By Nickolai

Russian doctor confronts dark fantasies in a colleague’s obsession.

What tragedy it is for young man, or boy, who for medical reason must lose organs that make him man! One day he is strong and bold. The pretty girls, they are all worshipping at his feet, he is so athletic and handsome. The world is in front of him! Next day, is all lost. No girls will want him no more! The boy, that was full of promise, feels now so empty like broken shell on seashore.

Is so, so tragic.

This I am knowing from my own experience as medical doctor in Russian state of ________. Together with my colleague, (him I will call Dr. K.) I am having fortune to assist in several such surgeries.

K and I became known together as students at Russian State Medical Institute in Moscow. After completing of our residencies, we are taking positions as general physicians, with specialty in urology and any problems in reproductive system of the male.

It happens, we are both finding jobs at clinics in selfsame province at only 200 kilometers distance from each other. But though we are so close by, and we are always on best of friendly terms, for some years I am hearing nothing from K. We are young physicians and must be working and building our practices. We are always busy living our separate lives.

So it is with pleasant surprise one day that I am reading my emails and see message from my old friend K. With ample greetings he asks for me to come and visit him at his clinic. He has special case for which he is requesting my advice and consultations. Naturally, I am very flattered to be remembered by K, and that he is thinking so highly of my opinions. I accept his invitation with gladness. We arrange that I should meet him at his clinic on following Saturday.

Is sunny day of early autumn when I am driving over high mountains to K’s city. The road twists and turns to give many colorful vistas of rivers and valleys below. How wonderful it is to be out in this lovely landscape!

Almost too quickly, it seems, I am arrived at city, for here is mostly gray concrete dilapidation of Soviet-era architectures. Is small enough for me to find clinic without any much difficulties. On entering building, I notice one darkly clothed figure seated in reception area, but there is no one at front desk. Along the corridor I continue walking until I come across K’s office. The door is wide open for me to see K at his desk, writing on documents. He is wearing green scrubs and he appears very much like same K as I remember him, except perhaps not so skinny, and also he has now grown dark beard, neatly trimmed, as I too myself have done. He glances up and quickly we are greeting each other with warm felicitations, embracing and kissing on the cheeks.

After exchanges of pleasantries on my journey and brief recall of our past years, it is time to get to business at hand. K tells me patient is waiting already in examination room. He says is young man of 17 years age, but at this moment he is not offering any other types of details on this case. K remarks I am in street clothes. Since I am driving and it is weekend I did not think to bring with me any kinds of uniform. He offers me white lab coat to wear over clothes. I take stethoscope from my satchel, and together we go to meet this patient.

On entering room, we see boy lounging sideways on examination table, with head propped on one arm. He is shirtless. Around the neck he is wearing silver chain and the attached crucifix he has stuck inside his mouth. He is sucking or biting on it out of nervous habit or boredom.

K says, “Doctor, this is our patient, Mikhail.”

He views us with suspicious eyes. K reprimands him. “Where is your manners, boy? You will be standing up, please. Dr. S_____ has driven many kilometers to have look at you.”

Boy spits cross out of mouth and slowly rises up off table.

“Is ok,” I say. “I am sure Mikhail has preference of many other places to be on sunny Saturday than doctor’s office.”

I make my approach and smile to set boy at ease. “Do not worry, I will not be making this any longer than necessary.”

“Good,” says boy. “Already I must miss football practice from this.”

The voice is deep and masculine for such young man. I am thinking he probably is closer to 18 than 17 years old.

Now that I am having good look at him, almost I feel it is worth trip only to be having such view. This Mikhail is extremely handsome youth. His hair is dark brown, of medium cut, in stylish disarray. The eyes, they are deep blue, of such shade and intensity, as I have seldom seen. Full dark brows and thick lashes highlight them strikingly. His complexion is fair, with light suntan, and free from blemishings. His cheekbones are prominent; the nose is straight. His lips are full. The teeth are even and white, set in square jaw, with slight cleft in chin.

