk about it, OK?" Brian is getting defensive.

"It's OK, Brian. Don't yell at them. They been real nice to us." He gives
his brother a hug.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Mike. It's just it's like it's embarrassing and all.
No, more than that. It's terrible. I hate it when Chuck does it to me,
but he shouldn't do it to Jeremy too."

Mike is confused. He's about to ask, "What..." but Nelson intervenes.
He's already figured it out.

"Chuck raped you last night, didn't he? That's why your bottom is sore."
Jeremy's hung head proves he is right. "The Bastard!"

Greg gets up and gives his new friend a big hug. "It's ok, kid, let it
out." All four boys are now in tears, but Nelson isn't crying. He's
furious. Through more sobs, the story comes out. Every Friday night, as
the family heads out to dinner and a Broadway show, Chuck handcuffs the
two foster children to their bed "so they won't steal stuff while we're
gone." Later when they come home, Chuck waits until his wife and children
are asleep and then comes down to the basement to fuck Brian. Last night,
while he was starting to pound his cock deep into Brian's hole, Jeremy
told him to stop it. Angrily, he pulled out of Brian's ass, lifted
Jeremy's legs and fucked him instead.

Nelson asks, "Doesn't a social worker ever come around to check on you
guys?"

Brian laughs. "Yeah, usually she's too busy so she just calls and asks to
talk to us. Chuck is right there making sure we say the right thing. If
she does come around, Mrs. McLaughlin shows her the guest bedroom and
says we sleep there. And when we look sad, she just thinks it's 'cause
our folks is dead. We ain't been in the system long, but it's long enough
to know they ain't gonna do nothin' for us. They don't want no more
trouble."

Again Mike is confused. "If they hate you so much, why did they want to
be a foster home?"

Brian laughs again, but Nelson already knows the answer. "For the money.
You see, Mike, New York gives the McLaughlins money each month to cover
food and clothes and other needs for Brian and Jeremy. They're using the
money themselves to go to Broadway shows."

"The fuckin' bastards! THEY'RE stealing from YOU, not the other way
around. Nelson, we can't let them go back to that house."

"I know, Mike. Boys, finish your ice cream. You're coming home with us."
Mike and Greg take their new friends' sticky hands and lead them to the
car.

"Where do you guys live?"

"In Boy Power House."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 5

DATE: Thursday, October 31, 1991
PLACE: Milwaukee, WI

The city is bracing for what the newspapers have dubbed the "Halloween
Storm." Hopefully, they won't be hit as hard as the counties to the
north, where the snow is already falling, and thirty inches or more are
expected before it stops. Mischievous young winter is anxious to get a
head start on its favorite recreation and doesn't give a shit that the
world thinks it isn't ready for such grown-up behavior.

Mr. Nelson is the same way. At 29 this young Turk has been CEO of his PR
firm for almost three years. They have many well known clients, primarily
highbrow stuff. Some speakers on the lecture circuit, a few classical
musicians. He has all the Type A traits: impatience, aggression,
attention to detail, inability to relax. This is why his career is
skyrocketing. He has a dozen irons in the fire at any one time.
Fortunately Gladys, his secretary, (sorry, she insists on the title,
Office Manager) serves as his anchor. He knows he'd be lost without her.
"Have a happy Halloween, Mr. Nelson," she says late this afternoon as he
breezes out the door. Halloween? He never gave it a thought? Should he
have bought her flowers or something? In the elevator, he puts a reminder
in his datebook for mid-October 1992: Order Gladys a Halloween basket
from Harry and David.

PLACE: Boston, MA

Back East, New Englanders are also glued to the weather reports. Not just
any nor'easter this time. Meteorologists are kicking around the term,
"Perfect Storm."

Dr. William Stevenson hasn't forgotten it's Halloween. Even if his
pediatric office weren't arrayed in witches and ghosts, the 32-year old
father wouldn't miss this opportunity to go trick-or-treating with Billy.

Stevenson's practice, now four years old, is located in a Hispanic
neighborhood where the families work hard to try to keep ahead. The ones
who can't afford his fees get Medicaid and so Bill has managed to pay off
most of his student loans. They are no longer dependent on his wife's
salary, but she is used to working and continues to do the evening shift
at the restaurant.

For eleven years, Billy has always been the light of Bill Stevenson's
life. In Med School, he cherished the few precious hours at home when he
would play horsey with him, help him ride a two-wheeler, and toss the old
baseball around. Best of all, for his brief vacations, he used to take
his growing boy camping to "give Mommy a rest." He loved watching him
grow. Watching that toddler body turn into a beautiful little boy. On
camping trips, they always went skinny dipping, and even began sleeping
naked together in one sleeping bag.

When his wife began working evenings, it was up to Bill to put Billy to
bed, a task he savored. He always climbed right into bed with him and
snuggled. They would play with each other's "man parts" and his son knew
it was their special secret.

But lately, Billy is uncomfortable with his father's groping hands. He
now locks his bedroom door. Doc hopes he'll at least still let him hold
his hand as they go door to door in their pirate outfits.

Why do boys seem to back off from intimate contact when they near their
teenage years? Doc often has difficulty examining his older patients who
don't take to him feeling them from head to toe, peering at all their
growing parts. He wonders if it is just a matter of conditioning. If he
starts with his youngest patients and gets them used to being touched all
over, even in their "private places," then perhaps as they got older, he
can do his explorations more easily. Of course, his interest isn't
entirely clinical. The touch of a lad's body in his hands arouses
something in him more than a professional interest.

PLACE: Jordan Academy, Patterson, NY

Mr. Maxwell picks up the stack of ghost stories his students wrote for
Halloween and heads down the hall of Jordan Academy. After teaching two
years in an inner city Catholic high school, he is exhilarated to have
landed this assignment. The students at JA are all intent on getting into
the finest colleges. He isn't just baby-sitting any more. And, from what
he's seen on the practice fields, his students are endowed with bodies to
complement their well-developed minds. These boys are going places and
Maxwell relishes being part of that.

Of course, two years ago when he started at St. Thomas, he was also
excited. But he quickly learned that his new teacher idealism didn't
directly translate into student performance. His English classes were
more like Remedial Reading. But there had been a few rays of hope that
kept him from entirely abandoning the quixotic pursuit. Students like
Pablo.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 6

DATE: Saturday, August 20, 2005
PLACE: En route from Brewster to Patterson, New York

Nelson takes a small detour in order to stop at a sports supply store and
buy Brian and Jeremy some decent Adidas running shoes. They throw their
ratty sneakers in the garbage can outside the store.

The boys watch the scenery as the car heads north out of the Bronx
through Westchester and just over the line into Putnam. The ride brings
back happy memories of annual treks to Maine. "Every summer, Dad used to
rent this cabin right on the lake. The Belgrade Lakes. It was so cool."
But when they turn into a large estate surrounded by tall privets, with
an electric gate across the drive, they know they've never been to a
place like this before.

As Nelson drives toward the huge house, Greg points out
Kenny and Washington tossing a football on the lawn. Brian and Jeremy see
the two teenagers, but the two brothers are too overwhelmed to keep track
of names. Nelson stops at the front door. Greg tells him, "You did good
today Nelson. Come to the fishbowl after dinner and I'll let you have
some candy."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." The four get out and Nelson drives around to
the garage. He sees Victor in an upstairs window and gives him a friendly
wave. The man just glowers and shakes his head. Nelson grins. He knows
Victor regards these new arrivals, no matter how cute they are, as yet
two more usurpers stealing his property out from under his feet. Two this
time. Two last year. And no end in sight. But by now Victor should be
resigned to what happened. He got much better than he deserved.

Mike and Greg lead their new friends through the house. They meet two
more teenagers, Dean and Walsh in the living room, who briefly stop their
new Wii game to give the newcomers high fives. In the hall, a little kid
races by without a stitch of clothing on. "Hey, Rudy, wait, say Hi to our
new friends." The naked boy doesn't wait but he does shout Hi. "Rudy's
nine, younger than you, Jeremy. You two will have a lot of fun, that is,
if you ever catch him, hehe."

They walk into the office and the brothers see yet another teenager
behind the desk going over some papers. "Hi, Mark."

The older boy put down his work. "Hey, Greg, what's up?" He moves over to
the couch, and the five get comfortable while the introductions are made.
Mark listens carefully to the horrible tale of abuse. Of course, he heard
such stories before. Every lad at BPH has a story, and while the details
vary, all are equally tragic. "Of course, you can stay here, Brian,
Jeremy. Welcome. I'll give Goldberg a call and see how we can work things
out, but don't worry about Chuck any more. He'll get taken care of. Greg,
show them the room at the end of the hall and see if they like it. Let's
meet back in the living room in an hour. I'll have Nelson round up all
the guys and you can meet them proper."

That night, in their new warm comfortable beds, the brothers talk about
their amazing day. But they have a hundred questions.

"Brian, how do you think they're going to take care of Chuck?"

"I don't know, Jeremy. And I don't know who Goldberg is."

"I wonder, Why are all these boys here?"

"They sure look happy! Even little Rudy. But why don't they let him have
clothes? He was naked the whole day, even at supper!"

"Yeah, but he don't seem to mind. I liked playing tag with him. We ran
all over the house. It is huge! Nelson is sure a nice old man, isn't he,
Brian?"

"Did you notice he called Greg 'Sir'?"

"Yup, and then he was like so happy when Greg said he'd give him some
candy from the fishbowl."

"Hehe, yeah. Jeremy, that must be some super tasting candy!"

"I'll tell you what was super tasting, that meal Arnold made! He even
cooks better than Mom did! Oops, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"It's ok, brother, I think Mom and Dad are smiling right now. I think
they're glad we're out of Chuck's house and here in BPH. Wow, these sure
are great big beds, ain't they."

"Uh, yeah, Brian. The bed is like nice and all, but, uh."

"Do you miss sleeping with your big brother?"

"Yeah!"

"Come on, kid, I got lots of room."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 7

The summer of 1994 was pivotal in Victor's life. And perhaps even more in
the life of that large house.

DATE: Monday, July 4, 1994
PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY

Henry hosts a pool party complete with illegal fireworks for a Japanese
client and her family. He has already decorated her office in Manhattan,
and thinks he may get a chance to do her downtown apartment. He's invited
a few select guests chosen to impress her.

Victor in much more impressed with the her twin twelve-year old sons. He
spends the day watching them chase each other in and out of the pool,
their speedos riding up into their precious cracks. Tonight he whispers a
prayer to Hotei to one day fill his house with the music of energetic
young boys like these.

DATE: Tuesday, July 12, 1994

Henry can't wait to tell Victor the news. Mrs. Sakamoto wants him to redo
not only her loft in Soho, but her weekend home in the Hamptons, as well.
He goes way too over the Putnam County speed limit, anxious to start
celebrating with his darling. "I'll assemble a platter of French cheeses,
open the bottle of Clarendon Hills Astralis 1994 I've been saving, put on
the burgundy silk pajamas he gave me for Christmas, light some candles,
put on some Yo-Yo-Ma, take my lover by the hand and lead him to the
bedroom and to nirvana." Henry parks the car, grabs the bouquet of
flowers, and slips quietly in the side door, hoping to surprise his life
partner.

He too is surprised when he locates Victor already in bed. With the Pool
Boy. Screams, hysterics, the quick grabbing of abandoned apparel, the
racing of bare teenage feet down the stairs.

"My God, Victor, he's a baby."

"He's 17."

"And looks 14." Silently Victor agrees. That was his attraction. He tries
despairingly to make his regrets sound sincere, but three days later
Henry moves out.

DATE: Tuesday, July 26, 1994

Victor lets the Chauffeur and landscaper go, giving them generous
severance. He tells Mrs. Bagshaw to come in only one morning a week to
dust all the empty bedrooms, pool room, etc., flush all the toilets and
run the faucets to keep the gaskets from drying out. She misses Henry and
all the exciting bustling activity that has left with him. The Pool Boy,
however, does not miss Henry. He comes by regularly to check out the
equipment, use the suction vacuum to attend to every inch, and insert the
proper amount of chemicals. So he is surprised when Victor tells him not
to come back in August, he's going to drain the pool.

DATE: Wednesday, July 27, 1994

Victor brings home thirteen-year old Antonio, a boy he met on the streets
of in Manhattan two days ago. He shows him the bed, explains how his wife
has a girls' night out every Wednesday, and gives him his own Metro Card
so he can come back each week. Knowing true love for the first time in
his life, Antonio swears to do everything to please this wonderful,
generous man who calls him his Sweetheart.

DATE: Thursday, August 25, 1994

Mrs. Bagshaw comes in to clean, and smiles when she gets to the bedroom.
Victor must be getting some nocturnal companionship again. She recognizes
the lingering aroma of testosterone and homosexual sex permeating the
bed, and there are several used condoms in the waste basket. Perhaps some
day the house will be buzzing again.

DATE: Saturday. August 27, 1994

A security company spokesman stops by to try to get Victor to part with
some of his idle cash. With nothing else to do today, Victor lets him
show his samples and glances through his catalog with only passing
interest. The electric gate looks like a good possibility. Keep out the
uninvited riff raff, like security company spokesmen. But then one item
among the man's samples piques Victor's curiosity.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 8

DATE: Sunday, August 21, 2005
PLACE: BPH, Patterson, New York

The boys wander into the dining room at different times. Some are in
their PJs. Some in their underwear. Rudy is still naked. Mark, who the
brothers now know is 17, is already dressed in shorts and a T, having run
three miles like he does every morning. He invites Brian to join him on
his run tomorrow. The other boys make their new friends feel welcome,
making sure they see the array of food Arnold has put on the steam table:
eggs, waffles, sausages, bacon, toast. And on the buffet, danishes,
juices, cold cereals, and coffee, tea, and cocoa. Walsh asks, "So, boys,
you like it here?"

"Wow! You bet!" says Jeremy, "What's not to like?"

Brian adds, "We got like a million questions though."

"Sure, shoot, there are no secrets here."

"Well, hehe, first off, Rudy, how come they don't let you wear any
clothes."

The other boys start laughing and calling him Nudey Rudy. But he takes it
as a badge of honor. "I don't want to wear no clothes. And they said I
don't gotta do anything I don't wanta do. Boys rule!"

"Nudey Rudy is right. There are no rules here except to respect each
other and respect yourself. We've all come out of places where people
made us do things we hated. But at BPH, we are in charge. We decide how
to run the house. No one's ever going to take advantage of us again."

"So like you all been beaten?" Nods. "And was any of you guys ever, uh,
raped?"

"You kidding? We've all had guys take our assholes. But no more. Don't
worry, nobody's going to fuck you here against your will, not even
Victor."

"Who's Victor? Another growed up?"

The boys start mumbling about BM. "Yes, but you won't see much of him. We
make him stay in his apartment over the garage, except when we need him.
He's the reason we have BPH. But let's not talk about that son of a bitch
now."

"OK, we met Nelson and Arnold. And we heard you talk about a Mr. Goldberg
and a doctor. Are there any other growed men around?"

"Not now, but next month when school starts, the three teachers will be
here."

Rudy interrupts, "I can't wait for school to start!" The brothers are
surprised by the nods around the table. These guys actually like school!

"What's the matter, Jeremy, you look confused."

"Well, uh, you said, all these men, they can't fuck you, right? But when
Rudy and me was running around playing tag last night, he showed me this
one bedroom and he says that's where the men have sex with you. Right,
Rudy, that's what you said?"

"Yep, what Rudy said is right. We call that room the fishbowl. No one
sleeps there. It's only used for sex with the men."

Brian stands up. "I don't want no man fucking me and my brother!"

Walsh goes on, "No, wait, hear us out. I understand how you feel. There
are lots of pervs who get their jollies fucking young boys. Guys like
Chuck. Except they don't all do it rough like him. Some act real nice and
kind and all. But still they just want to get up your asshole. We've all
been there."

Mark takes over, "They may want your ass, but always remember it's your
ass, not theirs. No one else can use it without your permission. You
control your own hole. We have a motto."

The boys at the table speak in unison, "Our asses are our assets."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

Washington continues, "What that means is you should recognize it has
value. You shouldn't let anyone take it. You shouldn't give it away. You
shouldn't squander it for cheap trinkets. If you give it, make sure you
get good value for it."

Greg, "Yeah, like yesterday, I met Nelson in the fishbowl, because I
thought he deserved a reward after all he did for you two guys."

"Yeah, you gave him some candy." Jeremy's innocent comment is greeted
with laughter.

"Well, Nelson is a sweet man. He wants to be our slave, so we make him
happy by ordering him around. He never wants to fuck us. He's never been
in any of our assholes. But he likes it if we order him to suck our
dicks. That keeps him happy. He calls it candy, hehe."

Rudy adds, "And he likes me to fuck his ass." Rudy stands up on his chair
and thrusts his bare hips to show how he dry humps Nelson with his little
nine-year old dick.

Everyone laughs, "Yes, Rudy, he likes all of us to fuck his submissive
ass."

Dean, "There's something else he likes. He keeps some of my dirty
underpants from the laundry. I keep finding brand new pairs in our
drawers."

Brian, "You mean you don't mind if these guys have sex with you?"

Mark, "I know it may be hard to understand right now, because all you
know is what Chuck did to you. But sex with a man can be fun, believe me.
Do you like to jerk off, Brian?" Brian's face reddens. "Don't worry. All
guys like jerking off. It feels good. Sometimes, after dinner we just sit
around and jerk off together in the living room. And some of us like to
get together and snuggle and kiss and suck each other and even fuck. Sex
is fun. In fact, Jeremy, Brian, you should never have sex with anyone
unless you have fun doing it."

"But if you do it with any of the men, you gotta use the fishbowl. That's
the rule." Kenny makes this pronouncement in his deepest baritone. The
acne and gangly proportions of puberty are more than offset by its many
positive changes, and for Kenny one thing he was glad to get rid of was
that little kid squeaky voice.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 9

DATE: Saturday. August 27, 1994
PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY

"What the hell is this tiny thing?" Victor is fiddling with a round
object, half as big as a golf ball, with a tiny glass hole.

"Ah, Sir, the latest in optical recording surveillance."

"You mean a camera."

"Not just a camera, Sir. The XF-47 can covertly monitor suspicious
activity in every room of your valuable estate here, yielding a
high-resolution video image of what happens in your absence. You've
certainly read about the robberies in this area. In broad daylight. While
the owners are away. And potential threats come not only from strangers,
Sir. Have you a housekeeper? Of course you do. Trustworthy help is so
hard to find these days. Do you want absolute assurance that this person
is not invading your privacy in your absence? Going through your bedside
table? Your dressers?"

