We’d no sooner hit SEND and shot the video across the Atlantic to Simon when the mobile began ringing. It was Simon calling from a landline at the Centre, and he was extremely agitated. He was so worked up, in fact, that I could hardly understand him.

“Simon,” I almost had to shout, “Calm down! I can’t understand you!”

There was a long, drawn out hiss of breath, and then Simon began to speak more evenly. “Thanks, Jan. No, I’m fine. I can see why Dr. Holroyd drinks this stuff now! Ricky? Are you still there, Ricky? Is Roddy with you?” I told him we were both here. “Jan,” he then broke off, “Do be a good fellow and fetch Mark Maitland, will you? And see if you can locate Graham “Jack” Elliot, Manchit Khannah, and the Roebuck Twins. Call the school first, I think Manchit has summer session and Elliot should be about too. You can get the others’ numbers from the front desk. I want them to see this as well, just to be sure I’ve not gone mad! Ricky! Where was I?” Simon cut back to us.

“You’re upset?” I offered in a small voice. “What’s wrong, Simon? Has something happened?”

“Not here, no! But THERE, yes! When did you shoot the video of this man?” Simon demanded.

“Just now?” Roddy spoke up. “Why? Whatever is the matter, Simon?”

“That was the photographer at your baseball game?” Simon asked, still sounding very worked up. I said that it was in fact him, and mentioned his assistant that we hadn’t seen yet, but for only in passing at the game.

“He was IN your house?” Simon exclaimed. “He knows where you live?!”

“Should we try and get a video of the other man?” I asked.

“NO!” Simon barked, “You stay AWAY from them! Gods, how to handle this? This is going to turn into an international incident! And he knows where you live, too!” Simon repeated, groaning. “All right, boys, here’s the plan: you go on about your summer as if nothing is wrong. But stay with an adult at all times, or at least, in a crowd of people. DO NOT let these men catch you alone, like they did that Steven-boy in the toilet!” Then he went quiet again. “Ricky, what I’m about to tell you stays between the three of us. Hang on,” he broke off, and there was a beep on the line. “Are we secure?” Simon was asking someone there, and that someone said that they were. “Are you alone?”

“We’re alone in our bedroom, yes?” I answered. I wondered what one photographer could have to do with upsetting Simon so, and how that could trigger an international incident? What HAD Simon gotten into that he was about to tell us?

Of course, it was common knowledge that Simon and his “Knickers Club” got into all sorts of mischief, and lately, that tendency appeared to be rubbing off on me and my friends as well. After all, that’s how I’d become so well known and eventually found my Grandparents – that little adventure with the train, the collapsed tunnel, and the earthquake, recall. In fact, I was getting into adventures right when I arrived in Britain!

“Boys,” Simon began, you have a right to know this. These men are dangerous; that’s why you MUST avoid them. Jan ran the numbers from the Neutersol packet, the one that your little friend Steven said your photographer dropped in the ballpark’s toilet there. It’s safe, in date, and it was originally ordered and shipped to the Hospital Wing of St. Anselme’s School here about six months ago. The shelf life is just a bit over a year, in case you wondered.”

That didn’t come as a surprise at all. St. Anselme’s, which had been run by Simon’s uncle, Carl Scott, aka Lord Manningham, before his untimely demise recently, was rapidly overtaking Southdown Hall as the boy-eunuch-prep school of choice in Britain. In fact, some of us had even been put to coaching and helping out there to encourage the boys of St. Anselme’s that getting neutered was in their best interests and even a smashingly good idea. And it had worked; it was still working, it seemed, if the school was still importing Neutersol by the box!

“But how did it get all the way over here?” I asked. “Isn’t it illegal to transport pharmaceuticals overseas like that, smuggling?”

“It is,” Simon agreed, as if I were a student in a class and he were the happy teacher, “The video you sent explains how it got there, though. That man is one Professor Otto von Gosch, Austrian, and naturalized American. I knew him here, in Britain, almost three years ago when I and some mates were mixed up in something called ‘Operation Westward Ho’, and ‘Made Safe’. You see, Ricky, I’ve come across some very disturbing papers here in Uncle’s safe, now that the Centre is mine. I can’t believe Uncle wrote some of this stuff down.” He paused.

“Go on?” I asked.

“Otto von Gosch was the chief medic at the complex we all stayed at during our time with the Operation. It was a huge secret, and Dr. Holroyd even let us off of school for a long while, as it was labeled a matter of national security.” Simon snorted. Somehow, I had a feeling that he’d been lied to back then. Sure enough…

“As it turned out, Uncle Carl and Major Max Riche – also an Uncle of sorts in our twisted family tree – were NOT involved with the military, nor involved with MI in this operation. They lied to everyone. Operation Made Safe, or Westward Ho, was in fact a covert operation to grab up boys in care, foster boys, street boys, or any other unwanted boy they could put their hands on. The boys were then to be neutered, and shipped out to various well-off Aristos or Sheiks in France or the Middle East to spend their days as ‘safe’ and sexually helpless servants or pages to the upper classes.”

I nearly dropped the phone, but there was more. It was on speaker, and Roddy gasped. His face was very white.

“I’ve come to find out that around the time when Carl and Max,”(Simon went on, dropping the ‘Uncles’), “…were trying to convince ME that being neutered would be the making of me, they were at that time, deeply involved in another operation coming out of South and Central America to do the same thing. The papers here call it ‘Operation Sugar Plum’. They would grab up boys that no one would miss, neuter them, and then ship them off to buyers ‘round the world who wanted or needed boys who could never fuck their precious daughters and start babies with them. That, or they needed boys as manual laborers or farm workers who wouldn’t be distracted by erections and wanting a wank, or sex all the time. There was one problem, though.” He paused again.

“PROBLEM? YA THINK?!” Roddy exclaimed. He’d picked up that American idiom on the ball field already.