Boy’s overall build is similar to gymnast in height and proportions—wide at shoulders and narrow at waist. In contrast to small patches at underarms, the broad chest is without any hairs and is featuring large nipples. The abdomen is tight, with visible muscling, and below navel is slight trail of dark hairs leading downward. Boy’s skin in general is of such smoothness and golden tone almost it seems that it is glowing.

When I have finished probings of upper body, K commands of Mikhail to lower trousers and underwear, so that I might examine him completely. This he does with reluctance and sighing. Lazily he untightens belt, and he is fumbling to unbutton blue jeans and open zipper. Almost it seems he is doing striptease, so slowly does he take down trousers. When finally glimpsed, the underwear is blue boxer-briefs nearly color of boy’s eyes, and they are bulging with abundance.

The patient spends long moment digging thumbs at waistband, and here I am bracing myself for deformities under cloth that will ruin visions of perfection I am so far having.

K bursts out, “The doctor is busy man. He is not having all day for these games!” With both hands he yanks down boy’s underpants from him.

I am relieved at first glance to be seeing sex organs handsome as rest of boy. They are well developed for boy this age, or I should say, for man of any age. Under full bush of dark pubic hairs, the soft penis reaches good 12 centimeters in length, and beneath is pair of balls superior to average. In size and shape they are not unlike large eggs of chicken. They hang defined nicely in hairless scrotum with symmetry pleasing to my eyes.

Mikhail stands with arms folded across chest in defiant posture. He taps foot with impatience. “You will be holding still, please,” K warns. Boy plants feet and turns head, pretending to study anatomical charts on wall.

Always I am strict professional in my conduct, but here I will admit sometimes to feel stirrings in my own parts during genital examination of attractive young man or boy. Such is case when I am holding Mikhail’s lovely penis. Even in flaccid state, is having nice heft filling my hand. Consistent with boy’s skin tone is light in color. Foreskin hugs neatly around glans, with pink tip exposed, and is sliding back readily to unsheathe large helmet. The organ has smooth freshness of young boy cock. When erected I am sure is glorious sight, and is lucky person who has chance for sucking it or having fuck.

“I would like for you to pay special regard to the testes,” says K, interrupting my reveries. I redirect my attention to boy’s large balls in smooth loose sack. I take them one by one, gently rolling each in fingers and study carefully for lesions or abnormalities.

Throughout examination, Mikhail is often yawning as if bored, but from color in cheeks I can see is humiliation for him to withstand fondling of privates by another man, with such close scrutinies, even from doctor.

His relief is much evident when I tell him I have finished my inspections and he may get dressed. Quickly he pulls up briefs and trousers, and retrieves shirt off chair.

“Now, Mikhail, I must ask some few questions of personal nature,” I say. “Do not think I do this to make embarrassment for you. Is only for medical reason, ok?”

“Yeah, is fine,” he says, buttoning shirt.

“Firstly, are you sexually active?”

“You are meaning, am I having sex with girls? Only if ever I get chance.”

I smile. “I am sure good-looking young man like you has many chances. I will take that as yes. You are using always protections, yes?”

“I am careful,” he says, while stuffing shirt into jeans.

“You are very wise. Now, are you ever also having relations with other boys or men?”

“What!” boy exclaims with indignation “Do I look like queer to you?”

“Just answer question,” says K.

I say, “Please to realize, is nothing personal, I only must ask.”

“Any faggot that tries for getting fresh with me, is getting punch in face!” boy says, with emphasis of one who has had occasion in past to rebuff such advances.

“Ok, I understand, no problem. To move on to another subject, tell me, are you ever having painful urinations or seeing unusual discharges from penis?”

“No. Only usual.”

Boy is now pulling up zipper and fastening button on jeans.

“And what is frequency of your masturbations?”

“You are wanting to know how often I am beating off my meat?” Boy’s face begins again to flush. “Uh, I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Average, I guess. Six or seven times.”

“Six or seven times per week?”

“Ah, no…mostly every day,” he corrects me, while looking down adjusting belt intently.