Victor allows the salesman to malign the integrity of loyal Mrs. Bagshaw.
His mind is not thinking of her reputation. In his venture capitalist's
crystal ball he sees untapped potential for the XF-47. As he peppers the
man with a string of questions, Mr. Security is beginning to see dollar
signs. Finally, a sale.

How does it start recording? "We install a motion sensor in each room.
Wherever someone is moving, the camera there will turn on."

Where's the tape? "Cables buried in your wall will carry each image to a
standard VHS recorder. It can be located up to 150 feet away. On a
separate floor even. In a locked closet."

And the quality? "Look at these sample images. We have custom recorders
with enlarging capabilities that yield crystal clear close-ups. You'll be
able to map every varicose vein on her legs, haha." Victor is getting
excited, although he has different veins in mind.

Is there sound too? "Excellent idea, Sir. Catch the burglars'
conversations. Hear them identify each other. Yes, we can install
undetectable microphones throughout the house."

Victor signs a contract to have one room bugged, the bedroom. Mr.
Security makes a note to stress the housekeeper suspicions on his next
sales pitch. He puts a Rush on this installation.

DATE: Thursday, September 1, 1994

Mrs. Bagshaw is startled to see Victor still home when she arrives to
clean. In his bathrobe, he smiles at her, says he won't get in her way,
that he'll be in his office studying a new film he's acquired. She sees
no more of him, as over and over he watches himself and Antonio in bed
the night before. He plays with the close-up control. He plays with the
audio. He plays with his cock. For him, today is Christmas morning.

DATE: Thursday, November 17, 1994

Victor tearfully tells Antonio, now 14, his wife will no longer be going
out on Wednesdays. "Goodbye, Sweetheart. I'll always remember the joy you
brought me." After the boy leaves, Victor watches the film he made on
Monday night, costarring twelve-year old Philip. He is already planning
further video equipment purchases. By the end of the year, he has reduced
Mrs. Bagshaw's hours to one morning a month, but continues to pay her for
four.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 10

DATE: Tuesday, August 23, 2005
PLACE: Boys Power House, Patterson, New York

On their third night at BPH, in the wee hours, Jeremy wakes Brian.
"What's up, little bro."

"I woke up to pee and I got an idea. Let's have some fun with Nelson."

"The slave?" They both giggle and Jeremy tells his big brother his plan.

Nelson's phone rings. "Yes, Sir, what can I do for you, Sir?"

"Nelson, it's me, Jeremy. I had to go pee and I got lost trying to find a
bathroom. I'm in the goldfish bowl. Please come and help me."

"Yes, Sir, right away, I'll be right there." And in less than a minute,
Nelson in his bathrobe runs into the fishbowl. Looking at poor little
Jeremy standing on the bed in his tidy whities with his legs crossed, he
doesn't notice Brian behind the door. "OK, come with me, Sir. The
bathroom is right next door and we don't even need to go out in the hall.
There's an entrance from here."

"No, I don't think I can make it. I gotta pee really bad."

"Oh dear, Sir. Let me run and get you a glass to pee in."

"No, I can't hold it that long. Please, Nelson, please, let me pee in
your mouth."

"Of course, Sir, whatever you say, Sir." Jeremy pulls off his undies as
Nelson gets on the bed and kneels. "There, Sir, I'm ready." He envelops
the lad's pisser in his mouth and is soon swallowing a torrent of golden
boypiss. He doesn't let a single drop escape. "There, Sir. Do you feel
better now?"

"Oh, much better, Nelson. Thank you."

"No. Thank you, Sir. It was my pleasure, Sir. Really, it was." Nelson
picks Jeremy up to carry him back to his room, turns and sees Brian. As
they head back to their room, both boys start laughing. "You tricked old
Nelson, didn't you, Sirs?" They nod sheepishly. "You knew where the
bathroom was all along." More giggles. "Well, thank you, Sirs. I'm glad
you feel comfortable enough to use me like that. Whenever you boys want
old Nelson to play with you in the fishbowl, I'll come running, any time
day or night!"

Nelson carries naked Jeremy back to his bed and is about to set him down.
"Nelson, give me a good night kiss."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Brian screws up his face and shakes his head,
but Jeremy doesn't comprehend his warning before his lips meet Nelson's.

"Yuck, your mouth smells like peepee."

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." He smiles and tucks the lad into bed. "Will there
be anything else, Sirs?"

Big brother climbs into his bed and says, "No, Nelson, you can take your
submissive ass back downstairs now."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Good night, Sirs. Sleep well." Nelson makes a
stop back in the fishbowl to retrieve Jeremy's briefs.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 11

Let's recall some highlights (and lowlights) from the year 1996:

DATE: Wednesday, April 3, 1996
PLACE: Lincoln, MT

The unabomber Ted Kaczynski is arrested. He thinks back to his childhood,
to being hit by his parents and teased by other boys.

DATE: Saturday, July 27, 1996
PLACE: Atlanta, GA

A bomb explodes in Olympic Park. Richard Jewell is eventually cleared,
but only after being pilloried in the press, identified by the FBI as
fitting a lone bomber profile, called the Unadoofus by Jay Leno, and
threatened by the Clinton White House with exposure as being gay.

DATE: Wednesday, August 28, 1996
PLACE: London, UK

Princess Di, the mother of two handsome male heirs to the throne just
entering their teens, and Prince Charles are divorced.

DATE: Thursday, August 29, 1996
PLACE: Milwaukee, WI

Rudolph Desmond is born to a sixteen-year old drug addict, who promises
to turn her life around for him. A promise she will make and break
hundreds of times before he is finally taken from her.

DATE: Monday, September 2, 1996 (Labor Day)
PLACE: Westchester, NY

All of Michael's work crews have taken the holiday off, but he really has
no reason to complain. His contracting business is prospering. Enough
that he has moved his family to a beautiful development north of the
city. Brother Arnold still visits on Mondays, bringing a dish, although
Michael often makes conflicting plans. The visits reinforce Arnold's
feelings of inferiority toward his brother, but seeing his darling
six-year old nephew Walsh, and playing video games with him as the boy
relaxes in his PJs, makes it worthwhile.

DATE: Tuesday, October 15, 1996
PLACE: Teachers College, Columbia University, NYC

Maxwell successfully defends his dissertation in school administration,
earning the right to be called Dr. Maxwell by both colleague and pupil.
He hears rumors Jordan's chancellor may leave to accept a college
position, and the assistant chancellor move up. Maxwell is in line to be
the new assistant. He wonders to himself if young Mr. Kennedy the Math
teacher is also gay. Somewhere seven hundred miles away, Mr. Wilson,
fresh out of college, is struggling in front of his very first class of
students.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 12

DATE: Friday, August 26, 2005
PLACE: McLaughlin House, near Brewster, New York

Chuck pulls into the garage, and his wife wakes the children. "Come on,
kids, we're home. Hey, Sissy, you sleepyhead. Let's get you up to bed."
Sissy and her brother trudge yawning into the kitchen. Like every Friday,
the show has made them overtired. But Sissy notices the cellar light is
on and peeks down the stairs.

"Daddy, they're back!"

Chuck comes running to the cellar door. "Well I'll be damned." He races
down the steps two at a time. Brian and Jeremy are lying on their old
bed. "I thought we saw the last of you two runaways. You come back to
steal more stuff? Well, you got caught, didn't you." He hits them both.
"You've been gone a week. How long you think you could get away with
this?" Chuck grabs the handcuffs and locks the boys to the bed. "I'll
deal with you two later."

As promised, about an hour later Chuck returns to the basement. He pulls
off their pants and undies, then kneels on the bed, unzips, and pulls out
his whacker. "First you're both going to suck me off, starting with the
eldest." He pulls open Brian's clenched jaw. "And I warn you, if I feel
any teeth, your brother will get a whipping." Brian reluctantly gives
Chuck enough of a BJ to get him stiff and slimy. Then Chuck pulls out and
pushes it into Jeremy's mouth. Whimpering and shaking, the little soldier
does his best to imitate his big brother's brave performance. "Yeah,
that's it, you son of a bitch, you suck Chuck's fuck stick. Pull all that
nice juice out of my nuts, you little cum bucket." After what seemed like
hours to the young hero, Chuck pulls his dripping cock out of Jeremy's
mouth. Then he does the unexpected. He unlocks Brian's handcuffs. "OK,
big man, you grab hold of your little brother's ankles. Yeah, like that.
Now you
pull them up by his ears and hold them there.

Brian is crying. "No, Chuck, please, please don't make me hold him.
Please don't fuck him. Fuck me instead. Here. Here's my asshole."

"Oh, have no fear, big man, you'll get your turn, but little brother gets
it first tonight. And you will help hold him. That's what brothers do.
They help each other." Sobbing, Brian takes little Jeremy by the ankles
and bends him in two, to expose his precious little hole. Jeremy, his
hands still cuffed, his eyes two wide saucers, is crying, "No, no, no,
no."

"OK, that's enough." Chuck jumps up and turns around to face Mark, who
emerges from behind a storage cabinet.

"What the hell. I'm calling the police."

"Yeah, Chuckie, you do that." Mike and Greg come out from piles of boxes
and suitcases. Now Chuck sees that Mark, Mike and Greg all have video
cameras in their hands.

Mark takes over. "Mike, take the three cameras out to Nelson and wait in
the van. We'll be along soon." Mike skips up the stairs, bearing the
evidence. "So you see, Chuck, I really don't think it would be smart of
you to call the police. Now give Brian the key." He hands it over and the
boy unlocks his brother. They grab their clothes and stand beside Greg,
holding each other tight. "You did a good job tonight, Brian, Jeremy. I'm
sure your parents are very proud of you both. OK, now Mr. McLaughlin. I'm
going to spell this out very carefully so even an idiot like you can
understand. Number 1, you will never again see either of these young men
because they have moved out. Number 2, you will never take in any other
foster kids."

"But what about their school? They already called. My wife told them the
boys were sick."

"That brings us to number 3. She will bring this letter to the school on
Monday, explaining you are enrolling the boys in Jordan Academy and
asking them to send the boys' records to Dr. Maxwell there."

"I can't do that. I can't even afford to send my own kids there."

"Oh, you're making my heart bleed, Chuck. But don't worry.
These boys are on a full scholarship. And as for room and board, number
4, every month you will sign the checks you get from Child Protective
Services over to Dr. Maxwell. Now, Chuckie, if you screw up, the
authorities will receive a DVD showing what went on here tonight from
three different angles. Believe me, your face is very clear."

Then the boys left without answering Chuck's last question, "How long
will you keep blackmailing me?"

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 13

DATE: Saturday, January 1, 2000

They call it the Millennium. No one listens to the tight ass purists who
keep telling them to wait 'til 2001 to celebrate. The world is in the
mood for a fuckin' party now!

PLACE: New York City

Fourteen-year old Jack has been able to get by on the streets by
panhandling and shoplifting. The fact that he looks only twelve helps.
He's gotten caught a few times and now has a record, but it's still petty
stuff. "Hey, Mister, got a dollar? Start the new year off right. Give to
the poor. Come on, Man, a fuckin' dollar is all."

"You're an awfully good-looking boy to be begging like that. How about
$25?"

"Shit, cool. You're a fuckin' saint, Man."

"I'd just like one small thing in return, Kid." And with that, the mark
ducks into the alley and opens his zipper. For Jack, this night not only
begins a new millennium, but a new career, a new life, and new problems.
By May, he will be arrested four times for soliciting. The judge
threatens to send him to Juvey, and assigns a lawyer from the pool to
defend him. Goldberg talks to Jack about one hand washing the other, and
the boy stays out of jail. In June, he meets a man who takes him off the
streets altogether, at least one day a week. Victor gives him a Metro
Card so every Friday, when his wife is out of the house, the boy he
cherishes, his only Sweetheart, can come and spend the night making love.
True love.

PLACE: Milwaukee

Arnold brings Vincent home again to celebrate YK2. Jake thinks Vincent,
nearly 16, is the best one in his stable, but Arnold keeps asking him to
find a younger kid. After three years, he still misses his nephew Walsh.
His brother has banished him from the house, warned him never to contact
the boy again. Shit, all he was doing was lying on the boy's bed. Walsh
was giggling as they both lay naked poking at each other's bodies, uncle
and nephew enjoying some rare quality time. But Michael didn't see
anything funny about it. Since Arnold couldn't see his nephew, there was
no reason for him to stay in New York.

He asks his landlord to join them for the festive celebration. "Hey,
Nelson, always great to see you," Vincent says honestly. "Be a good man
and take off my shoes. Yeah, you can give them a sniff if you want. Ha.
Ain't that cute, Arnold? Breathe deep. Now, my socks. Yeah, your hands
feel nice after these puppies been chasin' tricks all over the city.
That's it, Nelson, you lick them. Lick them real good. Come on, Arnold,
my foot slave here is really getting me in the mood." As Arnold and
Vincent begin fucking around, Nelson continues to lick, kiss and suckle
Vincent's toes. He knows this is where he belongs, where he wants to
spend the next millennium. He silently decides to talk to Gladys about
his golden parachute.

PLACE: The Bronx

Bill Stevenson sits alone in his apartment, sips a Martini, and wonders
if the new millennium will be any kinder to him than the last. He figures
Billy must be almost finished with college now, but he isn't sure. All he
knows is after one more year, he won't need be sending child support any
more. He already stopped paying alimony when she remarried.

He wishes he could undo the night of Billy's Bar Mitzvah. The Torah said
at 13 he was a man. The pediatric texts said he was entering puberty. The
assembled guests said he was a handsome boy. And after a few too many
celebratory martinis, Doc's eyes said his son was fuckin' irresistible.
That night he saw his weary boy asleep in bed. He took off his pants and
climbed in next to him, his raging hardon pressed against his son's anus.
Billy woke quickly, asked what the hell Daddy was doing and Doc stammered
something about "just once for old times sake." Billy told his mother. As
part of the divorce settlement, Doc sadly agreed never to contact his son
again. And in return, they agreed not to expose him. Being near his son
yet unable to see him was so torturous for Bill, he moved his practice to
New York.

Doc looks at his appointment book for the first week of January. Ah, Dean
will be in for his annual checkup. He'll be nine next month, so he's old
enough for a DRE.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 14

DATE: Saturday, October 15, 2005
PLACE: BPH

Brian and Jeremy no longer feel like strangers. Neither one got much
sleep this week but for two different reasons. Jeremy moved out of their
room a couple weeks ago and is sleeping with Greg for a while. But not
always sleeping. Two prepubescent boys have a lot of anatomical exploring
to do.

Brian's insomnia is more from nerves. It started last week on his
birthday. Both he and Jeremy were excited about the event. They'd told
Mark what they wanted:

Brian, "A party just like when we lived Mom and Dad. Balloons, streamers,
party hats, Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey, a Pinata, the works."

Jeremy, "And lots of food, and a big birthday cake with candles!"

Brian, "I want to invite all the teachers too, and Doc, and Goldberg."

Jeremy, "Don't forget the birthday spankings!"

Brian, "Shut up, little brother." But both of them were laughing away
remembering how their father used to take the birthday boy across his lap
and lovingly swat his back side once for every year, while the family
counted.

The party was a roaring success. Old and young alike all played too
rough, laughed too hard, ate too much. Jeremy knew his parents were
laughing also.

At one point, Mark called out it was time for the spankings. Brian tried
to run away but was immediately tackled. Half the boys held him down,
while the other half pulled off his pants, to the delight of the men in
the room. "Hey, Dad never spanked us bare assed! Shit, Mark. What do you
got there?" When Brian saw the ping pong paddle, he tried desperately to
squirm free! "Come on, guys, this isn't funny any longer."

"Excuse me, Sir." The laughter quieted down and the boys let go of their
grip, as Nelson came forward. "No one is going to paddle you, Sir. You
see, the paddle is for you to use. Here. Nelson dropped trou and
presented his
ass to the birthday boy.

"Shit, guys, you had be going there!" Brian was laughing again. Still
pantless, he sat on the couch, told Nelson to lay across his lap, took
the paddle and started administering hard whacks to the sacrificial lamb,
as everyone shouted One, Two, Three, up to Thirteen.

Day after day, Brian kept thanking all his friends for making the
birthday so special. But he wished there was a special way to show his
gratitude to the chef for that great cake! Of course, there was and he
knew it. The one way the boys reward staff members. That's what was
keeping him up at night. All week, Brian nervously deliberated his move.
He's never had a cock up his ass other than Chuck's, and he's not sure
what to expect. One night he stayed up and watched a dozen DVDs of Arnold
in bed with various boys. The next day, he asked them to tell him about
it. They gave him honest answers but no pressure. Now Brian knows it's
something he wants to do, so tonight he screws up his courage and asks
Arnold to come to the fishbowl.

Arnold is as excited as Brian. Sure, he's nailed every kid in the house
except the two brothers, but no two asses are alike, and he's sure
Brian's will be special. He's been noticing little things about the
small-for-his-age lad: the way his lips curve into a grin when he tries
some new dish Arnold's prepared, the way he throws his popcorn in the air
and catches it on his tongue, the way dripping chocolate ice cream
creates a brown goatee on his chin, the way he often eats with one hand,
the other stuffed in his pants. And now, as they close the bedroom door,
the way the boy puts up a bold front while his knees are shaking.

Arnold tucks something into the folds of the blanket, and then sits on
the bed beside the sweet child. "Brian, we won't do anything you don't
want to do. You're in charge, my love."

"Uh, but you do want to fuck me, right?"

"Shit, kid, that would give me immense pleasure, but only if you are
happy also."

Brian takes a deep breath and thinks he is getting control of his jittery
body. "OK, uh, maybe we should like take our shirts off, OK?"

"Yes, Sir."

Slowly, deliberately, the two begin to strip, stopping every few seconds
to kiss. Brian starts to feel relaxed. Once bare chested, they caress
each other and french. Brian's heart begins to race again, but now from
horniness more than nervousness. He awkwardly paws at Arnold's zipper.
They simultaneously stand up, get out of the rest of their clothes and
flop sprawling naked on the bed. Arnold runs his hands and tongue all
over the boy, who is now moaning loudly and doesn't know what to do with
his two unbound hands. Arnold told him he's supposed to be in charge, but
right now he likes how the man is improvising. Then, Brian knows what he
wants next. "Put your cock in my mouth."