“The problem was,” Simon continued, his voice quavering now and again, “Was that not all of the boys liked the idea. After all, who wants to be shipped off to be a slave boy in a foreign land? Many of them had nervous collapses though, and some even had psychotic breaks when they found out they’d been castrated. That was where WE came in, the Southdown Hall eunuchs and myself.”

I could hardly believe it. How could Simon – MY Simon – the boy who had taken me under his wing when I’d arrived in Britain - a foreign land to ME - the boy who’d been so kind to me, a role model, even, be involved in such an atrocity?

“We didn’t know, of course,” Simon explained, and I admit, I didn’t readily believe him. I hated myself for it later, of course, but I’m getting ahead again.

“We didn’t even know where the complex was. We were transported there in secrecy, and we never went outside. It must have been underground, and it was quite a ways from the school. I know I couldn’t locate it again, even if I tried. There aren’t any records of the precise location, none that I’ve found yet. But I’m looking.

“Anyway, it was our job, my friends and I, to get these boys used to the idea of being eunuchs. We spent time with them, let them see us naked, of course, and literally extolled the virtues of being the impotent, sexless creatures such as we are.”

That sort of stung me a bit, and Roddy teared up.

“In short, it worked. Of course, I can’t know how WELL it worked, as the boys were taken and shipped off before the Neutersol had time to make their balls dry up and disappear. By that time, realizing they’d been castrated, they’d already been placed in their new…homes,” he almost spat. “We processed quite a few boys, but then our job there was done. I think they may have trained other boys, maybe even boys from other schools, to take our places as ‘eunuch trainers’, so we’d not be missed.”

“Boys from St. Anselme’s, perhaps?” I offered. “To replace you? I mean, your Uncle DID run it?”

“I think you’re onto the plot, Ricky,” Simon agreed. “St. A’s registry has been sort of dodgy for a year or so, Jan’s discovered. All these immigrant boys, boys who couldn’t possibly go to a prep school like that, coming and going, on and off the records. And since this Otto, or ‘Doctor Death’, as we came to call him, is now in America – of course he can be, he’s a citizen – that tells me that Operation Westward Ho has collapsed, or at least, slowed down.

“According to what the Officers told me when Uncle Carl was killed, and Dr. Geller went on the run, their market seemed to have hit saturation point. There was no longer a need of their exports of neutered boys, but that really can’t be right,” Simon mused, as if remembering something. “The Operation we were involved in shut down. Riche told me that once, when we had it out in an argument. Unless he lied about THAT too? I think that was when he lost all use for me – when I confronted him with it.”

Riche?

That name sounded familiar.

Then it hit me.

“Riche was the name of a man who came to Dr. Geller’s in Malaysia!” I squeaked, “He used to come and fuck Jimmy! He wanted to fuck ME, but Dr. Geller told him NO!”

“Gods,” Simon groaned, and I could hear ice clinking and something pouring.

“Are you drinking?” Roddy asked.

“I am,” Simon confessed. “I expect to be quite polluted in a short while!”

“Is Riche the other photographer?” I asked excitedly, thinking I’d solved it. Boy, was I wrong…

“No,” Simon said firmly, “Riche was taken by MI and ‘dealt with’ after my short stint with the military in the Orient. He was caught trying to set up a ring there with local criminals of all sorts to get a new supply of Asian boys to neuter and export, to say nothing of building his own ‘retirement paradise’, let’s call it. I was so close to you then, Ricky, and I never even knew it! I probably passed right by where you were living!” Simon was beginning to sound desperate and weepy. This wasn’t going well.

“No, Major Max Riche has never been heard from again, since he was arrested and vanished. And since there was only one other adult that we ever saw during ‘Made Safe’, it has to be him.

“He’s a man by the name of Iain Donald, or rather, Captain Iain Donald, RN. I’ve discovered that he was in with the South American ring, Operation Sugar Plum, but was sacked. When operation ‘Made Safe’ shut down, Captain Donald was transferred to be the military attaché in the Gilbert and Ellice Islands. He was shocked to find out that he was to be ‘respectable’, finally, and that the crime of neutering boys there carries the death penalty if caught. In fact, I don’t think there ARE any boy-eunuchs there. I don’t think he could deal with that, and probably went AWOL and fled. As for Otto von Gosch, no one’s seen or heard from him since, either. It’s very probable that they’ve gotten together, and they’re not overly happy with ME. Of course, a LOT of people aren’t very happy with me, I think. There are a LOT of people out there that Carl and Max sort of left, ahhh, hanging out to dry, let’s say.”

“And they’re here, taking pictures of US, and dropping stolen packets of Neutersol – which came from YOUR Uncle’s school – WHY?” I demanded of Simon, with uncharacteristic heat in my voice. “And what’s THAT all got to do with YOU?”

There was such a long pause that I thought we’d lost the connection.

“I received a letter some weeks ago, a registered one,” Simon said, his voice almost a whisper. “Someone trying to be sly, I think – using clippings from magazines so as not to show their handwriting. All it says is this: ‘I know exactly WHO you are, I know WHERE you are, and I know WHAT you are. I also recall very well what your Uncles and that Magistrate did to ME and mine, at YOUR insistence, and if you value your well-being, and that of your friends, you’ll agree to some terms of mine that should help to put my life back on track, seeing as how YOU, as the surviving heir to Lord Manningham, are the one responsible for my current predicament. You WILL pay for what he did to us. More details to follow.’”

So that was it – Simon was being blackmailed! It seemed that some of his old exploits were finally catching up with him.

“Ricky,” Simon said, and I could hear the pain in his voice. “I’ve been mixed up in some pretty horrible things, but please believe me, NONE of them were MY idea! I never wanted any of this! All I ever wanted was for my parents to come and take me home, to spend time with me, maybe even love me…and help me to grow up into a man like…like…not like Uncle Carl, let’s just say,” Simon faltered. “I never wanted to end up here, like this, and with you being…,”

“ME?!” I squeaked again. “What am I doing mixed up in someone wanting revenge on YOU? I never did a thing to them!”