“Ok, fine. And are you ever having experiences of pain or discomfort in testicles?”

”Um…not really, no. Except maybe for sometimes when I am around the hot babes!”

Boy looks up with impish grin

I chuckle. “Ok, very good. That will do, thank you.”

I turn to K and say, “Doctor, I believe I am satisfied to render opinion. May we now have words in private?”

Mikhail tries to follow us out of examination room. K stops him. “Where did you think you will be going?’ he asks.

“Huh?” says boy. “Doctor says is all finished.”

“You will be waiting here, please, while I have consultations with doctor.”

Mikhail rolls eyes to ceiling. “You are kidding with me!” In petulant state he takes seat in armchair and slumps down. “Is bullshit,” he mutters.

Seeing boy is settled, K leads way to office. I close door behind us when we enter.

“Now, my dear K, you will please to tell me, just what is real story here?” I demand.

“Is he not most beautiful boy you have ever seen with your eyes?” K replies.

“Yes, he is very handsome boy,” I admit, “and perhaps I should be thanking you for giving chance to see him. But surely, you did not send for me to travel across mountains simply to be groping pretty boy! I am finding in him no problems at all of medical concern. He is perfectly healthy young man!”

“Yes, he is perfect in every way,” says K. His voice takes on wistful note. “Many, many months have I been searching for such boy as this. If you are like me, every day in office you are seeing young men and boys. There are many nice looking boys, sweet boys, popular boys. Always there was something not quite right—this one too thin, another too timid or bookish, others clumsy and dull, or girlish, or undeveloped.

“But then, this past month, into my office walks Mikhail. He must have physical exam for joining school sports program. With easy confidence he strides before me. In swagger, he portrays crass arrogance of boy who knows he is the sexiness on stick. Many girls already he has fucked, and many more he will leave broken-hearted. Here is essence of young male in well-muscled proportions, in energies, and prideful insolence. Before examination even, I am sensing that my long searches are over. Afterwards, it is certain. In masculine beauty and endowments, he is ideal. At last, of all the boys and young men I have seen and studied for these years, he is the one I have chosen.”

“And by what are you meaning, ‘chosen’?”

“I am meaning, here is boy I will castrate for my pleasure.”

My eyes, they are blinking. Is not registering for me. I say, “Excuse please, I am sorry, I am surely misunderstanding you.” I laugh. “Almost I thought you were saying you intend to remove testicles from healthy heterosexual boy, for no good reason!”

“Is no joke.”

Now K is coming right up into my face. He grasps onto my chin with his hand and speaks quietly:

“Look into my eyes and tell me I am joking. Today, here at clinic, is my exact intention to claim healthy testicles from handsome slut boy Mikhail. I intend to wield scalpel at source for all his manly potencies. Slowly I will cut him like bull calf, until proud teenaged stud is made gelded steer, and his fat balls lie together freely in my hands, useless to him forever. For only reason, is my whimsical fancy.

“And you are going to help me.”

For many moments I am lost for words. Finally, when I am beginning to speak, K presses index finger to my lips. At same time, he reaches between my legs and grasps at my penis!

He smiles.

“I knew this idea would excite you.”

While I am pushing him away and making my objections, K continues:

“You can deny with your words but your stiff prick it does not lie! Long have I known this about you, Nicky. Your dark fantasies are not secret from me. Especially after Rasputin…”

And here I know K is not speaking of mad monk from St. Petersburg, who held Tsarina Alexandra and Russian monarchy in his thralldom. At least not so directly. Instead I am taken back in thoughts to large, dingy room with high ceilings and clouded glass windowpanes and everywhere is smelling of formaldehyde. Here it is K and I are having lessons of human anatomy.

