I stood watching the girls play foosball. After one scored, she looked up at me.

“Shit! You’re a eunuch, aren’t you? You taking estrogen?”

I smiled and nodded.

“No pussy, though.”

I didn’t know whether it was a question, but I answered:

“No, I wish they’d make me one.”

She laughed:

“Why should they make you a pussy, when they can snatch a real girl off the street? That you never had one but look like you should, is what makes you valuable. Did you grow up wanting to be a girl?”

I shook my head, and looking down at my chest, I raised one hand to the tit on that side.

“No, but now…I wouldn’t mind being one.”

She looked at the other girl, rolling her eyes as she did.

“It’s the fucking estrogen; it does it every time. They get a little estrogen in them and they want to be girls.”

Turning back to me, she said, “Well, kid, you might as well forget about it; they’ll never spend the money to make you a pussy, not when they can get any real girl they want for little or nothing.”

I didn’t even know whether they could make me a pussy, now. Didn’t they turn your dick inside out and use your ball sac to make you one? Mine, my dick and my ball sac, had been cut off. Of course, I didn’t really know how it was done, but I figured I was out of luck, even if there was a chance they’d do it; but they wouldn’t; I knew that. Like she said, it wouldn’t make any sense. If they wanted a girl, they would snatch one. Me, being a eunuch, I was more valuable than any girl was.

“How old are you, Kid?”

“Thirteen,” I said.

“Shit! You don’t look thirteen.”

“I was always small for my age.”

She looked down at my crotch.

“Were you small down there, too? Did they cut you before or after puberty?”

“I have pubic hair,” I said.

“You’re taking estrogen; that can grow pubic hair. Hell, some castrated kids grow it without any HRT.”

“What’s HRT?” I asked.

“Hormone replacement therapy, dumb shit; don’t you know anything? How long you been a slave?”

I shrugged:

“I don’t know. It’s hard to keep track of time. What month is it?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” she said. “It’s summer; I figure July or August; I haven’t seen a calendar in years.”

“It must be August. I was cut in June, right after school was out. That must have been, at least, a couple months ago. Do you like it here?”

She rolled her eyes, giving me a crooked smile.

“I love it here. Where else could I fuck old dudes and let them shoot in my mouth?”

“You don’t like it?” I said.

“Don’t you go saying you heard me say that and get me in trouble: I said I loved it, didn’t I?” She looked at her friend. “We all love it, don’t we?”

“Oh, yeah,” her friend said, “I love being a slave.” She shrugged, adding in a more confidential tone, “They’ll give you some good dope to take before a session. It is good shit: a little bit of it, and you even might enjoy having sex with old dudes.”

“Are they all old?”

Again, she rolled her eyes:

“They’re fucking older than me; and most are older than my dad. Some of them are kinda young, I guess, maybe in their thirties, but most are in their forties and fifties. Hell, you get some in their sixties, sometimes, and it’s all your fault, if they can’t get it up. At least, they pass out Viagra like candy, so most of them can.”

“Hey, Tommy.”

It was James. He stood beside a pool table with a pool cue in his hand. He beckoned to me with his hand.

“Play me a game of pool.”

“I don’t know how to play.”

“Come on. I’ll teach you.”

“OK,” I said, welcoming a chance to get away from the girls. I didn’t like what they said about all the clients being old; they could be lying; I didn’t trust them. They had made fun of me.

“I’m going to play a game with my friend.”

“Why the fuck should I care,” said the first girl.

I shrugged and walked over to James.

“Get a cue stick,” he said, “They’re over there.”

He pointed to the wall, where I saw a bunch of them racked. I went and returned with one.

“What were those girls talking about?”

I shrugged:

“They were just giving me shit, I think.”

“Everybody gives you shit, Tommy. You’re too fucking nice. You got to give it back sometime.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “You heard what Ryan said, we’re the lowest of the low. I don’t want to get in trouble. Where’s Kim?”

I looked around the room. Shaun was sitting on a couch watching TV, but I didn’t see Kim.

“I don’t know,” James said. “He went somewhere with Ryan.”

We had eaten dinner and were back in our room before a guy dressed in white like an orderly brought Kim back, leading Kim, holding him by the arm. Kim shuffled along like an old man. His mouth hung open, and he had a distant look in his eyes. The orderly laid him on his bed. Kim lay with his eyes open staring at the ceiling. The orderly left.

“What happened, Kim?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.