But it was Roddy who answered that question.

“They’ve obviously been planning this very carefully, and stalking Simon for these last few years,” Roddy theorized. “The letter says they hold him to blame for what went wrong in their lives, namely, having to go on the run for being involved in an illegal boy-eunuch trade. They’ve been getting to know all about Simon – where he goes, what he does, who his friends are, and who he cares about. You’ve spent a lot of time with Simon, Ricky. So have I. That’s why they’re stalking us. What about Melanie?”

“She’s here, in the suite,” Simon said. “She knows, too. So does her mother, Selena Scott, the Magistrate. We’ve got her working on this, and she’ll be in touch with Ricky’s Grandfather soon, as well. Like I said, this is going to be an international incident when it all breaks. What’s the saying, ‘When the shit hits the fan’?”

“A very shitty fan it will be, too, since the crimes against these men, once exposed, are pretty big ones,” Roddy went on. “Dr. Geller, so Ricky tells me, is already on the run for trafficking boy-eunuchs and doing illegal castrations. In fact, all of them – Gosch, Donald, Geller – would be wanted criminals, wouldn’t they? Immigration is after her too, aren’t they? Such as the case on Jimmy?”

Roddy’s keen analytical mind was on it, as usual!

I felt a bit bad about that last bit, though. Life hadn’t been good to Jimmy, and if his passport was discovered to be false, as I was sure it had by now, he’d probably be sent back to the life of being a neutered beach-boy in the Orient, peddling his arse for sex and small change just to survive. It gave me the shivers to think how close I’d come to living that same life.

“Simon, what about Jimmy?” I asked, running that all past him.

“Jimmy’s fine. Dr. Holroyd and I have seen to that. They won’t deport him.” I breathed a sigh of relief when Simon told me that.

Then something else occurred to me: If Simon was this upset over what he was finding in his Uncle’s safe, and I could tell that he was, then wouldn’t he be sharing this information with the Police? It made sense, seeing as how two more of Carl’s associates had turned up, right at the time that Simon had received a threatening letter.

“Wait!” I cut back in, “Simon? Are you telling me that your Uncle Carl and this Max person were in it with Dr. Geller as well?”

There was a heavy sigh, and I knew the answer. My stomach fell. Of course, Simon had to be telling the truth. Rumors abounded at school that Carl Scott had been caught with a busload of neutered boys from St. Anselme’s – immigrant boys – that no one would miss. It had been in all the papers, well, not THAT part, but some of us younger boys HAD overheard Manchit Khannah talking about what he’d seen through the window of Dr. Geller’s suite. And I hadn’t believed the rumors then. After all, secrets travel fast in a boarding school.

But now I knew.

It was true.

Dr. Kristen Geller, the lady who’d taken me in and given me a home, given me everything that I had, was guilty of trafficking neutered boys with Simon’s devious Uncles as well. I was going to be ill. I could feel it. With all the new information I’d just learned, my whole history was collapsing around me.

“The men…on the truck…th-that picked us all up,” I managed, as the tears began, “They…they w-worked for your Uncles? They were taking us to Dr. Geller’s to be neutered, and sold as slaves?” I cried. “Simon? Why? How was it they didn’t take ME too?”

“Because Dr. Geller stopped them, Ricky,” Simon said plainly. “Believe it or not, there are letters here in the safe from her to Carl. She goes on and on about you, wanting to contact you, but she couldn’t. Carl wouldn’t let her. He only allowed small bits through to you. That was part of their deal – she got to keep you, and in turn, once he set up your future here in Britain, she was to have no contact with you – so long as she kept up her end of the bargain. For every x-number of boys that she castrated, she was allowed to keep one to do with as she pleased. YOU were the one, in the shipment that brought you to her place. Ricky, please don’t make me read the rest of this document. It’s ugly. Very ugly. Just remember how happy she was to see you at the Grand Met right before…before all of this… happened? Ricky, she genuinely loved you,” Simon assured me.

But I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t believe him.

“Sh-she…she worked for them,” I finally admitted, realizing that when I’d first come to her, I’d been nothing more than another boy to neuter. Nothing more than another cash transaction waiting to happen. I’d been bought, castrated, and in a way, sold. Just like a farm animal. The excuse about the genetics law was just a big lie, and it was like Simon has told me – if I wasn’t legally allowed to breed, why not just give me a vasectomy? The answer was now clear – she’d lied to me about it. All she’d wanted to do was castrate me for her own gain and pleasure.

My whole world crashed down around my ears then.

‘She loved you,’ he’d said.

I didn’t believe it.

I used to believe it.

But no more.

I was crying openly, and Roddy was trying to comfort me. I tried hard not to break down into sobs, but it was so difficult. The woman I’d practically worshipped, thought of as a mother, even, was nothing more than some twisted, evil monster who castrated boys and sold them for money. I put the mobile on normal mode and handed it to Roddy. Then I went to the bathroom and was violently ill. I stayed in there, sobbing, while Roddy talked to Simon. He’d later have to tell me the whole story, because I couldn’t bear it then.

“Roddy,” Simon told him, as Roddy would tell me that next morning, “I’m afraid there’s more to it than just me being blackmailed or extorted by someone that my Uncles left hanging out to dry. Jan Raxworthy also ran the phone number of that Geller Medical Clinic, and it’s operating under the name of ‘KGML Limited, Paediatrics & Urology’ at 14th & Lincoln in West Chester, Pennsylvania.

“Roddy,” Simon grew very grim, “This CANNOT be a coincidence. Our familiar Dr. Geller fled Britain as a wanted woman, wanted on some very HIGH crimes against humanity, against children! Ricky heard the rumors, but now he knows it’s all true.