Is most usual case that bodies donated to medical school for study are old, disfigured, bloated, and diseased. That is why they are cadaver. But it so happened that our subject was young construction worker. He is only 20 when he was killed from an accident. The circumstances I do not know, but back of his skull was crushed into his brains. Maybe he was forgetting to wear hardhat. Whatever the reason, viewing him from front side his body was perfectly intact, and even drained from life he was very handsome man. He looked like Greek statue. His face was smooth and beautiful. His pectoral muscles and biceps were well developed, his waist was thin, and between his strong thighs he was having biggest penis I have ever seen on human being. We give him nickname “Rasputin,” who is also known in Russia as legend for having large male member. Our fellow students, they are joking with complaint they were shortchanged on their specimens.

K and I are feeling special connection with our Rasputin and always we treat him with much respect, even when we are cutting him into pieces. When it came time for dissection of the sex organs, K and I are exchanging glances with large unspoken meaning. Each is knowing the other is having feelings of most disturbing nature that he is not wanting to discuss.

So now K is bringing this up to me, trying to stir up these memories, but here I am making strong objection.

“K, this is madness! Today we are not speaking of cadaver! This Mikhail is living boy! Is no comparison!”

With this he does not even try to argue. Instead, he takes now completely different tack.

“Nicky, Nicky, Nicky,” he says, “why do we come here, you and I, to this forsaken province? The people are poor, the pay is for shit. In Western country we would make ten times, maybe hundred times as much!”

“Is not for money,” I say.

“No, is not for money. One reason, and I don’t care if you deny it, is that young men and boys of this region are very beautiful. Second, we are still young ourselves and filled with idealisms and are wanting to do good. Every day we are making this sacrifice to do good things. We are making people well, we are helping unfertile men to make babies with their wives. By now, there must be fifty babies born in this city because of my strivings.

“The infants, they will grow up with hard lives, and by smoking like chimneystacks and much vodka drinking they will be old by the time they are forty and by sixty they will be dead. And still every day we are working to make their lives better. These poor souls, they are ignorant and stupid like cattle. To them we are as gods with our powers of life and death, for healing, and mercies. But what god is it who bestows such blessings, without demand for worthy sacrifice in fair exchange?

“For all the many good works I am doing here I require from city only one small token. Is so small you can hold them in single hand: the stones from one perfect boy.”

To all these words I am not knowing how to begin response. K’s logic has so many twists and turns as mountain road.

Only thing now clear to me is that thought of castrating healthy young man is obsession with K, and he is fully justified to himself. Nothing and nobody is stopping him with any appeals of reason. I ask myself, should I be reporting him to authorities? Then what? We are both physician. Would be his word against mine. Some day I myself may have to perform orchiectomy on young man with the testicle cancer. Both our reputations would be damaged in scandal. And, in best case, this city would lose skilled, hard-working doctor. All of this I am weighing heavily in my mind.

Nearly I am resolved that I should walk out and wash my hands of this matter with completion, but then I am thinking of this beautiful youth. I am full of belief that K will find some way to get his wish. If not today, then in time and manner unknown to me. Would it help to give boy warning? If it is not this one, surely there will be another?

At least here perhaps I could see to it that K’s chosen victim is treated with humanity and without unusual sufferings?

Maybe, after this one case, K will be having this sickening fetish exterminated from his psychology once and forever?

“Is such small thing, yes?” I hear K saying. “Every day, boys are having such operations as this, and no one is thinking is strange or extraordinary.

“So will you help me Nicky, with this one small favor?”

How can he even be asking such question! What he proposes is wrong, is in violation of our sacred oath, it is for evil and twisted purpose. Is against all moral, legal, ethical, professional, humanitarian, and religious principles! Am I to be accomplice to such travesty?

And, last question, whose is this small voice I am hearing say, “Ok. I will help you.”

K rushes up to hold me in tight embracing.

“Thank you, thank you my dear, beloved friend! Never will you know how much this is meaning to me!”

“Let us get over with it then,” I say, pulling myself apart from him.

K picks up clipboard from desk and rehearses plan. We then walk out to reception area to meet with Mikhail’s mother. Always I am struck when there is such strong contrast between mother and child. This woman could be mistaken for boy’s grandmother, though she is probably hardly 40 years old even. She has lines around her mouth and at corners of eyes. She wears unfashionable eyeglasses and black scarf is tied around her head. Her teeth are yellowed and some of them are missing.