"Yes, Sir." Arnold takes up a doggy position above the lad facing his
feet, then slides his knees straight and feels those young lips circle
his shaft. Unconsciously, Brian's mouth remembers how it used to service
Chuck. Only this time, it wants to make this cock truly happy. This
sausage is the most succulent thing the cook has ever fed him. He senses
Arnold's breath on his pubes, feels the man's mouth dribble on his erect
boy shaft. With his mouth full, Brian uses body language to express his
next request. He bucks his hips to raise his own cock where he knows
Arnold's mouth is waiting. Arnold gets the message loud and clear and now
they are 69ing.

Brian feels Arnold's hands caressing his buttocks. He spreads his legs
wide to show Arnold what he wants next. Soon, moistened fingers are
probing his teen hole and his whole body spasms. He uses his tongue to
push that tasty pole out, and shouts, "Fuck me, damn you, fuck me!"

"Yes, Sir." Arnold swings his body around. Brian grabs his knees and
pulls his legs up. Arnold slaps on a dollop of KY and uses his teeth to
rip open the condom he had secreted in the covers. He's ready to give
Brian what he asked for. His belated birthday present. And Brian gives
him a tip like no gratuity he ever got in a restaurant. Brian laughs out
loud as he feels the pulses of a cock releasing its seed inside his
rectum. For ten more minutes, the two just lay and embrace and kiss.
Finally, Brian whispers, "Thank you, Arnold."

"No, thank YOU, Sir."

---------------------------------------------------------

End of Part I

---------------------------------------------------------

Part II

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 15

DATE: Tuesday, September 11, 2001
PLACE: Grand Central Station

Mark is still tired as Metro North pulls out at 3:10 PM. As usual, he
spent most of the day sleeping in the basement of the empty store where
he's been squatting for eight months. It's a dreary existence for a
thirteen-year old boy, spending the evening wandering the city looking
for handouts and the night foraging through dumpsters behind restaurants
for food. He figures he is already pretty savvy about surviving on the
streets.

But today is the second Tuesday of September, and Tuesday is the one
bright light in Mark's otherwise dark week. That's when he gets to use
the Metro Card Victor gave him to take the train north to see his pal,
his man friend, his lover.

He begins to nod off, noticing that the mood of the other passengers
today is oddly subdued. Everyone is talking, but only in hushed tones.
Mark welcomes the opportunity to catch a few more Z's.

He is awakened by a voice shouting "Patterson!" He smiles his gratitude
to the conductor who over the months has learned this is the adolescent's
stop. The man could hardly not notice the cute, dark-haired boy who took
his train every week, not notice his torn jeans, his dirty sneakers, his
lack of backpack, his faint bathless aroma, his big innocent eyes. Not
the typical visitor to this upscale section of Putnam County.

Victor isn't at the station to meet Mark this time. But that's not
unusual. He's been there on cold wintry days and when it was raining. But
today is bright and clear and Mark doesn't mind walking the 1 1/2 miles
to the big house. As he heads off down Route 311, and makes the familiar
turns, he is walking slightly more briskly than other weeks. Last Tuesday
Victor was in San Francisco on business, so it's been two weeks since
they've slept together. But Victor flew into LaGuardia this morning, at
least according to his schedule. Mark plans to ask him about his flight,
ask him about SF, but most of all ask if Victor missed Mark as much as
Mark missed him. He already knows the answer.

Mark goes to the front door and knocks. No answer. Victor must be in the
shower. Mark imagines the fragrant cologne Victor uses. Or maybe he was
tired from traveling and laid down and fell asleep. Mark smiles. Won't he
be happy to wake up and find his lover boy laying naked beside him?
Mark goes to the side door, which he knows will be unlocked, and lets
himself in. He calls, "Victor, where are you?" but not too loudly in case
he is asleep. Mark is wide awake now, bright eyed and ready for some
action. He begins to hunt. He's not in the living room. Not in his
office. Nowhere on the first floor. Mark climbs the stairs and tiptoes to
the bedroom where he expects to see this beautiful man. The bedroom where
he has experienced the most intense, most awesome feelings of his young
life. Mark feels his teenage cock stiffening in his jeans. After a
two-week hiatus, he is so horny.

But Victor isn't there either. Nor in the shower. Mark calls loudly now
but there is no response. This is the first time he has been alone in
this huge home. He knows Victor's wife won't be around. She has her girls
night out every Tuesday, shopping in the city, then seeing a Broadway
show, staying in a hotel, and returning home late Wednesday morning, long
after Victor has showered with Mark, cooked him some pancakes for
breakfast, and driven him back to the city, letting him out on the
streets before going to his office. But first, they always have a long,
lingering kiss. Then Victor tells him how he'll be counting the days 'til
next Tuesday, slips him a few dollars, and says, "Goodbye, Sweetheart."
If it weren't for his wife's love of the Great White Way, Mark wouldn't
be able to have this weekly private time with the man he loves.

Mark figures there's nothing else to do but wait. He goes to the kitchen
and makes himself a sandwich, but brings it and a can of soda back
upstairs to the bedroom. The room where every week he feels what true
love is. He thinks about their weekly trysts. It is always so romantic;
Victor has soft music playing and incense burning. Once when Mark asked
him why he didn't turn the lights off or at least dim them, Victor said
he wanted to see the boy he loved, wanted to see his beautiful smile, his
beautiful chest, his beautiful ass. Mark doesn't mind; he too enjoys
looking at his lover's strong, handsome, masculine physique. He imagines
Victor making love to his wife on this bed. Does he play the music and
burn the incense then? Does he leave the light on so he can look at her
warm face, her beautiful tits, her inviting cunt? Mark has never seen the
wife and has no way of picturing what she looks like. Victor doesn't have
a picture of her on the night stand, or on his desk,! or anywhere in the
house. But Victor must still love her; otherwise, he would get a divorce
and then Mark can move in full time and he and Victor can fuck every
night of the week! Mark allows himself these fantasies even though Victor
has given him no reason for such hope.

He finishes his sandwich and is getting restless. He starts downstairs
when the phone rings. He runs into the office and picks it up. "Victor?"
Immediately he catches himself. What if it's the wife? What's he going to
say? With great relief, he hears his lover's voice.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 16

DATE: Tuesday, September 11, 2001
PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY

"Hello, Mark. I'm glad you let yourself in. I'm sorry I wasn't there. You
must have been worried, Sweetheart."

"Where the fuck are you, Victor?"

"I'm still in San Francisco. I'm sorry but there's nothing I could do.
You know they've canceled all air traffic."

"They what? What do you mean?"

"You mean you haven't heard the news?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Victor? What news?"

"OK, listen, my boy. When we hang up, you turn on the TV in the living
room. It's all over the news, every station. You'll see why I can't fly
home for a while. I'm trying to see if I can get a train or something.
But you rustle up some dinner for yourself, and stay there tonight. I'll
be thinking about you sleeping in the bed. In our bed, Mark. And tomorrow
morning, take some money from my dresser, the top left drawer, and go
back to the city before my wife comes home. Sorry I can't make you
breakfast. I'll make it up to you next week, Sweetheart. We'll have such
a fuckin' good time next Tuesday. I promise."

Mark is teary eyed. He can't imagine being in their bed without Victor.
He knows he won't sleep anyway. Nighttime is when his young body is most
awake. He walks into the living room and switches on the TV. In minutes
he discovers the immense tragedy of the day, a disaster equal in
proportion, in his thirteen-year old mind, to not having his Victor. The
two World Trade Center towers are now a rubble of burning debris.
Thousands of people have been killed. Mark doesn't know where Victor
works in the city, but now he is glad he was in San Francisco, so far
away, but alive. The images of burning towers, planes, dust clouds,
masses of New Yorkers running, are repeated over and over again. Was he
the only person in the city who didn't know what had happened? Who slept
through it all? No wonder the passengers on the train were so somber.

Occasionally, the cameras show Mayor Guiliani, or the police
commissioner, telling everyone to stay away from Manhattan, to let the
first responders do their job. Mark thinks about the wife. Of course, she
didn't stay away. Not even a disaster like this can keep her from going
with her girl friends to the city to spend Victor's money. The bitch. But
it's just as well she did or otherwise she'd have been home when Mark
came to the house.

Mark, like everyone else in the tri-state area, everyone in America, is
now glued to the TV. He listens to long lists of cancellations. There
will be no school tomorrow, not that that changes his life at all. The
stock market closing also has no effect on him. But then he hears that
theater performances on Broadway have been canceled. Shit! Will the bitch
be coming home tonight? Mark thinks about Victor's instructions, about
spending the night. Even out in SF, he must be aware of everything. He
said it was all over the news. He must know the lights on Broadway have
gone out. But he didn't tell Mark to hightail it out of there. Maybe he
spoke to his wife. They both must have cell phones. Maybe she told him
she was staying in the city anyway. Mark doesn't know whether to relax or
worry. He wants to hear Victor's reassuring voice again.

He goes back in the office and begins looking in desk drawers. Maybe he
can find Victor's cell phone number and give him a call. Nope. Just file
folders, and paperclips, and rubber bands. A key. A desk calendar. Some
money. Lots of pens and stacks of yellow legal pads. He walks over to a
corner where Victor has his computer setup. He snoops around the office
opening cabinets and looking on shelves. One of the cabinets is locked.
Fuck. But Mark remembers the key in the desk. He hates to intrude on his
lover's privacy, but he is desperate to find an address book or pocket
organizer or something that might have his cell phone number, or the name
of the hotel where he's staying. He's sure Victor will understand. So he
takes the key to unlock the cabinet. The key that will also open his mind
to truths too painful to contemplate. The key that will change his life
forever.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 17

DATE: Tuesday, September 11, 2001
PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY

Inside the cabinet are hundreds of tapes and DVDs. He notices a section
of DVDs with his name and different dates. He takes one dated two weeks
ago and puts in the player in the living room. Shit, oh, my fuckin'
Jesus. He sits aghast as he watches himself and Victor on the flat panel
TV fucking. In the bedroom. He pauses the player and races back upstairs
and starts opening closets. In minutes, he discovers the three hidden
cameras. Shit, it's a fuckin fishbowl. He goes back down and starts
looking at the other DVDs. One for every Tuesday he was with Victor.
Images of them kissing, caressing, feeling each other's asses. Images of
them jerking each other off, sucking, and rimming. Images of them fucking
in every position. From the first week months ago when Mark was a nervous
virgin and Victor made his first tentative advances, up until two weeks
ago when the confident teenager displayed his talents in all his
hormone-raging horniness. How could Victor do this to him. Bet! ray his
trust. Mark started to feel sick. This was worse than watching the towers
fall.

Did Victor also record lovemaking with his wife? Mark doesn't really care
but he's curious to see what she looks like. He begins fumbling around at
the other DVDs. Each one has a date and a name on it. A boy's name.
There's a section for Kenny, Jack, Dean. Mark grabs the desk calendar.
All the dates for Jack are Fridays. Dean's are Sundays. Victor has a
fuckin' kid for every day of the week. Mark scoops up a handful of DVDs
and goes back into the living room. Sure enough, every boy is going at it
with Victor in bed. "In Our Bed!" Through all the sucking and fucking,
Victor keeps calling them all "Sweetheart." Now Mark isn't sick. He's
furious. The fuckin' guy he had worshipped is nothing but a slime ball.
The god's pedestal collapses as surely as the WTC. Victor should have
been in one of the towers this morning. That's what he deserves.

Suddenly through his anger, Mark focuses on one of the boys on the
screen. He knows him. Jack, the Friday boy, also lives on the streets.
Two years older, he helped Mark out on several occasions, showing him
ways to survive. But Jack hustles for tricks, and Mark hopes he never has
to resort to that. He begins running more DVDs, now concentrating on the
faces of the other boys. Some are older teenagers, and some look like his
own age. But then he recognizes the Sunday boy also. Shit. Dean is only
ten! He often comes out on the streets to hang with Mark and even helps
him beg. Sometimes he swipes food from his parents to give Mark, and even
snitches some money from his Mom's pocketbook to give him. He calls Mark
his big brother. Now, Mark is watching Victor molest this innocent little
kid, conning him into taking his cock in his mouth, and on a recent
recording, popping his virgin cherry for the first time, and all the
while telling him he is his "Sweetheart." Damn. What k! ind of a big
brother lets that happen to a little kid? But he never knew. And how does
Dean explain to his parents where he is every Sunday night?

Mark is no longer concerned about the wife. Obviously there is no wife.
Only six other boys like himself, whose illusions of Victor's undying
love are still intact. It is almost midnight, but he is wide awake now.
Nighttime is when he is most active anyway. He is nocturnal. He spends
the next several hours alternating between eating out of Victor's pantry
and fridge, and looking through more DVDs. He finds older recordings of
boys once young and fresh, now grown too old for Victor's predilections.
Discarded boys whose vibrant images continue to live on the flat screen.
The oldest recordings are on VHS tapes. Through the years, Victor's
videography equipment kept improving. The pictures got sharper, the
lights brighter, the sound quality clearer so that now you can hear every
softly murmured tender syllable as well as the screams of passion. After
a while, a second camera angle was added, and eventually a third. Mark
finds himself admiring Victor's skill in recording whil! e simultaneously
fucking the shit out of his unwitting costars.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 18

DATE: Wednesday, September 12, 2001
PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY

Around dawn, Mark begins to nod off. He doesn't feel like sleeping in
that bed, so he grabs a soft blanket, gets nude and sacks out on the
living room couch a few hours. Around noon, he gets up, takes a shower,
and slips on a bathrobe. He doesn't watch any more DVDs. He's seen
enough. Instead, he starts wandering the halls, exploring the house he's
been in so often yet knows so little about. He discovers seven other
bedrooms besides the fishbowl. Nine bathrooms, including three on the
main floor. A pool room. An exercise room. The place is a fuckin'
mansion. Still in his bathrobe, he wanders outside. He sees the garage
with an apartment upstairs for a chauffeur. He finds an empty swimming
pool and neglected tennis court. Why the hell didn't he and Victor ever
lob a few tennis balls, or play pool, or go skinny-dipping. Why was the
bed the only place Victor entertained his boys. Mark knows the answer.
That's where the cameras are.

He spends the afternoon nibbling and nosing around. The TV reports the
grounding of the airplanes will last indefinitely. He knows Victor is
stuck in SF and he doesn't give a shit. Nor does he give a shit about
Victor's privacy any more. He starts rifling through the papers in his
desk. He wants to dig up all the dirt he can. He makes a pile of the
folders he finds most interesting, and when he has an armload carries
them into the living room where he sprawls out with a pizza he has
microwaved and studies them carefully.

Around four o'clock he hears a knock on the front door. Moments later he
hears the side door open, and then a squeaky voice shouting, "Victor? Did
you hear what happened?" The squeak gets louder as it nears the living
room. "The whole city is all crazy now. Where are you Victor? I missed
you last week. I'm glad you're back home. Victor? Why don't you say
any... Who the hell are you?"

Mark realizes his bathrobe has loosened and now reveals his chest all the
way to his bush. But he doesn't give a shit. He knows this lad has seen
much more than some pubes. "Hi, Kenny."

"How do you know who I am? Who are you? Where's Victor? I want to see
Victor!" Kenny starts to shake.

"OK, now, let me guess. On Wednesdays Victor's wife has a girls night
out. She goes shopping and takes in a show and then stays in the city
'til the next day. That gives you and Victor plenty of time every week to
play games on his bed, right? Then tomorrow morning, you two will shower
together, he'll cook you some pancakes, then you'll ride with him back to
the city, and before he goes to work, he'll drop you off in your
neighborhood. But first he'll kiss you, tell you he'll be counting the
days, and say, 'Goodbye, Sweetheart.' Do I have it right, Kenny?"

"I'm not telling. Where's Victor?"

"That's ok, Kenny. You don't need to tell me anything. I know it's true.
Take a look." Mark presses the play button on the remote and suddenly
Kenny sees himself on the big flat panel TV, naked in bed with his love.

"Why are you spying on us?"

"I didn't make this video, Kenny. Victor did." Mark switches to one of
his own DVDs. Now Kenny has to watch the one true love in his life
kissing this stranger, caressing his nipples, sucking his cock, fingering
and finally fucking his asshole. Kenny cringes every time he hears Victor
call Mark his Sweetheart.

Mark turns off the DVD and hugs the younger boy, now overwhelmed in
tears. "How could Victor do that? He said I was the only boy he ever
loved."

"He told me the same thing. I'm sorry, Kenny, but I have to show you
something else." Mark again changes the DVD to show Victor has a third
boy lover, and a fourth, seven altogether. "And there were others also
before we came along. This bastard has been fucking boys for years and on
camera."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 19

DATE: Wednesday, September 12, 2001
PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY

"I hate him. I hate him. I wish he were dead."

"I know, I hate him too, Kenny. But look, Victor is going to call you
pretty soon, and we can't let him know we found out about him. Not yet.
So you have to pretend you never saw me. Never saw these DVDs."

In a while, the phone rings. Kenny takes a deep breath and picks it up.

"Victor, where are you? ... When I saw you ain't here I got real
scared.... I miss you Victor. I miss you real bad.... Please please
please come home as soon as you can.... I'll see you next Wednesday. I'll
be counting the days.... I love you."

"Don't tell me, Victor told you to rustle up some dinner for yourself,
and stay here tonight. He's going to be thinking about you sleeping in
that bed. And tomorrow morning, you can take some money from the top left
drawer, and go back to the city."

"The fuckin' bastard."

They go into the kitchen, and Mark prepares a decent hot supper for
himself and Kenny. As they eat, he learns that Kenny recently turned
eleven, that his family pretty much ignores him. On Wednesdays, they
think he's sleeping over at a friend's house. He thought so too! Now
Kenny wants to call the cops. But Mark says there's no rush. It's better
to wait and figure everything out.

After some bowls of ice cream, they go back to the living room and Mark
asks, "Kenny, take a good look at the other boys. Do you know any of
them?" Having gotten over his initial shock, Kenny can now look at the
faces on the screen. Sure enough, he recognizes Thursday (Hump, 14) and
Saturday (Washington, 12) from his school. "Come with me, Kenny. Get the
Metro Card Victor gave you."

"How did you know he... Never mind."

Down in the city, Mark hunts up Jack and briefly explains the situation.
Then the three go looking for little Dean. "Hey, Big Brother!" Mark hates
to break the little kid's heart, but he has to. The four of them take the
subway to Kenny's neighborhood and locate Hump and Washington. Then all
six take the Metro back to Victor's house. They spend the night looking
at DVDs, comparing experiences, and calling Victor all the names they can
think of.