“When Carl was caught, and drove the drove the bus off into the harbour, he’d been caught with several neutered boys, recall. That is a FACT, not a rumor. They were boys that Dr. Geller had castrated in her hotel suite. Manchit saw them. Now, with Carl and Max out of the picture, I’m sure that MI and Interpol are going to target someone, and that someone is going to be HER. That’s why she fled. I have no idea how she could have gotten set up in the States there without getting caught, unless she’s got an American connection, but there she is. And if Ricky has seen this flyer for her SNIP SATURDAYS, well…”

“You don’t think he’ll confront her about all this?” Roddy gasped.

“I think he’ll do JUST that, yes,” Simon replied. “And you must NOT allow him to do that, Roddy. There is only one reason I can think of as to why Dr. Geller would have gone there to West Chester, knowing that the Bensons lived there and were expecting Ricky to come this summer.”

“Simon, do you think she’s going to try and grab him?” Roddy gasped.

“That is exactly what I think,” Simon agreed, “Very good, Roddy. You didn’t see the way she treated him at the Grand Met. She was just beside herself and monopolized him the entire time. It was like I wasn’t even there; she was obsessive with him. No, there’s no way Geller could operate there and not get caught, passing out flyers like that and all this heavy advertising! She must know that they’ll be on to her very soon, and I can’t think of any other reason as to why she’d do this. She MUST be using this paediatric practice of hers as a front to try and get Ricky’s attention, knowing that he’d be there this summer, hoping he’d come to her.”

“Her business is booming, too,” Roddy added, “Every boy but for Stevie on our baseball team is a eunuch, and Geller did them ALL recently. She cuts, though; she doesn’t use Neutersol? Why, I wonder?”

“According to her letters to Carl here,” Simon replied, “She gets off on castrating boys with a scalpel. She loves what she does.”

“That’s sick,” Roddy retorted.

“Roddy, you should know that Melanie just flooded her knickers when we neutered YOU,” Simon informed him. “A LOT of girls get off on various aspects of eunuchism!”

“Oh,” Roddy said, noting that Simon was beginning to slur a bit.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Roddy heard Melanie saying to Simon. He had to laugh, in spite of all the bad news.

“What I don't understand, though,” Roddy said, “Is why would this von Gosch and Donald be here, in the same town, and posing as photographers at a baseball tournament? Just to find Ricky? Is there more? Perhaps von Gosch is Geller’s American connection you mentioned?”

That was one thing about Roddy – he could give Sherlock Holmes a run for his money!

“I have a theory on that, too,” Simon hiccoughed, “They wouldn’t do it for just ONE boy, no matter how much they think I care about him, and want to hurt me. These men like the boy-eunuch trade. In fact, a lot of men like boy-eunuchs. I’ve been liked a great deal, you know what I mean? I thought you might! So if they’re still in the trade, they’ll need pictures of the potential wares, don’t you think?

“And if they knew that Dr. Geller had been working for my Uncles,” Simon almost spat again, the disgust in his voice evident for the two men who’d had him neutered, and who had put him through so much, “Then they would have known that it was her, and gravitated to her for the source of boy-eunuchs that was bound to crop up, once she got settled in and started again. It’s also possible that they’ve already contacted her, and set up a deal. After all, she can make a LOT of money at trading neutered boys, provided they can find a new market to fill. Von Gosch and Donald may have found one, probably in an area where you can’t castrate a boy legally, and have to import them. They could have already gotten the names of the boys on your team from her, IF that theory is sound.” Simon paused again, as if he couldn’t say something aloud. It was Melanie who did.

“Roddy, you know that American boy-eunuchs would fetch a huge price in this new market. They always have, in ANY market. The only reason they’re not prime targets already is because it’s so much easier to get boys from Third World countries. It may even be that the saturated Arab market will want to trade up, seeing as how they hate Americans so much now in this shifting political climate. Your new friends are in grave danger!” Melanie explained.

“Kidnappings?” Roddy gasped.

“I think so,” Simon agreed, “Dr. Geller knows she’s going to have to run again, and probably very soon. She loves Ricky, I know. As I said, I think that’s why she’s there – to grab him and vanish with him. She knows Ricky will come to her. I may have just derailed that plan, and I hope I have.”

“There’s one problem with that, Simon,” Roddy pointed out. “Ricky’s having problems peeing, you know. It turns out, his cock is kinking up inside, and he can’t empty his bladder fully. That’s why he goes so much. Dr. Bruce, Judge Benson’s GP, gave him some one-time catheters to keep it emptied out, but he said that Ricky would have to have surgery eventually. The good news is he’s not diabetic. The bad news, well, Mrs. Benson has sort of already set up an appointment to have this local Dr. Geller examine Ricky,” Roddy informed Simon.

“WHEN?!” Simon shouted, upsetting his glass, it sounded like.

“Ricky doesn’t know yet. It’s for tomorrow, right after the game,” Roddy replied. “Of course, with tournament, and all the things the Grands want us to do, he won’t have a surgery YET, but…,”

“Damn,” Simon sighed. “All right, Plan B! You can’t cancel out, that’ll be too suspicious. You stay with him, Roddy. If Gran takes him to Geller, you make SURE you don’t let Ricky out of your sight! She may run with him, the first chance she gets. And if you can, grab some evidence. Steal a file, or something?”

About then, the mobile beeped. The battery was going dead. Steal files? Was he daft?! Roddy wondered.

“Simon, I have to go, dead battery! I’ll ring you up later and let you know!”

“And be careful of Donald and von Gosch!” Simon repeated, and then the phone died.

So that was it, as Roddy would explain to me in bed that night. I was past the worst bit of sobbing, and despite Roddy’s assurances that I’d find out the next day how Dr. Geller felt about me (if it was even MY Dr. Geller here and not someone else), I just didn’t believe that she’d ever loved me. Something had changed. I felt like I was even more of an orphan than I’d ever been before, despite the fact that I was now in the house of my Grandparents. Roddy held me until I went to sleep, that much I remember, and how nice it was. But Roddy was in danger too, and that was my fault…

Even though the laxatives and enemas had turned the trick in making us feel better, I wasn’t hungry at breakfast that next morning. Simon was going to contact Grandpa that day, and I had to tell him about it. I figured I’d let Simon tell him the story. Being a Judge, I figured he’d accept it. Surely he’d heard it all by now in his long career?