She looks up to us with much anxiety written on her face.

K takes seat next to her and speaks with kindly concern. “Thank you for waiting so patiently,” he says. “For young man this is very hard news, so to act with absolute certainty, I am calling for second opinion from my esteemed colleague, the specialist Dr. S____. He has now examined your son and sadly, he has confirmed my diagnosis. The situation is grave, but there is much hope. I am sorry to say the cancer has advanced to both testicles. However, with immediate removal of organs for prevention to spread of cancer cells, we believe boy’s life will be spared.”

The poor woman puts hands up to her mouth and rocks herself forwards and back in chair, letting the words sink into her mind. Seeing grim expression I am giving, she is mistrustful.

“Is true?” she asks. “He will be all right from this?”

I force smile of optimism. “We have every reason to believe your son will enjoy full recovery with no recurrence of problems,” I say with strong conviction.

K holds out pen and clipboard. “Before asking you to sign release form, I must caution that after surgery, boy will be completely sterile. Never will he be able to give you any grandchildren.”

The woman snatches pen and clipboard from K’s hands. “What should I care for grandchildren when my boy’s life is on line!” she exclaims. “Where must I sign?”

When necessary signatures are given, K asks woman if she would like to have words with son before we proceed. She nods and follows us to examination room.

Mikhail is leaning over examination table when we enter, idly tapping feet and drumming of his fingers. Quickly he springs up, eager finally to be going home. His mother wraps her arms around him. “Oh Mishka, Mishka, my dear, sweet Mishka! My brave, strong man!”

She looks up to us with tears in eyes. “Never once am I hearing any complaint from him!”

The young man is mystified with these words. “What is wrong, Mama?”

She kisses him on forehead and pats his cheek with tenderness. “The doctors will explain everything. Be good boy and listen to what they say. They are only helping for you to get better.”

With that she turns to leave, daubing handkerchief to her eyes. K ushers her out of door. “Remember,” she calls out. “Your mama loves you always, no matter what!”

K sees that she is heading down hallway and then he closes door and locks it.

“Now we begin,” he says.

“Mikhail, we are needing for you to remove all of your clothings, please.”

“I do not understand,” says Mikhail. “What is problem?”

Already from boy’s tone of voice I can see this will go badly.

“Is only minor procedure,” says K. “Now quickly be getting naked for us and soon you can go home and be with your mama.”

“Procedure? Please to get real. I am not needing any procedures! I am fine!”

“Did you not listen to your mama? We are only doing what is best for you.” Now K’s voice is becoming sharper. “I am asking you again nicely to be taking off clothes so we can fix your problem.”

Still the boy is resisting. His eyes dart from K to me and back again.

“No, is all lies! I am not having any problems! Is you that have problem!”

K looks over to me. “Dr. S_____, will you stand here please for moment?”

I move to stand next to K in front of door. He walks briskly to drawer across room and pulls out red object with black straps hanging from it. Meanwhile, boy is trying to get past me and out the door. I am having to hold onto his arms and he is struggling against me.

“Let me out from here, asshole!” he shouts. “Is not right!”

Now K is in front of us. “You are very bad boy,” he says. “You are making me ashamed for your mother.”

Still the boy is struggling and he is cursing. Many bad words are coming from his mouth. “Hold him tightly,” says K. I see that object in his hand is red rubber ball. “No! Get hands off me, you fucking homos!” cries boy. K grabs his cheeks and pushes them to force open jaw and shoves rubber ball into mouth. He fastens straps tightly behind boy’s head. Now only grunting sounds are heard from him.

“I am sorry we are having to treat so roughly with you. You should not be making so many difficulties. You will be good boy now?”

Mikhail, he is not listening to K. Instead, his actions become more desperate and frantic. He is kicking at me and twisting. I am trying at my best to keep hold of him, but he is strong boy. He manages to loosen one arm, and swinging it around he smashes fist into my jaw. Rapidly I am losing sympathies for this boy. Suddenly he frees himself completely from my grasp, and rushes to door.