DATE: Thursday, September 13, 2001, early morning

Again Kenny wants to call the police and several others agree. But Jack,
the oldest, says no. As a hustler, he's had run-ins with cops. "They
won't help. The justice system will screw us all over, and we won't get
anything out of it. Look, Guys, we're sitting on a gold mine."

Dean stands up and wiggles his ass. "Yeah, it's worth a million." The
others all laugh.

"No," says Hump, "Jack meant this pile of DVDs is our gold mine."

Jack goes on. "Well, that's true, but Dean is also right. Our sex is
worth a lot and we've been giving it to that shithead for free. We should
make him pay. Aw, shit, what's that word for something you own that's
worth something. Assets, that's it. Our asses are our assets, hehe. And
we can take control of our assets to get what we want."

"Like a gold chain?" "A tattoo?" "More ice cream?" "I want a dirt bike."
"I want to go to Disney."

"Look, Guys, if we're smart, we won't just squander our assets on cheap
stuff. Make sure if you give something that valuable, you get good value
for it. Look around you. Victor's got to be worth millions. If we do this
right, we can milk this gravy train for years to come without involving
the police."

"OK. So how do we do that? What's the plan?"

Washington says, "This is getting complicated. We need a lawyer or
something."

Jack tells them he knows one. "A public defender named Goldberg. He kept
me from going to juvey last year."

"What did he cost?"

"A fuck." Everyone laughs. "Yep, that was a fee I could afford. And it
was worth it." Now the other boys are beginning to see what he meant
about using their assets.

"Come on, Jack, call him up. Call him right now."

"You realize it's, uh, not even four? Let's give him a chance to get to
his office. Come on, let's get ourselves some breakfast."

"Do we gotta have pancakes? I suddenly hate pancakes."

As the sun rises, the boys use the various bathrooms to shower off. They
explore the house. In the fishbowl, Kenny discovers the motion detector
and the hidden microphones. Directly under the fishbowl, next to the
office, Washington finds the studio full of high-tech equipment that lets
Victor see the three images simultaneously and with a control panel, fade
from one camera angle to another, and zoom. He can control sound too, and
in just a few minutes produce a professional quality DVD.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 20

DATE: Thursday, September 13, 2001, morning
PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY

"Hello, is this Mr. Goldberg's secretary?... Tell him it's Jack. I gotta
talk to him immediately.... Yeah, I'll hold.... Hi, Goldberg.... No, I
ain't in any trouble. Just the opposite. After you kept me out of Juvey,
I turned my life around. Now I live with this great foster family. And
everything is cool.... Yeah, thanks. I knew you'd be pleased.... Yeah,
well here's why I called. You see they're all away today, and I got the
house to myself. That's how much they trust me. And I got to thinking I
owe it all to you, Goldberg, and I thought maybe I could show you how
much I appreciate it. You know, like last time, if you know what I mean.
Please come, Goldberg." Jack gave him the address and hung up.

"Is he gonna come?" Jack nods. "When?"

"He'll be here in an hour. I heard him tell his secretary to cancel all
his Thursday appointments. That something came up."

"Yeah, I know what came up. His fuckin' dick!"

The boys buzz open the electric gate and the attorney drives up to the
door.

"Hi, Goldberg, come in."

"Wow, this is quite a big house, Jack."

"Yeah, I'm so lucky. And it's all because of you, Goldberg. Come on,
let's go right to my bedroom. I can't wait any longer."

"Neither can I, Jack." The lawyer follows his former client up the
stairs, unbuttoning his shirt as they enter the fishbowl.

"Goldberg, let me take your clothes off. Oh, yeah. You are so fuckin
macho," he lies. Soon, Goldberg has Jack naked as well and begins
slathering him with kisses. He moves down, off his face to his chest,
licking each teenage nipple, then on to his abs. He takes Jack's cock in
his mouth and sucks like an Oreck. "Oh, yeah, Goldie, you make me so
fuckin' horny." The man turns Jack over and begins licking his ass,
burying his tongue deep in his chute, while cooing sweet moans. He tells
Jack he can't hold it any longer. But first he stops to put on a condom.
Then he pushes his cock into the spit-lubed hole and fucks away. Both man
and boy are screaming, while downstairs in the living room other boys are
exchanging high-fives and covering their mouths, trying not to laugh out
loud.

After a while, the two emerge from the fishbowl, both still naked. "Come
on, Goldberg, I want to show you something down in the living room.
You're going to love this." Grinning in anticipation the Harvard-trained
attorney follows along like a puppy.

"Who the hell are all these kids?"

"They're my friends, Goldberg. And you're going to be their friend, also.
You sit right there between Washington and Hump."

The two boys pull Goldberg's naked ass down on to the couch. "That's a
nice cut cock you got there, Mister. It looks a little cummy. You want a
tissue?" The boys are laughing. Kenny walks in with a DVD in his hand and
puts in the player. "Sit back, Mister, relax. You're going to love this
show." Little Dean pushes the play button. Goldberg is shocked to see
himself and Jack undressing each other on the bed. The sounds of their
tryst are now accompanied by a running critique from the young audience.
"He looks like a good kisser, Jack." "Hey, I wish he'd suck my nipples
like that." "Man, could I use a blow job right now." "Hey, look at that.
I bet you're the best ass-kisser in the whole law firm. Ain't that right,
Goldberg?" The DVD ends and all the boys applaud.

"What do you want from me?" Goldberg says meekly.

Jack explains, "We need you to write up a contract."

"Who are the parties?"

"We kids are the party of the first part." Dean shouts that he loves
parties. "And a man named Victor is the party of the second part."
Slowly, the boys explain what the contract has to cover. Kenny brings
Goldberg some pens and yellow legal pads from the desk so he can take
notes.

Mark hands Goldberg a folder. "Here's some stuff you may want to know
about Victor. His full name. His home address, well that's right here.
His office address, phone number, fax number. Here's his social security
number. This is a list of his bank accounts. His stock portfolio. This
one shows all the properties he owns."

A squeaky voice says, "Those are his assets." Goldberg looks at Kenny and
realizes these boys are no dummies.

"But don't think you're going to get your greedy hands on any of that
money, Mister." Hump looks at him threateningly. "Your only fee is our
silence."

"Yes," adds Washington, "However, if we're really satisfied with the job
you do for us, you might just earn yourself a bonus from our assets."
With that, all the boys stand up, drop trou and moon their attorney.

That array of beautiful young butts is all the motivation Goldberg needs.
"OK, Let me get started. Is there a desk I can use? And a computer?"
Little Dean takes his hand and leads him to the office. Jack comes in a
minute later with Goldberg's clothes. "Oh, yeah, I guess I should get
dressed again."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 21

DATE: Thursday, September 13, 2001
PLACE: Victor's home, Patterson, NY

Hump reminds the lawyer, "You realize, Mister, if there's any clause
missing in that contract, any loophole, then the New York Bar will get
the first copy of your DVD. No pressure, though."

Once he's wearing his jurist hat, Goldberg forgets about everything else.
Throughout the day, Goldberg combs over the records. He interviews all
the boys. He throws around terms like "emancipated minors" and "statutory
rape." He uses his password to get into his law firm's LexisNexis
account. In the early afternoon, Jack brings him a cup of coffee. "You
know, Jack, this would work a lot better if you boys were a corporation."
He explains the advantages. "I can draw up articles of corporation for
you as well as the contract. We'll also need a deed transfer, and a few
other documents." Jack listens and agrees. "Talk to the others and come
up with a name for your corporation."

After a while, all six boys come into the office. "We got a name,
Mister." Goldberg looks at them. "Boy Power House." Goldberg grins and
thinks to himself, That's for sure.

DATE: Sunday, September 16, 2001

Every night, one of the boys talks to Victor on the phone. Finally on
Sunday evening, he tells Dean he just got to New York and will be home
soon. Dean shouts, "Oh thank god! I was so worried." He's crying. "I
can't wait for you to hold me."

About 11, Victor walks in the front door. The house is dark. "I'm home."
Dean comes running downstairs in his underwear. He lets Victor pick him
up. Lets him kiss him on the mouth. Lets him grope at his sweet ass.
"Come on, Sweetheart, let's go to our bedroom." He carries Dean up the
stairs snuggling his young face. "It's been so long. I've been counting
the days." The room in pitch black. Victor, ever mindful of the cameras,
says "Let's turn on the lights. I know you always like to have the lights
on."

"Yes, I do, but first let's take off all our clothes. When we turn on the
lights, I want to see your big handsome naked body. Please, Victor,
please." Victor strips off all his clothes and from the rustling of
fabric, thinks Dean is doing so also. Victor turns on the wall switch.
Around the room sit six of his boys. Dean is now fully dressed. Victor
alone stands naked. On the floor is a big pile of DVDs.

He starts to put his pants back on, but Kenny grabs them. "Sit down on
the bed, you son of a bitch and listen."

Jack speaks for the group, "You see before you the board of directors of
the Boy Power House Inc. From now on you work for us, as our business
manager. Number one, you will sign the deed of this house over to the
corporation. We've each already selected our own bedrooms. Number two,
you will move into the apartment over the garage. That will be your only
compensation for this job, so we suggest you keep your other job
downtown. You'll need the money. Number three, you will set up a bank
account for each one of us and deposit $3000 a month in each one. That's
for our college fund. Oh, you don't think we're smart enough for college?
Well, we all plan on going, Victor. You see, we're thinking about the
future, and we know there will come a time when our talented asses won't
be enough to get by in this world. So number four, you hire a tutor to
teach us right. The board will get final say on all hirings. We also need
a housekeeper to clean and do laundry, and a decent cook. ! We've all
eaten your pancakes but we doubt you can cook anything else and growing
boys need to eat a lot. Last, when Walsh, the other boy you're screwing,
arrives tomorrow, if he wants to join us he gets the same privileges. If
you behave yourself and do what you're told nobody else will see these
DVDs and tapes."

Hump takes the floor. "Now Victor, we all think you're just a big pile of
dog shit, and as Business Manager we will start calling you BM." Giggles
around the room. "But we also agree that you gave one hell of a lay and
we admit it felt kinda good, so if you're extra special nice you might
even get to fuck one of us once in a while, for old times sake, but only
when we want it."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 22

DATE: Monday, September 17, 2001
PLACE: BPH

The mood certainly lightens on Monday with the arrival of boy seven.
Innocent Walsh was cast in a different mold from the other six
world-hardened lads. Even Kenny and Dean, just months older than Walsh,
are years more street-savvy than this suburbanite. But all their icy
anger and steel resentment seem to melt in the glow of Walsh's warm
naivete.

Just about four in the afternoon, a car pulls up in front of the house.
The boys inside watch as a man and a small boy climb out. They stay out
of sight, but within earshot, as Victor opens the front door.

"Hi, Walsh. How's my Sweetheart? Hi, Mike."

"Hi, Victor. Walsh really missed you when you were in California. You
must have had quite a time getting back home with the planes grounded."

"Yes, but I'm home now."

Walsh grabs Victor's hand. "I'm so happy you're back. I was counting the
days."

The man knelt down. "You going to give Daddy a kiss before I leave? Yeah,
good boy. You have fun with Victor and I'll see you tomorrow morning.
Bye, Victor."

"Bye, Mike." When the car pulls away, Victor says, "There are some people
here who want to meet you, Walsh."

"Wow, really? Cool!" Walsh darts inside and sees six boys lined up in the
foyer. "Hi. Are you Victor's friends?"

"Hi, Walsh, I'm Jack. Let's all go into the living room and get
acquainted."

The boys need to break the news to Walsh. He has to know the truth. But
now they're concerned about breaking his tender heart. They're all
wondering what's the gentlest way to proceed. But chipper Walsh beats
them to the punch.

"Victor, are you going to let these boys play with us in our bed? That
will be fun. I bet they'd like that. Jack, do you know what Victor does
with me each week. He..."

"Yes, I do know, Walsh."

"You do?"

Hump says, "In fact, we all know. We've seen what he does with you."

"Really, how?"

Kenny presses the play button. "Here, look at the TV with us, Walsh."

"Wow. That's me and you, Victor, hehe. I didn't know you was making a
movie, hehe. That's cool. You got any more movies?" Walsh sat there
laughing as he watched each boy getting his ass fucked on TV. "Wow. You
told me I was the only boy you played with, Victor. You fibbed, hehe."

Washington asks, "Walsh, that man who drove you here was your father?"

"Yep, he brings me to Victor every Monday. Then tomorrow, Victor will
drive me home on his way to work. I gotta be there in time to catch the
school bus."

"Does your Daddy know what you and Victor do?"

"I think he does, but once when I tried to tell him about our games, he
said he didn't want to hear. He said he just wanted us both to have fun.
But you know, what's weird? When I was a little kid, one time my parents
caught me with my uncle Arnold. We was both naked. We wasn't doing
nothing, just layin' there without no clothes on. But they got mad. Dad
told his brother to get out and never come back and never see me again.
Now why was they so mad at my Uncle and not at you, Victor?"

Mark asks, "What's you last name, Walsh?"

"Benningham."

"Your Dad builds buildings, doesn't he?"

"Yep."

"Guys, I know why Walsh's father doesn't get angry with Victor. When
Michael Benningham started doing contracting, Victor invested in his
company. Now Victor sends a lot of business his way. Multimillion dollar
contracts. I saw his name a lot when I was going through Victor's papers.
In return for all those favors, he lets Victor have his way with Walsh.
What's a little hanky panky between friends! Ain't that right, you
Bastard!

"Walsh, let me tell you how things have changed here. We all live here
full time now. And if you want to, you can live here too. You won't be
able to play with Victor too much, unless he's extra special nice. But
we'd all like to play with you. Not just sex games either. Real games."

"Can we use the pool room and the swimming pool?"

"You know about those?"

"Yeah, sometimes I sneak around and find stuff. Sorry, Victor, hehe.
Sure, I'd love to live here with you guys. That will be cool."

"Dean, go show Walsh his bedroom." The two youngsters race upstairs. "OK,
Victor, you're going to get on the phone and call that son of a bitch who
pretends to be a father. You're going to tell him that Walsh is going to
stay here with you for a while. I know he won't mind. He likes those
contracts too much."

---------------------------------------------------------

End of Part II

---------------------------------------------------------

Part III

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 23

DATE: September-November, 2001
PLACE: BPH

The next few weeks for Walsh are like heaven. But the boys make them a
living hell for Victor. They keep adding new demands. His suppliers fill
the larder with an assortment of foods, and the seven boys empty it just
as quickly.

Each boy hangs over Victor's shoulder as he orders complete wardrobes of
new clothes online. "No, I hate that color. That's a nerdy style." Happy
to have the rags on their backs a few weeks ago, the boys are suddenly
fashion connoisseurs.

Mrs. Bagshaw is at first delighted when Victor asks her to come in five
days a week. She is gratified that the beautiful big house is once more
buzzing with activity. She is also pleased with the generous wages she is
now given. She laughs as she tries to go about her duties while seven
rambunctious boys fly through the rooms. She knows it is not her place to
question why all these lads have suddenly invaded Victor's home, nor why
he has taken refuge in the cramped chauffeur's quarters. Not that she
really has much time to think about such things. These residents are
nothing like the fastidious Henry, and there's constant vacuuming,
dusting, and mopping; making up seven beds every morning; cleaning nine
bathrooms for boys who see no need to perfect their aim. Then there's the
laundry! It seems there is always a mountain of clothes waiting.

On November 17, Walsh runs by the laundry room and finds her lying on the
floor. At the emergency room, it is diagnosed as a massive heart attack.
Even though the boys send her dozens of handwritten get-well cards and
pictures, and Victor brings her flowers every day, she only holds on for
two weeks before dying at age 56.

Now a succession of housekeepers is hired in a desperate attempt to find
a second Mrs. Bagshaw. Most last only one or two days before they storm
out, often screaming. They can't keep up with all the laundry, all the
unmade beds, all the filthy bathrooms, all the muddy footprints.

Nor can a cook be found to satisfy the discriminating palates of these
lads, many of whom used to eat out of dumpsters.

Then there are the constant repairs. Now that they own the home, the boys
want to protect their investment and think every broken banister rail,
fuzzy TV set, dripping toilet bowl, or cracked cue stick, should be
repaired immediately. As hard as Victor pleads, plumbers and repairmen
always seem to need at least two weeks' notice. Outside, the boys also
want the landscaping trimmed, the tennis court groomed, the pool cleaned.

Victor realizes what he's gotten himself into and wonders if there's any
way he can get them off his back. But, there's nothing he can do about
it. The evidence against him is enough to send him to prison for several
lifetimes. And he's heard how child predators are treated by other
inmates. Of course, he is already a prisoner, living in his tiny cell
over the garage and taking orders from seven unreasonable wardens.

However, there are rare moments that make his new position tolerable,
occasions when the boys seem to actually be satisfied with something he
does. For instance, when each one wants his bedroom a different color,
Victor hires painters who cater to their color choices. One by one, as
each room is completed, its occupant orders Victor to the fishbowl where
he is rewarded with a young piece of ass, duly recorded on three cameras.

The most difficult task for Victor right now is hiring the tutor. Many
applicants answer his ad, but most never make it past the first
interview, where they are grilled by all the students. A few prospects
are hired conditionally, but never last more than a week. "Look," Jack
explains to Victor, trying to be patient. "We're not stupid. If we don't
learn, it's not our fault. It's the tutor. So if we don't get something,
they gotta make damn sure they find a better way to teach us." Victor
keeps placing the Personal Tutor ad in the papers.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 24

DATE: Monday, November 5, 2001
PLACE: Jordan Academy, Patterson, NY

The Assistant Chancellor is sitting at his desk staring out his window at
the football team practice. Now an administrator at this exclusive
private school, Maxwell is well remunerated, but he misses being in the
classroom. He remembers how wonderful it was to give a student a pat on
the back, just to touch them. Now he has to settle for seeing them in the
hall, on the field, but even that gets him aroused.