Sure enough, the phone rang right after breakfast and it was Simon. He must have had a short night, and I figured that he’d have a roaring hangover. Grandpa took the call in his home office, and then Grandma told me about my appointment with Dr. Geller.

“I’m going to have some things to say to HER, if it’s that same woman who took you in and neutered you,” Grandma promised me. Well, that was that – I had to tell her, and Roddy agreed with me when I asked him. We couldn’t risk Grandma blowing it, and from what Roddy had already told me of Simon’s suspicions, I just HAD to do something. What if it WAS all true? What if this WAS my Dr. Geller, and she was in league with these two dark characters from Simon’s past? What if they did plan to kidnap our baseball team?

I started with telling her about how all the boys, save for Stevie on our team were eunuchs, and how they’d all been done in one of those SNIP SATURDAYS from the flyers. Then I told her about Neutersol, and how the photographer who might be Otto von Gosch had dropped a packet in the toilet for Stevie to find. The more I talked, though, the more the parts all began to fit together. I got a cold chill, and the feeling that Simon was indeed right was beginning to frighten me.

“And now you expect me to TAKE you to this woman?” Grandma gasped. “Just hand you over, so she can run away with you?!”

“Gran, I’m the only one who can identify her for certain. I’ll need Roddy to get evidence, too, if it IS her, while I distract her. She’s obsessed with me, Simon said, and once she gets me in the office, she won’t even know you or Roddy is there. She did that to Simon, last time we met. And if they’re all working together, these men and her, then I’m the only one who can stop them from going after all the boy-eunuchs in this town!”

Grandma just sat there, staring at me.

She might have gotten Roddy’s name wrong all the time, but she was far from senility. Her mind was just as keen as it had ever been, and being married to the Judge had sharpened it over the years.

Finally, she smiled.

“Ricky, my dear,” she said thoughtfully, “You have got to be the bravest boy I have ever met. You might not have balls, but you’ve got SOMETHING!”

“Errrm, thanks?” I sort of asked. It was odd to see my Grandma not getting all weepy and upset over the fact that I had been castrated, which is how she always got when the subject came up.

“All right, this is a win/win situation,” Grandma went on, surprising us both with her clarity. “You need an exam, plain and simple. This Dr. Geller, yours or someone else, is a paediatric urologist. You get the exam, and if it IS her, we know you get a good one. We’ll know what treatment you’ll need. And if it this monster that likes to geld little boys, well, then Roddy and I can sneak around and try to gather evidence while she’s having a look at you.”

“But Gran,” I cut in, “What IF it IS her, and she has a plan to grab me and make off with me, like Simon said?”

“Exits,” Roddy put in. “We have a game before, right? This afternoon, and Ricky is the last slot of the day to be seen? We post our players at all exits. That way, someone will see her if she tries to get out.”

“How do we explain taking all of them along, though?” Gran asked.

“Ice cream,” Roddy shrugged. “They’ll all go for it!”

“Genius!” I grinned, as I made sure my new camera was charged up and had a blank memory card in it for movie recording. Thank you, Melanie!

Our first tournament game went well that early afternoon, with Roddy and I riding the excitement of our big plans. I won’t go into detail, but we murdered the other team – Northside Chevrolet. It wasn’t even close. Another rule in baseball that can vary from league to league is that if you are winning by so many runs in the fifth inning, they stop the game and declare you the winner. It’s called ‘mercy rule’. And we did that!

But back to the excitement.

Grandpa had talked to Simon, all right, and he looked like Simon must have sounded. If I had been a criminal in his courtroom and him looking like that, I would have been scared! Grandma told him our plan, and he fully went along with it.

“Evidence is paramount,” he’d told us, as they dropped us off at the ballpark for the game. The photographers were there, and we even got a few shots of them with my camera. “I have some people to see, so I’ll meet you at the Dairy Prince, all right?” Grandpa had told us.

“’Dairy Prince’?” I asked, and Bradley explained it to me later. Odd name, if you asked me. Sounded like a gay bull to me…

After we’d won the game, Grandma sprung the ice cream ploy on the team. Of course, there were plenty of takers, and they didn’t even mind a short wait while I went in to see the doctor. There were warnings, though:

“If you had balls, she’d cut ‘em off,” Tyler said.

“She was the one who did me,” Bradley reminded me.

“Fifteen boys in one day,” Michael put in.

“Keep a close eye on your cock,” Jamie warned me.

And the comments went on and on as we all piled in the back of Coach’s Ford and were off.

Finally, we arrived at 14th & Lincoln. As I was in the last slot of the day, the parking lot was pretty empty. It was then, once the team was clear of adults, that Roddy sprang a tiny bit of the plan on them and posted them all at the windows and doors. Gary even climbed a tree to watch the roof!

When we walked in, with my red cleats making noise on the tile floor, the receptionist greeted us warmly. “Richie Benson to see Dr. Geller?” Gran announced us. That sly old lady! She’d even changed my name in advance, so that we’d not be suspected! We were filling out forms as Roddy slipped into the toilet with my camera. I had to pee pretty bad, as usual, but I held it for the exam. I did go get a drink at the fountain, though, to help things along.

As I was drinking, I could hear something rattle in the toilet. When I peeked in, Roddy was gone! I almost wet myself then, but then I heard his voice hiss at me from overhead.

“I’m in the ductwork, talk loud in the hall, and I’ll follow you to the exam room!”

I nodded, and then it was time to find out if this Dr. Geller was the real one.

Nurse Levament started doing the usual things, asking me to undress and such, but I hadn’t even kicked off my cleats when Dr. Geller – MY DOCTOR GELLER! – burst out of her office with a clipboard in hand.