Already he has door unlocked and has his hand on doorknob when we reach him. K flings arm around boy’s neck and drags him backwards. I grab hold on legs and we force him down. We are wrestling boy on floor, making much commotion. Cabinets are struck. Instruments are rattling. An IV stand is kicked and crashes down.

Finally, we have managed to get boy stretched out on his back. I am straddling his body, with hands on his shoulders, while K is holding down arms. The three of us are paused to catch our breaths. K and I are panting, while gagged boy breathes furiously through nose.

Mikhail is sprawled beneath me with our groins pressed into contact. The friction from his thrashing has given me erection. I am growing more aroused with every movement. He sways his head from side to side in frustration, yet I am finding no compassion for his helpless state. Instead, a hungry beast is wakening. I grind on him and glare at pinned Adonis, like wolf with eyes on tasty lambkin.

I sit up on my knees with Mikhail’s thighs caressed tight between my own. I touch finger to corner of my mouth. There is blood.

“Boy is willful,” I remark.

“He is headstrong and disobedient,” agrees K. “He has no father for proper disciplines, and, he is an only child. His mama treats him too much with indulgence.”

I lean over to grasp boy at neck and hold his head still. Blue-rimmed pupils fix on me with anger and alarm. Nostrils seethe. Deep grunts of outrage are coming from gagged mouth.

“Is obvious, boy is spoilt to rottenness,” I say. “Worse than Oblomov is his laziness. He cannot even make effort to undress himself!”

With that, I proceed to unbutton boy’s shirt for him.

I pull open shirt and as before, smooth chest with shapely boy tits comes to view. I brush aside crucifix on chain and run my fingers gently over muscles and firm skin, not with healing hands this time, but rather greedy paws of nasty pervert. Boy’s chest heaves, and his heartbeat is excited like trapped hare. I flick my thumbs over whore boy nipples and quickly they are hardened to tight points. Is clear, our dark-haired vixen enjoys such stimulations. I rub my hands past navel over belly and then I come to jeans. When I start to loosen belt, young buck kicks up new fuss like baby wanting diaper change. His whining and contortions spur me onward. I open top button of jeans and slowly pull down zipper over bulge.

Sexy devil has lifted head to watch. His glistening eyes tempt me to molestation. I reach inside blue briefs and hunt for sausage. There he is! I pull him up and give him gentle squeeze. Time to come out for play!

K holds boy at shoulders while I peel jeans and underpants from around hindquarters. Teasing slut is playing hard to get at. He squirms and kicks but I am more determined. Soon jeans and briefs are down past knees and wrapped around his ankles.

I feast my eyes on newly exposed flesh. Below knees skin is golden tanned like chest, with sparse dark hairs. Above knees skin is pale, the thighs are smooth and strong. Between them hangs loose sack with its endangered precious cargo. Fat and carefree penis lies smugly on its back, slumbering on soft bed of curly and dark pubes.

I take my place astride boy’s legs and pitch idea to K.

“Doctor,” I say, “I am thinking…maybe we are finding patient’s problem is even worse than first diagnosis...”

At first K does not catch my drift. I grasp boy at his root and jiggle soft appendage.

K’s eyes light up. He grins wickedly. “Oh, Nicky!”

He climbs over boy toward me. He gets on knees and arranges shins to hold boy’s arms. Then he rests his ass atop boy’s head, which is now squashed sideways into floor under K’s rear end.

K holds my face with both hands, and stares into my eyes with wonderment. “Are you sure? You would do this?’

“Is most fortunate you called for my assistance,” I reply. “Plainly, this patient requires urgent interventions of complete and comprehensive scope.”

“This goes beyond my wildest imaginings! Never would I dare to ask you to go so far with me!”

“For this one special case, I am prepared to make exception to all usual cautions and inhibitions.”

K whispers breathlessly: “No boundary or limitation?”

“He is your patient,” I say. “I am following your lead to whatever course of treatments you find best.”

