Appointment With Fate

By Pueros

Dedicated to Erik

(Somewhere in the United Kingdom, 12 months ago)

The next appointment was the one Dr. Fate had been eagerly awaiting, as he had remembered the very pretty patient from earlier meetings, despite the intervening time lapse.

“Hello, Simon,” Dr. Fate greeted the particularly handsome blonde-haired blue-eyed 14 year-old, who was surprised at the Doctor’s pleasant informal recognition, as he had not visited the surgery for a couple of years. He had then been accompanied by his mother because the visit had occurred before he had become an independent teenager. He was now a big boy who no longer needed parental protection.

“Please take a seat and tell me what’s the problem, Simon?” Dr. Fate suggested with a smile. The young teenager, from a well-off professional family and who went to a fee-paying school, then went on to describe his developing trouble with facial spots. They were currently very few and hardly noticeable but he vainly knew that he was a very pretty lad, whom many girls admired, as well as a few boys apparently, although he preferred to dismiss the latter notion from his mind. The 14 year-old therefore wanted to take urgent remedial action before his visage became like that of his brother, two years older, which resembled the surface of the moon, or so the younger sibling regularly teased.

To avoid ugly disfigurement and resultant appropriate brotherly revenge, Simon, who had only recently passed his 14th birthday, was very eager to obtain a cure, not knowing that one did not really exist for the normal perennial teenage hormonal problem. However, Dr. Fate was not intending to tell the boy the truth.

“Well, Simon,” Dr. Fate suggested, “an injection of a special new drug might do the trick. Its only usual side-effect will be to make you a little drowsy at first but it should result in the eradication of the spots.” Despite his natural inherent intelligence, the young patient naively believed the Doctor and was so keen to proceed with the treatment that he was prepared to try to overcome his strong dislike of syringe needles. He was determined to be brave to avoid the phase his brother and his sibling’s contemporaries were passing through.

“It might be best if you lie on my examination couch,” Dr. Fate advised, “whilst I inject you in the arm and until the initial drowsiness wears off, which will happen quickly.” Simon complied and soon the Doctor was presenting the dreaded needle to the young teenager’s arm, already bare because he was wearing a t-shirt.

Dr. Fate smiled again whilst he injected his young patient and noticed that Simon had closed his eyes, a common trait of those trying to hide their fear of the needle. However, the Doctor’s smile was not of attempted friendliness or reassurance. It was in excited recognition that the young teenager’s eyelids would not open for a while and then only after the man had had his wicked way with the boy and infused another drug to counter the first.

The drug in the syringe had no connection to the cure of teenage spots but was a strong anaesthetic, which rendered Simon instantly unconscious. Dr. Fate then immediately went about his preparations, at which he was quite expert because he had readied himself in this manner many times previously. He had limited time to do what he wanted to do because there would be other patients in the waiting room ready for their own consultations.

First, Dr. Fate locked the door of his room, as he wanted no interruptions. Second, he collected his video camera, hidden in its case, and set it up on its associated tripod. He placed the latter on the well-rehearsed spot and focused the camera lens in the usual manner on the examination couch, in such a way that the whole excitement of what was to come would be recorded.

Dr. Fate undressed himself and switched the video camera to record before moving to the other side of the examination couch to stand alongside the quietly unconscious beautiful Simon. The man, in a well-practised routine designed to be visually highly erotic, at least for him, then began slowly to disrobe the young teenager, whom he noticed had obviously and courteously washed and groomed himself well for his visit to the Doctor. The 14 year-old, still too young to shave, smelt sweetly of expensive shower gel, shampoo and deodorants.

Simon’s expensive new white designer trainers came off first, followed by his clean sports socks and then his dark blue t-shirt. Dr. Fate’s manly cock was already rigid and dribbling precum, at what he was doing and the thought of what was still to come. However, his substantial engorged member positively quivered at the sight of the young teenager’s nicely proportioned upper torso coming into view, crowned with sweet rosy nipples and a cute shallow navel. The Doctor’s hands also shook with intense excitement as he subsequently proceeded to unfasten the waist button on the boy's light blue jeans.

Dr. Fate paused before unzipping the tight jeans, as he found the attractions of the noticeable bulge evident in Simon’s crotch irresistible. His right hand was soon running over the curvaceous form, acquiring an early feel for the shape of the young teenager’s prize assets. Meanwhile, the amount of precum drooling out of his own cockhead increased.