Usually when he is stimulated by all this eye candy, he can retire to his
office to jerk. But last week, he ducked into the bathroom to get his
rocks off. He realized he wasn't alone, so he slipped into a stall and
tried to quietly masturbate. As he sat, he heard noises from the stall at
the end. Obviously two people were going at it, thinking they were alone.
Maxwell decided to forego his own pleasure and as an administrator do a
little discrete investigation. He slipped out quietly and stood by a
bulletin board down the hall pretending to read the notices. He
speculated about which boys might be in there. Eventually Carl, a junior
came out. Ah, lovely Carl, Maxwell thought. Captain of the LaCrosse team.
Was he the cocksucker or the suckee? Did he have another jock in there?
Some poor freshman? Let's wait and see who else emerges. But a couple
minutes later, it was not another student who comes out. It was Kennedy,
the head of the Math department. He strolled up to Maxw! ell and pointed
to one of the notices about an upcoming Math competition. "You should
come watch our boys. I know we're going to tromp St. Agnes." Hmm. Maxwell
would never have picked Kennedy as a predator. He decided he wanted to
learn more.

Today, he calls Carl into his office. Maxwell sits on top of his desk
trying in vain to look kid-friendly. "Listen, I know what you were doing
last week in the bathroom with a teacher."

"Oh, please, Dr. Maxwell, don't fire Mr. Wilson. It wasn't his fault. I
led him on. I know I'm sick. But I really wanted to find out what a man's
dick tasted like. You're not going to tell my folks are you?" Maxwell
sits dumbfounded. First Kennedy, now Wilson too? "Look, Dr. Maxwell. I
always liked you. You're a neat guy. I see you in the stands at LaCrosse
meets. Actually, I think I always had a crush on you." Shit, now the kid
is playing me. Damn he's good. "I think you sort of like me also." Carl
points to Maxwell's bulging pants. "I could help you take care of that if
you want. And, uh, if you promise not to fire Wilson or tell my parents."
The promise is made. But then Maxwell hustles the boy out of his office
before he does something he might regret.

That something is what he plays over and over in his head for the next
hour. The door is locked. The pants are unzipped. And the bulge is taken
care of by a phantom Carl. Maxwell closes his eyes and reaches his hands
out to touch the phantom's bobbing head, to run his fingers through its
curly hair, to massage those invisible athletic shoulders. "Yes," he
whispers to his empty office, "you are such a fine boy." Maxwell wipes up
the mess he made and picks up yesterday's Times, anything to get his mind
off Carl. As he glances at the the education section of the help wanteds
in the Times, his eye catches an interesting offer. A request for a
private tutor at a home not far from Jordan Academy. Gee, he thinks to
himself, here's a chance to be a real teacher again. To have close
personal contact with a student. Maxwell answers the ad and is told to
come by for an interview.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 25

DATE: November, 2001 - February, 2002
PLACE: BPH

At Maxwell's interview, the boys detect that this one seems to have a
genuine fondness for them, and their intuition is correct. He begins
coming by every afternoon when he leaves JA. Patiently, he works with
each of the boys. He makes the lessons fun and takes time to make sure
they get it. When they do, he gives them hugs. He feels invigorated,
finally teaching again.

The boys are excited. For the first time, they are discovering the joy of
learning. They decide to make sure this one doesn't get away. So one day
Hump asks him, "Can you please come up to my bedroom, Dr. Maxwell? I have
some questions about that assignment you gave me on American Government."
He leads him to the fishbowl and closes the door. It doesn't take much
persuading to get Maxwell out of his pants. An hour later he is sitting
in the living room watching the whole scene on TV, from his first tender
kisses on the boy's luscious lips, to the raunchy blow job, to Maxwell's
final pounding fuck of Hump's young asshole! He is now committed. He will
continue to tutor them, and do it without pay. And, the boys promise, if
he continues to do a good job he can have an occasional time in the
fishbowl with one of the boys, but it will be the boy who decides. It's
an arrangement Maxwell is all too happy to accept.

Using his Academy stationery, Maxwell requests the boys' school records,
such as they are, sent to him. Unbeknownst to the other administrators at
Jordan, the exclusive private school now has seven new students, and for
New York State, they are no longer truants. These boys have told him they
all intend to go to college, and for that they will need records that are
above suspicion.

As fall turns to winter, Maxwell begins to find it too much for him to
give them all their lessons at different levels in only a few hours each
afternoon. He begins to show up on Saturday and Sunday as well to work
with his seven amazing pupils. But finally, he admits to himself and to
them, he needs help. He tells them he knows of two other teachers from
Jordan, who he's sure will be willing to teach under the same terms of
employment. By the time of midyear exams, Kennedy and Wilson have joined
Maxwell, riding with him from JA every afternoon, tutoring their charges
and getting their rewards. In some schools, when a student does well, the
teacher rewards him by sticking a Happy Face in the kid's notebook. It
works a little different at BPH. When a teacher does well, the student
rewards HIM by letting him stick his happy face in the kid's Happy Ass!

No longer having to pay tutoring fees, Victor is now told he needs to
equip a state-of-the-art classroom with Apple computers for everyone. And
the three tutors can request any supplies they need from Science lab
equipment to textbooks to musical instruments to Saturday field trips.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 26

DATE: December, 2001
PLACE: BPH

Every week it seems, BPH has to hire a new cook. None of the probationers
can satisfy the tastes of seven different fast-growing adolescents and
the situation is getting desperate. "Look at me," Hump declares at a
weekly meeting of the Corporate Board. "I'm withering away to nothing.
I'm a beanpole, a fuckin' shadow of my former self! Victor's got to find
someone fast before I disappear altogether!"

A small voice mumbles, "My Uncle Arnold's a cook."

Everybody turns and stares at Walsh. Then suddenly the room erupts: "Why
didn't you tell us before?" "Is he any good?" "Where does he live?" "Does
he like kids?"

Hump says, "Wait a minute, he's the uncle that your father told to get
out. You don't have any contact with him."

"Oh, hehe, we e-mail each other all the time. Mom and Dad don't know. But
I love my Uncle. He's cool. He was always nice to me. I used to call him
on his cell phone when my parents wasn't around. But I think it made him
sad to hear my voice, 'cause he couldn't see me, so I stopped calling
him. I never told him 'bout Victor either, 'cause that would make him sad
too since he couldn't even lie naked with me. So anyway he lives in
Milwaukee now." The boys tell Walsh to call Uncle Arnold. "What should I
tell him?"

"The truth. Tell him you're visiting a rich friend of your Daddy's and he
needs a personal cook."

After moving to Milwaukee, Arnold went through a series of restaurants,
no job ever lasting too long. Fortunately his landlord didn't harass him
about the rent. But what Arnold really longed for was a younger boy,
someone Walsh's age. He was delighted when his nephew phoned. Now he
wouldn't have to settle for a surrogate. He was going to see Walsh
himself.

When Arnold arrives, he sees only Walsh, Victor and Kenny who pretends to
be Victor's son. They show him the kitchen and the pantry. He whips up a
quick lunch for them, and all three declare it delicious. Victor says
Kenny was going to have a party tonight. They were going to have pizza
delivered but maybe Arnold could make a special dinner instead. So Arnold
cooks a scrumptious Italian dinner for seven ravenous boys, who then rave
about the food. After dessert, Walsh comes into the kitchen. "Hey, Uncle,
those dishes can wait, hehe. Come on, I want to show you my bedroom. It's
so cool."

"Well, Nephew, that's an offer I can't refuse."

He follows his brother's adorable son into the fishbowl. They laugh about
the time Walsh's parents saw them naked. "Come on, Uncle, let's get naked
again, hehe."

"Well, that's another offer your Uncle Arnold can't refuse." They both
strip and Arnold finds he can't keep his hands off the boy. He also finds
he can't keep his cock out of Walsh. All his dreams are coming true.

Kenny calls through the door. "Walsh, can you bring your uncle down to
the living room. We want to discuss his employment." Walsh and Arnold
quickly get dressed and go downstairs, the uncle trying desperately not
to look like the cat who just swallowed the canary.

Victor has been sent into the kitchen to wash dishes. Jack speaks for all
the boys. "Arnold, I'm afraid we weren't totally honest with you. You
see, we're not visiting Kenny. We all live here. And this isn't Victor's
house, it's ours. But the good news is we all love your cooking, and that
says a lot. We want you to come and cook for us full time. Now, I see
from your face that you might be agreeable to that, but before you give
us your answer, you have to see something. Dean, press the start button."
As the drama unfolds on the screen, the smile disappears from Arnold's
face, his knees start to give way, and he slumps into the nearest chair.
"OK, now here's the deal, Arnold. You will cook three meals a day for us,
seven days a week. You will have complete control of the kitchen. Victor
will buy anything you want, food, supplies, appliances, anything, as long
as you keep delivering fantastic meals like you did tonight. In return,
you won't draw a salary, but you will get! your room and board here, plus
our silence. Oh, yes, also, when Walsh decides it's a good idea, he might
take you back to that room to make another movie. You might even do it
some time with some of the rest of us. Now that, I think, really is an
offer you can't refuse."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 27

DATE: Spring 2002
PLACE: BPH

The snows are melting. The sleds are back in the attic. There won't be
any more ski trips to Vermont until next year. The boys are starting to
shuck all the great warm clothes they got for Christmas in favor of
shorts and t shirts, even though there's still a chill in the air.

Kenny and Walsh are outside horsing around on their old skate boards,
rehoning their skills after the long winter. They have helmets on,
because they're not that stupid. But with adolescence comes a large dose
of recklessness. They're working on their Ollies when Kenny decides to
attempt a railslide on the stairs leading down to the pool. Of course, he
isn't ready, lands on a lingering patch of ice, and splits his lip open.
Victor drives him to the ER while Walsh holds the ice pack on his mouth
and the two keep laughing about it. Battle scars are an expected part of
a male's growing up. The receptionist takes down the insurance
information and asks a lot of difficult questions. She's obviously
suspicious about who this boy is to this man, and whether it really was
an accident. The doctor on call stitches up the damage and gives Kenny a
cursory examination. Eyes, ears, BP. He x-rays chest and limbs in case
there are fractures, but declares the boy fit to reenter the world! .
Victor is relieved the doctor didn't examine Kenny's anus. Back at the
house, Kenny is the brunt of a lot of jokes. But that evening a board
meeting is called. They can't be going to the hospital and face nosy
staff whenever a medical condition arises. They need to hire a house
doctor.

Dean tells the group about his pediatrician. He'd been going to Dr.
Stevenson since he can't remember. He gave him his baby shots, filled out
his forms for school, checked his sniffles and rashes and allergies.
Every year Doc gave him a physical exam. Stuck lights in his ears and
eyes, pounded on his chest, listened through his stethoscope and felt
around his tummy. At the end, Doc Stevenson always examined his peepee
and his nuts real close. "When I was about 7, Doc said he was going to do
a test on my teskles to see if they could make seeds yet. Then he sucked
my peepee. The next year he sucked it again and said he needed to do a
DRE to check my prospate. He stuck his finger up my ass. It felt so
weird. Then last January he sucked me again and then said 'it's time for
the DRE, Dean.' So I bent over. Well, I think he noticed my a-hole was
different. He musta knowed someone was fuckin' me. 'Cause by then I was
comin' here to Victor's house each week. All Doc said was he ! was goin'
to feel my prospate a better way. Then he took out his cock and he fucked
me. Then I knew this wasn't really the way for doctors to check little
kids."

Victor is told to call Dr. Stevenson and tell him about Kenny's stitches.
In this exclusive area, Doc still makes house calls. Over the years, he
needed these well-heeled clients to afford his hefty alimony and child
support payments. Victor sends him up into the bedroom, the one with the
cameras, and Doc examines Kenny's lip, declaring it had healed well. He
cuts the stitches. "While I'm here I might as well give you a thorough
exam." He runs through the standard routine: stethoscope, heart, eyes,
ears, lungs, back, belly. "OK, now I need to check your testicles to see
if they can make seeds yet." Doc bends down and sucks Kenny's eleven-year
old penis, until it's hard and Kenny is bucking in the bed in a dry
orgasm. "Yes, my boy. That was very good. Your 'man parts' are in fine
working order. I bet the next time I see you, you'll be spouting semen.
Won't that be nice? Now I have to check your prostate." Doc tells Kenny
to stand beside the bed and lean over, while he put! s on his latex
glove. However when he sees that Kenny has been fucked, he opts for the
'better' prostate exam. He pounds away, fucking the shit out of his young
patient. "Wow, kid, you got a great asshole!"

"Better than mine?" Doc pulls out with a loud pop and turns to see a
familiar little boy coming out of the closet.

"Dean, what are you doing here?"

"I'm Kenny's friend. You didn't answer my question, Doc. Is Kenny's
asshole better than mine?"

"Well, I'm not sure if it is or not, Dean. It's been a long time since
your last exam. But if you want me to, I can check your prostate too
while I'm here." Dean pulls off his pants, stands beside Kenny and leans
over. The two boys smile at each other while Doc fucks Dean. Doc is now
in oblivion, thinking he has entered pediatric heaven. Kenny sneaks out
of the fishbowl with Doc's pants and underwear. When Doc finally explodes
in little Dean's asshole, the two of them are hollering like banshees.
Doc suddenly comes down to earth.

"Shit, what if Kenny's Dad heard us? Where is Kenny?"

"Let's go find him!"

"Where the hell are my pants? I can't go out in the hall like this! What
if Kenny's Dad sees me."

"He won't. I promise. Come with me." Doc has no choice but to follow his
little friend bare-assed down the stairs into the living room.

"Hi, Doc," Kenny says, wearing Doc's big pants. "These are all my
friends. They was just looking at my lip and said you done a swell job.
They think you're a super doc, Doc." Doc tries to hide his private parts
but by now Dean has him by one hand and Washington by the other. "We was
just about to watch TV. We all like those medical shows, you know. Maybe
you can explain some of the things we see the doctor doing on this show."
There it is, all on DVD, the two naked boys, the half-naked doctor, the
blow job, the two anal penetrations. "OK, Doc, so here's the deal. One,
you give us all physicals twice a year, and make sure we get any
prescriptions we need. Two, whenever we call, you come running. We ain't
going to the ER ever again. Now, if you behave yourself and do what
you're told nobody else will see this DVD. And if you're extra special
nice you might even get to fuck one of your young patients once in a
while, but only when we want it. And you don't have to bother se! nding a
bill for treating me today. You already got paid. Oh, yeah, here are your
pants back. They're kinda too big for me."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 28

DATE: April 2002
PLACE: BPH

The kitchen is running smoothly. The boys eat like kings. Their classes
are also going great. They actually love learning. Once in a while Doc
gives them a lesson on health, and Goldberg gives them a lesson on law.
All the kids are now on grade level for their age. Soon the teachers will
start summer vacation and the students are going to miss them.

The boys kept their promise to the staff to reward meritorious service.
The three teachers, Arnold, Doc, and Goldberg, even Victor, are all
granted occasional visits to the fishbowl. They know every sex session is
recorded and added to the inculpating collection, but it's a small price
to pay for a beautiful piece of young male ass.

Surprisingly, the most frequent invitee to the fishbowl is Wilson.
Surprising, that is, to Wilson. Next to veterans Maxwell and Kennedy, he
feels totally inadequate teaching. He never knows how to get a lesson
across. Back at the Academy, he is still on probation until he can
demonstrate to his department head that he's capable of more than a
half-assed lesson. Yet, here at BPH, the boys tell him over and over his
wonderful work deserves a reward. He remembers when he once played Little
League, the coach praised his punctuality because it was the only
positive thing he could say about the spastic kid. Wilson knows now, as
he knew then, he is being pandered to. But why?

The reason is simple: the boys have already learned what LaCrosse captain
Carl discovered months ago, that Wilson delivers one hell of a fuck! What
skills he lacks in the classroom are outweighed by his prowess in the
bedroom. A session that starts after dinner can go nonstop well into the
wee hours. There have even been board sessions with lively debates about
whose turn it is to bed the amazing Wilson. A rotation schedule had to be
adopted just to keep peace.

So the household is running smoothly now. However, the house itself is
going to pot. The rooms are dirty. Laundry piles up. Things are broken.
The grounds are unkempt. Everyone complains. The condition of the house
is the main topic of discussion at the weekly board meeting.

Arnold is usually too busy in the kitchen to know what else is happening
in the house. But he hears complaints. One evening, he tells Jack he
knows someone who might be able to solve some of their problems. His
former landlord in Milwaukee.

"Nelson often flew from coast to coast, so he liked having someone in the
upstairs apartment to housesit. He didn't need the money and was never
keen on collecting my rent. Which was great for me since my income was
erratic. Nelson was in charge of over a hundred employees, giving orders
every day. He confided to me he hated it. Couldn't wait to retire. All
those years of giving orders to others took their toll on Nelson. He
wanted to take orders, not give them. We're both gay and played around a
bit, but Nelson had these fantasies about submissiveness, and I wasn't
comfortable playing a dominant role. But he did my laundry and kept my
apartment tidy. He got a charge out of cleaning my toilet. Whenever I
mentioned something broken, Nelson repaired it himself, loving the
opportunity to do manual labor.

"Often the restaurant hired underage kids as dishwashers or busboys, kids
who were all too willing to come home with me for some bed play. If I
couldn't get a kid at work for free, I picked up a professional toy boy.
Eventually I found a pimp who kept me supplied with talented adolescents.
Of course, I couldn't afford them, but Nelson was always willing to pay
the fee, even though he only took a minor role in the proceedings. You
see, no matter who the kid was, Nelson seized the opportunity. He dropped
in and asked them to tell him to do things. The boys loved it. For
instance, one told him to run down the street and buy him a carton of
cigarettes. Nelson asked what brand and was about to set off, when the
boy said to go barefoot. So Nelson took off his shoes and socks and went
running out to the convenience store. Another boy told him to strip naked
and do the chicken dance. Another made him watch while he fucked me and
then told him to felch my ass. I remember one who ! always had Nelson lay
naked on the floor to worship his feet while the kid and I got into the
main action. The boys really got turned on watching a guy around 40 do
their bidding, and afterwards I reaped the benefit by having a
super-horny partner. Often while I was fucking a boy, he'd be fucking
Nelson. Nelson gave them money and clothes and jewelry and electronics,
and even new underwear to replace the old pair they were wearing.

"After I moved here, I learned Nelson did retire at 43 with a fat
pension. I know he'd be willing to be handyman and housekeeper both, and
won't take pay for doing it."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 29

DATE: April 2002
PLACE: BPH

Under the circumstances, there is no need to entrap Nelson in the
fishbowl when he arrives. Discovering what the job entails, he begins to
giggle like a little kid Christmas morning who discovered Santa had
brought him the one present he'd prayed for. No, make that seven
presents. Seven beautiful young men whom he can serve with all his heart,
all his time, and all his wallet. He says he could also be gardener,
chauffeur, whatever. He wants the boys to treat him as their "slave." He
eschews the bedroom they show him opting instead to set up quarters in a
windowless corner of the basement. The first day he buys and installs an
in-house phone system so any boy can call him on a blue phone from any
room of the house.