“Nicky, you are making me so hard!” K exclaims. We engage in passionate kiss with open mouths, like when we were young lovers at university.

We have decided that K will talk with boy’s mother and send her away. He will tell her we are finding “complications,” and must hold boy overnight for observing.

That will give us time enough for anything. Young body wriggling under us will be playground for all our repressed demons.

“Can you hold him for moment while I search for some restraints?” K asks.

With his help I lean over to hold boy down at biceps. Then I shift my leg to push knee between thighs, and jam upwards into balls. Boy cries with muffled yelp. I look him in eyes. “I do not think he will be causing any problems.”

K rises and walks across room to storage closet.

I hold steady pressure of knee into boy’s crotch. “You will be good quiet boy, yes?”

He whimpers. From blue eyes tears are forming.

I lean down to savor perky nipple, licking it and nibbling.

Boy is twitching. He has regained his breath, and now that I alone am holding him, he thinks he has chance to break away. He begins to twist his pelvis and flails his arms. Mightily he struggles, but is like cat with mouse. With jeans binding his ankles he cannot get much leverage. I allow him to get turned around face down and then I take his arm and pull upwards sharply against back. He cries and ceases struggle. I relent, take seat on his bare ass, and wait for K.

K is dragging large footlocker across floor. “Good,” he says. “You have him where we want him.” He pulls chest close by, fiddles with combination lock, and raises lid.

Inside is treasure trove of bondage gears for heavy S & M play. I see black leather collars and straps with metal studs and fasteners. Also whips, chains, knives, ropes, clamps, cock rings, urethral sounds, ball stretchers, butt plugs, and colorful dildos of varying shapes and sizes. There are devices with electrical cords whose purposes I cannot guess.

Why K is having such equipments at his clinic, I do not inquire.

K rummages through toy box and retrieves pair of handcuffs. “These will do for now,” he says.

We strip shirt off boy and cuff him. Now I am getting first good view of full backside. Is equal in deliciousness to front. That boy spends many hours in weight room, pumping the irons, is evident from definition of muscles in back and crease running down spine. In charming contrast to light tan of upper body, creamy smooth white buttocks jut out like two scoops of vanilla ice cream. I cannot resist to pinch them with both hands like baby’s cheeks.

It warms my heart to think that even after surgeries, ex-stud will have no problems getting fuck—when he learns to please the men who love the boy ass.

“Doctor,” I say, “it occurs to me, I neglected earlier to administer prostate exam to patient.”

“Certainly, you must rectify that omission,” says K.

I run finger down boy’s crack. “Mikhail, I will need you to spread your legs for me, please.”

He does exact opposite, squeezing cheeks tight together. Boy does not want anything poking him in ass.

I throw up hands and look to K. He signals for me to wait. He reaches into bondage chest and pulls out leather strap. Then he places foot on hollow of boy’s lower back, pushing aside cuffed hands. “Did you not hear the doctor?” he says. “Spread legs.”

Boy does not move.

With loud crack! strap comes down on bare ass. “Spread legs!”

Stubborn boy grunts but does not budge.

“All right then,” says K. Again and again he flogs boy’s ass with strap. Boy tries to shield himself with cuffed hands, but K’s foot is in way. Finally, after half dozen sharp slaps or more, boy cries out and opens legs. “Farther!” orders K. Boy complies. “Good boy,” says K, lifting his foot from back. “Now get up on knees.”

Slowly boy pulls himself up, so bright pink ass sticks out. He is sobbing, I think more from humiliation than from pain. His face is red like borscht.

K gets down on floor, sitting cross-legged next to boy. He lifts boy’s head into his lap and speaks soothingly. “Mishka, Mishka.” He says name slowly, like incantation. “Mishka, my tender duckling,” he coos, stroking boy’s dark hair. He pulls tissue out of pocket and dries boy’s tears and wipes his sniffling nose. “Life is full of hard lessons for naughty, arrogant boys,” he says, “but not to worry, we are going to solve all your problems…”

Meanwhile, I am enjoying boy from back end, sitting between his legs. The ornaments so coveted by K dangle enticingly. I fondle them and wonder about their fate. Will K chop them off in sack, or will he slice it open and pluck them one by one? I reach in further to grasp at my prize and gently milk him. He is lengthening but not yet hard. I am so far undecided how I will do him, whether to leave stump or to go all the way inside and reroute plumbing.