“One more boy to see, then I’ve got to call up…” she began, but froze when she saw me. I took off my baseball cap, and shook out my blonde hair. I forced a smile at her. I just stood there in all of my dirty, dusty, sweaty, somewhat smelly glory and waited for her reaction.

“RICKY!?” She screamed, dropping the clipboard and running to grab me up in a hug that almost cracked my spine! “OH, God, Ricky! It’s really you! And just LOOK at you!” She went on, covering me in kisses as tears ran down her cheeks. “I never thought to see you again!”

Yeah, right, I thought.

But maybe Simon had been right? Maybe she DID love me, for real? If not, then she was one hell of an actress.

Overhead, I heard a soft beep.

Roddy was recording.

“All dressed up, so cute! And playing baseball? Oh, but I heard you were rubbish at cricket?” Dr. Geller asked.

“It’s different!” I forced myself to say happily. “And…and I’ve got a problem, Miss!”

“Oh, how rude of me! Forgive me, Ricky! But it doesn’t list YOU on here!” She looked at Gran. “Are you changing his name?”

“Yes,” Gran nodded happily. “Lib Benson, Doctor,” She introduced herself. They shook hands, and then we all went into an exam room.

Dr. Geller took me on her lap (I hardly fit anymore), and she began reading my records from Dr. Bruce. She looked surprised, then her expression changed.

“Oh, Ricky, this is all my fault,” she sighed. “Please forgive me! It happens, but it’s rare, you know! Your little penis is all pinched up inside and you can’t pee right? Well, Dr. Geller can fix that right up, but you’ll have to have surgery, you know?”

“I know,” I sighed. “But please, Miss, can’t it wait until baseball is over? I have the catheters, and I really don't want to miss out? Please?” I begged, giving her my best sad-puppy face.

It worked.

“Oh, my, you’ll have to excuse me,” Grandma cut in, “But I must visit the ladies’! I’ll be right back! You go ahead and have a look at the boy, won’t you, Doctor?” Then she excused herself.

Once we were alone, Dr. Geller hugged and kissed me again, seemingly just beside herself with joy as she asked me to strip. I did that, and when I pulled off my little black thong (we boy-eunuchs had no need of Y-fronts or a box/cup – nothing to support or protect), I got up on the exam table.

At once, her hands were all over me, touching me here and there, and not totally in a professional manner! As she took my tiny little cock between two fingers and gave it a stretch, I almost wet myself again.

“I have to go, bad!” I told her, and she instantly fetched a bottle for me to go in. She measured it out, then carefully catheterized me, so gently, and measured out what I’d retained. She even used a special gel that numbed the inside of my urethra. I wanted a tube of that stuff to take home, too.

“Not good, Ricky,” she sighed. “You’re not emptying out at all! But like I said, we can fix that!”

“How?” I asked anxiously, glancing up at the shadowy face in the air duct grate above.

“Well, the best thing to do,” she explained, as her eyes went sort of distant and she began rubbing my cock, which didn’t even try to get stiff, “Is to just take this out,” she gave it another stretch, “By the root!”

“What?!” I gasped in mock surprise. I figured she’d say that. After all, if she liked to castrate boys so much, I figured taking their cocks off couldn’t be far behind?

“Oh, I’ve done it before, Ricky. People used to bring me boys back in the Orient, before you came along, to have them nullified. That’s when I remove their little penises as well, along with their balls. We won’t tell anyone, but it’s illegal, unless there’s traumatic injury or cancer. It makes a boy so smooth and beautiful, just like a perfect little baby cherub! And some boys want it done so badly, transsexual or not. It would look good on YOU, too, Ricky!” She assured me, now rubbing my tummy and making soothing sounds. “All smooth and pretty down there, not really a boy anymore…more like a little cherub,” she repeated.

Boy, was she going off the deep end, or what? I hoped Roddy was getting all this.

“I’d look good?” I asked, trying to sound just like I remembered, so shocked and in wonder, when she’d talked me into letting her castrate me that one night long ago.

It seemed to be working.

“Yesssss,” she sighed again, harder this time, “It’s just as simple for me to take the whole thing out by the root, as it would be for me to isolate the urethra – your piss tube – and relocate it down to where your scrotum used to be. Of course, you’ll have to wear an indwelling catheter for a month or six weeks, until you heal up. And you’d have to sit to pee, like a girl, but judging from the looks of your cock, you have to now, don’t you?”

“Yes, Miss,” I answered happily, “But I don't mind! When can we do it?”

“When your season is over and you’ve won the pennant!” Dr. Geller assured me. “Oh, Ricky, do you think your Grandparents would let me come and watch you play? I’d so love to, and I’ve missed out on so much with you!” To my surprise, she then began to weep. “You’re just so adorable in that uniform!” She cried.

“Wha’s wrong?” I asked, sitting up and putting my hand on her arm. I was beginning to feel bad about trying to trap her, but the thought of all those neutered boys outside watching the doors got me over that fairly quick.

If not for Dr. Geller, they’d probably all still have their balls. Their voices would be breaking, they’d be having erections, and they’d be wanking at night while dreaming of fucking girls someday. Or maybe other boys…anyway, they’d be dreaming of fucking. And they’d also be ABLE to do it someday.

But thanks to Dr. Geller, none of them ever would.

I knew I certainly wouldn’t.

“You don't need a penis, anyway, Ricky,” she assured me, as she gave me the rest of the usual exam with tender hands and more than a few kisses here and there. I won’t mention where all of those kisses went…

“Even if you keep it, it will never, ever go stiff again. Your erectile nerves were burnt out when I castrated you. It’s standard practice, and I do it with all of the boys I neuter. Otherwise, they’d just get replacement hormones, HRT, and go right into puberty. The only difference would be that they couldn’t make babies, but they’d still ruin the beautiful perfection that I’d given them!” She paused again, as Gran came back in.