In only a few weeks, the house begins looking shipshape. The boys always
have clean clothes. Their rooms are neat and orderly, beds made,
wastebaskets emptied, bathrooms immaculate. The grounds are trimmed.
Arnold's kitchen is kept as spotless as an operating room. And any time a
boy wants to go somewhere, Nelson is available to drive him. No one can
figure out when the man sleeps. They say jump and he asks how high.

A whole month goes by and the boys realize Nelson never once made a move
on them, much less fuck them. So Washington picks up the blue phone and
calls him to his bedroom. Nelson follows orders and comes quickly.
Washington orders him to suck his teenage cock.
"Please, Sir, you know I will do anything you ask, but we must use the
fishbowl for that. That's the rule." Washington explains how the boys
agreed in Nelson's case it wasn't necessary to gather incriminating
evidence. "Please, Sir, I don't deserve any special privileges."
Washington shrugs and leads him to the fishbowl. Nelson sucks him and
thanks him profusely. After that the boys make sure Nelson gets his turns
in the fishbowl even though he never asks for it. He truly deserves to be
rewarded. He acts submissive both in and out of the fishbowl. He gives
each boy a blow job, or hand job, or rim job, whatever he asks for. And
he offers his own asshole to every boy to fuck, even the littlest.

As for Arnold and the teachers, they have been getting regular
invitations to the fishbowl, and the sessions have indeed been lively,
especially when it's Wilson's turn. No longer forced or coerced into sex,
the boys are discovering the orgasmic joy of getting a man to bed and
using him to bring them over the top. Each boy is now free to fuck as
long, as hard and as loud as he damn well feels. The other boys in the
house find all the pornographic noise very amusing, even stimulating.
That is, for a while. After a couple months, the constant barrage of
moans, groans, shouts, shrieks and pounds emanating from the fishbowl
begins to wear thin. Especially in the early morning hours when some in
the house prefer to sleep. They order Victor to have that one room
thoroughly soundproofed.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 30

DATE: Saturday, April 5, 2003, morning
PLACE: BPH

"Come on, Sirs. Let's get loaded up." Nelson catches himself reverting to
his old self. He's just trying to get this trip organized, but after two
years at BPH, it feels so fuckin' uncomfortable giving the orders. He
decides to keep his mouth shut and let the teachers try to corral the
boys. He switches from the imperative to the interrogative, "Who wants to
ride with me?" Dean and Walsh climb into his back seat and Kenny chooses
to ride shotgun.

The four older boys split up between Wilson's and Kennedy's cars. Hump
tells Maxwell he can go with Kennedy, "Back seat." The Doctor of
education of course obeys.

"OK, Wilson," Jack demands, "give me the keys." Wilson meekly hands over
control of his brand new Pontiac Grand Prix to the lad with the new
driving permit. "Let's get this show on the road. Bronx Zoo or bust!"
Wilson prays it isn't the latter.

From his window above the garage, Victor watches the departing caravan.
"There go all my boys," he sighs to himself. "But of course they're not
'mine.' Now I am 'theirs.'" If Victor were still in control, most of them
wouldn't be his boys now anyway. Mark's arms, chest and legs are covered
in hair. Hump has a mustache and a big muscular fullback kind of body.
Washington is sporting dreadlocks, for Christ's sake! Kenny's squeak is
now a mellow baritone. Jack is training for the New York Marathon. They
just aren't Victor's preferred age any more. Even Walsh and little Dean
are starting to sprout underarm hairs. "They treat me like dirt. What did
I do to deserve this?" But of course, he knows the answer. Not that the
boys have ignored him totally. All of them have taken him into the
fishbowl at least once in the last two years, and some a few more times.
But he doesn't get the many daily lays he had grown accustomed to. "Shit,
don't they give any thought to my desires? my c! ravings? my needs? All
they think about is themselves! And here it is Saturday and I'm not even
allowed to look at my DVD collection." He cleans up his little
kitchenette from his paltry pancake breakfast and slips into a sweat
suit.

With all the boys and Nelson gone for the day, Arnold plans to use this
Saturday to get a head start on next week's menus. Do some roasts and a
turkey. Bake some breads. The house is unusually quiet, so he starts
whistling as he works.

Midmorning, there is a knock at the door. It takes Arnold a moment to
realize he's the only one around to answer it, so he leaves the kitchen
and hustles to the foyer, trying to keep track of all his crucial
timings. There on the stoop stand two magnificent bronze Hispanic boys,
one in his early twenties and the other appearing half his age. "Hi,"
says the taller, "Uh, does Victor still live here?"

"Well,... yes, are you a friend?"

"Oh, yeah, Victor and I go way back." He doesn't wait for an invitation
to come right on in, and his little companion follows. "Tell him Antonio
is here."

"Well, OK, wait in the living room, right over there."

"Yeah, I remember where it is."

Arnold gets on the phone and rings Victor's apartment. In a few minutes,
the once owner of this home walks through the door. "Antonio, uh, I
didn't expect to see you again. You've gotten taller."

"Well, duh! It's been nine years, Victor. You sure as fuck look older
too. But the house looks better. Hey, you got a cook now. What, did the
Mrs. run off or die or something? Miguel, you want something to eat?" The
younger lad nods. Arnold goes to the kitchen and comes back with a plate
of sandwiches. He decides he'd better stick around and listen. Antonio
notices Victor makes no move to dismiss his employee.

"Arnold makes the best sandwiches, Miguel. Go ahead, dig in. Is he your
nephew or something, Antonio?"

"Brother. Well, half-brother. Mom had him just about the time you kicked
me out."

"Well, now, about that..."

"Hey, don't sweat it, Victor. Agua under the puente and all that. No hard
feelings. In fact I really made good use of all you taught me, Vickie. I
was getting too old for your tastes, Old Man. I know that now."

"Well, you were, what, 16?"

"Just turned 14. But, hey, you'd sure like little Miguel here I bet."

"Well, now, listen, Antonio. There's a prob... well, things have changed
since you..."

"Look, let me lay it on you, Victor, my Man. You see a few months back
Mom she ran off to San Juan or some fuckin' place and left him with me.
So I been taking care of him, you know. But like I got into a little
trouble a couple days ago with the cops..."

"Prostitution?"

"Not this time. Drugs. Some shithead user snitched me out. So the streets
are too hot for me right now. I'm heading to... no, I'm not going to tell
you where, better you don't know. Anyway, I gotta leave Miguel somewhere
for a while. I know he'll be safe with you, Victor. And I know you'll
have fun together. Just like we used to when I was your Sweetheart."
Victor looks at Arnold, who is vigorously shaking his head no.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 31

DATE: Saturday, April 5, 2003, morning
PLACE: BPH

Antonio continues, "Hey, why don't we go up to 'our' room and show Miguel
some of the games we used to play. Come on, Victor." Antonio grabs his
brother's hand. "Come on, kid, I remember where it is." Victor starts
mumbling, "No, you don't under..." but follows the boys up the stairs.
Arnold muses, is Victor going to be in deep shit when the corporate board
hears about this.

"Ain't this a neat bedroom, Miguel? Look at this big old bed. And don't
worry about being lonesome 'cause Victor here don't mind at all staying
in bed with you. He'll look after you real good 'til I get back." Victor
sits on the bed and thinks about the house rules. "Hey, Victor, you're on
the bed already. Can't wait to renew old times, can you? Well, come on,
let's show the boy what fun we used to have."

Antonio jumps on the bed, lifts Victor's sweat shirt up and starts
lapping his tits. Adroitly, he slips the shirt off him and french kisses
him. Victor lies back on the pillows. Without releasing his lip lock,
Antonio pulls Victor's sweatpants down off his already bulging organ. It
has been weeks since Victor has been in this bed with anyone, and right
now, even someone as old as Antonio is able to get his juices flowing. He
lifts his ass from the bed and allows the young man to pull his pants off
altogether. He is now only in socks. Antonio kneels on one side of his
former lover, straightens up and starts taking off his own shirt. "Look,
Miguel, doesn't Victor have a nice pene? Don't be afraid. Come here,
little brother. Take a close look. Here, look at his and look at mine.
Which one you think is bigger? Don't worry, you can tell the truth. Hehe,
you want to show the nice man your pene, Miguel? He'd love to see it."
The frowning little boy stands beside the bed but mak! es no move to open
his pants.

Antonio jumps off the bed, kicks off his pants and comes around to kneel
beside his brother. "Here, Miguel, look at how I hold Victor's pene. See?
See how I pet it? He really likes that. When I was a little boy like you,
I'd pet it like this and Victor just loved it. Give me your hand, let me
show you how." Miguel tentatively reaches out and puts a finger on the
strange man's strange mantool. "Yeah, that's it, that wasn't so bad, was
it? You know something else I used to do with it? Watch this, Miguel."
The little boy's eyes grow like saucers as he watches his brother swallow
the big juicy cock and suck it hard. Antonio comes up for air, and licks
his lips. "See, it's really delicious. Go on, Victor will let you have a
taste, won't you, Victor?"

"Oh, fuck, yeah!! Please, Miguel, please give my cock a nice lick! Oh,
shit, that would be soooooo good!"

The boy is confused. His brother talked about bed games. He didn't know
it meant doing stuff like this. He wants to make Antonio happy. He wants
Antonio's friend to be his friend too. Maybe it isn't so bad. He bends
over, closes his eyes and sticks out his tongue. He tastes something new,
both sour and sweet, creamy and wet. He starts lapping at the purple
helmet. Suddenly, the man groans "Aaaarrrggghh." Miguel opens his eyes
and stares at the big pole throbbing in front of his face. Then without
warning, his face is sprayed with a splash of sticky white goo. Shocked,
he doesn't know whether to cry or run or say, "lo siento."

Antonio hugs him. "Wow, good for you, Little Brother." He's laughing.
Miguel starts laughing too. "You see, you and Victor are going to have
lots of fun together! Ain't that right, Victor." But the now spent old
man just grunts. "I gotta be going soon, Little Brother, but I just want
you to see one more thing before I go. I want you to watch me and Victor
play a different game, 'cause later on he may want to play this with you
and you might worry, so I want you to see it really is ok. Come on,
Victor, give your old Sweetheart a fuck for old times sake."

"Uh, I can't, Antonio."

"Shit, it's all limp. You used to have more stamina, old man. Fuck, I
really wanted him to see this. OK, pull up your legs, Victor. I'll fuck
you instead." Victor obliges. There's nothing illegal about sex between
two mutually consenting adults. "I guess you're not used to being the
bottom, are you? Well, I'll be real gentle with you then. Don't grimace
too much and worry the lad." Antonio whacks away on his schlong while he
explains the game to his brother. "Now, watch closely, Miguel. You see
Victor might have you lay like that with your legs up like that. Now I'm
going to take my pene and push it in his nalga. He's going to like it a
lot. It's going to feel tight, but then it will feel oh so good. You
watch." Antonio points his cock at the man's hole and thrusts forward.

"Oh, my God!!" Victor yells. Antonio starts pumping, pistoning in and
out. Miguel watches and listens to the gooshy noise of anal sex,
punctuated by Victor's screams, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Antonio!"

Miguel can't believe what he is witnessing. Now it's Antonio who cries
"Aaaarrrggghh." Miguel assumes that must mean his brother spouted that
white stuff also. He wipes his hand across the cum hardening by his eyes.
Then he bends close as his brother's cock pops out and sure enough, he
was right. There's cream oozing out of the man's wide hole.

As Antonio drives off to points unknown, Arnold takes the little boy's
hand. "Come on, Miguel, I just took a cake out of the oven. You can help
me ice it."

"Super. Uh, Mr. Cook, could you call me Mike? All my friends do. Only my
mama and hermano call me Miguel."

"Sure, Mike. And you call me Arnold."

"After we ice the cake, can I lick out the bowl, Arnold?"

"You sure can, we have to wash your face anyway." They both giggle.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 32

DATE: Saturday, April 5, 2003
PLACE: BPH

When three carloads return from their field trip, the boys jump out and
run inside joking about their day, imitating the chimpanzees and howling
like wolves. Nelson tells the teachers to stay for dinner.

Maxwell responds, "I never turn down one of Arnold's meals.

Wilson adds, "And Jack was hinting I might get a reward for not cringing
too much at the way he handled my new car. I guess I better hang around
too. Come on, Kennedy."

But all the excitement is abruptly forgotten when Arnold comes into the
dining room with a new boy. "Board Members, Faculty, Nelson, I'd like you
to meet Mike. He's been helping me in the kitchen." A soft chorus of
questioning "Hi, Mike"s goes around the room. "Let me explain. Well,
let's see, where do I start?" Everyone grabs a chair around the dining
room table, and gives the cook his full attention. "Yes, well, Mike's
brother dropped in this morning. Antonio's 22 now but once he was
Victor's, uh, Sweetheart." Another chorus of "Oh"s. They remember a set
of old VHS tapes marked Antonio. Arnold has to mince his words, because
Mike is listening as attentively as everyone else. "Well, uh, Victor
agreed to let Miguel stay here for a while. Isn't that nice? Just like he
lets all you fine boys stay here." There are low grumbles now, but no one
can show any resentment with a bright little nine-year old smiling at
him. "Dean, you got an extra bed. Maybe Mike can sleep in your ! room."

For the first time, Mike speaks up, "Oh, that's OK, I'm gonna sleep with
Mr. Victor. I seen his bed. Where is Mr. Victor?"

Everyone is now staring at Arnold. He blushes, knowing what they're
thinking. Victor had this boy in bed today? "Nelson, why don't you let me
speak to the boys and you show Mike where Dean's room is." Slightly
confused, Mike goes skipping up the stairs with Nelson. Then the dining
room erupts.

"What the hell happened here, Arnold?" "What's that scum bag done now?"
"Who gave him the right to bring in another boy?" "Shit, the kid's only
nine, for God's sake." "This is the last straw. I say it's time to expose
him."

Arnold manages to calm them down. He explains the whole story, and how
Victor really had no choice in the matter. The big brother took charge.
"Right now, this is probably the best place for Mike to be."

"Yeah? So, what exactly did Victor do in the bedroom?" Arnold explains he
wasn't there, but there is a recording. The assemblage adjourns to the
living room to watch. "Shit, the kid's an all around virgin. Doesn't know
what the hell is going on." "Yeah, we all know how Victor loves his
virgins." "Fuck, listen to him shouting at Mike to lick his cock." "He
still hasn't learned." "His days are numbered."

Kennedy meekly asks permission to speak, and the DVD is paused with
Victor raising his legs up. "Listen, boys. I don't blame you for feeling
rage at Victor right now. He is certainly no innocent victim here. But
listen carefully to the recording. Notice how Antonio controls the whole
scene. Victor doesn't pursue Mike or con him. He tries several times to
get out of it, in fact. He doesn't lay a finger on the boy. It's all the
brother's doing. When Victor tells the kid to lick him, he's in the
throes of passion. We all know we can't think straight when our balls are
bursting for release. I think you should give Victor a little latitude
this time. But of course, it's up to you."

"Kennedy, is your name Goldberg?" Everybody laughs, but they get the
point he is making. He's a good teacher. They continue watching the DVD
and get a real charge watching Victor getting his ass pounded. "Yeah,
fuck the bastard!"

"Hey, that's my brother playing that game with Mr. Victor."

The audience turns to see sweet little Mike, innocent Mike, clueless
Mike. "Welcome to BPH, Mike. We're all glad you're here. You've got a lot
to learn, and this is the best place in the whole wide world to learn it.
Come on, let's eat. Then let's have that cake you helped make."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 33

DATE: Monday, April 7, 2003, afternoon
PLACE: BPH

"Good afternoon, Mike, good to have you in our class."

"Hi. Sorry I missed that trip to the zoo. Sounds like fun, Mr. Wilson."

"No, here you just call me Wilson, no Mister. That's how the rest of the
boys want it. Right, Walsh? Well, Maxwell has sent for your school
record, Mike, but until that gets here, I'm going to figure out what kind
of lessons to give you, and..."

"Oh, I already been learning stuff. From Walsh, and Dean, and all the
guys. They been teaching me lots of stuff. I got a notebook and
everything."

"Really? May I see what you wrote so far?"

Mike pulls out his notebook and starts reciting as the other boys nod in
agreement:

MIKE - THINGS TO MEMBER BOUT BPH

1 - it aint mr victor. i shood call him BM

2 - **** my ass is my asset ****

"I ain't sure what that means but they said its most important. That's
why I put stars around it."

3 - i'm smart. smart enuf to go to college. BM is putting $ in bank for
that

4 - i don't gotta play none of those games like Antonio and BM showed me
in that bed

5 - but if i want then i can

"I don't think I want to though. I really didn't like doing what you saw
in that movie. But the boys said I should write it down 'cause maybe some
day who knows. Jack shown me when he fuck you Wilson Saturday night. He
said it was your reward and it look like you both liked it. You did like
it, right, Wilson?"

6 - if i make a man play like that i gotta do it in the fishbowl, nowere
else!

"That's the room BM pretended was his bedroom. But he lied. Hell, he
don't even live in the house."

7 - i don't gotta do other stuff if i don't want. at BPH BOYS RULE

8 - i will respect the other kids

9 - i will respect myself

"Then I made a list of all the boys. See? They all writed their names in
my book. Jack, Hump, Mark, Washington, Kenny, Walsh, Dean, Mike. I writed
my name there too. They're the ones I will respect."

10 - arnold is my cook. he cooks reel good.

11 - nelson is my slave

"He makes my bed, cleans my room, cleans my bathroom, cleans the whole
fuckin' house, washes my clothes, gets me anything I need or want, day or
night."

12 - maxwell kennedy wilson is my teachers. if i dont learn good its
there falt not mine

13 - goldberg is the lawyer

"I aint met him yet."

14 - doc is the doc

"I'm gonna see him tomorrow. Then they taught me the English words to use
for things, 'cause I need to know them. So on this page I writed all them
words and drew pictures. See?"

ass cock balls tits jerk off suck fuck rim french kiss piss shit

"Well, Mike, you are certainly a good student. And a fast learner. And
the other boys are excellent teachers. They taught you real good, uh, I
mean very well. And, Mike, you are a really good artist too."