Dr. Fate eventually reluctantly surrendered to the sad remorseless passage of time and unzipped Simon’s jeans before gaining a grip of both sides of the trouser waistband in order to pull the garment gently downwards. Having overcome the fleeting resistance of the young teenager’s hips, the denim was soon sliding in the required direction to reveal immaculately white and very skimpy tango-style briefs. The Doctor’s smile broadened in gratitude that the 14 year-old was not wearing the terrible unsexy boxer shorts so prevalent amongst modern youth. He much preferred his boys in sparser, tighter underwear, just as this particular delicious specimen sported.

Dr. Fate soon had the jeans pulled down and off Simon’s lovely lithe legs, on which the tiny blonde hairs were barely visible. He then fetched his ordinary photographic camera to take some close-up shots of the young prone teenager in his very pleasant cotton tango-briefs, displaying an even nicer and better defined protuberance than the denim had managed. Naturally, the bulge merited further manual attention before it was time to unveil the hidden jewels.

Dr. Fate was pleased to note that Simon’s covered genitals, despite the young teenager’s unconsciousness, responded to the attentions of his hand by becoming noticeably aroused, a common phenomenon in such circumstances, as the man now well appreciated from much experience. However, time was moving on and so the ceremonial unveiling now took place.

As usual, Dr. Fate had to fight to prevent his own cock from enjoying instant climax as the white briefs were, with great deliberation, pulled downwards, the man having to give special concentration to preventing premature orgasm when Simon’s superb genitalia popped into view. The organs were very pleasantly sized for a 14 year-old. Nicely substantial, low-hanging, scrotal orbs presented themselves below a long slender uncut penis, semi-hard as a consequence of the Doctor’s earlier manual handling. The whole scene was not spoiled by any hair, apart from a small neat blonde pubic crown.

After the briefs had joined Simon’s other discarded attire, Dr. Fate bent over to engulf the young teenager’s cock with his mouth. There was an instant reaction to the man’s sucking and licking, with the young teenager’s member quickly growing to its apparent full erect length of about 4½ inches. It was obvious to the Doctor that the delectable member between his eager lips was now well accustomed to being entertained, presumably by the boy’s own hand, and that, if he continued, he could make it cum, despite its owner’s stupor.

Dr. Fate therefore proceeded to do just that, using both first his mouth and finally his hand to induce the concluding spectacular fountain-like climax, recorded for posterity by the video camera, but not before the build-up had been frequently and intimately photographed.

It now seemed to the Doctor, after the young teenager had experienced orgasm, that it was only fair that he enjoyed the same. He therefore repositioned the 14 year-old, using all his manly strength, so that the somnolent boy was draped, face-down and bent over the length of the examination couch, feet just touching the floor and bottom nicely positioned for sodomy. The situation also had the benefit of providing the film apparatus with an explicit side view of events.

Dr. Fate lubricated his now rampant and desperate penis with liquid petroleum gel before considerately prising apart Simon’s lustrous bumcheeks to find the young teenager’s virgin sphincter to oblige the boy’s tight rectum with the same kindness. However, the Doctor’s eager passion made him less thoughtful when he finally presented his throbbing cockhead to the 14 year-old’s anal opening and pushed forwards.

Previously virginal defences were rapidly overcome and soon a large manly cock was fully intruding into unexplored territory before eventually leaving a large liquid departure present.

Simon woke up shortly afterwards, now fully re-cleaned, re-clothed and restored to lying face-up on the examination couch. Cameras had also been returned to their earlier condition, hidden in their carriers. The young teenager’s first conscious perception was of acute pain in his backside.

“The drowsy side-effect,” the smiling, similarly redressed, Dr. Fate explained, as he noticed the young teenager's reawakening eyes and return to consciousness, “apparently caused you to sleep a little, Simon. I’m glad you’re now back in the world of the living.” “But my bum also hurts, Doctor,” the boy announced, as he gingerly tried to sit up. “Another occasional side-effect,” the man responded, “ but don’t worry about it, as the pain will soon go away.”

In the event, the anal anguish did not cease for a couple of days but, at the time, Simon never considered disbelieving Dr. Fate’s explanation. The young teenager instead left the Doctor’s consulting room content that the injection he had suffered would prevent him from being inflicted with his brother’s facial ailment, especially if he returned regularly for further similar treatment on a monthly basis, as his pleasant physician had recommended. The boy concluded that he would just have to put up with the peculiar side-effects.