“Dr. Geller can fix me, Grandma!” I piped up happily. “She can do it AFTER baseball is over too! Isnt’ that just grand?” I exclaimed in false happiness.

No way in hell was this woman cutting MY cock off!

It might have been useless, but it was still MINE.

“Oh, my! You simply MUST remove his little penis, then?” Gran went on, in her best ‘old-confused-Grandma’s-gone-mental’ persona. Dr. Geller repeated that she did, and explained why – three times, as Gran fiddled with her handbag. I noticed that it was bulging.

“Well, then I guess we’d better set a date and sign for consent, then,” Gran then added, and Dr. Geller (very quickly, I might add) pulled out a consent form and filled it in. Gran signed it without reading it and handed it back to her. I got dressed, and on the way out of the exam room, something clanked as we shut the door.

And so, after the usual exam, I was declared healthy unless my samples turned up something odd in the lab. Dr. Geller walked us to the door, and refused to bill us, even! We were just wondering where to have that ice cream when the fire alarm went off!

Nurse Levament came rushing out, clutching files and a laptop computer in her arms, but the rest of the ball team was nowhere to be seen.

“Roddy,” I thought to myself, grinning.

Of course, the fire department arrived and declared it a false alarm. In all the excitement, though, we slipped away and I got a chance to talk to the boys in the back of the truck. We had to shout, the diesel was so noisy. (It’s illegal for all us boys to ride in the bed of a truck like that, but the cop who pulled us over was Jeremy’s dad and he let us off, escorting us there, provided we buy HIM a sundae!)

“Dude!” Michael breathed, “You mean this Dr. Geller is a real CRIMINAL?”

Roddy nodded, and then he and I gave the team a very condensed version of all that she’d done – including her original plans to sell me as slave, and what she’d done with Jimmy.

There were a lot of dark looks from the ball team.

“You grew up an orphan in Asia, kinda like, wild?” Kerry asked, wide-eyed. I nodded.

“And Dr. Geller took me in, after the trawlers found me and took me there,” I replied. “Me and a lot of other boys.”

“And she castrated all of them, and sold them – not you – as slaves?” Bradley asked. I nodded again.

“You mean to tell us men PAID her, so they could butt-fuck this Jimmy-person?” Tyler squeaked, his eyes wide in shock. (I thought that was a fairly rude way to say it, but it was the truth – Jimmy did get fucked, a lot, and it was via his bum/butt/behind, call it what you will.)

I nodded. “So now you all know why she set up here, and why she likes castrating boys so,” I told them. I didn’t mention that she’d probably set up shop to lure me in. After all, I didn’t want my new friends blaming ME for the fact that they were all now eunuchs, too.

“And we also suspect,” Roddy continued, giving them another condensed version of what Simon had told us that he suspected was going on.

“They’re gonna try and kidnap some of us?” Jeremy cried, looking intrigued instead of terrified. Then again, with Jeremy, it was hard to tell what he was feeling. We were all just surprised that he’d spoken up at all. “That why those men are taking pictures of us?”

“My friend Simon back in the UK thinks they’re the same men that ran this ring that he and some other boy-eunuchs were tricked into helping them with,” I answered, “In fact, he identified one of them. We need a photo of the other guy for him, and we got it today. We’ll know tonight. If it’s the same two men, we’re all in danger.”

“Of being kidnapped and sold as slaves?” Tyler gasped. I shivered. Poor little androgynous Tyler, ‘wimp’ that he was, would fetch a HIGH price somewhere … and probably not just by being a page boy to a spoiled little daughter of an Arab Sheik.

“Just like livestock,” Roddy capped it, and that sealed it.

“She’s goin’ down!” Gary declared. “You just tell us what we need to do, and we’ll do it, Ricky!”

“Yeah, that bitch is gonna get HERS,” Michael put in.

“Wait a minute, you wanted your balls cut off, didn’t you? So you could sing, like me?” Jamie asked.

“Well, I wasn’t sure, but the Reverend (think ‘Vicar’, in America) talked me into it,” Michael confessed. “Now I don’t know. Nobody told me I’d never get hard - ever again! That sucks.”

Oddly enough, Bradley was keeping very quiet about it. But by the time we arrived at the Dairy Prince, our attention turned to food and ice cream and our covert plans went on the back burner. After all, no one was going to grab us in a public eatery that was so packed with customers. For the record, Roddy and I ate salads and stayed away from the greasy stuff.

On our way home, I was surprised when Stevie asked if he could spend the night with us at the mansion. As I soon found out, though, it wasn’t unusual for all of the boys on the team to either have a friend over for the night, or to be the boy staying over with someone else. In fact, everyone was either going somewhere, or having someone over. We asked, and all the parents agreed.

Stevie, as it turned out, had ulterior motives, though.

Once we’d all had a bath together in that Olympic-sized bathtub of ours and were all safely tucked into our huge bed, we talked for about a half hour until we were sure that the grandparents had retired for the night as well. Then Stevie switched the light on.

I should probably add that Stevie didn’t mind, and wasn’t surprised, to find out that we liked to sleep bare. He went right along with it.

“Guys,” he said nervously, “I brought that packet of Neutersol with me. I read the label directions, and I, well…I just can’t…”

“You don’t like needles and can’t inject yourself?” Roddy finished for him. Actually, I’d figured that Stevie had probably already tried it and messed it up. I was wrong.

Stevie blushed and nodded. “C-can you do it for me?” He then asked, and I was just floored! Roddy seemed nonplussed, though.

“Stevie,” he said firmly, “You must be SURE that this is what you want. We had the lot number run on this package, and it’s safe to use. It WILL work, but you have to know this: once you’re injected, your balls WILL die. You’ll be a boy-eunuch, just like us. You’ll never, ever get stiff again. You won’t ever be able to wank, shoot, fuck, start a baby, or any of that. Your voice won’t change, you won’t grow a beard or body hair, and your cock will shrink up instead of growing. You’ll never hit puberty, and you’ll never be a man…at least, not a man like your fathers all are, you know. No deep voice, whiskers, like I mentioned? And no desire for sex at all. In fact, if you’re already wanking, you’ll just forget all about it in a few weeks. Are you SURE you wanna do this?”