"There, Wilson. OK, now you teach me more stuff. If you teach me good
maybe I give you a reward. Hehe."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 34

DATE: Thursday, April 10, 2003, evening
PLACE: BPH

"OK, Goldberg, you asked to speak to the Board. We're all here. Including
our newest board member, Mike. You work for him now also."

"Yes, Jack, thank you. Actually, Mike is the reason I wanted to have this
meeting. The corporation has been in existence now almost two years."

"One year, seven months, twenty-five days. We keep track also, Goldberg.
Hump, pass me the popcorn."

"Yes, Jack, thank you. Well, anyway, you boys, uh, men have been doing a
superior job running this corporation. Your property holdings are well
maintained. You've avoided any public scandals. Financially you're on an
even keel."

"Well, it helps that we don't need to pay any of you guys."

"Shut up, Mark. They get paid good. Real good. Out of our own fuckin'
assets." Washington stands up and pulls down his pants. "Kiss my fuckin'
asset, Goldberg." Goldberg of course complies.

"Hey, Washington, you're supposed to do that in the fishbowl!" Washington
pulls up his pants, takes a swig of his coke and sits down. "So what's
your fuckin' point, Goldberg? Didn't you think we were capable of running
this whorehouse?"

Goldberg takes out a linen handkerchief and wipes his lips. "My point is
this, Gentlemen. When you had me draw up that contract, there were seven
of you, and you had a clearly defined mission, to..."

"To make the son of a bitch pay."

"...yes, to make him finance your way through college. And next fall,
Jack here is headed for Stanford." The board meeting erupts in hoots and
whistles. "Yes, Jack, congratulations on your acceptance. You deserve it,
young man. But, let me get back to my point. By accepting Mike here at
BPH, your mission seems to have expanded. I spoke to Victor and..."

"BM, Goldberg! Call him BM!"

"Uh, yes, well, I spoke to uh, BM, and I can tell you he isn't very happy
about this development."

"Tough shit, Goldberg. He's got no fuckin' right to be happy. He don't
tell us what to do." The assembly begins to chant, BOYS RULE!

"OK, OK, I understand that, Men." Goldberg wipes his brow. "But, he wants
to know, well, actually, I want to know, are you planning to bring in
more members?"

Jack stands up. "OK, sit down, Goldberg. I got the floor now. Goldie has
a point here. Mike, we're all glad you came. We don't care what BM wants.
We want you here. We like you around. You belong here. I can tell Dean
likes having you around, from the way he's letting you play with his
little dick right now." Everybody laughs. "That's OK, Mike, no law
against jerking off during board meetings. Kenny does it all the time!
But now, guys, we have to decide if this is going to be board policy, to
take in every sweet kid whose fuckin' brother brings him to our door.
Mark, your hand is up."

"Well, I see the point. I mean we can't house a hundred pedo victims
here. Maybe a dozen, fourteen tops, that's two in each bedroom, unless
someone sleeps in the fishbowl."

Dean, "We can build more bedrooms."

Washington, "Jack's bedroom will be empty next year."

Jack, "Shit, man, as soon as I'm gone you give my room away?"

Mark, "It isn't just the number of rooms. Each boy means BM has to shell
out more. A new college fund. More food. More clothes. More school
supplies."

"So what!"

"Well, you know the story about the goose? The one that laid fuckin'
golden eggs? We don't want to kill it. If BM decides he can't deal with
it, and does something stupid, like turn himself in, or kills himself, or
something, that's the end of BPH. I hate to say it, but we can't
persecute him endlessly. When little Mike here goes off to college, BM'll
be like 56, that's as old as Mrs. Bagshaw was when she died. He may not
be able to function so good. He's still a venture capitalist, and still
pretty fuckin' good I guess, but his mind can't be as sharp as it once
was. A few bad investments and that's it. I think it's time to be
compassionate but prudent."

Goldberg, "Mark, are you planning on a career in politics? OK, you guys
have some thinking to do. You can call me in the morning and tell me what
you want me to do. Goodnight, Men."

Walsh, "You did good, Goldberg. I'd give you a nice reward but I can't
now. We guys gotta talk. I'll take a rain check. I'll let you know when
you can cash it."

The boys batted the ideas around all evening. As they debated and
considered and negotiated, Arnold kept their sugar levels fortified with
plates of cookies, doughnuts and ice cream. In the end, they decided on a
general policy but without any ironclad limits. If they hear of a boy who
can benefit from this environment, they will offer him a home. But they
won't seek such kids out, they'll try not to admit more than one boy a
year, and they'll try to keep the maximum at twelve. "OK, all in favor?"
Aye!

"Meeting adjourned. OK, let's have a good old circle jerk! Mike and Dean
have already started."

"Then, let's make Nelson suck us all."

"I love the way this board works together!"

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 35

DATE: Wednesday, February 18, 2004
PLACE: BPH

"Get up, you lazy son of a bitch, rise and shine!"

Kenny looks at his alarm clock. "What the fuck, Washington? It's only
nine o'clock!" He throws a pillow at the unwelcome reveille.

"Come on, Hump is calling a board meeting in the dining room. Get your
ass down there!" Washington goes on to the next room to deliver his
cheery morning wake-up call.

Kenny stumbles into the bathroom mumbling, "Board meeting, what the hell?
At this hour? I wish Jack were here.' Like everyone else in the house, he
keeps in touch with Jack via e-mail, hearing all about college life.
(Nelson was giggling one day; he had just heard how every week Jack did
his own laundry and put new sheets on the bed.) Kenny points his dick
toward the general vicinity of the toilet and, despite his groggy eyes
and his morning wood, manages to get almost half of his stream into the
bowl. Of course, by noon, Nelson will have his piss-splattered floor and
walls as antiseptic as an OR.

Kenny wanders into the dining room, his PJs still tenting, pours himself
a cup of coffee and grabs four items from the sugar food group. "Come on,
Hump, what's this all about?"

"OK, now that lazybones has gotten here, I guess we can get started.
Goldberg called about an hour ago. He's bringing a new boy."

Suddenly the room is wide awake! "What?" "Who is he?" "How old?" "Who's
been fucking him?" "Did Goldie ask our permission to do that?"

"He'll be here soon. You can ask your questions then. All I know is he's
a victim like us, and he's nine like you, Mike." Mike is the lone preteen
in the house, since Dean had his thirteenth birthday earlier this month.
To celebrate it, the whole house went skiing in Vermont, taking along the
teachers who were on winter break from JA. They're planning to celebrate
Walsh's fourteenth at the end of the month, the same way.

The boys start gobbling their breakfasts and chattering away. Arnold
brings out a platter of fresh hot waffles to warm these teenage bodies on
this cold late February morning.

When Goldberg's car comes up the drive (passing by Nelson who is still
maneuvering the snow plow), there are fourteen young eyes staring out the
windows. He parks and leads a blond lad through the front door, quickly
closing it behind him. "Boys, I'd like you to meet Greg."

While Greg wolfs down some eggs and sausage, and Goldberg sips a coffee,
the two of them manage to answer the stream of questions. A couple nights
ago in three upstate communities around Albany, police nabbed eleven
members of a child porn ring. The arrests were part of a coordinated
sting involving suspects in Chicago, Florida, and Tennessee. Through an
online chat room called â^À^ÜKiddypics and Kiddyvids,â^À^Ý the members
traded stills and videos of themselves with their young fucktoys. The six
New York victims, including an eighteen-month old girl, were taken into
foster homes. Goldberg told one of the judges he knew of a good placement
for Greg.

Greg's parents have been capturing precious moments on film for over four
years. Greg age 6 sucks Daddy. Greg age 6 licks Mommy's pussy. Greg age 7
felches Mommy after Daddy's friend fucks her. Daddy fucks Greg age 7.
Mommy uses strapon with Greg age 8. Daddy's friend fucks Greg age 9. Greg
age 9 holds friend's daughter age 5 down while Daddy fucks her. By ten,
Greg was made to do it all, with everybody, live online for the world to
watch.

"Shit, Goldie, you think BM knows about that chat room? You think he
posted our videos there?"

"I think, if he did, the cops would have already been here."

"Can Greg sleep in my room?" asked Mike. "I got a queen size bed. Come
on, Greg, I'll show you."

As easy as that, BPH embraced yet another boy into their unique
fraternity.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 36

DATE: Friday, November 12, 2004
PLACE: Milwaukee

"Shit, Arnold, it sure feels strange back here in my old townhouse."
Nelson is drying off after a quick morning shower. The previous day,
their plane had been delayed in Chicago and by the time the got to
Milwaukee, and rented a car, it was about 2 in the morning when he opened
the door where he and Arnold had lived for so many years. Arnold would
rather just stay in bed, but he knows they have a lot of work to do,
before their flight back to New York takes off at ten tonight. He soon
realizes Nelson has not even gone to bed but stayed up getting a head
start on the list.

"You know, Nelson, this is the first time off we've had from the house
since we started there. The teachers get the summer off, and of course
Doc and Goldberg, and even Victor, can take a vacation any damn time they
want to, but you and me, we gotta be there 24/7. Those little brats are
working us like slaves!"

"I like being a slave."

"Yeah, hehe, I know, Nelson. And shit, I gotta admit I like the turn my
life has taken. I've never worked in any restaurant that gave me such
satisfaction."

"Thanks a lot for coming back here with me, Arnold. I think I needed the
moral support." It's been two and a half years since Nelson left
Milwaukee and about three for Arnold. Nelson left so quickly when Arnold
called him about the job at BPH, he didn't take time to close down his
townhouse. After a few months, he knew his home was at BPH and would
always be, so he called a Milwaukee realtor to put the townhouse on the
market. But the neighborhood was changing, and there weren't many
interested buyers. Finally, on Columbus Day, he got the call that someone
had made an offer. He accepted it with no haggling. Now he has flown in
for the closing.

There is a long list of things to do. Pack up Nelson's clothes and bring
them to GoodWill. Go through all his books looking for any the boys could
use, then donate the rest to the library. He will leave all the
furnishings. Of course he wants to sweep and dust and mop and get the
whole place spanking clean. In the afternoon, he'll go to the closing.
Then they'll have to start back home. Since 9/11 you have to get to the
airport hours ahead of time. It's going to be a whirlwind day, but Nelson
as usual is super organized.

Arnold, however, knows they need to eat. He says he's going out to get a
few provisions for the day. Nelson once called this place home, but now
the neighborhood makes him feel uneasy. He doesn't tell Arnold to be
careful out there, but like a mother hen, he goes to the third floor
window to watch out for his friend. He sees a group of young men across
the street, in their early twenties, no doubt looking for trouble, he
thinks to himself. He takes particular note of one boy, whose leg is in a
full cast. He's joking around with his friends, swinging his crutch.
Nelson wonders why the boy looks familiar. He sees Arnold emerge below
him and head down the block to the nearby grocery they once knew so well.
Nelson notices crutch boy has also seen Arnold and is taking out his cell
phone. Damn, I'm getting paranoid, Nelson tells himself and reenters the
whirlwind of chores.

Arnold returns and forces Nelson to stop for breakfast.
Then they finish up the third floor and go to work on the second.
"Arnold, what do you think you're doing?"

"Dusting. You can't do everything yourself."

"What's that you're using?"

"I found a box of old clothes in your closet. This pair of briefs is nice
and soft, a perfect dusting rag."

"Gimme that. I'll take care of the cleaning. You got places to go."
Reluctantly, Nelson finds himself giving orders again. "Take the clothes
on the bed over to Good Will." The expensive clothes from Nelson's
closet. Nelson smiles seeing those vestiges of his former self leave. The
tailored three piece suits, the tennis and golf outfits. All carefully
selected to impress his clients. Clients just as shallow as himself. The
honest kids at BPH would never be fooled by such trappings. They can
judge a man by his heart.

After the car leaves, Nelson tapes up the box of underwear Arnold
discovered in the closet and puts it with the books they're bringing back
to New York. Then starts work on the ground floor. He's by the front door
when the doorbell rings. A well-dressed man about 35 is standing there.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 37

DATE: November 12, 2004
PLACE: Milwaukee

"Hello, can I help you?" Nelson looks suspiciously at the stranger at his
door.

"Uh, is Arnold here? I heard he was back in town."

"No, he's out right now. Are you a friend?"

"Name's Hamilton. Jake Hamilton. I used to provide Arnold with things he
needed."

"Oh, do you run a restaurant supply house?"

"No, uh, I deal in, like produce. You know, tomatoes and stuff." the
stranger didn't sound too convincing.

"Well, I don't think Arnold will be needing your services."

"You see, I used to give Arnold this great tomato. He said it was the
best he'd tasted."

"Well, there are lots of green grocers around."

"No, he could only get it from me. I was the sole distributor."

Nelson didn't know what this guy's racket was, but it certainly wasn't
tomatoes. "So tell me, what kind of tomato was this?"

"It was a Vincent tomato. Arnold used to go on and on about how
satisfying it was."

Then it clicked in Nelson's head. Vincent. That was the boy in the cast.
He's three, almost four years older now, but Nelson remembers all the
times Arnold rented this boy and how Vincent allowed Nelson to lick his
teenage feet. Worshipfully, he suckled those precious toes like ten
delicious miniature adolescent cocks. Now one of those heavenly feet was
wrapped in plaster. Hamilton here must be his pimp. Vincent called him
when he saw Arnold on the street.

"So, I guess you want to know if Arnold is still interested in getting
more of this Vincent tomato."

"Well, actually, the Vincent is not available right now." Yeah, that cast
and crutches must put a damper on his sex business. Nelson wonders if
Hamilton had any part in breaking the boy's leg.

"What, it's out of season, you mean?"

"Well, yeah. But Arnold was always telling me to keep my eyes open for a
smaller tomato, one not as overripe, not as fully mature. He said he'd
really love to taste a tomato like that."

"And you found one."

"Yep. I know Arnold will be pleased."

"What's this tomato called?"

"It's a Rudy. Small, sweet, luscious, firm."

"It does sound delicious. Arnold will be back later. Why don't you bring
this Rudy tomato by around four and maybe you two can work out a deal."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 38

DATE: November 12, 2004
PLACE: Milwaukee

When Arnold returns from Good Will, his buddy is flying around the
townhouse like a madman. "Take it easy, Nelson, we got it all under
control."

"We've got a new hitch in our plan."

While Arnold helps him scrub down the kitchen cabinets, he hears about
Hamilton's visit, and how it has changed their plans.

"How old you think Rudy is?"

"He said 'small and firm.' What does that tell you?"

"Shit. Five years ago, that was all I wanted. A sweet, young lad like my
nephew. Why couldn't Hamilton have found him then?"

Arnold gets the rest of the things to the library and Good Will. Nelson
boxes up several paintings and sculptures he thinks will look good in BPH
and his tennis rackets and golf clubs for the boys. Arnold brings these,
a few boxes of books, the carton of undies, and several other boxes to
the Post Office. They will still have a lot more baggage going home than
they came with. Not to mention one particular parcel that they both agree
can't be left here.

While Nelson takes a cab to the closing, Arnold finishes packing the
rental car. Then tries to calm himself anticipating Hamilton's return
with Rudy.

Shortly before four, Nelson is back. The townhouse now belongs to someone
else. They close the door one last time. As the November afternoon sky
darkens, Nelson waits in the car parked down the street with the heater
running while Arnold stands on the front stoop. He's glad he brought his
warm jacket and wool ski hat.

Right on time, Hamilton drives up and steps out with eight-year old Rudy
dressed in blue shorts, blue knee-high hose, black shoes, a white shirt
with a puffy white ascot, and a trim blue blazer. My God, Arnold thinks,
a fuckin' baby! About as old as Walsh the night Michael caught us
playing. And why the hell is he dressed like that on a day like this? Was
it his Halloween costume?

"Hey, Arnold, it's been a long time. But I've always kept you in mind.
This here is Rudy. Say Hi to the nice man, Rudy."

Arnold bends down, picks him up, and holds him in his strong left arm.
The backs of his legs are freezing. The poor boy is shaking either from
the cold, or fear, or both. Arnold wants to give him a quick little peck
on the cheek, but as his lips draw near, Rudy turns his face toward him,
and opens his mouth wide, engulfing Arnold's lips. Shit, the kid's been
trained to french.

"So, Arnold, you like what you see so far?"

"Oh, yes, oh, yes. Little Rudy here is just perfect. I want to get to
know him real well."

"Good, good, I thought you would. Um, I usually charge more for him than
for Vincent, because he's so you know special, but for an old friend I
think I can give you a break on the hourly rate."

"No, an hour would be nowhere near enough time for me and Rudy to get
acquainted. Why don't you come by here tomorrow morning to pick him up.
No, better make that afternoon. We may both be pretty tired in the
morning."

"No can do, Arnold, I got guys lined up waiting for the kid tonight. You
get one hour. That's all. don't worry, he knows how to give you a good
hour's worth of fun, don't you Rudy?"

Arnold pulls an envelope out of his pocket and hands it to Hamilton. "I
said we'll see you tomorrow afternoon." The pimp riffles the fifteen
C-notes.

"I see the chef business is paying off for you, Arnold. You always knew
how to get on my soft side. OK, you got him for 24 hours. Now I got to
find another piece of young ass to keep those other guys happy." Hamilton
pats Rudy's behind and gets back in his car.

"Smile and wave to him, Rudy." They watch the car drive away and turn the
corner.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 39

DATE: November 12, 2004
PLACE: Milwaukee

Rudy seems more relaxed now. "So you're not going to fuck me."

"How did you figure that out?"

"You didn't stick your tongue in my mouth before and now you ain't
feeling up my poophole like all the other men do."

"You're a fuckin' smart kid. Come on, let's go." Arnold trots down the
street with his trophy in his arm. "No we ain't doing no anal, no oral,
no hand job, not even a snuggle." He opens the back door of the rental
car and buckles Rudy in next to a pile of packages. Arnold gets in the
front passenger seat next to Nelson. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"We going to a hotel?"

"No, Rudy, someplace much better than a hotel. A place where you will
never have strange men sticking their filthy cocks up your ass again."

"Wow, cool."

"You hate that stuff, don't you?'

"Well, I used to like it when Mr. Hamilton did it. He came over our house
to see Mommy. And we played in the bed while Mommy snorted the stuff he
brought. It was fun. He taught me how to suck his cock. The first time he
fucked my ass, he tried to be gentle. It still hurt, but I got used to
it. I wanted to make sure he came around lots 'cause when he didn't come
Mommy got real upset. Like she wasn't herself. Mr. Hamilton gave her
stuff to calm her nerves, that's what she said. But then he told Mommy I
had to do sex stuff with other men. She yelled at him and called him a
fuckin' bastard, but then she said ok. I get scared going with strange
men all the time. They paw all over my body and stick their cocks in me
real hard. I don't think Mommy should have said that was ok."