Simon was not displeased to agree to Dr. Fate’s request that he kept the treatment secret. The Doctor had advised him that the drug he had used was new and expensive and so his National Health Service budget would not extend to providing all patients suffering from the ailment with the therapy. Only those who came voluntarily at an early stage of the problem, as the young teenager had done, would be rewarded with the medication.

Simon was, however, content to remain silent about the treatment not because of regard for his Doctor’s wishes but for selfish reasons. He was already beginning to think of all the girls that his unblemished face would attract, compared to the spotty visages of other boys of his age in the years ahead. Dr. Fate was not ignorant of this likely scenario, and smirked at remembering that the only therapy that the 14 year-old would actually have to help the usual teenage malady was the cream he had also prescribed.

(Somewhere in the United Kingdom, present day)

“Never during my time in the High Court,” the judge solemnly declared at the end of his pronouncement, whilst staring contemptuously at Dr. Fate, “have I come across a professional who has so betrayed the trust of his clients. I sentence you to ten years imprisonment, to run concurrently, for each of the charges for which the jury has, quite rightly, found you guilty. I also order that you be placed on the sex offenders’ register for life and never again work in a position where you gain access to children.”

The judge then turned to the prison officers flanking the grim-faced Dr. Fate and ordered “Take him down!” The men then removed their charge from sight, via the stairwell, which was an integral part of the dock, to the cells below.

(In a pub nearby, shortly afterwards)

“Let me buy you another drink,” the Detective Chief Superintendent (DCS) from the local constabulary offered to his colleague of similar rank from London’s New Scotland Yard, a specialist in sex crimes perpetrated on children. “But it’s my round,” DCS Burrows protested. “You’re off-duty and not driving and it’s the least I can do for all your help!” was the friendly retort.

As the two detectives subsequently settled down to chat further over two more pints of bitter, Burrows advised “I’m sorry we couldn’t be of further use. As you know, we identified Dr. Fate from the copies of videos and photos he stupidly sent to internet friends in this country, some of whose houses we raided on business relating to other child pornography matters. We could do little about his international contacts, though, apart from advising the police in their own countries of what might have been sent. However, I doubt if the authorities in places like the Far East, with which he was in touch regularly, were particularly interested.”

“We also regretfully never did find out,” Burrows continued sadly, “what happened to that poor teenager, Simon. His disappearance is a complete mystery, although we’re sure the Doctor had something to do with it. Unfortunately, we could find no evidence other than the material that proved that the boy was one of those abused by the bastard, who unconvincingly denied any knowledge of the lad’s fate. Oops, please excuse the use of that word, as no pun was intended!”

Both policeman then sipped their pints whilst mulling events over and recalling poor Simon, wondering where on Earth the poor boy was.

(Somewhere in the United Kingdom, 10 months ago)

“I thought that it might be more private if this appointment was outside of normal surgery hours,” declared Dr. Fate, “as I don’t want news of this miraculous brand new drug from spreading, even amongst my own staff. However, as the other treatment doesn’t seem to be working properly, with a couple of new spots appearing on your face, I believed that I owed it to you to be one of the first to whom I offered the new therapy. Now, you really haven’t told anyone that you’re here have you?”

Simon was disappointed to be asked again, feeling affronted that his earlier honest reassurances were still being questioned. Nevertheless, his answer did not display this emotion. “No, as I’ve said, Doctor, everyone thinks I’m attending a special Rugby training session,” the young teenager replied in a polite voice.

Simon was delighted, having been previously both very disappointed and concerned to discover that the last drug, now suffered twice at monthly intervals and with the usual side-effects, had been unable to prevent the development of a couple more tiny spots. The blemishes were actually very difficult to detect visually but that had been of no comfort to the young teenager, who was eager to maintain his facial perfection. This was also now an aspiration of Dr. Fate’s, as it should have been all along, but, unknown to the 14 year-old, the Doctor was currently intent on providing the cure by drastic means and for purposes of financial gain rather than patient welfare.

Once Simon had again been rendered unconscious on the examination couch, Dr. Fate once more set up his video camera, this time with another that would give a very close intimate view of the young teenager’s genitals. The Doctor did not then undress himself and also went about the business of disrobing the beautiful 14 year-old in a more perfunctory and speedy manner than usual. The placement of the knees of the boy in enema stirrups, with his legs wide apart, was an additional change to normal practice, as was the tight binding of the base of the lad’s smooth scrotum with a thin cord.