I lean in to kiss spot behind balls from which tomorrow boy could be pissing. Then I pull apart ass cheeks to reveal pink anus surrounded by a few dark hairs. He is clean, and smells of soap and slight boy musk. Tenderly I lick him and gradually I work my tongue inside. I take it as tribute to my skills that here our drama princess is not protesting, but is taking in these unfamiliar sensations with quiet concentration. Occasionally he moans, and if further proof is needed of enjoyment, his teenaged prick is stiffening quite nicely. Close to 20 centimeters, I am guessing, perhaps longer than I am myself, though not quite so thick as me. Slowly I stroke him while stealthily I work fingers into rectum.

Sex-crazed beast now begins to pump himself into my fist like farm animal. He is panting hard. I decide this is how I must take him. At full vitality and consciousness. Undrugged, except perhaps for dosage of Viagra if by then he falters.

His balls are drawing upwards; he is getting very close. I let him go and remove fingers from ass. Boy groans in frustration and continues to move hips. His engorged member bobbles up and down, dripping with clear boy honey.

“Doctor,” I say. “I believe patient is ready for you.”

“Oh, no,” K says. “Please to proceed.”

“But he is your discovery,” I protest. “It should be your prerogative.”

“Please, do not mention it. You have done me great favor, and as my honored guest, the privilege is yours.”

“You are most generous, doctor,” I say, gratefully.

“Mishka, darling, doctor must now insert probe and give injection. We will need you to hold very still.” With that K leans forward and grips young man tightly around chest with both arms. He nods to me.

I have removed lab coat and pulled down trousers and my soaked underwear. For good half-hour my aching cock has been sliding around inside shorts, so eager am I to rape this lustful bitch. I line up and push against hole, harder, harder until with one strong thrust I am buried deep inside. Boy screams into K’s crotch, with deep bellowing cry I will not tire of hearing, over and over, in hours of depravity ahead.

Contentedly I fuck tight virgin ass, far past wondering or caring how it is I am ensnared in K’s obsession, same as Mikhail.

* * *

Next morning, after unlocking door to leave clinic, satchel in hand, I come across Mikhail’s mother waiting on steps. Quickly she rises.

“He is resting,” I reply, to her unspoken question. “Dr. K____ and I stayed with him all through night. Was rough for him I fear, but crisis point is passed. He will survive.”

She sighs and raises eyes heavenward, crossing self in silent prayer. Then she hugs her arms around me.

“Thank you, thank you doctor, for all that you have done, for saving my Mishka! How can I ever be making repayment?”

“He is special boy,” I say. “I was happy to be of assistance. Knowing he has such loving, understanding parent attending him is everything one can ask.” I pat her back and then hold her at shoulders. “You should be forewarned, there might be hard days ahead. The doctor will keep Mikhail medicated for some time for ease of trauma, but there will be period of adjustment. He could even begin to lash out and speak wildly out of deliriums. Do not take this to heart. Be patient with him. Is all normal part of recovery.”

I gaze into her eyes and notice their deep blueness. “He will need his mama more than ever now.”

She nods with solemn resolution.

I turn to walk to my parked car. “God’s blessings to you, doctor!” she calls out, heading into clinic.

I get into car, set black bag on seat, and sit for moment to bask in recollection. I open bag and retrieve glass jar, inspecting it in sunshine.

What tragedy it is, I muse, for virile handsome youth, who must sacrifice so much for urgent medical necessity. So suddenly and unexpected. And at such tender age. His life, sadly, will never be as was.

Is so, so sad.

I replace jar with penis into satchel, start car, and begin journey back over mountains for my home.