"No, Rudy, that was a bad thing for Mommy to do. But she isn't a bad
person. That stuff she snorts is screwing up her head. Are you going to
miss her?"

"Yeah, some, but it's better I leave her."

"Why do you say that, Rudy?"

"She says she wants to get treated for her diction, but she can't 'cause
she ain't got nobody to watch me, except Hamilton of course, and that's
no good."

"You'd like to see your mother get treatment."

"Shit, yeah! Most days she just sleeps and snorts. She don't play with me
or do nothing. Except sometimes she works at her sewing machine, but not
too often."

"She makes clothes?"

"Hamilton tells her to make my costumes. Like she made this one. He calls
it Fordaroy." Nelson thinks to himself, Little Lord Fauntleroy, but
doesn't interrupt. "I hate it. I hate wearing his stupid costumes.
Sometimes I'm a cub scout. Or a little sailor. Always short pants. It's
fuckin' freezing, you know. I'm glad you got the heat turned on.
Sometimes he makes me dress like a little girl. That's the worst. He says
it makes the men happy and they give him more money that way."

"What's your full name, Rudy?"

"Rudolph Desmond. Don't go making jokes about no reindeer. I'm sick of
that."

"And how old are you?"

"Eight." Both men shake their heads that a kid has had his innocence
destroyed so young. Arnold gets on the cell phone and explains he needs a
third ticket on the 10 o'clock flight to New York in the name of Rudolph
Desmond, age eight. "Wow, we're going on a plane? Yippee. I always wanted
to fly away."

"Yep, Rudy, I can sure understand why. Hey, Nelson, why aren't you taking
the interstate to the airport? It's faster. We have to get on that
plane."

"I know, Arnold, but hell, look at him in that stupid outfit. You really
want to attract all that attention in the airport? I know a clothing
store on the next block. I used to give them a lot of business. Keep the
car running and the heat on while I run in."

Rudy is thrilled he can take off his "Fordaroy." He's down to his
underwear before the car stops. Nelson grabs the shorts, shoes and shirt
to compare sizes and runs inside. In only minutes, he's back out with
blue jeans, a warm plaid shirt, a winter coat, and new sneakers.
Everything fits, though Nelson thinks he should turn a cuff in the jeans.
Rudy says no, that's how big boys wear their pants, dragging on the
ground. Nelson drives off again, but stops at a strip mall where he sees
a bin marked Good Will. He throws old Fordaroy in and once again heads
for the airport. "The workmanship on that costume was excellent. I know
some one will buy it. You know, maybe for a school play."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 40

DATE: November 12, 2004
PLACE: Milwaukee

At the airport, they check all their luggage and extra packages and
manage to get through security. Nelson
breathes a sigh of relief, and then dials a number on his cell phone, his
old office manager at the PR firm. He trusts Gladys implicitly. She's
glad to hear his voice after all these years. He explains he needs her to
record something and personally deliver it to a Ms. Desmond before noon
tomorrow. He gives her the address. Gladys presses the record button on
her phone.

"Hello, Ms. Desmond. My name is Nelson, and my friend and I are taking
care of your wonderful little boy. Rudy never has to work for Hamilton
again. Here, he has something to say to you."

"Hi, Mommy. They're really nice men. They don't do none of the stuff the
other men do to me. So you don't gotta worry about me. Now that Nelson is
taking care of me, you can get treated, Mommy, for your diction. Please
do that Mommy. And kiss Poochy for me."

Nelson takes the phone back. "Ms. Desmond, at four o'clock Hamilton is
going to discover what happened, and we all know the shit is going to hit
the fan. So I suggest you get into a treatment center right now. Your son
needs you to be a real Mommy again."

Gladys stops recording and Nelson tells her to take any message Ms.
Desmond gives her and send it to his new home in New York. But never let
the mother or anyone else ever know the address. In the future, she may
be ferrying other messages back and forth. Gladys agrees to do this for
the boss who always treated her so well.

Arnold needs reassurance. "You think it was wise to give her our address
like that?"

"I have complete faith in Gladys. She won't let us down. I just hope
Rudy's mom is coherent enough to understand the situation."

"And that she believes the tape. After all, we could be forcing Rudy to
say that."

"Nope, she'll believe me. She'll know you guys are ok."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"'Cause I used the secret word." Arnold and Nelson look at each other and
shrug. "When I was real little, Mommy heard that people sometimes kidnap
little kids by saying their Mommy sent them to get them. So, Mommy gave
me a secret word. And if someone said that word to me, then I would know
Mommy really did send them, and they was good guys. No one else knows our
secret word."

"Rudy, I said it before. You are fuckin' smart!"

DATE: Sunday, August 29, 2005
PLACE: Figs Restaurant, LaGuardia Airport, New York City

"You look happy, Mommy." Rudy talks with his mouth full of hamburger.

"I am happy, Son. It is so good to look at you so healthy, so happy, so
big. Happy birthday again, Rudy." She nibbles at her salad and turns to
the third person at the table. "Thank you, Mr. Nelson, for flying me here
for my son's big day. And for convincing the clinic to give me a 24-hour
pass."

"It's what Rudy wanted, Ms. Desmond. He is so happy you stuck with the
program. He's very proud of you."

"Mommy's Drug-free, nine months, seventeen days now. But every day is a
new challenge. Seeing you, Rudy, gives me new inspiration. My, my, nine
years old. You're a big boy. You look so fine in your new clothes. I know
they're new. I can tell you never wore them before. I wanted to sew you
some new shirts for your birthday, but of course I didn't know your
size."

"That's OK, Mommy, I got all the clothes I need." He winks at Nelson. For
now it's best Mommy doesn't know that Rudy has become a nudist. He thinks
Nelson must be grateful he has less laundry to do, but the birthday boy
doesn't realize Nelson goes around all day with a bottle of disinfectant
spritzing any chair, couch, stool, or countertop where Rudy might have
momentarily parked his behind. "Anyway, I love the books you gave me. And
the picture of you, too. I'm going to put that on the table by my bed, so
I can kiss you every night."

Ms. Desmond is trying not to cry. "Maybe, next time I'll have time to see
your new house. It sounds like a wonderful boarding school, Mr. Nelson.
Rudy is so lucky." Nelson nods. Three waiters bring out a cake with nine
candles, and start singing "Happy Birthday." Nelson is thinking, "Yes,
Rudy is lucky, all the other boys at BPH are lucky, and I am so fuckin'
lucky they allow me to be their slave."

---------------------------------------------------------

End of Part III

---------------------------------------------------------

Part IV

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 41

DATE: Wednesday, July 26, 2006
PLACE: BPH

Victor picks up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Victor."

"Hi, Walsh. Where are you?"

"In my bed."

"I thought all you guys were at the ball game!"

"Yeah, thanks for those cool tickets. Right behind home plate."

"Did I have any choice?" "

"Not really, hehe. The Cubs don't have a prayer of course."

"So how come you're home in bed?"

"Didn't feel good this morning. All tired like. I've been staying up
every night studying for my SATs. Doc thinks it might be mono. I told the
guys to go on without me. Let me get some sleep. Of course, with all this
banging going on in the basement, that's not easy."

"Yeah, I can hear the noise from here. But you guys told me to get a new
hot water heater installed. I told the men no one would be home."

"Yeah, they've been playing their boom box and shouting. Well, I'm awake
now. Hehe. I just felt like talking to someone. Guess I'm a little
lonely."

"Well, I'm here if you need me, Walsh. Hey, you know the bedroom across
the hall would be a lot quieter."

"The fishbowl? Why?"

"You guys had me soundproof it, remember?"

"Shit, that's right. I'm gonna go over there. Uh, but I still feel
lonely."

"You want me to call you there then."

"Or, you know, you can come over, if you're not like too busy."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really, hehe."

Victor enters the fishbowl and sees Walsh smiling, wrapped up in the
covers on the bed. As soon as he closes the door
behind him, the noise from two floors below all but disappears. Victor
sits on the edge of the bed. "So, Walsh, what do you want to talk about?"

"Can you hold my hand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm glad you're here, Victor. I feel better already. Uh, can you lay
beside me? You can keep me warm." Victor lies down on the bed next to
Walsh. "No, I meant under the covers." Victor stands up, pulls down the
covers on one side and again lies beside the boy, who he now sees is
naked. "I think it would be nicer if you were naked also." Victor stands
again, strips, and crawls in to spoon the boy. "Yeah, that feels nice."

Victor wraps his arm around Walsh's abdomen, presses his groin into the
boy's buttocks, and nuzzles his sweet young shoulder. "You know, Walsh,
this is how we often laid here when you were a little boy. Sometimes, I'd
hold you like this for hours, just inhaling your wonderful boy aroma,
caressing your smooth skin. You really were my little Sweetheart. Each
week, I got so excited when I heard your father coming up the drive. Were
you excited also?... You don't have to answer. You were very special to
me. And when you started sucking me off, Walsh, your soft lips felt so
nice on my cock. You were sweet the way you were so afraid of hurting me.
I kept having to reassure you it was good, to keep on sucking. I still
remember the night you let me pop your cherry, Walsh. Do you remember? In
fact, we had had cherry pie for dessert which was kind of ironic, wasn't
it? Your lips were still bright red when we went to bed. I handed you the
jar of KY and told you to rub it on and in ! your asshole. You used half
the jar, hehe. I bet Mrs. Bagshaw wondered why the sheet was so greasy,
hehe. But you held your skinny legs up like a brave little soldier and
took my cock inside. I know you were trying so hard not to cry. Trying to
do what made me happy. I really loved you, Walsh. You loved me then also,
right?... Walsh?... Sweetheart?... Well, I'll be damned. I know I'm not
the man I used to be, but this is the first time a lover fell asleep in
my arm before we had sex! You're tired, Son. I'll take my big old hardon
back to my place and take care of it myself. You get your sleep." Victor
stands, dresses, and turns to the camera. "Hope you get a good laugh out
of this one, guys. Hardly worth saving though, eh?" He lets himself out
and quietly closes the fishbowl door.

An hour later in the garage, having pounded his meat to orgasm, Victor is
washing his dishes when he hears alarms beeping in the house. He looks
out his window and sees smoke. He tears out to the front and meets the
workmen coming up from the cellar. "We already called 911. Don't worry.
We're all out." Victor races inside. "Hey, Mister, I said, no one's
inside."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 42

DATE: DATE: Wednesday, July 26, 2006
PLACE: BPH

The flames are already burning through the office floor. The fire is
spreading fast, primarily upward of course. Above the office is the
fishbowl. The soundproof fishbowl.
Victor tears up the stairs, and bursts into the room. Walsh is fast
asleep. He shakes him. "Come on, Kid. Get out of here."

"What, uh, you still here? What's that smell? What's that beeping?"

"The house is on fuckin' fire, Walsh. Let's go!" The naked boy stands up,
stumbles a few feet, and falls on the floor. "Damn. Shit." Victor slams
the door shut, grabs the sheet off the bed and runs into the bathroom. He
throws it in the tub and turns on the cold water. He runs back, picks the
boy up, wraps him in a blanket, then in the wet sheet. He carries him to
the door and feels it with the back of his hand. "OK, Dear God, help me."
He opens the door and sees flames have already come up the stairs and are
dancing around the ceiling. He crouches low and carries his precious
cargo down the burning stairs. When he gets outside, the fire truck is
barreling through the electric gate. One of the workers grabs Walsh and
Victor collapses on the ground.

That night at the hospital, the boys learn that Walsh is now safely
asleep in the pediatric wing. The EMTs said he was lucky that Victor knew
what to do and got him out in time. Victor however sustained third degree
burns on his arms, face and feet. He swallowed a lot of smoke, and
probably had a heart attack as well. The boys take up a vigil in the
waiting room outside ICU. Doc comes by every hour or so and tries to act
optimistic but the boys know him too well. He can't fool them.

Around 3:00 A.M., Arnold comes into the waiting room with the latest
report from the Patterson FD. "The worst structural damage is to the
office floor. The rest can be repaired quickly. But there is smoke damage
throughout the house. Every room will need to be scrubbed and aired out.
Dr. Maxwell says you can stay in the dormitory at Jordan Academy for a
while."

"Do they know how it happened?"

"They're not sure, but the workmen were using an acetylene torch, and
somehow it touched off a box of old clothes by Nelson's room."

"You mean, his undies collection?"

"Oh, so you boys knew about that. Yeah, and I ought to tell you another
collection was destroyed as well. That cabinet in the office. All the
DVDs. All the tapes. All gone. Excuse me, I need to find a coffee
machine."

"Wow," says Kenny. "Those DVDs were like our gold mine. Our assets. BPH
is over."

Brian, "But we still own the house. There's insurance. And we got money
in the bank. We can keep going."

Greg, "Yeah, but without the evidence, there's like no way we can make
any of the men stay now."

Dean, "Hey, we got our other assets. They're still good for something,
ain't they?"

Mike, "I think we got something more valuable than the DVDs or the house,
or even our pretty boy assholes. We got each other, guys. I mean you're
the only real family I ever had. Come on, now, group hug."

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 43

DATE: Friday, August 4, 2006
PLACE: Dwyer Funeral Home. Patterson, NY

Nelson has to park the van on the grass, since the parking lot is full.
The boys figure there must be another funeral going on besides Victor's.
But inside, they discover all these people did indeed come to remember
that peculiar man. They walk around and introduce themselves. There are
people from his office, of course, and clients. And all the college boys
came back. His old chauffeur is there. In the corner is Henry, believe it
or not, blotting his eyes, standing with his present partner. Far away
stands a man about thirty who says he used to clean Victor's pool.

"Hi, Dad. I'm glad you came."

"Hi, Walsh. I see you're all better now. Victor was a remarkable man. He
sacrificed his life to save my son. I'll always remember that."

"There's someone else here who wants to meet you, Dad. Turn around."

"Hi, Michael." Arnold and his brother, reunited finally, hug each other.

Kenny delivers a beautiful eulogy, describing how Victor took each one of
"us boys" off the streets, gave them a home, an education, and a new
outlook on life. "We were his Sweethearts. I only wish we had told him
more often how much we loved him. We're certainly going to miss you,
Victor." To ease the tension in the room, he concluded, "You made some
fuckin' good pancakes."

DATE: Monday, August 7, 2006
PLACE: Goldberg's office

"Boys, Victor revised his will just last year when Brian and Jeremy
arrived. I'll tell you what it says in a minute, but first he asked that
you watch this DVD."

"Leave it to Victor, one last DVD!" "Yeah, BM sure did love looking at
himself on TV, hehe." "Who's his costar this time?"

Goldberg turns on the machine and the boys see Victor made this one in
his own little apartment. The camera must be a cheap model, the lighting
is disastrous, the sound muffled. Not at all the quality his private
studio could produce. "Hello, Jack, Hump, Mark, Washington, Kenny, Walsh,
Dean, Brian, Greg, Mike, Jeremy, and little Rudy. If you're watching
this, I must be dead. I wonder how I died. Whatever. Despite what you
guys think of me, I just want you to know, I think of you all as my own
boys. You are like sons to me, the only children I ever had, and
therefore my only heirs. I am extremely proud of what you've become, what
you've made of your lives. You may not believe this, but you've changed
me also, and I thank you for that. I know now, when you go out into the
world, you are each capable of achieving all your dreams, if you respect
yourself and if you stick to the values you developed here, -- and if you
wear some clothes, Rudy. Today, you are going to make a b! ig decision
that will effect the rest of your lives. I know you will do the right
thing. Goodbye, my Sweethearts. I'll be counting the days."

Goldberg passed around a box of Kleenex. "Victor was only 51 when he
died. I know you young ones think that's very old, but it's not really,
and before the fire he was in excellent health. He carried a very
substantial insurance policy. Between that and all his investments, his
personal estate amounts to, -- well, I'll write the figure down."
Goldberg hands the paper to Jack, who passes it on, each boy gasping as
he reads the amount. "According to the terms of the will, he leaves his
entire estate to your corporation, which brings us to the decision Victor
alluded to. You can either dissolve the corporation, liquidate the estate
and divide the proceeds..." (each boy quickly divides the figure mentally
by twelve, using the trick Kennedy taught them) "...or you can set up an
endowment for BPH in perpetuity and continue to provide a sanctuary for
other abused boys. There would still be enough to see each of you through
college and established in a career so you can independ! ently provide
for yourself using all your own God-given assets. Also, the endowment
could pay all the staff a living wage, so none of them need to work under
the threat of blackmail."

Kenny interrupted "If we can find any staff! We'll never be able to get
people as good as the ones we lost." The other boys nodded.

"Actually, I've already spoken to Mr. Nelson, Dr. Maxwell, Mr. Kennedy,
Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Benningham, er, Arnold. I wanted to let them know
they didn't need to be at today's reading, which really didn't surprise
them. However, each one said, in the hypothetical situation that BPH
would continue somehow, he'd want to be part of it. I'm going to leave
the room and let you boys discuss your decision in private."

Washington spoke first. "That's a hell of a lot of money. None of us
would ever have to work again. We could live high on the hog for the rest
of our lives. Big homes, fancy cars, yachts, travel the world and fuck
every whore in every port. Sure sounds tempting."

Brian, "Yeah, but we can also have all that stuff if we want by earning
it on our own. You older guys kept telling me to respect myself. I don't
think I could do that if I just took the money and ran."

Greg, "The house needs an awful lot of work before it can reopen."

Walsh, with a grin, "Uh, I heard that Benningham Contractors is a pretty
reliable firm. And I think they might give the project top priority. You
can ask Arnold."

Mark, "We'll have to hire a new Business Manager."

Jack, "That was my major in college. If the rest of the board will have
me, I'm willing to take the job. But on two conditions. Number one, I
have to expand the apartment over the garage. It's way too fuckin' small.
And number two, nobody can call me BM."

Rudy, while fidgeting with his unfamiliar pants, "Uh, if we pay these
guys, and we don't make no more tapes, can we like still give them
rewards if they do good?" The other boys have no objection. "Great! I
want to reward Nelson's submissive ass."

Dean, "And I get first dibs on Wilson! Maybe we should soundproof all the
bedrooms."

Hump, "Let's tell Goldberg the decision is unanimous then. BPH Forever!
Boys Rule!"

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