“And remember, von Gosch probably dropped this in this toilet when you and Kerry were in there, on purpose, so you WOULD use it! I think it means he’s targeted YOU, too! You might be the one who gets grabbed first!” I paused to think. “If he got in with Dr. Geller and saw her records, he’ll know you’re NOT castrated yet. It makes sense.”

Stevie thought about it, but it seemed that his mind was made up.

“Guys,” he said, “I knew I was different since I was like four or five. I can remember potty training, and touching my balls and wondering why they’re there. I never thought they were right, and I wanted them to not be there. The first time I ever got racked (that meant hit in the balls, he explained), I KNEW I wanted them gone!

“Then, when I saw all these older boys hit puberty and how they got? Like some other boys in the showers at the pool or at school? All that hair, and those huge, ugly balls hanging down under their great big ugly dicks? No way, man! No way do I wanna go through that! Hell, if they hadn’t cut Bradley when they did, who knows what he might have turned into? He was the last older boy to get cut, and he used to like it when we all played with his dick, since it was the biggest one of all of us!”

“He was already starting puberty?” Roddy asked, and Stevie nodded.

“So Bradley’s gay?” I asked.

“He’s a boy-eunuch attracted to intact boys, if he even still IS attracted,” Roddy mused, “So no, he’s not technically gay.”

“I’m not gay,” Stevie spoke up fast, “But I don’t like girls, either. Hell, I caught my folks fucking on the patio one night, and I puked! It was gross! All that moanin’ an’ groanin’, and this in-and-out and ‘Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!’ my mom was yellin’? Hell, Jeremy’s dad showed up and had to write a report!”

We had to laugh at that one, the mental image!

Poor Stevie. He’d been the brunt of jokes for months on end about that.

“It wasn’t fair how Jamie Grigor got cut when he was just nine,” Stevie went on. I’m just turning eleven, and I could start puberty anytime! I mean, look!” He said, cupping his balls in his hand. “They’re bigger than they were last summer, I know it! And my dad won’t hear of it! I asked him about it once, right after Jamie was cut, and he said no son of his was getting castrated on HIS watch! This Neutersol kit is my last chance, guys! Pleeeeease?” He begged us. “Help me?”

Then, he started to cry.

“The girl next door, Stacy, she even worked for Dr. Geller, and she couldn’t sneak me in! I asked her,” Stevie confessed, “Too much legal bullshit.”

Roddy was looking thoughtful, though. “What?” I asked him.

“Stevie is a great deal like I was, when Simon came to stay with us some years ago at the Lymington Haven house,” Roddy explained. “I was astounded when I first saw him nude in the shower, how he had no balls. I know I thought ‘this is for me!’ But I had no idea how to do it. And after Malcolm, my adoptive brother, and how he was? I knew I didn’t want to grow up to be like that, to be a man, if you can call him that. And what he did,” Roddy broke off, getting all misty again. He blew his nose and composed himself.

“Sorry,” He offered. “But I asked Simon about it. I remember I was so depressed. I couldn’t sleep or eat. I just withdrew. Then one night, Simon and Melanie pricked my balls while I slept. I think they may have drugged me? I don’t know. But the next morning, when they told me, I remember I was so happy!”

“Stevie, is this how you REALLY feel?” I had to ask. “I didn’t have a choice, really. Dr. Geller tricked me into agreeing. I had no clue then what castration would do to a boy. But you DO.”

Stevie slowly nodded.

“I have to do this,” he breathed. “I just HAVE to!”

Roddy nodded solemnly.

“It’s cool in here,” Roddy began, “And your scrotum has shrunk up; that just won’t do. You’ll need a soak in the tub as hot as you can stand it, to loosen your scrotum.”

I was just shocked.

We were really going to do it! We were going to prick Stevie’s balls!

Stevie ran a steamy bath and soaked. Roddy checked him over after a while. When he was satisfied, he washed his hands, Stevie’s scrotum, and the foil of the Neutersol pack in alcohol from the medicine cabinet. Then he pulled out the first syringe, after having a bitch of a time getting the silly thing open. The whole time, Stevie just stood there with his little two-inch erection bobbing in time with his pulse. Well, it wouldn’t be too long, and he’d never have that happen again!

“Stand very still,” Roddy told him, as he popped the cap and clicked the spring-loaded needle back. “This will pop, then sting. But DON’T flinch, OK?”

Stevie nodded as Roddy pressed the cupped end of the syringe up tight against his left ball. Then he triggered it. Stevie squeaked in surprise, but stout fellow, he didn’t flinch! Roddy then depressed the plunger, emptying the chemicals into Stevie’s ball.

“It’s going to feel odd, heavier than usual, then swell up,” Roddy told him. “It’ll itch, too.”

Roddy then offered me the other syringe, but I declined.

“No, there’s something special you two seem to share,” I admitted, “And I’m not so sure about this whole neutering thing now. I can’t do it. It wouldn’t be right.”

“I understand, thank you,” Roddy said mysteriously. “Ready?” He then asked Stevie.

“Yes,” Stevie said plainly. “Do it!”

Roddy pressed the plunger of the second syringe.

I watched as the syringe emptied its payload into Stevie’s right ball.

“Congratulations, Stevie, old boy,” Roddy clapped him on the back. He then flushed the evidence away. “You’re a boy-eunuch now, just like us!”

For some reason, that made me cry.

It all got sort of mushy from there on out, so I’ll just say that we had a mutual comfort session and went to bed, plotting the demise of Dr. Kristen Geller the whole time, until we all fell into a deep, restful sleep.