Dr. Fate waited awhile for the cord to perform its task before putting on a surgical gown and gloves and collecting the scalpel, earlier placed in sterilising fluid in readiness to perform his commission. The sharp silvery steel implement was soon presented to the middle of Simon’s nicely uplifted, exposed and now purple ball sac, his currently flaccid penis conveniently pointing upwards towards his navel by virtue of his position. It was a pose that the young teenager would have regarded as being very degrading if he had been conscious.

Dr. Fate carefully began his incision down the middle of Simon’s ball sac and the efficacy of his scrotal tourniquet was immediately apparent from the scarcity of emerging blood. Once the cut was big enough, the Doctor used forceps to widen the aperture before swapping his scalpel for sharp surgical tweezers.

Some speedy proficient exploration inside Simon’s opened ball sac soon located the spermatic cord belonging to the young teenager’s left testicle. Dr. Fate paused whilst the closest video camera secured an excellent view of one of the two decisive moments of the operation. The Doctor then proceeded by expertly snipping the membrane and extracting the severed ball, subsequently held up for intimate film scrutiny.

The right spermatic cord and testicle soon suffered similarly at, literally, Fate’s hands. Simon, although he did not yet know it, was now a eunuch. The young teenager was also unaware that his transformation had not only been recorded for posterity on video but had additionally been visually transmitted live by internet link to the man who had commissioned the work.

Dr. Fate placed the severed white orbs in a jar of preservative fluid before attending to the stitching, anaesthetizing and dressing of Simon’s now empty scrotum. After doing all that he could do for the new eunuch, the Doctor used his surgery intercom to call in the men who had been patiently passing time on their own in the otherwise empty waiting room.

The four burly Chinese carefully picked up the still somnolent Simon and took him, the jar of freshly extracted testes and the two newly used videotapes away. Dr. Fate then tidied up his consulting room and himself, whilst wondering what he was going to do with the £100,000 he was going to receive for supplying a beautiful young British eunuch to his special internet friend.

The multi-millionaire, based in the Far East, had selected the young victim from the many videos of abused young male patients kindly sent to him via the internet by Dr. Fate. However, the Chinese man was so cautious that he insisted that his British acquaintance eradicated all evidence of contact after they had been in touch with each other, a practice that the Doctor was careful to follow. After the physician’s arrest, the police had no idea that what had just been perpetrated had occurred and found no trace of any liaison with the rich man from abroad, especially as the fee just earned was secreted in an off-shore bank account.

The one consolation that Dr. Fate later had, when he was being taken to a high security prison to serve his sentence, was that he would be coming out to a nice monetary nest-egg.

(Guangdong, China, present day)

The Chinese millionaire, a native of Hong Kong, had been very pleased with the service provided by his young teenage eunuch, at least after the boy had been broken by much punishment and torture into total subservience. The man had, for many years, endured an unfulfilled fetish for owning such a slave from the nation that had formerly colonised his home city.

The millionaire held an enduring grudge against the former colonial power. This had emanated from the rape, years ago, of his sister by a young drunken British sailor visiting the great port, an event covered up by the authorities of the day. This grievance, allied to his taste for western boys, had created his fetish, which finally became reality. The man, after ingratiating himself with the government in Beijing and subsequently earning massive amounts of money in trade, much illicit, between mainland China and Hong Kong, had met Dr. Fate in an internet chat room.

Matters had progressed rather satisfactorily from there, at least from the point of view of the man from Hong Kong. However, the imprisonment of Dr. Fate had prevented the millionaire from adding to his collection of eunuchs. The Doctor had kindly lined up another young victim but had been arrested before the transaction could be accomplished.

The millionaire therefore often spent many hours scouring other internet chat rooms, trying to discover other medical practitioners who might like to earn substantial fees for special commissions. He would often peer at the jar containing his current eunuch’s testes as he did so.

Meanwhile, that current lone eunuch, Simon, would spend much of his off-duty time in isolation in his tiny basement cell, located in the millionaire’s huge remote mansion in the southern Chinese province of Guangdong. The boy, now just turned 15, no longer worried about developing facial spots because the hormonal situation which caused the blemishes on normal teenagers was no longer a problem for his gelded body. Neither was the acquisition of girlfriends, not least because he had to satisfy, on a frequent basis, the voracious sexual appetite of his male master.

THE END

(although there will be a sequel sometime!)

of

‘APPOINTMENT WITH FATE’

by Pueros